Doghouse

The End of the World as We Know it

2011-05-22T06:54:00.000-07:00

Sunday, May 22, 2011 - We are all still here, Ca.- Harold Camping got more people laid and drunk yesterday than any other day the whole calendar year, including New Years. I mean it was an orgiastic pow-wow that, no doubt, lasted deep into the May 21st night which had been predicted (by Camping, not the Bible) to be the world's last day.

As expected, I am eating my raisin bran and having coffee this morning the 22nd.

Given the empty threat of the end of the world occurring yesterday, with Christ's return, humanity was given one more pseudo-reminder that eventually if we do not see Christ come here, we shall very probably see Him individually in relatively short order (say 10-70 years).

The overall collective response yesterday was to laugh at Camping (appropriate) then party and screw. It's generally what we do. It's like all those thousands of movies where the two strangers, placed in a dire situation that needs immediate response, find 30 minutes to get a room and bang away like crazed weasels. I mean really...how many movies have you seen that do that?

So thank you Harold Camping for giving humanity a day and night of unhindered revelry at Christianity's expense. I am sure Jesus is very happy with the press you gave Him and the riotous shit you provoked.

And for those who believed? One poor shmuck spent $140k of his life savings plastering billboards around NYC. He was stymied when nothing happened. Funny, I wonder if his confusion about that relates to his spending the 140k? Same brain.

The guy who really NAILS this bitch is Mark Morford of SFGate (The SF Chronicle), who happens to be, perhaps, the best damned columnist/blogger/humorist on the planet. If you only have five minutes stop reading ME and read HIM instead.

But turning serious now, I like Arriana Huffington's swift bead on the week here. It's not overstated; just simple and true.

What Does Piss Me Off
I am aggravated by guys like Camping. They make my life, as a Believer, a running joke. On days like yesterday I am glad I am a practicing Zen Buddhist and an active member of AA, which is an inclusive organization that promotes spirituality and relationship with a Higher Power.

Put simply: I do not mind being ridiculed, rejected or criticized for beliefs in real differences of belief. Go ahead and raise your eyebrow at the fact I believe miracles occurred, the resurrection happened in time and space and that Jesus was, and is, Divine.

That is all fair and good. And we do not need to be in agreement. I don't judge anyone...my job is to love. If you judge me? I understand. You're problem. But it was probably because some Christian asshole got in your face with his or her own agenda at some crucial time in your life and fucked it up.

I didn't and would not do that. I doubt Jesus was terribly happy with it either. As Max Von Sydow's character in Woody Allen's Hannah and Her Sisters says "If Jesus came back today and saw what was done in his name?...He would never stop throwing up."

But you see we never get to a genuine discussion because of guys like Camping who almost physically attach their own insane, bizarre, anti-biblical and perverse agendas to Jesus and His Gospel of "Good News". They make it "Bad News" immediately...which should tell us all we need to know.

I was at a meeting yesterday here in Marin and author Anne Lamott was in attendance. I love Anne Lamott and I have been to her church many times in Marin City. Part of me wanted to walk up and say "Hi Sis...so ready to meet Jesus today up in the air?" But she doesn't know me well enough yet.

And besides, I thought, Harold Camping is not worth the time or attention to bother a truly great woman and Christian mind with. No. I just smiled at her with her glorious dreadlocks and gave a nod.

Me? I spent the day chaste and sober. It was a beautiful day...and back at the ranch (Mill Street) the community was alive, fun, open and I had some great talks with folk. Fact is, if I had 10k in the bank right now I'd stay here another month at the very least. I am having too much fun. People are amazing if you let them be and live in love.

Bacdonowd

2007-01-22T17:23:00.000-08:00

I wish I had a picture of this guy. I don't. But he was beautiful, tall and passionate. Derrick McGhee.

Not to be at all confused with Rich McGhee, whose surname was also Derick.

Derrick McGhee was a tall black preacher from Oakland but he had one small foible...he misspoke dispite his eloquence.

So "How you doing man?" came out "Bacdonowd!! How you doin ban!!!?"

And he listed to the right and made weird arm gestures.

I already related how Simpson was like the Starship Enterprise in it's inclusive nature...so imagine me standing 400 feet away from Rich as he walked down the very long hall and he was channeling Derrick and just got "stuck" against the wall.

He just listed right and got stuck against the wall...gawd I wish I had a picture.

Maniac.

Now we have to do mp3's.

There is no other way to tell the story.

Part one will be "My Wife" which was Derrick's excuse to come to my room and spleen out for hours on end. And the coffee in a beerstein.

Part two will be a short deal on his brother and photos.

Part three will be the dinner table with Rich, Kress and myself.

Now I love this guy....do not get me wrong. He is as comic a figure as I am.

Enjoy my being named "Bacdon".

Tells

2007-01-22T06:53:00.000-08:00

Communion. Oil on wood.

I have been studying 2 Corinthians Four and it is majestic. It inspired me to crack my old Greek books and do word study. It is marvelous what you can discover while looking like an Uber-Geek and wearing no pants at 6 a.m.

Just in verse one the whole thing utterly sways away from what you would think given Americanized Christendom.

The key word is "mercy" and it's over-arching effect on everything. You receive such a gift and so you give it.

This is contrasted with using the Word oir Gospel for "gain's sake".

I think Bono said it best when he said he first came over from Ireland, turned on a tv in America and watched our evangelists and just said "these people are fucking insane".

That sums up verse 2.

I could quote Dante "Paradiso" (xiiii, 128-130) and be dead on...but Bono nailed it better.

These people just want your money. Screw that.

Moving on...we hit a little talked about area...veiled worlds. And I am not talking the Middle East, though those folks have a way of making it ALL about them...and we are not helping.

I digress.

The real issue here is "sight" (verses 3-6). Personally, I think we just need a massive unveiling.

It's touchy. I admit that...but mostly because these assholes (see above) have "adulterated" the Word. Hey...air it out...let it have it's day...see what happens.

The real issue, in these verses, is "glory".

It is what transforms us and inspires us...and not our glory...no no...we are not talking sports here...I mean God's glory.

More to come...

The Best Prankster Ever..part 2

2007-01-21T23:08:00.000-08:00

You can see why he called me "webhead".

Bible college is a ridiculous thing. We did not know this coming in.

Rich and I both came from "the streets". Broken families...insane mothers...and distant fathers.

We just wanted to learn the Bible.

(It's still not a bad idea).

After we had made a pact (one that exists to this day some 27 years later) we unleashed together.

It was not all pranks. We did very hard work in our studies, Rich was an animal that way. We pulled all-nighters often and we encouraged each other in every class...relating each test to a baseball at-bat.

"How'd it go?" I'd ask.

"I tripled off the wall" Rich would say. "You?"

I homered a lot.

We had great teachers. They had second jobs to pay their bills...they were wonderful. Not just Doc, but Dr. Collard (Greek) and Wallmark (New Testament) and a man whose name will come to me (it's so close) in a bit. The finest men.

Then there were people who were completely nuts. Utterly.

Sone were students, others professors. I'll start with the profs.

Under proxy, my abnormal psychology class was overseen by Floyd Simmerson. I speak his name openly because 1) he has probably gone to meet the choir invisible by now; and 2) if not he would simply deny that he wore a polyester leisure suit to teach a college class.

In either event, I showed up one day for class and walked in and he was wearing a white polyester leisure suit. That was the warning shot. The thick belt and white shoes put me over the top.

Devan Devan Olsen (we do not know why) looked at me like "you staying?"

"Naw" I said aloud to the whole room..."Too much". And I walked away. I showed up for the final 9 weeks later and ace-d it.

In the meantime, the usual supects were all over.

Rich daily destroying Devan Devan Olsen or myself unless we had a suitible other target...and it was daily...you need to understand that.

I'll give you an example. Big mints.

I broke into Devan Devan's room and took two urinal disks and splintered them with his golf clubs (Rich has done this 2 weeks earlier and I saw his brilliance). Then I shut his window and turned up the heat (evebn though it was Spring) so-as to cook the vapors.

It was uninhabitable for a week or so.

That was just one day.

On the next day Rich had stolen Devan Devan 's truck and he walked him down the hallway talking about crime in the City and how rampant it was as he led him to the window that overlooked Devan Devan Olsen's usual parking spot.

"WHERERE's my TRUCK?!!!" he snarled to no avail.

******

Then there were the students.

When I called Rich the other night he replied "Bacdon!"

It's an old name for me...not as old as "Mac" but just as accurate.

I am Christopher, Mac and Bacdon. Those are my three Christian names.

I will tell you how I got the name "Bacdon" tomorrow...and I promise you will laugh.

Comedy & Tragedy

2007-01-21T04:21:00.000-08:00

From Love and Death.

Okay...the guy later found himself a perp...but he had the audacity to take on cosmic issues and Russian literature and do humor. Ya gotta give him that. And I defy you to watch Love and Death and not laugh your ass off.

It may be one of the funniest unknown comedies on the planet...alongside The Survivors and The Twelve Chairs.

But back to "bidness".

There is nothing more tragic and comedic than being human.

Just pick up today's paper or go on SFgate.com and this will be bore out immediately.

It's what we report about ourselves and it is just damned true.

Think about your day and how you bounce back and forth between comedy and tragedy?

Ping!

I'm not all funny...

2007-01-20T19:29:00.000-08:00

Under my humorous veneer I am dead serious.

My friend, and pastor, Rod said the other day that I need major earmuffs where most people are deaf.

Word.

It is ironic that I am the face of Maverickssurf.com and every day wave upon wave comes crashing over me. I tombstone...I follow my leash...I feel as if I am drowning. It's awful and there is no relief.

But I am not the only one by any means. There are many others and Rod was wise to remind me of that. I am far from alone... as alone as I feel. Perception and reality are sketchy to say the least.

Word.

Poet William Everson wrote a prayer that he might be able to move through the "blind surf of events" and find the stone levels he knew existed. This is our challenge and it is not easy but it is real.

Who, at age 50, cries into their pillow for want of Christ? Who agonizes over ther own selfishness?

Well not me to be sure (see I cannot stop joking).

*******

People fear the Bible because they have never read it.

I have read it...in fact I learned Greek and attempted Hebrew so I could know it better. I have two Greek commentaries on my desk at the moment.

That is not normal.

And It is very much different than you might think.

It is beautiful, explosive, sweet and dangerous.

The other day my brother came to anoint me. It is an age-old tradition for Christians to anoint the sick with oil and pray for them. It's vulnerable and deep and personal. It's humbling and I am not a humble man by any means.

I asked him to read from Paul's second letter to the Corinthians...chapter four.

It is a particularly dangerous and sweet passage and later he admitted it unnerved him a bit.

So it goes.

*******

The first few verses of the chapter are just about "coming clean".

Palms exposed and raw like Jesus.

Word.

The next session (yes, you may have to read it) is apexed by the glory of Christ. You either see it or you do not, If you don't look again and again and again until you do. If you still do not...pray in a raw naked way until you do. It matters.

The whole deal is "seeing behind the veil"...which is just your intuition times five spiritually.

Meanwile (moving down to verse 7) we hold this reality and love and faith in the clay pots that are our very selves.

They break...they shatter and the water seeps out. And so Paul, living under house arrest begins to unveil the red clay of our earthly truth.

More tomorrow.

The Best Prankster Ever

2007-01-20T17:12:00.000-08:00

Rich was the best prankster by far. He lived for it. He would pelt Devan Devan Olsen (we do not know why the double thing happens) with hot bagels in the dark San Francisco morning while everyone else slept.

He was as capricious as his God has turned out to be.

As Reese would say "Tree...apple...sigh."

I would sit at my desk around 2 p.m. studying Barker, Lane and Michaels (gawd they were dry) and I would hear Devan Devan Olsens (see above) keys sliding across the floor into the urinal.

scacacacacacacacattttaaaaa.CHING!

Another time (and I was witness) DDO was in the stall of the same bathroom. He was casting inflammatory insults at Rich (he had every reason). Rich was simply brushing his teeth.

More insults and more teeth brushing.

Then Rich put down his toothbrush, calmly walked over and picked up the garbage can and dumped it over the top into Devan Devan's stall.

All fell silent (I had to cover my mouth).

There was silence and then some slight rustling.

*******

This is how it went every day. There was never a day when we did not unleash something on each other.

It was a sign of love, devotion and respect. If other became involved it went very very badly for them.

But Rich was the best. I got him...he got me...in fact that was how we came to bond. He and I both had an epiphany that we should join forces.

Now least you think that Devan Devan Olsen was the main recipient I need to clarify.

There was the night that Rich and DDO krept up onto the fifth floor and unleashed an utterly huge water balloon on some unsuspecting students. The thing was massive and I can't even remember where they got it, but I do remember that once they let it fly (downwards) they realized it could KILL.

Then there was the Dave Miller incident.

Miller, a budding journalist posted a note in the Simpson tabloid about Rich's seceret microwave oven and coffeemaker (both off limits).

Three days later Rich was in my tiny room studying with me at 2 a.m. when we heard an awful cry-out from two doors over.

"Geez! what is that?"

"Bacdon....I put a potato bug in Miller's bed," Rich said.

"Oh damn...that is nasty."

"Yeah, but as C.S. Lewis said 'It will hurt, but it won't kill.'"

*******

This is why I made peace early with the Prankster. As you have already read I inherently knew the rules.

I struck first. Rich looked a bit like my old friend David Lubeck (Benn will enjoy this). Both of them are too beautiful to live...but that was not my deal. I photocopied up (remember, this is 1979) about 300 flyers for a "Dave Lubeck Look-alike Contest" on campus. The other pictures were of women and black men. Soon everyone on campus were calling Rich "Lubeck".

I mean everyone.

He struck back quickly by stealing my picture and doing a thing which noted my tendency to have too much hair calling me "webhead".

People laughed and pointed. No barber could help me.

After that we had lunch and decided to destroy others in a united fashion.

*******

Term Planning

2007-01-19T20:16:00.000-08:00

A classic 72 Bug. I just bought my son a 69 with a moon roof.

I moved from Simpson in 1979 to CSUS and was paired with Scott McCrae.

He was, and is, an utter rascal.

We have already established my character (and no, I am not nearly done with the Simpson stories).

We were roomates and on my first day I stopped by the CSUS bookstore and grabbed 25 "term planners" from a box so I could lace them under his covers.

It just seemed right at the time.

Scott never said a word. But the next day when I opened my overnight bin 50 term planners came spilling out on my head.

He was good.

Game on.

*******

It was a war of escalation but not without delight. I was often impressed. Scott was swift and had a sense of irony even though he was not in the Liberal Arts.

But I got him finally.

It's funny. In those days it was "no quarter" yet restrained. I feel now, these days that it's no quarter...yet damned serious.

I liked the other times more. It was fun and I didn't get nasty letters.

Anyway...I took like 800 term planners and scotch-taped them one-to-one and completely covered his Bug. When Scott came out to drive his Bug he had the world's largest and most prestigeous term planner in existence.

Hell..he could have made plans for the 24th Century given what I had provided in planning materials.

He gave it up after that. I believe the last words he said to me as he move to Draper Hall was 'Maniac".

I just Heard "Mac", but I hear that alot.

*******

Here is to Christine, Thomas, Benn, Cayla, Sean and Michael...who are all sons and daughters to such madness. I am the only adult who admits to being unscrewed...thus can I write these things. Enjoy.

Michael...your dad is the same..he just needs the job...believe me..I've seen it. Thank God for your mother Kathy.

So...Story Number 2

2007-01-19T18:10:00.000-08:00

In case you think I'm embellishing.

In short we put the car on blocks, rebolted the bucket seats in backwards, exchanged the headrests and armrests, Crisco-larded the windscreens, let the air out of the tires, and put a potato in the exhaust pipe.

Of course this was not enough.

Mac's doctrine must be inforced and was.

I had gotten the key from Pope Kodiac's sister Kitty. We waited until Wett had to go to Reno for Chris Fuji's ordination. Our youth pastor Dave was also alongside and as they went into the service in Reno he turned to Wettstein and said "Oh by the way...they are getting you tonight."

There was nothing he could do. He was 250 miles away, in a Presbyterian service and powerless.

Later he became an Episcopalian.

Of course he hunted me for a few weeks. I'd see his Suburban pull up outside the Mt. Diablo Hospital and I'd run inside. In the end there was nothing he could do. He had been had...I knew he had invaded "The Brick" and he was demoralized. Weeks later we had coffee and I convinced him to help me get Stanley.

Stanley was my best plan yet.

The Tooth

2007-01-18T21:26:00.000-08:00

Tracer gun unmodified.

I just had to take the thing apart and bend the wire back so it would kick like a mule. Sure, it only fired one out of three shots...but when it did...whammo!

This is another Simpson story. And it is all true.

I was young and full of hubris (as opposed to now when I am old and full of hubris) so I had a photo outside my room that showed me with two shotguns, sunglasses, and a ridiculous semi-safari outfit befitting a Hemingway illegitimate child. The caption read "Do you feel lucky?"

Now just to set the scene, the dorm rooms at Simpson were very small. In fact, sleeping on the top bunk you had about 3 inches of breathing room. Below was the desk and then books and it faced the door. The coffeemaker was recessed and secreted away and just made the whole dorm floor go "brown" when I used it.

Well they came for me one night. I mean...given the picture they had to.

"Mac!! boom boom boom!!! We feel LUCKY!"

I sighed. I put aside Spurgeon's Treasury of David, took out my modified tracer gun, put on my sunglasses and braced myself.

They had Devan Devan in the hallway and he had keys. There was no reason for Devan Devan Olsen to ever have been entrusted with keys...I mean he was growing pot in the rotunda on a regular basis...still I heard them jangle and I tensed up.

I would forgive him later.

*******

The door burst open and seven guys tried to wedge in to blast me to bits.

They had longstanding issues with other people and I was the immediate occasion.

It all happened in slow motion. The incoming tracers were impressive. Five went wide right and thwaked into my back window. Six other went left or down. One bounced off my glasses immediately...another off my cheek, two others off my arms.

Hey...seven against one.

Meanwhile I fired...but remember...my gun only went off one out of three times.

I saw Dirk Bond (God he must have hated me), and John Sloper and Clausin but the guy I knew wanted me dead was Skover.

Now I would say that it is a strange thing to be in a Bible College where people truly hate each other...but then read today's paper about the Middle East.

Skover hated me. I did not hate him, but I recognized his glee in hating me and I thought it wrong. I mean it was not spiritually healthy for his hating me to go unaddressed.

So I addressed it.

With a tracer.

*******

Now in retrospect Skover was really a sweet guy. He was. Actually every one of those guys were really great...Sloper, Bond, Clausin...and the three others. Devan Devan Olsen is one of my favorite people...I mean who shows up to a Bible Study with a tomahawk? ...But that is another story).

But Skover was my target as I was already dead.

It was the "glee" factor that I recognized. So I shot as the hail of tracers flooded my room (see above).

I focused and shot.

First two triggers were duds. The third kicked out wide right. The next wide left (or maybe glanced off of Sloper's already balding head.

But the fifth....ahhhh...thing of beauty. Straight and true and it caught poor Skover on the very awfully-nervy edge of his front tooth.

"OH GOD!" he reeled back, taking four guys with him in his agony. They spilled backwards into the hallway. I got up and slammed the door and that was that.

All ya need is one real good shot.

Too bad it doesn't happen more often.

Three

2007-01-16T11:05:00.000-08:00

Birds on a wire....1991.

I am also a painter...though I do not do enough. I actually spend way too much time NOT doing what I do best.

I was made to do art and theology and I just grasp at it here and there.

This little picture/painting is indicative.

Three birds on a wire. They sat outside my house on Fremont Street and I painted them.

Why do people do art? Why do they paint? Why do they sing?

Have you ever wondered about that?

********

Because they do not have to. Not at all.

*******

I have three little beings in front of my desk. Boo, Peanut and Cookie. As I write they are spitting seeds onto my desk. They do this with abandon. Peanut hops into the corner and looks me in the eyes as if to say "yes, you are 40,000 percent bigger than I am. But I know my place and you do not".

He has a a point.

They are adorable and sweet and a picture.

But a picture of what?

Why did those birds on a wire so capture me 16 years ago?

Why did I paint them and why do we paint?

In the small quiet moments do you ask yourself these things or is it just me?

*******

...die.. burn..

2007-01-13T18:33:00.000-08:00

Usury is an unamed topic. Yet it is flashed in front of our faces daily.

Okay...my headline....

Rich use to make fun of the "Live Laugh Learn" necklaces. He just wanted to add "Die...Burn".

Good joke.

Rupert Murdock spent a couple billion for Myspace. It has not gone well for him, thus his minions are becoming more overt. Look at the picture above. Deconstruct it. What are they saying?

Fake breasts, a firm abdomen and a cowboy hat! YEEHAW!

The more desperate they get the more T&A they get and now animated. It's pathetic, sad and wrong.

******

I hate this stuff and it is worse because I am a celebate. I have not had sex since I cannot remember when but I am bombarded by this crap every day. "Come F-me" is the message...and I get these obscene IM's on Yahoo...wanna come see my pix?

No. I really don't.

But I will pray for you.

I am no Saint. I have made love to more women than is naturally called for. True, I let them finish first, but I still would have it otherwise. Fidelity is a quality highly underrated in the Modern world.

And sex is a strange thing if you look at it from a ways back.

I'll write about that later and have fun with that I assure you.

I just see ads like the above and know it is plain usury. It's wrong on so many levels. From the model who is paid to become an icon, to the folk who receive these messages...buy our product and you can have this.

Dogshit. Nonsense.

Sex is first about lust, then about connection and is ultimately spiritual.

That's it. That and it results in kids.

*******

I admit that maybe this stuff sets me off because I am sexually frustrated. But let's be fair and note that I get hit with these messages ever single day and I cannot remember when I last was intimate with a woman. So they are playing me daily and I am shelved. True or not true???

What is worse is I am really good in bed. Seriously. It took me years to get past my inhibitions and really be THERE.

No one cares.

Okay, okay...a few women care and have written about it...but I want something more.

And I am not going to get it. That's clear. That's my crucible. I get to see but not touch.

It sucks.

But it is honest.

I have choices I could make. I could make sure i get laid once a year or more if I wanted. I have no moral qualms. But I don't.

The universe is essentially relational...so getting laid is not an option (360 days a year).

Sheesh.

Beautiful...

2007-01-12T08:50:00.000-08:00

I had breakfast with my friend the other morning. I cherish these times. We talk openly...we laugh and our hearts break often. It is real and then we go and pray like ancient priests and walk away like old school chums.

You see I am a poet beyond my schenanighans and goings on.

I'm not a monk (as I often claim). I am a Jedi.

*******

I'll explain that term later...but that is the Truth and the Truth is powerful in it's simplicity.

What is this beautiful Truth I want to share?

*******

I had this dream the other night that all places were walled off and there was no escape. I was running hard and I was being followed. Have you ever felt this way deep down in your gut?

I hit a dark room and there was nothing...I mean nothing in the room and it was dank and I could tell many had died in this place before...many.

Then a door opened, and it opened into a fresh field and a stream. I walked outside and heard the waters rushing by. I walked up the trail a few miles until it met the sea and the sun was setting in an orange blue misted glaze and it repeated off the waters as the waves swam inside and the shoals curled in and things became One.

Then I heard Brother Antonius say "beneath the blind surf of events is the Word of God."

The Word of God breaks my heart in every way but bitterness. There is soft nectar in its hard bedrock. The blind surf of events every year is passing as is the sea. The rocks that lay beneath are like the twelve stones of Jordan...no they are even more than that. They are beautiful. David's laments are deeper than any man's; the prayers of Jesus deeper still; the philosophy of Solomon deeper than any Modern; the kind pictures of Paul deeper and more difficult than any scholar.

But at the end we want beauty. We all know we are going to die. We treasure beauty so very much in all of its overt forms and even its echoes (I have to credit N.T. Wright for this...I use the word "snapshots" myself...but echoes is really good).

The Beauty is the Word. It is all around us, under us, above us...it flows from each of us one to another in a thousand different ways every single day. It is in the forgiveness, the repentant moment, the tossled hair of a child, the inspection of a bright orange, the smile to a fellow driver, the tears over a loss, the trudging down a stairwell when you just have to do it. It's like your dog in the sun, like that moment in Communion where Christ becomes real; like making love to someone you dearly cherish.

*******

Lucas hit on something CORE with the idea of the Jedi. There are men and women who have one foot firmly in this world, but who also understand that behind the veil there is another reality. If you ask anyone from any tradition they will tell you this is real. In fact, it is often the Religious who deny this reality because they need to try and control it...and it cannot be controlled.

Now Christ is the ultimate Jedi...Lamb and Lion, Incarnate Deity and humble baby. There is no greater or deeper story. And we are called in God's image to reflect this in some ways...even if they are small ways.

So when I meet a man who has killed off this Imageo Dei in himself I know there is no hope for him...just blank existence. But then I meet others...WAY outside my own tradition and training who are so filled with light you can feel it. They are glorious and I could often just take my shoes off because they are Holy.

Daughter is a Jedi.

Most of them are full of light. But not all. There are dark Jedi as well. They use their gifts to use others and they cause pain and suffering whever they go. They believe...make no mistake...they believe...but they are not troubled by their deeds.

I am troubled every day. I see what others see and how they agonize. They have an inherent spiritual power that few of them realize. They are always at the doorstep though they often feel they are miles away.

Such is the nakedness of faith.

The Eternal Hippo...

2007-01-12T06:50:00.000-08:00

The new plush version.

So I finally called Delinda. I had finally written about Doc twice and she deserved a call.

She was disheveled to say the least and who wouldn't be given me?

Once, at a basketball game at Simpson, Rich and I sat on either side of Delinda. Whenever the action went right I would lean across to the left and talk with Rich. He did the same whenever the action went left. He would lean across Delinda and speak to me (just as the action went to his side) about a theological controversy, and I would wait till it went the other way so she never saw a play.

We did this like 50 times without breaking character. And, even better...we did it by instinct, not planned.

Rascals.

But now we must turn to the Eternal Hippo...

*******

Delinda did not remember the Eternal Hippo when I called. I admit I was disappointed because it became legend at CSUS alongside the "Term Planner" incidents. (This will also be written about and I am bugging Christine Mac about getting her mother to find a photo of her dad's Bug covered in 700 term planners each taped together).

It was the spirit of Kierkegaard upon me that made me so ascerbic at the time. Delinda was 23 and had been named the Dean of Women in a repressed Bible College. And she was hot.

What were they thinking?

The woman before her, who was the Dean of Women, was Mrs. Butz (I kid you not). Devan Devan Olsen (we do not know why) grew his pot plants in the main Simpson rotunda in the potted plant fixtures. Every day Mrs. Butz would totter out and water his stash.

That was until Rich got wind of Devan Devan's deal and put an end to it. We did have some morals. Then Delinda was moved in to replaced Mrs. Butz. This was most disconcerting on an embedded hormonal level...if you get my drift.

To my credit, I never acted on this. McGhee did, and Mitchell followed suit and both were suitably ground up and dispatched. But in my own way I loved Delinda and it was perhaps the only love I have ever had that did not end in tears.

In fact...it was laughter. And it was fun the other day, after 30 years, to hear her laugh...that same laugh. I'm a funny guy...make no mistake. Delinda has an infectious laugh...and my standing by the side makes it more so.

Part of that humor, was that Delinda had to run the bookstore., as well as oversee all the women's dorms (see below on weirdness) . It was not much of a bookstore at all..in fact it was noticeably absent of books for a bookstore. It was rather full of trinkets and I routinely tortured her on this issue.

Most every morning I would walk in and fixate on a product that was woefully stupid and then I would preach to her.

She liked it.

What can I say?

++++++

One morning I found the Eternal Hippo. There was a table of soft stuffed toys/animals. The Hippo was compelling...I mean really.

I took it, then waited in line and then pretended I did not know her and simply asked "Ma'am...can you tell me how this Hippo relates to my biblical studies?"

She went flush.

"Can you explain the eternal significance of this Hippo?" I asked.

She batted her eyes and stifled a laugh.

"Oh well...just take the thing" she finally said.

And I did. I walked out and down the hall throwing the Eternal Hippo up in the air and catching it as I walked. I could hear her protestations in the distance as I walked away.

No matter.

The Hippo became emblematic in the days that followed. Rich had it for awhile...and Devan Devan (WDKW). At one point I surrendered the Hippo to Delinda (I think I had been summoned on three occasions for questionings). But it came back to me later in a box with a nice note.

One of the things you had to admit about Delinda was while she decimated men she had a great deal of class. Superbly so. And she still does, from what I can tell...and she has loved and been a soul mate to her husband for near 25-plus years.

That makes me very happy.

Good woman. As usual, I missed the boat.

*******

Simpson Weirdness (as promised).

Simpson Bible College was like the Starship Enterprise without an engine room.

Everyone lived in the same building/place. The only need to travel outside was to get to the gym, which was 300 feet away. Not even Doc used the gym. It was pretty much me only.

You ate there, slept there, played there, studied there, met your professors there, flirted there and did pranks.

We did at least one prank a day, every day...between Rich, DDO (WKNW) and myself.

Some days the prank was easy. Rich would just steal Devan Devan Olsen's keys and we would hear them slide across the floor into the urinal....cha--ching!

Other days it was planned way ahead of time (see The Mac/Mitchell Wars).

*******

Okay...before I proceed I have to tip my cap to Delinda for taking my call. I am the kind of guy who sets up a joke and then delivers the punchline 3 decades later...it's utterly unfair. It was fun to hear her laugh...but on a serious note Delinda has been through some real STUFF...both she and Bill (her husband) and I look forward to hearing more about what God will do with them..because God is with those whose hearts and often bodies are broken in some way.

When we were young and unbroken we had no idea. Now we know. Doc knew. He died of cancer.

*******

If I was not a rascal I would be dead. I drive my roomate nuts with my antics...but it keeps me alive...really. At near 50 I live next door to a woman who is, arguably, as beautiful as Delinda was (and probably is) today. She has amazing eyes and she is wicked smart and I'm in the same spot. I care so much more about the friendship and long-term than I do today. That is another version of faith, no?

In 1978 Delinda and I sat on the steps of the second floor and had a talk about "us".

She does not remember this at all...but I do.

I'm built that way.

I told her my simple reasons for denying our being romantic. She laughed. I laughed.

She will tell you (if you ask) that I was gorgeous. It did not matter...it was a good decision.

********

I'm not gorgeous any more. Even though my pastor says I am sexy (he qualified) I am not gorgeous anymore. I am well-worn. My sons? They are gorgeous now. And I have tried to tell them this because no one ever told me. I had no idea. Adam is likely the most gorgeous kid on the planet...just have a look sometime.

His brothers are too handsome to live.

*******

But back to fun....

I love to tell stories. Can ya tell?

Have you ever met anyone who writes so much???

I love it.

*******

Okay...here is story about Rich. He and I battled for two weeks then realized that together we were unstoppable. I still regret that we never did a Church plant together. We had lunch after the "Dave Lubeck" and "Webhead" incidents and joined forces.

It was near Christmas time and we had no families to speak of. We decided to have a toga party. No alcohol...no girls...geez. We had Devan Devan Olsen hide in a closet for three hours so we could get in around 11 p.m. unhindered.

We slipped out our windows (second floor) and made our way quietly to the gymnasium room. Devan Devan (WDKW) opened the door after being accosted in a closet for several hours. We hit the lights, adjusted our togas, had some fresh non-alcoholic eggnog and began to sing old church hymns.

Pretty risky business.

The campus security guard (Steve Thompson) came busting in and most of the guys scattered.

Fooking sheep.

Rich and I grabbed Thompson and explained that he was gonna bake in the sauna like a "fat red lobster" if he sqwaked before morning.

We came to an understanding. He could rat on us..in the morning. Fair is fair. Hell the guy was making $2.80 cents an hour.

We were fined the same amount the next morning by Delinda. She took great relish in grilling me on the details. I left nothing out.

Doc...part two

2007-01-11T07:45:00.000-08:00

I wish I had a good picture of him...but I do not.

Later today I will try and find a yearbook that has his picture. If I do, it will also contain the pictures of other known renegades like Rich, Devan Devan (always two), Mark, and Delinda.

But this is about Doc.

He knew Kierkegaard from his studies, so he knew sorrow, comedy and faith. If you, yourself, think about your most poignant moments in life...they come down to these three. Kierkegaard just had to live there in the Emergency Room every day of his life...which is why he died early.

Yet he stands tall today. There is no greater mind in Christendom in the last 300 years than Kierkegaard. Behind him is Pascal...the same.

Then we go through a dark blue patch in my view. But I am not a historian. I just read books.

Athanasius kicked some ass in the 200's. That's all I know.

*******

Reading books is one of the noblest things we do..and it relates to a post upcoming (I am unsure about this one...it's risky). It has to do with WORD...and our singular attachment to it and how it enfolds us, enriches us, and echoes in our brainpans for many years.

WORD.

*******

Doc always wanted to teach but he was not pushy. He would stand in front of 90 students in Western Civ and show slides of his travels to Europe to museums and such. He would ask simple questions that were vulnerable...like "Do you like this painting?" And you never felt that anything but an honest answer was being requested. He had that freshness about him...and humility.

He was a humble man but a powerhouse. As Vice President of the college all real daily dealings fell to him. The President was just a marker for fund raising. And I hate to say it..but a buffoon.

Rich use to steal Devan Devan's (always twice) truck daily and would often park it in the President's driveway. DD was often called out of class to remove it.

Alll for now...

DOC...not doghouse...

2007-01-10T23:36:00.000-08:00

My dorm room.

I've had some great mentors. One of them is dead...Doc Humphries. He was Canadian and possible gay and a Kierkegaardian scholar and a Western Civ. academic at Simpson College in 1978.

I lived in a dorm and it was small, cramped, but in the City. I had a beautiful view and the best air on the planet. Near 30 years later I find myself in much the same situation and, frankly, I like it. I liked it then...I like it now.

Doc lived in the next cell block over. They had rennovated part of the C wing to make it into a three room apartment for him. I lived on second floor D.

He also had a spacious office that we tried to abuse whenever possible. But we were never any match for Doc.

I was poor then and I am today. I was well situated then, and I am today. I lived in a small room with a bunk bed...I do today. I love the same things and as I sat in my small room tonight and listened to Bach's Cello Concerto #4 and I remember the musty books and the deep loins of the Simpson library that I plumbed while others were otherwise occupied chasing girls. My first instincts were always best.

I love to study, and Doc did too. He knew I was a Gospel maniac from the gitco and so he invited me weekly out for coffee in San Francisco. We would go to this coffeehouse (diner) and he would order dessert and I would drink bad coffee and rail against his college. He was so gracious, and he asked me back most every week.

Once, when I was gone chasing a woman in Sacramento, Rich and Devan Devan (always two) Olsen had keys to my room. They made use. In fact they noticed that someone was watching them from C Block and began to pelt the windows with my sugar cubes. They threw and threw laughing their asses off until one of them started to see daylight. It came slow...as they threw pellet upon pellet of sugar at the windows of C Block.

Then horror and realization.

IT's DOC!

They had been pelting Doc while he watched.

They confessed upon my return fearing ultimate retirbution (it was obviously from my room) ..but Doc never said a thing. He just loved me and I loved him.

*******

I dislike commemorative crap...but I had a paver stone made for Doc at The PCS cgurch in Roseville. It would have been better to have done one at McCovey cove when you could get one.

*******

For us Christians who really do believe and not hide, we know Doc is here...NOW. It's not like Disney and James Earl Jones showing up at 40 percent in a scene. No, we really believe and undestand this shit.

Doc has a fulness right now I cannot understand in any real way. I think he must watch me (only occasionally) and both sigh and marvel. He misses our coffee time. I do too.

Bach continues in the background. I had no media then and I have none now...I choose this (okay Bach is via my iPod).

I love the study of the Word...and the sound of violins, and the thought of Doc. and good hardwood floors and the fresh air of the Bay Area.

I like my simple books...John Lennon...U2 on U2...Thich Nyat Hanh's book on the Buddha and Christ...Ellul on the Meaning of the City, St. Bernard of Clarvieux on the Song of Solomon, Lewis on The Four Loves. My pastor Rod gave me N.T. Wright's Simply Christian, and I love it. Wow!!

I love my new dorm. It has better music (iPod) and new techno-shit. But it is still a small space to meet God in. We all have to meet God alone. This is what we avoid and it is (tears) so understandible...but what we really need is to be alone so we can then not be alone...not alone at all.

Steiner Street Dear...

2007-01-09T07:18:00.000-08:00

The Hillard Residence.

In Mrs. Doubtfire, Robin Williams is offered only to see his kids for a few hours with a court appointed supervisor. His outrage is palpable. The reason he cannot see his kids is his Ex (played supurbly by Sally Fields) decides it doesn't work with her schedule.

This is the plight for many fathers and because so many dads are deserters the courts swing wildly that way.

Well I don't look good in drag and I already cleaned L's house way too many times.

When we went to the "Mediator", who had already made her mind up my Ex requested that a supervisor be present then named my parents.

My parents live 4 hours away in Monterey. They also have a life of their own. They are currently in New Zealand for a month or so. And, to make matters worse, we had really just worked out a pretty good relationship, finally, after 40 some-odd years.

L is very smart. Too smart for my own good. This was her chance for near full control, and in fact she now has that because my folks are not going to come here, nor should they every few weeks.

So once again, it is not about the kids or their ultimate welfare. It's a classic Mrs. Doubtfire.

And appropriately L's new job (at a Church) is a block from where the film was made on Steiner.

The depictions of Daniel and Miranda are hyperbolic yet pretty dead on. Daniel is a creative soul with a conscience and is often financially challenged. He's a free spirit and a lover. I am very much this way. Such a person creates names and characters for his kids and is silly enough to turn an entire old mansion into a giant miniature golf course.

It's just how we think. And it is good an holy and right even though it is hated by control freaks.

Miranda is a control freak. She is an architect by trade and successful. She shows no remorse over her split with Daniel and her schedule rules even visitation ("we are his goddamn kids too" says the little one).

Miranda is not a bad person. She is just so focused on her own life that no one else really matters. She has no idea how ingrained the lives of her kids are with Daniels. She just wants him gone and out of the picture so she can have fun with Stu (Pierce Brosnan) and have her life her way. As understandable as that is, it is still wrong and not in the best interests of the kids.

The movie is really about the love that drives a father. So many people have abandonment issues well into their adult lives and what I am fearful of is that Camille will have those, and worse, it will have been imposed by her mother.

What a horrible place to situate your own child.

Supposed to be funny...but it's not so very so...

2007-01-08T19:49:00.000-08:00

Olaf the Giant, crica 1650.

My friend Spritz is writing a book about his family history. He's got a brilliant mind and is, perhaps, the funniest writer I have ever known personally. He use to regularly decimate me at Cafe Paris in Sacramento during the Monday Night Word Jams.

Once I remember laughing so hard I had to crawl out the door on my hands and knees. I tried shimmying out on my back...but hands and knees were better. He is just that funny.

Anyway, Spritz, who now lives in Maine where it use to snow but no longer does, wrote me this a.m. about several issues...most of which shall remain private so long as due payment is received.

But one was genealogy and his fascination with it. I told him eighteen months ago to stop researching my family and do his own. Strangely, he did. He just dropped the whole MacDonald/Zetterberg thing.

Flake.

Apparently most of the relatives he contacts are not interested. Personally, I think this has more to do with his reputation as a satirist. Who wants to open up to a distant family member then read about it in Harper's three months later?

Not only that, given the extensive nature of the Spritz line (like fruit flies) throughout NorthAmerica the word passed quickly, and wrongly, that he was a "satanist" rather than the satarist that he is. This put a damper on research which no amount of collect calls could discourage.

But I digress.

My father is also interested in genealogies. He did research on his mother's side and found that in a remote Swedish village we once had an ancestor named "Olaf the Giant". Of course, this being several centuries ago and in a remote village, Olaf was actually 5'3".

But he was big to them...thus the name.

Me? I am 6'7". No one calls me "Mac the Giant".

No research of any kind that I know of has been done on the male side. The MacDonald men of old have a certain shadow and pall cast over them . Both of my grandfathers died fairly early of alcohol-related illnesses. I think one of them died in the snow (perhaps in Maine when they still had snow, but more likely Chicago, or perhaps in Philadelphia in a meat locker after a bar fight).

The men behind them are ghosts, as are the women. No real attempt has been made , that I know of, to research their lives, or their fathers and mothers. It's just useful when in Scotland to get free drinks at the bar (ironic huh?).

"Hi, I'm a MacDonald and I'm Scottish."

"Ayeya Mac! OO givtha roundahouse an git tuit!"

*******

I have talked with each of my sons about this genetic predisposition to one extend (age-appropriate) or another. I would have appreciated that talk myself at 16 instead of an open (and full) liquor cabinet and a well-stocked fridge and absent parents.

I might have preferred attention and nurture. Maybe talking and laughter like I had with my kids when I use to see them. "Oh pappy" Cammie would say when she came out and we would do art and watch Spongebob.

When I was a kid,. we were more like pets that simply had to be accounted for and fed. The only designated times were when grades came out and I had to eat my report card on the way home (heavy on vitamin D).

*******

I was not very bright. In fact, in fourth grade, they put me in the retarded class on every one's advice and even then I sunk to the bottom of the class. Admittedly, I had drooling down (and still do). But it was determined that I had no skills in the arts, science, critical thinking, and certainly not writing. They thought math showed some promise when I was able to successfully purchase lunch and get change three days in a row. On the fourth day I brought Danish coins and was rebuffed.

Anyway, did I mention I have a hard time focusing?

So to return to my other three points...

*******

My Ex and LIBF are trying to take their histories and overwrite my life. I believe I have to object.

LIBF grew up with men who had alcohol issues and they were mean, violent and cruel.

So far he has not shown me that he has not inherited these gifts. I have been threatened (no matter how "courteously") on many occasions. He has assaulted my son and wishes to remind me regularly how my words mean nothing (while his do) and how his actions mean nothing (while mine do). He has threatened me with restraining orders when I peacefully picked up my kids (when I got to do that).

Frankly...I don't trust him. No brainer.

I figure, the only reason (given his actions toward Adam) that he has not taken me "out back" to explain things to me in a "manly way" is because I am twice his size (minimum) and I would simply unscrew his tiny head in defense.

Note that...self-defense. I'm a lover.

L grew up with a family laced with addiction, She is a classic codependent. She needs the disease to flourish because it is what she knows and understands.

Thus her need to view and treat me as she does. It has nothing to do with me or reality at all.

It is what she knows and expects. She is still trying to work out her own demons.

Whatever.

******

Family histories are difficult. Everyone has a "dysfunctional family". Our job is to recognize where we are in that web, become our true selves, realize our callings and love and forgive those closest to us. That doesn't solve everything...but at least you have a map and a code.

In LIBF's map anyone who has ever had issues with alcohol (and I have) is a perp. It has nothing to do with me, or my words or my actions. It's his internal "grid". Done deal. I'm just the "marker". And even that I do not drink makes no difference because I once did...and it hurt him so (by them) that I am just a tag...a marker.

My dad use to be the same way to a lesser degree. I think, actually, he was more pissed that I spoke my mind freely (I admit it must be maddening). But I think he also saw the spectre of his own father hanging over my head and simply did not know what to do.

Let me explain this about my father. He is terribly intelligent, witty, funny handsome and adventurous. I am also all of these things...BUT our intelligence swings into a wide chasm (or at least it has for most of our shared lives until recently).

He is also maddening. He is passionate, outspoken and often times unreasonable.

Go figure. Where is Olaf when you need him?

Anyway, we have never really gotten along at all until the last few years. We made a deal...an "accord" a few years back at the family cabin. In the agreement he agreed to grant me autonomy and an unrestricted free homeland in exchange for honest disclosure about the state of affairs (respectfully) in my homeland and forgiveness of him for the past.

If only they would do this in the Middle East.

This was a significant move forward, and we have managed, despite outside pressures, to maintain this peace accord. We may never be close, but we love each other and respect rules the day.

*******

We found out years later that I was not quite retarded. We also found out I could write, and at a near ridiculous rate. We also found out I have a knack for painting and art. We soon found that nearly anything was possible: poetry, farce, short stories and even a novel which is actually done.

We found out I had a knack for systems theory and saw paradigms in my head that became actual products (and with a patent in one case).

We also found other things I am not so happy about.

In my poem Seconds I talk about inheriting the "burning hot heart of my grandfather".

This is the part of the MacDonalds that needs to be talked about. It is our genius. It's how my father understood gas and liquid chromatography in an intuitive way from the gitgo. It's how my eldest son understands music from the inside out and people. It's how each of them sees from "inside".

It's why I see connections few others will ever see.

It's scary at times. Maybe my grandfather, who died in the snow, just had nowhere to go with who he really was.

We do.

I do.

But we compensate or mitigate. Or we have in our own adult ways.

Now for the sons who read this (and sisters) the future is not fixed. You can choose NOW, and I suggest you do rather than simply accept and react.

I have been fighting my "disease" since late Fall. It is hard but worthwhile. My enemies (and make no mistake...the fact I have just typed this WILL be used against me by them) mean me harm and not good as sure as the Lord is the Center of Creation and all that is good. In a sense it is not personal. They are working out their own issues and I am just the paper-cut-out occasion for their madness.

But your brother and sister, niece and nephew...they are the ones who suffer.

It is whispered in Camille's ear "your dad has a disease". But when one has a disease one is visited, no? And in remission even more so...right? How about a celebration of that!?

But there is none of that. No..in fact a tightening of the reigns.

Actions or words?

And then there is the simple matter that kids just need what they need.

When they are denied it stays with them...even when they are 50.

I'd prefer they not have to go there.

******

A word about my father (he cringes).

I rather like this man.

When he gets on the phone with me I can tell he is uneasy. He wants to do well by me but he is not sure how to do so. I am not an easy man to manage because I am essentially unmanageable.

Only God can manage a Mac. Even God is challenged...believe me.

Dad has to suppress his old ways and hold to our agreement (as do I!). There is probably no way to bridge immediate issues. He tries. I try. We love each other.

But I want to note that the retarded son who had no ability to write or do art or speak or think but had to find his way alone to those things now sees his own dad doing these things well.

I have a framed drawing on my wall by my dad of the Alola street house I bought. It is beautiful. He is gifted. I have read many of his writings, both political and personal, and while he cannot spell to save his life, he does have the sense of it. He is a gifted writer and a gifted artist even though those his eyes are going off.

Mine are going off too. I shot the lead pictures of this year's Maverick's Opening Ceremonies with my great camera...but I could hardly see a thing. The pictures are really good (http://www.maverickssurf.com) but it was sheer Jedi instinct.

So my Da and I are not so very different after all.

And I love him.

So what about my kids?

Malone

2007-01-02T08:07:00.000-08:00

Malone is the only one that got away.

I mentioned this to Reese yesterday and she reminded me that there is still time and I have friends in Philadelphia where I heard he ended up.

Good points.

Malone was an interesting guy. He hated me immediately. He hated me the way people hate others when they are 40 and he was only 20-something...but inside? Malone was always 40.

He worked at an all-night Chevron station they no one ever came to. Okay...maybe twice a night...but that was it.

I would show up at around 11:30 p.m. after a date and just hang around. Malone never stopped hating me. He had no idea why I would come out every Saturday night and sit in the big garage will 4 a.m. when we both knew he hated me.

He never gave the slightest sign of not hating me. I'd show up and he would sigh and continue cleaning one of the bays.

Now anyone who knows me at all knows that I am a rascal. Just last night Reese accused me of having a singular objective and I reminded her that I never do anything that does not have five different reasons or sidebars. I'm a rascal. All of my ex-wives will tell you this or simply post a deposition if I am not available to be yelled at.

So it's true. I am a rascal. But I have a good heart and I also mean well. I am certainly one of the most loving persons you will ever meet...or if not, surely the tallest.

My sons are rascals by the way. It's genetic.

But back to me.

And Malone.

Now I am a very good listener so when Mitch told me about Malone and his hatred for me I also noted on old story about Malone having put his "testimony" of Christian conversion to music. He confided this to Mitchell in a moment of weakness and also to a man who is better than I will ever be.

But I knew.

And I led him for a few weeks (I can be very patient when it comes to legitimate entrapment) by simply showing up and listening for hours to this man who hated me.

Again, we don't know why. I had never done anything to Malone. In fact, he had helped pack The Brick with newspaper and had made snide comments about me within earshot.

But as I said, Malone was 40 twenty years before the rest of us and he knew the fix was in somewhere...just not where. He looked at me the way a doctor does when viewing cancer cells on a negative.

All of this went unsaid...but if you ask Malone today he will tell you. "I hated that guy".

And maybe, just maybe, that is why I respected him as much as I did. No two-facing with this guy. No...from day one he looked at me like I was a hair on his biscuit.

I kinda loved him for that.

But also the sort of guy who would put his young conversion to music.

Well...ya just cannot pass that up...the sheer hubris...I mean Martin Luther can do it...or Eugene Peterson at 70 or J.I. Packer...or even Bono...but this guy in a Cheron station at 3 a.m?

And I know.

I could have been meaner and done it publically...I didn't.

It had been maybe 3 months of Saturdays by then and at 4 a.m in the Chevron I said "Yeah know Craig...you seem like the kinda guy who would be very thoughtful about your conversion".

He nodded

"In fact...maybe the sort of guy who would actually set his own story to music..."

I don't remember what happened next. I think I remember running away...and running fast.

So maybe he didn't get away.

Stanley

2007-01-02T07:37:00.000-08:00

Port Chicago Highway in Concord, CA.

It was August by then and damned hot. 110 in the shade hot and Stanley was supposed to leave in two days for Bible School.

Now you may wonder how it was that all these men who supposedly loved God could be so malicious. I simply point to the Crusades and then remind you that it only took Wettstein 2 hours to clean up his Capri and rearrange it. No lasting harm was done...it was rather the "unknowing" all the way back from Reno that was his due.

Same with Stanley.

I sat down with Pope Kodiac a month after I had gotten him back and I was relatively sure he would not cut my heart out with a spoon over breakfast. As I unfolded my plan and he realized that he was no longer a target his eyes lighted up and he threw in.

We would steal Stanley's spare tire off the back of his van and bury it like booty at a location that would make mockery of him.

We would do this "the Port Chicago way".

The night before Stanley was to leave for Westmont we heisted the tire and left a note telling him where it was buried.

Only it wasn't exactly there.

I mean it was and it wasn't. Many notes later (like 15) he would end up back where he had been at 10 a.m....only it was now 3 p.m as we had timed it so when he got back there (with a shovel) it would be the hottest part of the day and there would be traffic backed up for miles watching his every move.

He had to drive up to the Park, then to Walnut Creek...then back to the park. Pleasnt Hill...back to Concord...a side trip to Cowell... One of the notes was waiting for him at the Concord Police Station.

"Hi my name is Gary and I am looking for my tire"

"Yes. Mr. Stanley, this is for you" said the woman at the front desk as she handed him the envelope with his next clue.

Now I cannot take credit for that. It was sheer brilliance on Pope Kodiac's part. He had been a police cadet and had connections. Just imagine Stanley walking in to the police department at 9 a.m. and they are expecting him.

We did bury his tire off Port Chicago Highway in the middle of the night and we knew that, at best, he would get there (again) with a shovel in the middle of the afternoon when traffic backed up and everyone would be watching him dig.

You gotta give Stanley credit. He did it. And it was 110 and he went off to Bible College later that evening and never had anything to do with any of us after that day.

I think he now runs a Zen center in Boulder Colorado and only uses a bike.

Next...the one that got away...

Okay...okay....

2007-01-01T17:47:00.000-08:00

"Doomed" is perhaps too large a word. In reality Mitchell just had a 67 Chevy bench seat in a tree, a neanderthal dog with opthamological issues and a bewildered mother.

It was the others who were doomed. They ordered eggs and even sausage thinking they were now safe. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

Doomed.

Wettsetein was next.

The Chase...

2007-01-01T17:36:00.000-08:00

Well it was not much of a chase except for the fact that hardly anyone was on the road.

That was why it was unusual that the Mitchells barreling down Ygnasio did not realize they had made us until after they saw "The Brick".

It was called "The Brick" because it was primer red and more bondo than steel. Even the engine was half bondo and needed sanding and a nice coat of paint.

Nevertheless, we made it to Walnut Creek before the Mitchells and the Landrover. Scott is a notorius wuss when it comes to making an illegal u-turn...which meant he had to drive another 4 miles (nearly to Clayton) to turn around legally.

By then we had made it to the parking lot in Walnut Creek.

It was high up and a triangular lot that gave us a view. So we got to watch the Mitchell Brops circle us for 30 minutes.

Vrooom....vroom....vroom...they just circled us but never looked up.
We had breakfast in Pleasant Hill at the Denny's and everyone at the table felt safe and secure not realizing that they were doomed.

The Wall...

2006-12-31T04:24:00.000-08:00

When the lights went on and The Flouder prevailed we fled.

Sure...the bench seat of the Chevy was twisting in the wind in the Euclayptus tree (everyone had clear sinuses).

Wett and I had been the first off the wall. Stanley and Malone merely tumbled before The Flounder was upon them (did I mention that his eyes were on TOP of his head?).

Stanley was in the creek...the waters scrabbling over his legs in the darkness while Malone hid under some rough brush (it was significant brush to be sure). Later, Malone would admit that George was so close that he could "smell him".

But The Flounder was not able to detect either of them and so they escaped 30 minutes after Wettstein and I had.

Well we had had a great time. The seat in the tree...the flight from the estate...all without Mitchell's knowledge... Escaping The Flounder....well you get it...

Only later did I realize that Mrs. Mitchell would some day become privy to these happenings and that for the next 30 years she would always look at me with suspicion.

We hit the Capri like teens and Wettstein was bouncing off the top of his car the whole way back. It was like being in a small car with...well a bear (thusly named) to Roundtree laughung his ass off.

I was more subdued as I felt certain the night was not over and doom was in the air.

At near dawn, Stanley and Malone showed up (see picture). Stanley was wet and shaking. Malone was unplussed. Wett and I had had coffee. We had a neighbor take a picture. I had changed into my Saint costume.

Well we knew they were coming.

Of course...NOTE... none of the other three knew they were next.

So we sent out up Ygnasio way at 6 a.m.

We went West ...Malone in Grandpa (an old thing), Wett in the Capri and me in "The Brick".

Coming East on Ygnasio was the Mitchell clan...in a Landrover.

They passed Grandpa and the Capri without notice...but went buggied-eyed when the Brick went by.

Thus the hunt in Walnut Creek.

Part 3...this is the fun part

2006-12-30T10:51:00.000-08:00

You know what is disgusting? The guy...sans the Robert Plant hairdo...looks just the same. Serious. He looks 25...it's disgusting. I, on the other hand look a healthy 45 on a good day. On a bad day I look like Nick Nolte in a lineup.

I'm still taller than him.

Okay, so back to the story (why do I feel like Peter Falk?)

I had the key..and the crew and the timing and the tools. The simple plan was to extract the bench seat and place it higher to God.

We laid seige to the Chevy with abandon. The bench seat was extracted and roped and hoisted into the big fir tree within 4 minutes. It was beautiful. It was performed with near Prussian efficieny, which was remarkable since we had a company of three mutts with Anglo names and the largest Jew you have ever seen.

Then The lights came on and it all went nuts.

It was a pure thirty foot drop off the retaining wall to God knows what was below. Wettstein and I did not hesitiate because we had heard Mrs. Mitchell (who weighs about 79 pounds and is about the sweetest woman you will ever meet) scream at 3 a.m. "Gettim" George!!!"

The Flounder.

Who keeps a dog so neanderthal that it has both of it's eyes on the TOP of it's head?

Wett and I flung ourselves headlong off the retaining wall. By some miracle niether of us was killed or even injured. In fact, in an incident unlike any since (where I am always injured or at least humiliated) we both made it across the creeks and onto the backroad to safety and his Capri.

Stanley and Malone did not fair so well.

(By the way , this is my New Year's gift to you. You cannot make this stuff up. It all happened and we are not done yet).

The Stories...Part 2

2006-12-30T10:19:00.000-08:00

The Culprits..part 1.

This picture was taken at around 6 a.m. notice that Stanley's pants (far right) are still wet.

To the left is Malone, then Pope Kodiak (Wettstein). Stanley is just soggy. I look like...well beutiful. I wish someone had told me then. I would have scored.

Okay...so last I left off the only really story was the group of us creeping up Mitchell's driveway at 3 a.m. You had to do this because the ass stays up all hours. (My revenge to be posted later).

His lights went out at around 2:30 a.m. We waited. I turned to look behind me. Remember I am wearing black pants, a black turtleneck, and a black cap (I changed later into the white outfit). The idiots behind me are dressed the same. One looks like Magnum P.I., the next looks like Cannon, the last one looks like a box boy at Safeway. Not good. Worse, I am their leader. Still they all deserve this because they "got" me.

My plan?

Well remember MDOED (Mac's Doctrine of Emotional Duress).

Months earlier, when Mitch had stayed over at my apartment and stayed up till 3 a.m. I stole his key at 7 am and had a copy made while he slept (I did not do my usual torture of him at 7 a.m....I had bigger fish to fry).

No, in fact, I put down my copy of Barth's commentary of Romans at 7 a.m. and took his key and had a duplicate made at the Park and Shop strip mall before he woke up at Noon.

I did some shopping, bought some used books and made it back for breakfast while he snored (he snores something awful). Then wehen he woke up I made the usual jokes as if I was not about to destroy him.

He never missed his key...till four months later at 3 a.m.

And that is where Geroge (The Flounder) came in.

I had taken everything into account and my plan was fool-proof. I even had the ratchet (not metric...it was a Chevy) settings locked and loaded.

Then it all went South...literally.

The Stories...part one

2006-12-30T09:32:00.000-08:00

The Flounder.

At first glance this dog looks like a great pet. He looks healthy and happy and affable.

None of these things were true in 1977. This dog would just as soon rip out your throat as ask for a treat.

Whoever took this picture had a lucky minute. Tell it otherwise to my friend Malone when he was hiding at 3 am in the brush and being hunted by this beast on that fate-filled night.. Or tell it to Stanley who was half in the creek below the 30 foot retaining wall at just that moment going into hypothermia.

This dog, named "George" was a warmonger and we called him "The Flounder" because what dog that you know has both eyes on the top of it's head. C'mon!

It's a bad omen. It's like meeting a prehistoric dog, or at least one who existed before redaction editors or the authors of the JEDP theory.

You see we were all young theologians..so we talked that way unless it was 3 a.m. and we came dressed in black pants, turtlenecks and caps looking to do mischief.

To give you some context. Months earlier I had been attacked...savagely. My beloved 62 VW Van ("The Brick") had been carted down the street and filled with newspaper and replaced in my driveway.

This deed was done on my birthday and by a host of very evil protestant theologians and a cross-dresser who were all good personal friends.

Being a man who understood the grace of God I immediately started plotting my revenge. I discovered, through cross-examination...just who the four culprits were and I set about making a plan to destroy each of them.

Okay, okay...destroy is too strong a term. The actual need was to create as much emotional duress as possible with the least amount of physical damage to their property. That took imagination. In fact, Mac's Doctrine of Emotional Mayhem was actually born that morning as I unpacked 800 pounds of newspaper from my van (I had plenty of time to think).

Here was my plan. I would saddle up to each Perp and ask for their help in undoing the others with the notion that they had been cleared of any suspicion. In their subtle glee in being trusted with such a task they would throw in fully never suspecting that they were next.

Remember...we were in our 20's...so this is not exactly the Godfather.

So Mitchell was first. He is, after all, my best friend.

The end...for now...

2006-12-26T17:50:00.000-08:00

I wrote this poem when Adam was 5. It is instructive and appropriate at this time to reprint.

My only notes are that when it comes to "the apple" it really is none of their (kids) damned mess. It is adults who make such messes and bear the burden of them (eventually). I hope better for my kids and knowing them as I do I feel they will be fine.

I met with my good friend and pastor today. He worries about my becoming embittered and he also has this crazy notion that faith, love and hope really matter in a world dominated by fear, violence and the abuse of power.

I cannot say that I disagree with him. In fact, he has encouraged me to walk away for a season and I am going to do so. He does not disagree about the facts pertaining to these issues...he simply is urging wisdom which moves beyond the facts.

My roomate agrees with this and I trust her counsel as well. So I leave you with this poem written for my beloved Son Adam when he was 5. He has grown into these words far beyond what I might have hoped, as have all my sons and what I have wanted.

The Lunchbox....

The house stories down to nothing
Only the chores remain
The lingering obligations left open like
The empty lunchbox.

With a snap
The clasp is undone
Spilling out the remains
Of our separate days
Cracker bits and cellophane
A darkened rind
The reddened stain
Around the thermos rim
Empty
Yet still
Begging for tommorow.

Comes the parental sigh
Then breath again
A new breath
And the box is rinsed out
With a mild soapy water
And tamped-down ready
For tommorow.

Then comes the fun,
The kind all too easy to miss:
The dragging smear of chunky buttered nuts
Across the 12 grain bread
The cheap gelatinous
Grape jelly
Dropped down thick
Like bulbous concord lakes dropped down
Onto spongy wheatfields that
Only the knify wind
Can turn to glaze.
And the long stick of string cheese
Like a treasure
A full comfort stapled to your ribs.

But after all
You'll still be hungry
So you have that apple.
Adults make so much of the apple
Sometimes dear one
An apple is just
The best blessed fruit God ever invented
And no more.
Don't let anyone tell you
The apple's to blame for any of
Their damned mess.

The apple is the best
Don't forget that.

Then every day's box
Brings your "special deal"
And the deal comes from us
Us who love you
And this last little item
Is personal
So your Mom would never give you
The same thing I would
It's a subjective thing
And you're the
Subject of
Each special deal with you.

So, I'd like my special deals
In the lunchbox
Most everyday
I know what ya need
But your mom's got to get
Her two mitts in too
So you gotta take what ya get
With the special deal.

As for me
I'd give you a dark
Hershey bar
One of those flat bricked ones
Cut in half
Each day.

You gotta admit
There's something pure about
That bar.
And only so much you can
Take in each day.

So tommorow
When you open the lunchbox
And you make your way through
The peanut-jelly gorge
And strip down the cheese
And crimp around your apple
Don't forget that
We are there with you

Your mom and I
We're in the bread
We're in the grape
And we smiled for you
As we picked out the jars
And singled out the cheeses
And we delight as your sweet mouth
Hits that first frail
Panel of chocolate.

Your lunchbox.

I apologize ahead of time...

2006-12-26T04:39:00.000-08:00

With Faerie tales and myths we want a clean and sure ending found in happiness and justice. This is not how reality works.

No.

On the day after a despairing Christmas you wake up at 4 a.m. and the Holy Spirit within you whispers not "good morning...aren't you a good lad" but rather an obscure passage from the Word. That, and you forgot your laundry downstairs.

He starts out with the best part "the fellowship of His sufferings," and the only reason you feel sure this is the Spirit is because no one else has the audacity to say or mention such things at 4 a.m. after a day of despair. It's a chord the Spirit has played often and in timely fashion. It's one that is both sweet relief and also elicits immediate groaning. But it cannot be denied. "the fellowship of His sufferings." And it has the swiftness and certainty of all or any news that you get out of the blue at 4 a.m. The phone rings, it's your father. "Your uncle is dead, call me back at a decent hour." That's it.

But this obscure verse about the "fellowship of His sufferings" must be unpacked. And it is quite disconcerting (I warn you ahead of time...you will not hear any of this Paul nonsense at churches named SaddleBridge or RiverGorge or WillowTreats, etc...).

No. Paul is in prison in Rome. Well at least house arrest...at any rate, it's not fun but he seems relatively unaffected because he has the decided advantage of being unaffected. He simply does not care the way you or I do. Paul is weird.

So he writes to this young gangly church in Philippi the following (this mind you after the Kenosis passage in chapter 2):

"that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death; in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead..."

Well that's just about enough for anyone...I mean all that comes before is even deeper, as is what comes after. If this guy had been a boxer he would have been Cassius Clay in his prime.

Fortunate for me it was only the phrase "fellowship of His sufferings" at 4 a.m....which gives meaning in two simple ways: 1) the sufferings are real; 2) you have fellowship with Christ within them no matter how wuss-ified they are.

And our sufferings are wuss-ified. I suffered horribly yesterday watching movies with my roomate on the couch, petting the dog, cooking good food and talking with friends on the phone. Sure I had massive anxiety...but that is in my head dammit.

Terrible, terrible suffering.

Yet Christ would say to me (and does) "welcome to the fellowship". For beneath our layers of activities there is a deep sadness and an abrupt turn within and a lostness that wishes only to be found. And thus when the Spirit comes at 4 am and speaks of a fellowship that is real you listen because it is gutteral and true and their is no falseness anywhere near it because it is too clean.

It is too clean. Too real. Who else calls at 4 a.m.?

Now, like any good American, I am not too much into the "sufferings" part. It's like an aisle at the grocery store I never want to go down. Or, eh...it's like cigarettes...I proudly don't smoke them so who needs them?

But still I find myself drawing on one all the time, or I wake up at the store and I'm in the health food aisle and nothing looks like food.

But I digress.

The sufferings are not for no purpose, which is what differentiates them from an IRS audit or a detailed cavity search at the Oakland airport.

No. What is being said is clearly insane, and I'll prove it. Take this... "That I may know Him." is the first thing that sticks out.

Imagine going to SaddleBrooks or OrangeBoughs Church and the first thing they say is "welcome to the sufferings!". Then after the praise songs, small theatrical thingy and the sermon on possibilities you are ushered (literally...they have 500 ushers not for no reason) you get lattes and croissants, followed by the beatings.

Well that just is not going to work.

I mean when Paul talked about the "fellowship of His sufferings" he surely meant you having to sit through a badly written sermon...or maybe your Americano was cold, or your kids were forced to deal with an 8 to 1 class ratio.

Now I am sermionizing. Sorry.

"That I may Know Him".

This is what makes the suffering worthwhile. Why the suffering to the knowing? I have not much idea...but it seems to work for God. Just think about it...think of all those people you know you crush others underfoot and feel no suffering at all. Do they know God? Naw...

Not a one. You wanna meet God? Go meet a woman who has lost everything and is hanging by a thread. Ask her about God and you will get a straight answer. Ask a patient dying of cancer. Ask a man at the scene of an accident. Slump down next to someone at a bus station and ask them who God is. They will tell you.

It's on your mind...and if it is not it is because you are insulated.

I wake up cold and I hear "the fellowship of His sufferings" and the saddest thing about that is every religious person I know will pity me for this, or shake their head...and I am simply on the doorstep of Knowing Him.

Sweet Jesus...Just to Know you and your fellowship.

.

HTTP Error 404

2006-12-25T06:03:00.000-08:00

I like to place some art with each article so I did a quick search for "Incarnation" on the Internet and found a host of images. In each case though, when I went to retreive the image I got a 404 error...which means there is nothing there, just a trace that it once was.

This seems a fitting metaphor for this Christmas morning. I believe in the incarnation but their are only traces of it being real.

I woke up in despair and alone. There is really no good reason for the latter, but seems plenty for the former.

Why despair? Well, you could point to many things, including my depressive nature, but the simple reason is I just do not see the point and I am tired of trying to see the point or make a piont that everyone (Christian or otherwise) seems to hate or deny.

No one takes faith seriously anymore..okay, okay...not no one. I can name at least five people who take faith and who take Jesus seriously...and there are a few on the cusp, but most of them are too busy being beaten on a daily basis...but it's an incognito beating.

There is no justice. If there were George Bush would not be in power and a couple dozen fairly innocent folk would not die today so he and his friends can get rich and pursue an insane agenda.

But my despair is closer in as you might imagine.

When I was a kid I loved Christmas even when my dad would buy me the thing that was kinda like the thing I actually wanted only it was 60 percent less. I wanted a puffy jacket in blue and would get a green fiber-fill. It was still Christmas. And twice I got up and I got exactly what I wanted (hold that thought by the way). But there was good food and usually even my sister and I got along which only happened a dozen times till we were in our 30s.

It was Christmas eve last night, and I have already been denied my kids or even delivering their gifts simply because I don't drink, I provide them their own room, am willing to do all the driving but apparently the real issue is my simple existence. That seems to be the rub when you get right down to it.

Apparently, If I simply did not exist then I could see them, or at least have a phone call returned on Christmas Eve. It would definitely cut down on the threats of restaining orders, which are getting more frequent.

When you cease to exist it is very hard to be served.

Now I am bordering on farce good reader, but I assure you, take away a few humorous remarks and it is all true. Humor is one of a few saving graces for those of us without a trust fund. You cannot pay your bills, but you can make a wisecrack on the way out that may sustain you for weeks.

Anyway, no one takes Christianity serious anymore unless they are making a movie. That much is evident to me. In fact, if it were not for my friends Rod and Martha (and also Scott and Laura) I might finally succumb to the notion that it is all nonsense and I have simply been missing out on a a really good time.

My evidence? Christians.

None of them (except the aforementioned) in general take it seriously at all. Okay, I know this girl who does, but she is young and has yet to receive the beatings.

When I woke up I thought about the unretruned phone calls and that my kids are being force-fed affluent Christianity with no discipleship involved...no suffering, no cost. Their mother and LIBF are both Christians leaders with money, power and they can have all the sex they want without marriage because God thinks they are special. They don't even have to cook dinner on Christmas eve because they can go to an expensive sushi restaurant in the City.

It sounds like I am bitter. I''ts possible it is just the wasabi.

Well you can see where that is going. And I have to admit, when I was a kid if my mother had taken me to a fancy restaurant with her boyfriend on Christmas Eve I would have really liked it.

But I still would have called my father back.

I left five messages yesterday. Each over an hour apart, and each in response to them calling me at 11:30 when I was at Church.

The last time I called when I knew Camille was there (after 3 days of unreturned messages) I was threatened with a restraining order). So now I space them by an hour or so, so I will get fewer threats. I'm sure a judge somewhere thinks that a returned phone call to a father is worth restraint.

The fact is, now that they have taken everything else 9like actually seeing my kids) my calls to my kids are utterly ignored.

The fear is, of course, that I might simply speak the truth. Which is true. It's very possible I will say to my children that they cannot see me because their mother has so decided.

True or untrue?

She claims I should not speak anything adult to them...this while LIBF tries to show Adam what it's like to be a real man (violence) and L talks to my 9 year old daughter about my "'having a disease".

Well that is just another layer of hypocrisy, but let's say I do have a disease. Why do they go apeshit and attack whenever I am in remission from this disease (I am not yet sure it is a disease but they will play it six ways from Sunday if it suits their purpose)?

And where is their faith, hope and love? Christianity is supposed to be an offer of redemption, grace and forgiveness; not power and accusation and hypocrisy. And the worst thing is the kids. Jesus, in a rare harsh moment, suggested that those who hinder kids would be better off tying themselves to a large stone and casting it (and them) into Lake Tahoe (current context).

No, as I survey the landscape I see that most of Christianity in the West is dead. It's alive in Asia, Africa...pretty much anywhere where the veneer of religion is not tolerable. But here it is dead. No one loses their life to find it here. No one loves their neighbor as themself (unless they are pagan). No one studies the texts unless it's to sell a book on what "it really means". Christian leaders persecute other, live together..."cats living with dogs..." its nuts.

Do I seem down?

Well I am.

Now there are two people who give me hope and I will tell you why.

One is Martha. She sent me an email Christmas card. It said (ironically) that I had given her hope this last year. The reality is probably otherwise. Martha prays for me every day even though she has never met me face to face. She does this because she believes. She has the crazy idea that when she sits in Massachusetts and prays for me, that God listens and it actually matters.

The crazy fact is, it does.

In fact, that is a lot more sane to me that the mean utter bullshit I have to live with week in and week out just trying to love and see my kids, and have it denied by this notworthy "Christians" who do not live out their faith at all. Jesus is like their life insurance agent who they see once a year. Make no mistake. He is not in charge in any way.

Martha, like all true disciples, doubts herself too much...but is tender-hearted because of it.

Today it's her turn to give me hope.

Rod is the other one.

He makes me feel faith and truth and love are all possible in real terms.

(Laughing)...this guy is so grounded in incarnational love that he even offered (out of his own pocket) to pay for a hotel room for me in Alameda when it looked like I had to do all the driving for two days. "Just stay over and be with your kids...on me".

Well, we all know that is not going to happen for whatever excuse they can concoct. But the offer was there and a gracious one.

Maybe that is the real point. The offer of Christ's love and grace is always there...but we have to accept it. God will not force L & LIBF to have my kids call or allow them to visit even though they know well that they are safe and loved.

If their version of Christianity is the deal, I do not want it, nor would I suggest it to anyone.

Am I beitter? Yes. I believe I finally am. And it is a long road to get me so for anyone that knows me. I am a lover by nature. I will not allow the bitterness to linger. I will let it instruct me for a short time so I am not so naive.

God was neither naive, nor bitter, not decluded about what becoming flesh would mean. If we talked about that more in the church we might all see things differently. Until then, Christmas pagents at 5, sushi at 9 and sex at 11, all with the blessings of God.

Why Google is like my Ex

2006-12-23T08:16:00.000-08:00

Every day since we received the new GOOGLE Blogger thing its the same story. No memory, no password verification. I have to daily ask for a new password now that I have the new Google Blogger (I knew it was a mistake to hit "upgrade"). The password I type in to sign in to add this Blog is the same every day. Every day it says it is invalid. Every day I have it send me a reset and I type in the very same password. It let's me in...this one time. Tomorrow it will say "Who the frill are you?"

So it goes.

The comparison is rather comic. I am the father of two children and I call or try to communicate and every day I get the same "invalid password" message...even though I am the father.

This message comes in many forms. Like:

Your words mean nothing even though I make my living as a book editor
I am erasing your emails and all in the future (except this one)
Don't call your daughter when she is here
This conversation is over unless I want to talk

So I do the same thing I do with Google. I just reset the password every day and keep plodding along.

Bad Faith Goes Farther South

2006-12-22T07:29:00.000-08:00

So the latest is that I will not see the kids at all throughout Christmas or in the forseeable future. The action is reckless and meant to be punative. And in the midst I have been regularly assailed and threatened in many ways...none of which I entertain with any seriousness because it is simple intimidation.

Just to be clear, when LIBF began to make serious statements about my long-term relationships with my older sons I did contact them to make extra sure that everything was (as it always has been) on the table and I was not missing anything. Both assured me that words had been placed in their mouths and the oldest said "leave me out of this" which I find a very sane response.

Unfortunately, for me, I cannot stay out of it. I do not get to parent my nine year old daughter again. You have one shot and they are doing their best to make that impossible.

The top three most despicable quotes of the week are as follows. Please remember I did not write these or make them up.

1) "If you continue to place multiple calls to the house in any given hour, I will consider that harassment and get a restraining order. " We have a long standing agreement that the kids always have access via phone. After three days of unreturned calls I called when I knew Camille would be available for a short conversation. Asking to talk with my daughter about her day has nothing to do with L and her life.

Once again, imagine the reverse. What would you say if I restricted Camille's free access to her mother via the phone. That would be unhealthy in my view, and place her in a bad position. I would never do that.

2) "If what I see with Sean and Thomas is any indication of the future then we know where this will end up, and that has nothing to do with me or L, they have made their decisions about how much they want you in their lives as adults. I hope you care enough about Adam and Camille to go down a different path."

The most subtle part of slander is inneundo. The fact is I am quite happy with my relationship with both sons. I only wish I saw them more, but they are very busy and I have to respect their schedule. Both have written me back with distaste at being used as ammunition by LIBF.

The path I have chosen with Adam and Camille is to be open, loving and available on all levels. The only thing hampering the relationship (they cannot destroy it as much as they wish to) is their rigid insistance on controlling the natural and healthy relationship they have with their father.

Once again, I have to point out there never has been an incident here in any way. Meanwhile there have been several on the other end. Kids locked out, grabbed and shaken, left alone with no supervision. None of those things has ever happened here or would.

Fact.

3) "we do the work of parenting 24/7 and it is our schedule that counts not yours." This is my personal favorite as it is so unabashedly arrogant.

The reason they do 24/7 is because they insist on it. I would gladly take the kids two to three days a week. It would be in their best interest to do so.

That's our top three for the week. I feel certain next week will be worse. Keep your sense of humor.

*******

Bad Faith (yes, I did lead with that).

I wrote earlier this week about a moral dilemma I am facing. I think a few of you think this is a game to me of sorts. My pastor thinks that in some way it is my way of having some control in an insane situation. I think he is probably correct. If he wasn't such a aweetheart I could just punch him. I do not see it as a game..I am simply not accepting the role of doormat.

The fact remains that I walk and talk and disclose myself to Rod because I trust him and he is a man who has the aroma of Jesus about him. He subtely disarms me because his sole concern is Gospel and he is steeped in it. He talks from within a world that I do understand and it is very real...just not normal faire.

Thus I often check my weapons at the door when we meet. Sometimes I forget to pick them up on my way home.

This is no small gift to me. In fact, I honestly cannot imagine going through all of this the last four months without his constant counsel.

Which brings us back to the notion of Bad Faith. Sartre coined the term and it has been used in various contexts...but it always is a ruse at the core...a justification in the middle and a projection in the end.

By it men and women justify all manner of injustice and always say the same thing..."My hands are tied..I can do no other thing". Which is simply untrue. It is a bold-faced lie. We have an uncanny and God-given freedom that enables us to choose love and free action at any time. To hide behind any system is just Bad Faith.

Rod does not say this. In fact, he challenges me to use my freedom as gift and to see myself as an image-bearer in some small way, of God. Yikes!

I'm pretty sure that my reflective qualities are pretty muddied...but I cannot deny the calling which is there.

Rod is, for me, an example of real faith, not bad faith. I'm pretty sure it costs him a lot...I am just as sure that it is worth it for the rest of us.

Well I brought up an issue with him two months back. I was (and still am) disturbed by the fact that these two Christian Leaders (LIBF and L) are shacking up. My best friend of 30 years (a Presbyterian minmister) says it is a no-brainer and I should confront the situation with the PCUSA hierarchy.

Now before I go farther let me make it clear that I am not moralizing. I have lived with a woman I was not married to on a couple of occasions. The difference was I did not place myself in a leadership position. In fact, I did the opposite.

There are far worse things than deciding to live with and have sex with your partner. Often those situations result in marriage and a long-term commitment. I have great respect for my father and his wife because they have stuck it out in marriage, but they started as just living together. It's just my dad was not an elder int he church, or a speaker or teacher.

We expect more.

Lest you think me a prig ask yourself how you would feel about your pastor or priest living with a woman instead of marrying her? What do the kids think?

Well Rod always brings things back to my actions (did I mention I could punch him?). He agreed that it was utterly inappropriate for L and LIBF to be such, and also the message that it sends to the kids. But then he asked me about my motives.

Did I really care about the integrity of the Church and leadership, or did I just want to make them feel some small amount of my own pain for their hypocrisy?

Damned good question. Which is why I have remained silent for two months. I have written the letter to Session and the senior pastor at the church L works at.

But I have not sent it.

So here is where I want you all to argue with me. It's an open question.

Let's assume my motives will never be 100% pure.
The old adage that two wrongs do not make a right is assumed.
I have no right to judge or condemn, but I can question.
The requirements for Christian leadership are specific. I do not meet them..but I am not in such a position.
Our calling, if I understand rightly, is to Lovingkindess and Truth. Both need to go hand in hand...not easy.
I do not have to be pragmatic.
I should probably pass on this
I should probably take serious issue with this.

A Fundamentalist mindset would simply rack them up. I am not a Fundamentalist. In fact, I place a high premium on human freedom and more importantly grace...even for those who choose to make themselves my enemies.

L and LIBF have chosen to make themselves my enemy. I have not reciprocated in any way. I have done nothing to them nor do I wish to. They, on the other hand have pulled out all the stops. I cannot see my kids, they have put words in my older children's mouths...they have threatened me in a wide array of ways and have been utterly disrespectful of my core role as a father.

Worse (sniff) they think their schedule is more imprtant than mine (probably true).

They have done this without evidence or incident.

Bad Faith.

*******

I really had a lot of fun this Christmas buying for my kids. It does not matter when they get to receive these gifts...they know my heart went into this and I wanted to share it with you because it does give me joy.

I bought Adam a SlugBug. A '69 Beetle with a moon roof. It's rusted, leaking gas and needs major attention. We have two years to get it into a sweet state of being. I like it because it is kind of a legacy. My dad bought an old bug when I was about Adam's agae and we ha d alot of fun working on it. So here's to you dad!

Daughter was far more difficult. Boys are so easy to buy for...daughters...yikes! I spent hours mulling it over.

She mentioned something called Pucci pups. I saw them collecting dust two weeks later. Hmnnn....

I called her and we talked. She had an idea about paper dolls. We talked more.

Daughter is an artist from the core of her being. She thinks creatively by nature. And she is always a number of years ahead. So at nine she is doing 16 year-old work.

So I found a great old wood and leather case and a scrapbook kit. Even better, a wooden box for beads and some amazing treasures at the bead store.

It reminds me of a poem I wrote for Adam when he was 5 called "The Lunchbox". I'll preprint it here in a bit...but the main think is the midfulness you bring to the gift. I was a bit in heaven at the bead store picking out little treasures for my Daughter.

Shifting Sand

2006-12-20T16:25:00.000-08:00

I no sooner agreed to the 26th and 27th to see my kids for Christmas but I found that plans had already been laid for those days.

So, you see it was never in earnest.

A man of less fortitude would just give up. I won't. I will press every day for the sake of my kids.

L and LIBF have dominated the holidays. Adam has been farmed out to Roseville for the week. Camille is in some day-school. They will spend Xmas day with my family in Monterey. The next day...the day I was supposed to have them, has suddenly been spoken for. So it goes with L.

A constant unraveling.

TURN IT AROUND

I have the power. I regulate all my kid's actions and their schedule. When it comes to time at Christmas with their mother I first insist she must do all the work. Then I change the schedule at my bidding and whim as I see fit...even at the last minute. I control all actions and times. I decide if they will even see their mother at all.

How does that sit with you?

Kenosis Part 3

2006-12-20T08:04:00.000-08:00

The Girl with the Boof.

It's Christmastime, and as such, my mind gravitates to the One who started all this by being born. This God/Man who gestated in a womb for nine months, and Who alone stands both as ultimate Gift and ultimate Giver.

I have been thinking a lot about this one and the issue of power. Those who feel themselves somewhat disenfranchised understand that power is central, and they don't have it.

What to do?

Into the mix go other notions. A young friend of mine recently wrote me about her own views and that she had "given up her rights". Now she meant this in the context of discipleship. It's an interesting idea, particularly for us in the West.

Well in this ongoing power-struggle over the kids the question lays begging. What about the way of Jesus?

L has t he power and is using it in all facets. In fact, if I wish to see my kids at all during Christmas I must do all the driving. Why? Because she says so and my only alternative is to not see them at all. She knows this so she says "you have to do all the driving." Is it fair? No. Does she need it to be? No.

Now in the Spring, when I show up in court with legal counsel and joint custody is restored then she will want to bargain for what she wants. She will have to because I will have my equal rights.

I feel ambiguous about this.

At any rate, some part of me wants to insist upon equality and justice; but the Kenosis part (Philippians 2) has got me in a bind. The text, written by Paul to the church at Philippi contends that not even Jesus regarded equality as something to be grasped at with God, even though he was God Himself. In fact, turning from such grasping it says he instead "emptied Himself like a common slave and was obedient even to the death".

This is an odd God we have.

Then Paul says that we should have a similar attitude in life. I assume, being as I am decidedly not God, that it applies to those I am essentially equal with...other people. So, if I am like Christ at all, my attitude should not be grasping at proving my equality, but instead choosing to serve.

Which lays us at the feet of the old "doormat" debacle. Was Jesus a doormat as example?

I mean, if I capitulate on these issues with L then she will run roughshod over me every time. She does it anyway.

Well I know what many of you will say...and you are correct. What difference does it make so long as you can see your kids two days in a row? (I have to bring them back at night because...well, you know...Camille might brush the wrong side of her teeth first at night or I might read 15 minutes of stories instead of the required 17).

Kenosis, or the idea of it ("self-emptying"), requires I simply make the drives. It's not fair or just. But it is loving.

Sparse

2006-12-18T21:00:00.000-08:00

Me likey.

Knosis is self-emptying. Hard to do with so much stuff.

I had 3,00 volumes hardbound and like a cocoon. Also like a prison a bit.

I have about 50 books in here now. I figure I'll max out at 75.

The world is filled with a million books and 300,000 bookstores and so many authors with so little to say.

It's about Word.

My scant books are all about Word. Every one.

A Middle Eastern scholarly look at the Parables of Jesus (Bailey) ; Moffat's two vols. on Grace and Love in the New Testament; Lamott's Plan B and Hard Laughter; DeRougemont's Love Declared and Love in the Western World; Eastern Orthodox texts from early centuries: Great Lent, The Desert City, The Philokalia, etc....; another 6 volumes.

Bonhoeffer, Jewett, Lewis, as always Beuchner.

Becker and the Dalia Lama. Brueggemann.

N.T Wright and Walker Percy. How we do learn from and in the Word in all it's variations.

Word.

Yer going to the chair pal...

2006-12-17T05:20:00.000-08:00

Mr. Anger Mismanagement lives down below us. I have written about him before. He is a Perp. He has harrassed one single woman here to the extent that she is being evicted. At 4 a.m. this morning he had the audacity and gall to come out and yell at people who are moving her stuff out (and very quietly) because of his own harassment.

As I have written elsewhere I believe in both justice and also instant karma. I hope he develops a peptic ulcer from his own hate.

I saw him yesterday for the first time. I was not sure what to do. I said nothing (always the best default). Later I heard the Word in my head...not in an unpleasant way..."bless those who curse you".

It speaks of another paradigm that does not accept things as they are. I mean, why bless someone who curses you? There has to be a reason.

Jesus is the most sane human I have ever listened to or read. So what do you make of that?

Okay..."Eradication" is too Strong...

2006-12-16T05:56:00.000-08:00

I used the word "eradication" yesterday and thought better of it. This situation is hyperbolic by nature, so no real need to overstate things.

The real words are "diminish" and "disenfranchise", the former being the result of the latter.

When one parent successfully disenfranchises the other they have the power, but usually need the other for a whole variety of things. This was true up until a few months ago. My Ex had my support for a whole array of things, as well as encouragement. I supported her in telling the kids about big decisions, I listened to her on the phone, I watched the kids at her place one weekend, brought dinner when she and LIBF moved and even helped LIBF move his stuff out of storage.

But after moving to the Bay Area where it suddenly seemed we would live in relative two-household harmony (with her still having the power because she needs it and I do not) all this crap came out of nowhere.

Why?

I do not really know. You cannot place any logic on it, and there was not an incident that set it off (I do not think anyone is buying the "tardy bedtime ritual" anymore, if they ever did).

But the goal now seems to be disenfranchosement and diminishing as if LIBF had the biological, relational and historical chops to replace me. That's what people in 12-Step programs call "magical thinking".

The fact remains that I am a huge part of Adam and Camille's life wherever present or otherwise, and LIBF can ply them with gifts and fancy dinners out but kids still need their father.

People, as a whole, are incredibly selfish, myself included. It takes deliberate decisions to even hold this monster at bay. I admit that once Camille is 18, I have little or no use in my life for L. It would not bother me to not see her again and to simply be Zen about the 2 decades of my life I wasted on a very angry woman. In fact, it is in my best interest to do so.

Now you have to look at it from the children's point of view. If I simply capitulate they lose on all counts. My job is to not want my pound of flesh for the loads of pain and suffering this fiasco has caused.

I will open up a discussion tomorrow that I want input on. I WANT you to argue with me because I have a moral dilemma and justice is important to me. I had no qualms about reporting LIBF's actions to CPS, but there are other matters and I have been sitting with them patiently for a month or so and wish to decide one way or the other.

Try to enjoy this blessed Saturday and pray for my kids.

Life Isn't Fair

2006-12-15T00:15:00.000-08:00

Tonight's Warrior/Houston game which the Warriors won at the buzzer (basically)

Life is not fair, and it will drive you nuts if you try and make it so, or you will be tempted to compensate for the difficult and depressing aspects. Some things about life are exceptional and beautiful; other things are unjust and ugly.

My evening was either a macrocosm or a microcosm...I can never remember which is which.

As I walked down the street to meet my kids they came running and hugging, then my parents came with their good friend J and we all went out to dinner at a great Italian restaurant. Great food, nice conversation, good stories. As always, the kids were well-haved and fun. Then it was off to the game where we had amazing seats, and backstage (for lack of a better term) access thanks to J's generosity.

The game was close all the way through and it came down to the last few seconds when Baron Davis hit an amazing 3 pointer with 1.2 seconds left to win the game. The place went nuts.

Afterward, we went down, helped ourself to some nice food in the lounge, and Adam got a few autographs on his basketball, including one from Coach Nelson, and two time Olympic Gold Medalist and basketball great Chris Mullin. Cammie got to shake Chris' hand and was quite excited.

A really wonderful evening, the only sour note being when I told Adam I would buy him a new basketball to replace the one which would have autographs. "Yeah, if we ever get to play again..."

We agreed without belaboring that it sucked.

When we got back to L and LIBF's place they were supposed to be there (like an hour earlier, or at least by then, which was 10:30). This was awkward to say the least. J needed to get home and my parents were staying there in Oakland. Individually, each of them suggestied the simple solution was for me to stay and wait (as it seemed L and LIBF would be back 30-60 minutes later from their dinner in San Francisco).

Of course it was logical. I am their father and I love them and they adore me.

I had to watch my words very carefully because the kids were right there. "Not such a good idea," I said and ran the scneario through my head and how L and LIBF would come home and turn a good thing (and a gracious thing since they were late) into another rolling thunder of ugliness, attack and self-righteousness.

Look at what they have concocted from nothing in the past and imagine if they came home and I was sitting in their living room?

Why?

There is no reason. If I was so late and they had to stay and wait for me an hour I would be embarassed and grateful that they had handled it.

Now the above is simply their agenda for eradicating me from my children's lives. It was basically on accident I even found out about Camille's play last night and was happy to attend. (But we'll save that story for tomorrow, unless we do...oh by the time the resign of terror is over I may well have a book).

I hope my parents get it that they were not the least bit considered, nor was J and her schedule...it's just "expected" because they are L and LIBF. And L and LIBF have power and money. They expect to be treated otherwise because they are important people (well LIBF is an important person; L is just his girlfriend). I suspect they will also find it curious that I would be villified (and this would have been no different than any other time it has happened) for putting my kids to bed, especially since they needed to get back to J's house.

But that's there deal. I was just happy to spend the evening with them. It's hard for me to explain what L does, and, frankly, they really do not want to hear about it.

Again, life is not fair. There is no sense moaning about it. Just keep moving forward.

The two issues for me tonight were, of course, about my kids. Those issues are hypocrisy and humiliation.

So for those of you who have been following along, this whole mess of theirs started when my daughter called them because it was late (9:30 on a friday night) and we had not done the bedtime ritual yet that helps her feel less afraid. In response to this they came and took her late at night and she has not been allowed to spend one night here since because I supposedly cannot "take care of the kids basic needs".

So how does that line up with the very real possibility tonight that Camille was going to go to bed with only her brother in the house (it was discussed by my parents). No bedtime ritual, and no adult even present?

How does it meet the basic needs of kids when they are farmed out to all manner of different cities sometimes for 3 and 4 days at a time with neither primary parent? That is what single mom's have to do who have night jobs...not responsible parents with two adults and a large income.

But because at 9:30 one night I had not yet brushed her teeth (we had been laying down to watch a movie together) up until 3 or 4 minutes later when she came back in the room with the phone and I had to deal with an outraged L.

Who is outraged for Camille when she goes to sleep with no parent in the house? Adam implied tonight that it happens.

Who is appalled when she is farmed out for days at a time even though she still gets scared?

Hypocrisy is when it is not okay for you and I persecute you, but it's just fine for me because, it's me. I get a special dispensation. I get to leave my kids alone at home. I get to ignore the bedtime ritual. I even get to live with my boyfriend even though I am in Christian leadership where that is out of bounds.

Why?

Because it is me and not you

Tonight when Cammile went to bed before L and LIBF got home at 11:00, but probably 11:30, who did that ritual with her that L thought so crucial that she would withold her own child from a loving father?

If that makes any sense to you please explain it to me like I am six years old...no, like I am a nine-year-old girl.

*******

The sadder aspect is humiliation of the family itself. Anytime either primary parent, or any family member is diminished, the whole family is hurt. Adam hymned and hawed about whether he would even see me for Christmas. Camille had the saddest look on her face I think I have ever seen. "I hope I get to see you at Christmastime" she said glumly.

She had also made a present for me at school, but was unsure if and when I would be able to get it.

Frankly I have no confidence at ALL that I will be able to see them since they are conveniently already scheduled out weeks in advance. After long negotiations for a day meeting, that becomes a fiasco simply because L chooses to make it so.

Why?

I myself do not allow myself to be humiliated by L and LIBF. If anything I feel sad for them. Karma, or reaping what you sow is part of God's natural order. But by their attempts to humiliate and exclude me in front of my children they are damaging my children and creating loss and soul-sadness.

I will not berate either L or LIBF in front of the children. I just hear their pain and assure them they are loved by me. I will also tell them the truth when asked or when they want to talk.

What does it say that L and LIBF do not want them to talk?

Is it possible that the reason they are trying to eradicate me from my kid's lives is because I talk so well and openly with them?

Instead of exhibiting justice and humility, they are exemplying power and hypocrisy. I would ask anyone to simply look at the example of the two"bedtimes" (the night they took Camille, and tonight when they made no provision for her). There was the incident the Sunday morning after they came to get her when she was locked out of the house for 20 plus minutes.

That has never happened on my watch. In fact, one the weekends they use to come we spent the entire time together...unhindered except for maybe a very brief period to answer some emails.

I have not sent my daughter to bed without an adult in the house (as capable as Adam is, and he is).
I have not been unaware of her whereabouts.
I have not threatened my kids in an overt physical way
I have not tried to silence my kids, other than for a brief moment so I could hear myself think.
I have not discouraged or hindered their relationship with their mother in any way.

Can L and LIBF say the same?

Children often have an even stronger sense of fairness and justice than adults do. And they watch everything. They have watched me and they are watching this.

This situation has created an excruciating moral dilemma in the hearts and minds of my children. I saw it in my daughter's face tonight. She was demoralized, and that came from the attempted humiliation of her father by her mother.

You don't need Dr. Freud really to figure this out.

She hid it a few moments later, almost as if she had to and smiled and wanted another kiss and a hug. She is coping the best she can. But she is deeply sad and there is no reason for her to be.

So tonight was very much like life is regularly. In the old days it might have made me want to anesthetize so I could skip the really twisted and ugly things that happen and that people do to each other. I have learned, and keep learning, it is better to be sad. Trust God to bring justice on His time, while also speaking out openly, yet with circumspection (I am far from perfect by anyone's standard, including my own).

Oh...and I can always write. That helps a great deal too. All comments invited as always.

2006-12-08T07:16:00.000-08:00

I checked on the baby bird yesterday and Boo and Peanut both stayed their ground and pecked at my hand.

The baby is doing just fine.

LIkey??

2006-12-03T08:02:00.000-08:00

Dad did this to us! Made us like Ed Grimley.

My friend C recently wrote me and asked what I thought about God "liking" us.

I suppose she meant it to be light (whereas she has a serious streak like myself). But my mind goes where it will and such questions sink like hard stones into deep waters in a natural way.

Does God like me?

Having settled the looming larger question of being loved by God...this is a practical matter...a daily one.

It is important to make a clear dictinction first between people and God. People are not good at either loving or liking in a selfless way. And it is only in a selfless way that both can thrive.

There is a passage in the New Testament that says "love covers a multitude of sins". Having already dispatched the deadliest ones on the cross, one is left to believe that nominal ones are so covered in daily interaction. In this we are "little Christs" in the sense that C.S. Lewis and Merton speak. We mirror this small graciousness and reflect the glory of our Creator and Redeemer in this small way.

In fact, you do this every day in small kindesses that are unneccesary.

I believe our Creator likes this about us.

*******

Freedom is the crucial issue and God has given as a terrifying amount of it. people complain about all the bad things people do and about God's supposed silence. I think this is wrong=headed and these very same people (myself included) which scream to the highest heaven if we were deprived of our blessed freedom to utterly mess things up. Let's say it just occured in the silliest of ways...that whenever you swore at another human being God muffled it; or your car would not, on any street, go over the speed limit or stay still when you tried to double park and use your flashers. Let's say that any check you wrote for anything not really needed became invisible while writing and your ATM didn't work when you make an unwise purchase.

Still worse, at least 90 percent of your cable channels would not work. All glorification of adultery, usury, greed and corruption would go blank.

Oh, you would like that very much wouldn't you?

Not to mention that when you wished to gossip your voice would become like the parents on Peanuts. More serious sins would also become out of bounds. You could not look upon a woman as an object solely for your own pleasure. Murder would become impossible, George Bush would never be seen again, there would be no government, media or police. The Dalai Lama would be the only one who was not utterly confused and afraid to move.

But this is not God's way. His is the way of freedom and free will. And only in such a context can love or liking exist at all.

God's love is irrational, but His liking is not. Love is a decision, liking is an aquired taste.

And the one leads to the other. Once I decided to love my father no matter what, I started to like him a great deal more. Since I had made the decision to love him dispite his humanness and shortcomings, I was free to see the things truly likeable. I was also able to then see him as just a guy...and not like some symbol..blah blah blah. And he is a very likable man...funny, good-hearted, passionate about justice...honest and he is always trying to better himself

I think God likes these qualities in him too...especially the honesty and good humor.

I really like my kids...and it is for some of these same reasons. They are funny, kind, honest. They say strange things and we all laugh. I guess I think God sees me that way. I'm a weird kid (don't get me wrong) but I am funny, and serious, and honest. I also cry easy which means my heart is not hard and I care for others.

Liking is not about earning. We cannot earn the love of God, only receieve it gratefully. But liking is a result, or good fallout from love.

I have to love my kids. It's hard-wired. But I do not have to like them. I do happen to. I like each one of them and they are all very different. I few hours with Sean is wildly entertaining and frenetic. I like the way his mind works and how he smirks. Thomasis very much like the poem I wrote for him when he was three. I will reprint it later today (The Tea Garden). There is a settleness in him that I admire and enjoy...and he has a good smirk too.

Adam, as I have said before, is maybe the best hearted person I know. I like his self-respect and how he carries himself...vulnerable and open, yet pretty wise.

And Camille is just fun...and smart and aware. She is most like me of all of them. I can see her deciding in her 20s to become an artist or novelist and doing either extremely well.

I think kids assume love whether it is there or not. But being liked by your parent is maybe even more important in a sense. Isn't that what you wanted and want?

Peter Tork has Returned

2006-12-03T06:44:00.000-08:00

Cammie's Charm

2006-12-03T06:41:00.000-08:00

Camille really loved her Italian Charm bracelet. I think The Spongebob and the Suchi charms are her favorites.

PUPPYHEAD

2006-12-03T06:37:00.000-08:00

Puppies, like children, and a near endless opportunity for play and fun. Sadie has a great day yesterday with the kids.

Gifts

2006-12-02T08:11:00.000-08:00

Gifts on a birthday.

Today Camille gets her birthday gifts. I find it easy to buy for boys and a bit stymied when it comes to Daughter.

I have already bought her every possible art set (they are stacked out on the deck).

So after much deliberation I settled on an Italian Charm bracelet and a watch that matches.

I had no idea that I was entering another world...an Italian one with many ways to get lost.

Weeks later I emerged and packages started coming in and I had the put it all together. The two most expensive pieces were the above. They are tiny, but still go for about 20 bucks a shot each.

The others were not so bad...and meaningful...one of the GG Bridge, another of a puppy paw on a red heart (the Poochini Loves the Little Girl), a penguin to scare off brother (who is afraid of penguins) a horseshoe with her birthstones, a church, some baloons, a birthday cake, some sushi,...oh here are a few more:

Camille loves New York and also her Papi

But most of all there must be Spongebob, and also Jerry (Mucho Mouse).

I wear an ankle bracelet Camille gave to me when she was 4. I had one before that from Thomas that fell of the day he turned 18. Jewelry should be meaningful I think and tell a story where it can.

"This Conversation is Over" part 134

2006-12-02T06:18:00.000-08:00

It changes all over the map on a monthly basis.

At first it is notification via email that only email will do (this is after being hung up on a few times) and that LIBF will be the one doing the negotiating. Then when that is ignored (because LIBF has no say in any of this legally or otherwise) then it becomes email only with many threats about not reading emails if they do not say what is wanted. Such as:

I will not read an email from you debating this. If you want the schedule this way, this is what I'm willing to offer. I don't care if you like it nor how you judge me. This is what I can do this weekend. Let me know. If I get an email stating anything other than when you are going to drop Adam (half way at 1:30 or all the way at 3:30), we will go back to the day visit and I will get them both on Saturday, and if you harass me too greatly, we will reschedule the visit.

This email about my not debating via email is followed by two more emails from her going into great detail and debate, but with suitible warnings not to reply in any fashion or further access to the kids will be denied. "Harassing too greatly" equals answering in a civil tone.
The reality is that you cannot have a discussion with Lucy. It is not judgment on my part, just experience.

Anyone who knows me has had discussion with me where I listened, considered and even changed my mind...right there on the spot. That is what adults do in discourse. But this is not whatever happens with Lucy. She called yesterday, after I had made it clear that I would still come get the kids this morning and also meet her in Richmond tomorrow night. She objected and started to make accusations which were more or less silly. And this, even though she got what she wanted and I did not.

She hung up on me.

Just another version of "this conversation is over". Which is why I email. You have seen from the emails what I am dealing with here. It is worse on the phone because there is no record. It consists of Lucy spouting off, accusing and berating, then if you have anything to say at all she hangs up on you.

Over the years I have learned that I was never intended to actually be conversational. At least in an email I get to ask real questions even though they are never answered.

The illusion is that if one can control the means of communication that one can also control the message. Not so. The very nature of language and reason are a threat to supposed and presumptuous powers.

Reality is on my side. My son is 14 and my daughter is 9. That means Lucy has to deal with me for at least another 9 years in some direct fashion. The conversation is not over until then, when I can finally shake the dust off my shoes and move on. In the meantime, she will have to find someone else to terrorize so long as it is not my kids.

I am grateful for email because there is accountability in it, as there is in blogging. Any number of you can bring me up short on something I am not seeing and the conversation is not over by any means. I feel certain I have blind spots, and the urging to be compassionate in return for evil is a good one. I never said I was gonna do this perfectly.

Overall it is about the kids. That is where the real rub is. As the one being villified and also manipulated (or the attempt is there) I have to balance their immediate needs with the long term ramifications.

*******

I wrote recently about incarnational love. At the core you see out from another person's view. I look out from Adam and Camille's view and see how they watch this crap happening. You cannot fool children very often. They are watching for two things....do I have self-respect enough to speak the truth and resist manipulation; and will I be compassionate with their mother and show her respect.

They already know she does not respect me. They are watching to see if I will accept this. I will not, and this makes them happy. That leaves only the latter question. I will not disrespect her. In fact, I will continue to focus on what she does well and faithfully, and hope that in time she will find healing for those places that invite her to be mean and controlling.

It's not my deal anymore. My kids are and I have a great day ahead of me with them. I'll post pictures later.

Face the facts Lucy

2006-12-01T15:33:00.000-08:00

There is no such thing as a simple negotiation with Lucy (this is my new name for L...she has all the attitude and spunk).

Lucy wrote me this:

I need to be clear: we are beyond working around what you think is fair and right. The only thing that matters is whether or not you are willing to see Adam and Camille in terms that I agree to. Your accusations about your kids being withheld are false, but your unwillingness to do whatever it takes in order to see your kids continues.

This does not have to be fair. I never has been. I am no longer willing to work hard so the kids can see you. You will have to be the one working hard for that. It won't matter to Adam if you tell him I was unwilling to come get him. Coming to get him is not part of my job as a mother. It is your job as a father to do whatever it takes to see your son, which you do not do.

The simple reality is that there are steps that needs to be taken before the visitation situation changes, and until you take those steps which are clearly deliniated, I am willing to allow the kids to see you with supervision, but you're going to have to make it work.

Now, what you are saying, regardless of how it is framed, regardless of all your words about my motives and how inconsiderate I am, what you are saying is that spending time with Adam is not worth a drive to SF on Sunday. That is something you need to go public with. That is something you need to archive and save for your attorney when you go back to court to change the order.

I will see you tomorrow morning here at 10:30 and in Richmond at 7:00 to get both kids unless you're unwilling to do that. In which case there will be no visit, the kids will remain 25 miles away from you, and you will spend the day writing about how you can't see them, which is so much easier than actually parenting.

Now we have to unpack this a bit at a time.

The first thing to note is she has to be clear for herself. No one else needs to be clear. Second, she admits it is not fair nor does it need to be fair.

So she needs to be clear about her being unfair.

Okay. I'm clear on both.

My kids have been witheld from me. That is not false. And when I have asked to see them I have to go through a phalanx of BS (see above...which was the third email today) to even do that. I had already agreed to her stipulations and timetables...then she changed them. I agreed to the modifications...she now challenges those.

Does that make ya wonder?

It is unusual that she admits it is unfair. Yet she is not apologizing. I have yet to see any evidence that she has "worked" at anything concerning my kids and my relationship. She has certainly done all she can to eradicate it. Maybe that takes work and she is just confused.

Adam is certainly worth much more than a drive to San Francisco. That is not the issue. The issue is she agreed to come and pick him up on Sunday since we were doing the bulk of driving. if I give in on this then I do all the driving from here on out...until she decides that is not enough.
You see (see earlier posts) it never ends with this one. If there was an end in sight, or it was reasonable or some way to stop the bleeding that she needs to see happen, I'd be all for it. In fact, I have been all for it...and it has landed me here...right HERE.

It has landed me with dealing with an irrational woman who admits it is not fair or right but who simply wants life on her terms only. It is not about the kids or what is fair. It is about what she wants...and that alone.

The point is I am not allowed to parent, which is really a shame since all of my kids enjoy being parented by me. I will be again and her reign of terror will be over. Until then I will continue to speak openly about what has been done, what is being done and how it affects my children.

Part of Lucy's responsibility as a divorced parent is to come and get Adam after a weekend visitation, just as it is mine to come and pick him on tomorrow morning. It is not what they want at all, and such power plays are bad for the soul and they do spill into the children like bad karma. A mature couple that has divorced place the welfare of the children first over their own issues. That means good will, fairness and equity. That is what the kids will remember and also see modeled in what transpires.

I am very open to good will, equity and fairness in all areas. But I can only do my part.

*******

Make a note. I have agreed, no matter how unfair, to both pick the kids up tomorrow and then meet in Richmond at 7 p.m. This is far from my ideal, but I want to give Camille her present and spend some time with both. If it is refesued, it is not because I have not agreed to the demands. It will be sheer arrogance and pride that will undo a very simple visit.

Making the point again...

2006-12-01T10:19:00.000-08:00

This picture has nothing to do with anything. I just like it. Thomas in Jeep, a slingshot and cigar.

That's a Mac...a T-Mac.

Well it all looked set with the kids this weekend. On the way back from a short trip I told Reese "It doesn't make any sense...what is in it for L?"

My reasoning comes from 20 some-odd years of experience. L doesn;t do anything without something in it for L. So why just let me have the kids when she is not yet forced to?

Then I got the email this a.m. She now wants me to do all the driving. Pick them up, bring them back. It is not a request. It is an order.

So I have written back and requested that she bring them on Saturday morning. Then I am more than willing to meet her on Sat. night with Camille and bring Adam all the way to Alameda on Sunday.

It is only fair.

If she asked me as a favor because it has been a hard week I suppose I would consider that. I'm like that. But it is not a request. As I said, it is an order.

So it sets precedent.

Now, not a few of you will scold me for once again holding the line. I can only reply that I do so now because I did not 30 lines ago and it never ends. Like any abusive relationship, there is often some consent on the part of the victim because they tolerate injustice. I suppose this is classic "enabling".

How will my own kids learn to respect themselves and their own boundaries if their father will not? Should Adam just give up in every argument whether he is right or wrong?

As I said, if the email had been a request "Chris, I'm just jammed and could use your help...can you please bring Adam back on Sunday?"...hey no problem.

But it isn't. It's an order. And I do not take orders from this one.

We will see what happens when the court restores my rights and she is forced to deal straight up. I will forgive, but I will not forget.

Ah...Marin

2006-11-30T07:07:00.000-08:00

Bolinas, CA.

Okay, sometimes I am wrong. While the answers came circuitously and days later, I got a kinda yes on Sat/Sun with the kids and also a green on the Warriors game.

Of course, I am suspicious...but I'll just have to let that be and enjoy Adam and Camille on Saturday and Sunday.

L wants Camille back on Sat. night, but insists that is because Camille does not want to be overnight anywhere right now. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt on that and just be thankful to have Adam for two days.

******

Doesn't it seem odd to you? We have this world where parents do not enjoy their kids, or want them, or sit with them and listen, or play. Yet when they do, it is exactly those sort of parents who are denied?

This happens in many areas.

I have a good friend who loves his wife. He is faithful, good humored, caring and desires her. She couldn't care less. She shuns him.

I have five other single male friends who are very ready for a committed relationship with a woman. No takers...meanwhile these same women complain that all men want is to use them sexually.

As Vonnegut would still say "so it goes".

*******

My greatest joy in life is my quiet time with God and contemplation of His son Jesus.

I think few people allow themselves to experience the "desert" (they would rather have dessert). It's not so bad. And it clears away the clutter and bullshit.

Next to that I enjoy my children..each one of them. You always want something better for your kids. You try to pass on the good things, and protect them from what is broken inside of you. That's just being responsible.

But let's not forget there is joy.

When we went to the Zoo a few weeks back Camille was very clingy..but in a good way. There is a clean and pure father-energy that children feed on. It nourishes them..all they need is to be held, or hold hands, or be smiled at or laughed with. It's so very simple.

And it is joyful.

With the big lad it is like bumping into to each other a lot. He is 6'1" at 14 and i love draping my arm over his shoulders and joking around.

C. S. Lewis once said that friends feel a sense of privilege being with each other. I feel this with all my friends, my roomate, and my kids. I use to say of Sean and Thomas, that if they were not my sons "I would still want to know them as "best friends". That is how much I admire and enjoy them.

Same for Adman and Cammie.

Joy.

*******

The picture of the Jeep above is a kind of storyteller. My closest friend (Reese) is in the driver's seat, and Sadie is in the back. The Rocketbox is filled with kites, bags o'fun, a wetsuit, flippers and lots of bungie cords. There is a long board on top that bodes well for the future (I have already spent $400 to win a $50 bet with my father...go figure).

I love my Jeep. I use to drive a hot red Mustang convertible. I love my Jeep more. Better, it's paid for. It may be the best vehicle I have ever owned. My step brother Tim leased one a number of years back, which gave me the Jeep bug. If it died on me today I'd still be thankful for 2.5 years of bliss (repairs over that time have been under $700).

It's looks cool, is rugged, has 4 wheel drive if I ever need it, and the dog likes it.

It also gives me simple joy. It's a good thing to live within your means and be thankful for what you have.

*******

I thank you all for your prayers and good wishes and advice. I am hopeful that for whatever reason this dark season descended that it will lift and joy, care and love will prevail. I'd say that makes me a hippy except those same things form the hard edge of the Son of Man I so adore.

I also dislike pot and enjoy bathing regularly.

I will post pix of our times this weekend. We are celebrating Cammie's 9th birthday and I bought her specific Italian Charms to form a braclet I hope she will enjoy. Adam and I are looking at cars to fix up for him when he is 16.

This is exactly my point...

2006-11-28T06:29:00.000-08:00

Camille at the Zoo.

My daughter turned nine yesterday. I am so proud of her. When I called her in the morning yesterday she was skipping across the floor saying "I knew it, I knew it!!"

"I knew it was you," she said.

"Yes, of course it's me," I said.

And we talked for a bit about the last few days where she was on the road. I also said I hoped to see her on Saturday so I could give her presents to celebrate.

When we were done I fired off two emails to L. One was about Saturday, the other about a basketball game in mid December.

The responses are, as always, educational: none.

The first proves my point about giving no further ground. My argument (going back a few months), was that to do so only invites new levels of deprivation for my kids. Not a few people (among the many who follow this on a daily basis) said, "what does it matter if you still get to see them even for part of a day?"

This is naive. Because now that I have done that once, and have asked for a second day to celebrate Camille's birthday and give her gifts, my request is being ignored.

Do you see how that works?

It is not good enough for them to have all the power and to have things on their terms. It is not enough. It is never enough.

The answer would have been easy to give to me. L has things meticulously charted out many weeks in advance. A simple yes or no would have been very easy. Of course, if a "no" then it contradicts past statements about how I can see them (on their terms) any time. This is not true. When I ask on a Monday morning for the following Saturday I can expect silence, then a no later in the week.

So, you see it is all about show. It's all talk and no action or accountability.

And speaking of show, let's talk about the second request that will get a yes.

I simply asked to take the kids to a Warriors basketball game on the 14th. Now if it was just me doing this the answer would be NO. "It's a school night" or whatever blather they would concoct. But it is not that simple because my parents are taking us to the game (they are good friends with Warrior's coach Don Nelson). That changes everything. I left that out of my request but I figure L would figure that out in time. So she cannot say no...but not because it is right and good for our children to go to the game, but because my parents are really the ones requesting this.

She will not say NO to my parents.

Why does she ignore our children's real father, yet defer to my parents?

Why does she not answer a simple request to see my kids for a few hours even though she and LIBF have said they will do all they can to support such meetings?

What do you think is really going on here? I'd love to hear your comments, pro and con and everything inbetween.

In the meantime, I'll keep you posted. If I am correct (and I may not be) I will get a No on Saturday and a Yes on the 14th...and for all the reasons cited above.

(and yes, I am calling legal services today to start the long process of stopping this bullshit).

Thanksgiving 2006

2006-11-23T12:24:00.000-08:00

The Citadel, Thanksgiving morning 2006.

I have often written about conflicts because they are so revealing. But gratitude is revealing in it's own way.

If you believe that God is a loving and gracious God then even when you do not understand things you are not blind to the gifts given you from within and without.

As I have written elsehwere, gratitude signals true reception of the gift given. We know this when we sent a special gift to someone and do not hear back. We worry they have not received it. When we get a thank you card or a call, or a simple email, we know they have gotten the gift.

And so do they.

So out of the last 365 days here are 50 things I am thankful for. They are in no particular order. Some are grand, others you could almost miss if you were not paying attention.

My 50 gratitudes

1. My son Sean and how beautiful and funny he is.
2. Son T-Mac and his deep friendships (including to me in a quiet way) and adventurous spirit.
3. Adam and his good humor, honesty and wide heart
4. Camille for her inner beauty, quick mind and artistry.
5. For a growing friendship with my sister Megan
6. For my awesome roomate Reese and the love and respect she shows me daily
7. For my friend Martha who encourages me every day in my life
8. For Rick and his passion for the Gospel, and love and truth
9. For Rod for those exact same qualities
10. For two invitations today to break bread at Rod's house and also at Andy's (who I know will become a good friend this year).
11. For Sadie, our dog, who is a daily joy and plays various characters like her master (The Seal, BatDog, and The Horse).
12. My work with Maverickssurf.com (who gets cool jobs like that!?)
13. My work with Signafur and my friendship with Charity who is a theology student.
14. For being tall
15. For the Citadel...the air, the view, the hardwood floors and the privacy
16. For my trip to New York
17. For my trip to Portland and Seattle
18. For my trip to San Diego
19. For a new hot digital camera for work, and a video MiniDV for the same
20. For superior computer equipment
21. For the finches that sit on my desk (in a cage)
22. For my friend Denise
23. For Wade Warner
24. For Wade Smith
25. For Erik and Anna DeKok
26. For the gift of writing well and fast
27. For painting supplies and canvases and an internal sense of what to do
28. For reconnecting with John Spritz who is the world's funniest man
29. For reconnecting with John-Paul Reese and attending his wedding in Seattle
30. For reconnecting with Mark Studer who officiated the wedding in Seattle
31. For reconnecting with Chris Studer and meeting his wonderful wife Aimee
32. That the three men I just mentioned were all my students and I was graced to have them as such and see them succeed.
33. For reconnecting with my mentor Kevin O'Halloran
34. For reconnecting with another mentor Danny Morrow
35. For reconnecting in new ways with my ultimate mentor, Jesus of Nazareth and finding whole new ground to explore and be taught in
36. For great shows like Deadwood, Entourage and Curb Your Enthusiasm
37. For visits with Mike Roe after 27 years of friendship
38. For visits with Scott Mitchell after 33 years of friendship
39. For the ability to cook
40. For San Anselmo and it's sea air and misty morning and secluded swimming holes near Samuel Taylor park.
41. For CoffeeRoasters
42. For bumping into celebs in a natural way here in Marin like George Lucas, Robin Williams and Anne Lamott.
43. For visiting with not only Scott, but also Laura Mitchell and once again enjoying Parker and Kate so much.
44. For clarity and letting go of the past
45. For freedom from addictions of any kind
46. For celebacy
47. For a new Church
48. For the whisper of God
49. For a good night's sleep and a clear conscience
50. For the love of God.

Diversion & Thanksgiving

2006-11-21T05:54:00.000-08:00

The Citadel deck with misters for my plants.

I woke up from a vivid dream at 3:45 yesterday a.m. and knew it was time to write.

I was standing next to a friend who was preparing a gift basket for his girlfriend. The box was wrapped in gold and inside where many boxes of gifts, also wrapped in shiny gold paper. The woman behind the counter looked up and said "Now for the final part" and she poured golden melted chocolate all over into the box and then closed it and wrapped it up.

Yikes!

Well I can think of many women for whom this would be just about perfect (plus my friend was quite handsome in a Matt McConaghey way). So perhaps whoever the woman was, she was in store for sex, chocolate (which many women view as synonymous, sex coming in second) and gold.

But step back and understand that gold is worthless without our mutual consent; chocolate will mess up your blood sugar; and unprotected sex can kill you or, at the very least, give you herpes.

Still, that is just the downside. The upside is pretty good.

All three are iconographic. A typical male version might be Salma Hayek driving up with your 2007 Mustang Shelby Cobra (black with leather interior) with an iced bottle of Bollinger.

Yummy at first glance, but apparently not my calling.

In either event from the wealthy and powerful to the poor and disenfranchised, we all have our diversions. Often when we remove one which has become problematic, we replace it with another.

This is a mistake in my opinion.

Pascal said we all have...well why bastardize it..okay...from memory "the infinite abyss can only be filled by an infinite and immutable object, that is to say, only by God Himself."

There. My Boy is Wicked Smaaaht.

It's the "God-shaped vacuum" theory in the human being as that being finds it's own inherent emptiness. There is a sense of lostness, disconnect and the playing field is just way too wide, thus diversions to keep ourselves from too much reality.

But reality is only bad in a godless universe of random chance. Even the Apostle Paul saw that if Christ was not really raised from the dead that it would be best to "PAR-TAAAAY!".

Well, I do not feel like partying, and as Walker Percy so aptly pointed out awhile back, alcohol at the party signals it's failure as such. Real partying takes place between sober souls like my friends Rick, and Rod, Scott, Kim, Reese, Mike, Big Mike, Wademan West and Wademan East, etc.

No, once diversions are put away it opens the door to the deeper reality of life in Christ. It's both a beautiful and vulnerable place. It's nothing like dead religion which wrings all the joy and humor out of life.

*******

I was sitting last night out on the deck, which I do far too little of. It's beautiful, and all of my plants, done mostly from seed, grow all around and incase the bamboo lights. There is a Tibetan prayer flag that is strung next to the lights then a long row down the rest of the deck of chinese lantern lights.

Hundreds of feet below is the valley, and the air is clean and rich with just a hint of ocean.

Despite this foul and insane dispute about my kids, it has been a very very good year. I was privileged to be right in the middle of the Mavericks Surf Contest and oversee all operations including its migration from New York to San Diego. I got to spend time in New York and San Diego, two of my favorite cities,. I made new friends that I will have for the rest of my life. I found a great church that speaks the truth, yet with humility and grace. I wrote a novel and painted my best painting yet. I was successfully banned multiple times from several Fundamentalist blogs for making too much sense. My roomate and I searched for and found the sweetest dog who we both adore. I rekindled my love for God.

I am also thankful for so many of you who read my blogs and have sent notes of encouragement. It means a lot to me because some of it really is for you and not just me processing (it's a mix).

When you have quiet time alone you can think about all you are thankful for. There is an old saying that if you are not grateful you have really not yet received the gift.

I'm grateful.

.

Diversions

2006-11-21T04:38:00.000-08:00

Deborah Hake Brinckerhoff
"Single Chair #3"
Oil on Canvas
2001
32 x 32"

Blaise Pascal, writing many centuries ago, noted that the hardest thing for human beings to do is sit alone in a room with no diversions. In modern times it is only worse because the diversions have multiplied exponentially, and via technology have become global.

For some it is uncomfortible; for others, terrifying.

Go to Ask.com and type in something seemingly absurd and see what you get. I typed in "underwater basketweaving" with a smirk that was quickly wiped off my face. There are a great number of people who are heavy into underwater basketweaving. I liked these sites:

Handbaskets: To Hell and Back
http://www.handbaskets.homestead.com/

Ben's Underwater Basketweaving Page
http://www.uwbw.org/

A History of UBW
http://sporkqueen.diaryland.com/010517_9.html

Well, you get the point (that and you will need to be scuba certified).

We all know someone who has a particular obsession we do not understand. It can be just about anything.

What are mine? Well that is what I am examining. Having divested myself (or been divested) of two major ones (a relationship with a woman, and the joys of alcohol), I see the stark wide-openess of life that has always existed.

And now it is time for the infamous Ernest Becker quote where he says that humanity is "drinking and drugging themselves out of consciousness, or they go shopping, which is the same thing."

The diversions of men and women are endless as are their addictions to these things. Thus we have AA, NA, Al-Anon, SA, FA, QA, GA, PA etc. And those who go to such groups have to go to a second group called MA (Meetings Anonymous) for those addicted to meetings.

I think it's probably better to sit alone with God, or go for a walk with a friend.

********

What brought this on about "diversions"?

Well, in the middle of a game of Starcraft online with my son, my daughter called. I told her Adam and I were playing and I would call her back.

When we were done with our little diversion I called and she was upset. "I miss you," she said. "I want to see you."

We talked for awhile and I let her get it out, then tell me about her day and then she was fine and we told each other how much we love each other and that was that.

Then I thought about it after.

In the ten weeks that I could not see them she did not call to say she missed me. L attributed this to "well she is busy and they do not think of such things, only about when they will see friends, or what to wear." Of course, with L on a trip to the East Coast I feel sure Camille has expressed her missing L very much. But that is okay (yes, that is sarcasm).

When I talk to the both of them the scenario unfolds. Adam talks to me constantly about what he is going to buy and what he wants to buy. Camille talks to me about who she is going to see and what events she will be involved in.

Now there is nothing wrong with these things. There is nothing wrong with having nice equipment, or a car you enjoy...or to be very social. It is when it becomes your life though that a line is crossed into unconsciousness and consumption. It's where communication begins to diminish, and shared time that is relational begins to fade away.

And let's face it, some diversions (and we all need some) are better and healthier than others.

My playing Starcraft with Adam has several purposes. One, we enjoy it and it makes us think strategy. Two, we have to work together and it is maddening at times (I totally blew two games last night...he bore it well). It's also something we can do togther even though I cannot see him face-to-face (I have strict orders from the Warden...no visitation).

I would like both of my youngest kids to grow up being able to sit quietly alone in a room without diversions. Sure, it can only be for a short time as we are very limited.

Why you ask? Why not divert away because it's fun and we die all too quickly?

Because you find out who you really are when you are alone and without the din of other things, and the daunting expectations of the fallible humans in your life, including yourself.

And you also find that you are not alone.

There is no real way to experience this within the sheer clamor and din of culture, and the millions of subcultures, as it plays you and you play it. The manifold obligations of modern life are confusing, and then on top of that we are to also have all these other "lives" including the segregation of the "spiritual life" from the "sexual life" from the "professional life"...no wonder modern men and women are culturally and internally schizophrenic.

Most spiritual traditions (and a few religious ones) have a keen recognition of this. In Hinduism the outer clatter is "Maya" or illusion. The emptiness of Zen opens up an inner journey into a joyful void. And Christians for 2,000 plus years have been contemplatives who practiced the "presence of God."

I happen to be a Christian. In 2002 and part of 2003 I was a part of a small church in Roseville. They were a marked contrast to the megachurches of that valley who drove their Lexi into the lot every Sunday for their innoculation shot of religion. Nope, these people fed the poor, clothed the naked, visited those in prison, housed the homeless. And there was a mystical center also there, though few availed themselves.

I did. On a few mornings a week we would meet at 6:30 am in a small upper room, drink tea, light some incense and sit quietly and just be with God. We would do this for 20-25 minutes and it never ceased to amaze me how my mind could not sit still and "BE" for that 20 minutes. Yet, we kept good humor about that remembering that God is gracious and loving.

No diversions...just quiet openess.

I'd like to tell you I had many potent spiritual experiences, but that was not the case. Just a quiet enjoyment of God not abstracted or explained, and in a real sense no different than when you sit silently with a friend, or Camille sit on my lap and we look at the ocean.

*******

Okay, I did have one. But I know enough not to expect it again. It was a gift.

I had sat quietly for about 15 minutes when a picture opened up in my mind's eye. It was like a wall of water, but not water. I stuck out my mindful finger and playfully poked into it a couple of times and knew (how I do not know) that it was eternity with me on this side. I did that for about a minute, but it was a bit timeless (and I can still see it in my mind today).

That's it. Nothing very big or startling.

The modern age would have me try to capture, bottle and market such experience.

That's just dumb.

I share it openly with you, and also with my kids. It reminds me that other things are afoot which are quiet and real even though they do not go real fast, moisturize your skin, or make a member of the opposite sex attracted to you.

And I realize that Yahweh's deal with idolatry isn't because God is insecure or threatened. It is because we are and I think it pains God to see how we choose to not do life.

WORD

2006-11-17T08:01:00.000-08:00

Miniature Croquet at The Citadel.

We live in an old converted mansion that has lots of weird paths. So we put up barriers, hazards, rails, etc. and transformed the whole estate into a giant Miniature Golf course using croquet balls. This was a long shot that banks down another long path that runs 150 feet. Adam won on the last shot.

To Martha and Mood Indigo,

Well, thank you both for your comments. It is appropriate to comment and I welcome it. In such a tense situation I am not going to handle it perfectly, I can only admit when I do not.

I was not being sarcastic when I wrote L saying:

I obviously know your view of legality (hiding behind it). Mine happens to actually listen and take things into account. But if I do not have some very quick answers from you, and extremely good ones, I am calling Alameda CPS and reporting the incident to them today.

There is nothing wrong with passion and I meant every word straight up.

Remember it was a letter that has a lot of history behind it. There is a fair use of the State in custody matters, and unfair use. There is trying to find justice and the best thing for the kids, and there is hiding behind what you can get away with. What you can get away with is usually not in the best interest of the children and is outside the bounds of moral and spiritual justice.

That was my point. I suppose I could have just said that. Maybe next time.

"Context is everything"
In my attempts to discuss issues about the children with L&LIBF it always devolves to the same point. They say their view and I consider it. When it is my turn "this conversation is over!"

The Reason LIBF tries so hard to convince me that "words do not matter" is because he wishes mine did not.

How do I know?

He is a book publisher and editor. Do you really think a book publisher and editor does not believe words mean anything?

So he is usuing words to explain the reality that my words mean nothing. What conclusions can we draw from this position?

I think he views his words as meaningful and mine as worthless. And this carries over. His words as the LIBF are meaningful in time and space to my children, and mine as the father are not.

What would you call such a position?

Of course there are contradictions. He threatened me for writing this blog once saying it was "libelous". Not so, I would invite him to use his superior and meaningful words (now I am being sarcastic) to show me one false statement I have made.

I am very careful about these things.

I have written about my enraged neighbor. Several things have happened to my Jeep the last week. I suspect, but cannot prove anything. Therefore I cannot confront him or make a police report. I don't like it, but until I catch him, or someone else witnesses it, I cannot do or say a thing.

*******

L and LIBF are hiding behind an old mediation agreement. It was signed many years back under duress by myself when I was unemployed, depressed and battling alcohol consumption (they often are together). Later, the agreement became superfluous when L needed more help. There were never any concerns expressed then even though I was still wrestling with my own stuff.

And, in mediation, I told the truth and L lied. She bold-faced told the mediator she did not wrestle with alcohol issues herself. If I had the power of subpoena at that monent I could have proved it from her numerous journal entries. But I did not and she lied.

Now today things are very different. I live in a beautiful flat, the kids have their own room, art stations, toys and books. I no longer drink alcohol at all, so it is a non-issue (even though I need to point out there was never an incident when I did, and like all citizens I am certainly free to do so responsibly in my own home). I am regarded by many as an exemplary father who is not only nurturing, but also visionary and creative.

I love my kids actively and with passion. And the worst charge that LIBF and L have been able to level is that I had not yet had Camille brush her teeth on a friday night while we watched a film.

THAT is what I mean by hiding behind the law.

So you see, this is about something other than the kids. What and why?

I have no idea, only guesses.

Of course, there is every good reason to believe that now that I have spoken openly they will come after me. Given the money they have I am sure they can whip up something intimidating. No matter. We have free speech in this country and I intent to use it. I will not be silent where the safety of my kids is at stake. And as I said, if it can be shown that any statement I have made is false, I will gladly recant.

Words do mean something, regardless of who says them. I asked L to tell me what she knew and she declined.

Please comment.
________________

Epilogue: Martha wrote me in a letter that she feels sure L is viewing me as the "Old Mac". I think this is true. She has no idea who I am today. I am a lot like the Mac of 1983, yet older and wiser. Time reveals all.

Cammie is Afraid

2006-11-15T15:55:00.000-08:00

A rolled newspaper.

The following is based on the accounts my children gave me. Before I contacted Child Protective Services (CPS), about the incident below, I wrote L a letter about the safety of our own kids as she, currently, has full custody. I am sure LIBF has his own view, but since he does not believe "words mean anything, only actions" I sought comment by L. Also, she is the only one with any real power or legal standing within the family. Outside is another matter.
__________________________________

I filed a complaint with CPS yesterday in Alameda County after much deliberation and consulting with friends and my pastor. In most cases they urged me to contact my Ex first about the incident as I could not be sure whether she knew about it or not.

Fair enough.

My motive was simply the protection of my kids. I have nothing against LIBF personally. He is just not allowed to be violent towards my kids. The following are excerpts from my letter to L:

The incident that transpired between R and Adam in the restaurant parking lot is very serious, which is why I am writing you. R is not a parent and only you have the right up until a reasonable age to physically punish a child. We both know that should never be done in anger, and Adam is far too old.

It was our daughter who fearfully brought up the subject. I do not feel she fears you, but she definitely fears R, and apparently whenever she wants to talk about things he is always there. She was very upset about it and explained what happened. Adam confirmed. I do not know if you were there in the parking lot of the New Zealander. I find it very difficult to believe that you would allow anyone to scream at Adam, violently grab him, shake him violently and then hit him repeatedly with a rolled up newspaper. I have to assume you were either not there or you did not see it.

Either way it is not only not acceptible, it is possibly criminal.

I obviously know your view of legality (hiding behind it). Mine happens to actually listen and take things into account. But if I do not have some very quick answers from you, and extremely good ones, I am calling Alameda CPS and reporting the incident to them today.

I do not wish to hear excuses from R. As he would say, "words mean nothing, actions everything".

Honestly, I will probably have to call today anyway. But I wanted you to at least have some ability to respond before I do. At the very least, to hear if you knew of this, and if so why you allowed it.

Another issue which came out is Camille, who in her fear of R, feels more comfortible talking with you sometimes as she feels she will be heard and not quickly quashed. It is our job to protect both of them. I am less worried about Adam because he is not going to be bullied.

Speaking of that, this has put me in a dilemma. If I say anything then perhaps Camille will feel reprisals and learn to not speak the truth out of fear. If I hear from her of any negative impact upon her for simply talking about a very upsetting incident to her own father I will add that to the report (which is probably why I have to do it anyway).

R needs to keep has hands OFF our kids, and no verbal assaults either or shaming.

I did get a response about 45 minutes later explaining their travel schedule, where she was taking the kids for Thanksgiving, and that I was not to contact the kids face-to-face in the meantime.

No mention of the violent shaking and hitting. No answer at all to their own father. Thus, CPS. That is what they are there for.

*******

As I have been writing the issue of fear keeps coming up. Violence is bore out of fear. Threats are bore out of fear. Reprisals? Fear.

Of course, given his weird warnings to me about verbal and physical assault it seems clear (from actions) that is R's issue, not mine. And it is now on record as domestic violence until he disputes it, which he won't.

You see, he feels justified and not the least bit repentant. When my daughter told him later "I do not like what you did to Adam," his response (according to her) was something along the order of "Adam is a man, and he has to be toughened up."

How does that sit with you when a "man" screams and is violent with a 14-year old boy?

A man can show restraint and maturity in such a situation. Adam had pushed his sister too hard and she fell down. He does not know his own strength (he is now about 6'1"). From all accounts (and remember L did not respond) LIBF did not first attend to Camille but began his attack on Adam.

That says more about LIBF than Adam. I'm sure Adam felt really bad; LIBF did not.

We all make mistakes, but justifying them later is damaging. I have made mistakes and said things in anger. Later I have to come back and apologize and ask for forgiveness and restore the relationship. That is what a man does, not resort to violence then try and mask it with some justification.

And let's be clear, if Adam had been attacking his sister (which he was not) and kept going, then force would have been necessary. But that doesn't fit the model of "toughening him up" does it?

"Toughening up" a 14 year-old boy by modeling aggression and violence only teaches a boy how to remain a boy, a bully and the misuse of power or force.

*******

Recently, a raging neighbor stole my phone thinking it was his next door neighbors. He has been sexually harassing, physically threatening and verbally abusive to this woman and every other woman in the building. He took the phone thinking it was hers (she had left it on a chair). I knew immediately it was him and I knocked on his door, then rang, then pounded because I knew he was there and he had taken my phone (which, by the way had been on the chair for all of two minutes...creepy).

He ripped open the door expecting someone other than me...a man. He sputtered. "You have my phone. I want it now" I said sternly. He was momentarily dazed and did as I had badically commanded. But by the time he got back to the door he regained steam and started to quake and yell all manner of obscenities at me screaming at me to shut up.

"I will not shut up. I want my phone, give it to me now."

He started screaming "Get out of HERE!!!" at the top of his lungs.

"I will not get out of here. You have stolen my property and if you do not give it to me I will call the police".

Then came the lies. "It was on the ground!" he bellowed.

"IT was not on the ground. You are lying. It was on that chair for two minutes and you came out and took it thinking it was H's".

He puffed up his chest and was seething, but I did not back down an inch.

Finally he threw the phone past me.

"If you broke my phone you will replace it." I said.

*******

I hear him downstairs banging on things, slamming doors, and last night, when a neighbor politely suggested to his girlfriend that he move his truck so the recycling men could get to the cans today, he got on his crutches (he blew his knee out a few days after a particularly bad incident...Instant Karma?) and hobbled down to the laundry room where he proceeded to take the neighbors laundry and throw it all over the floor. Then he stole the two light bulbs out of the sockets so it was pitch black in there.

He is 50 years old.

What happened to this man?

Someone taught him cowardice, bullying and violence. He is not a man, he is a shell.

I am not suggesting that LIBF is a shell or really anything like this man. L wouldn't stand for it.

The point is about violence and the formation of character. "Toughness" doesn't come from violence. The "toughest" man of the last century was Ghandi, no? He broke an Empire through Non-Violence and active resistance. In that way he is a reflection of Christ, who also makes "new men and women" in His image. In Him we have the freedom to resist, tell the truth and not resort to power or violence.

When my raging neighbor was so threatening there was every possibility he would hit me. Sure, I have the advantage of being intimidatingly large, but sometimes that eggs bullies on. I was prepared to receive a blow. And if I had I would have simply wrapped him up and asked someone to call the police. It would have solved a lot of problems in this building if he was simply in jail.

But he didn't because at the root of his bullying is fear. That is why he harasses single women. He leaves me alone, and of course Reese, but only because I am here.

*******

The story remains: Adam made a mistake and it hurt his sister, but it was not out of rage or to teach Camille "lesson". What the adult in his life did was teach him about violence and non-restraint.

Regardless, Adam will grow up to be a fine man, just like his brothers. They have self-respect, are kind and caring and they can hold their ground.

I am more worried about Camille. She is genuinely scared, and why not? Just see it through her eyes for a moment. I'm just proud she had the stuff to respectfully question LIBF about it later.

She did not buy his answer, and neither do I.

Cammie and Papi

2006-11-14T06:13:00.000-08:00

After over 10 weeks of being witheld we were "allowed" 6.5 hours since it was convenient for L.

It was a joyful reunion.

Adman Shot 1

2006-11-14T06:12:00.000-08:00

Adam got the best shots of the day. Uncropped.

Adman Shot 2

2006-11-14T06:11:00.000-08:00

We watched them feet the lions and tigers.

Birthday

2006-11-14T06:09:00.000-08:00

Adam opening a present at Hunan Home's, our favorite Chinese restaurant in Chinatown.

He's kinda got a "Peter Tork" look going.

A Model of Projection

2006-11-13T07:21:00.000-08:00

Lots of projection going on here.

Yesterday, I was allowed to see my children for the first time in ten weeks or so. But before I could, I received a terse email from LIBF stating that:

I won't be at the church at 12:30 pm for the pickup but If I hear that you are in the least bit abusive with Lori on Sunday, verbally or physically, I will get a restraining order so fast it will make your head spin.

Now accusing me of being verbally or physically assaulting is just silly. Anyone who knows me understands I am a peacemaker and also an advocate of non-violence.

So it would be a bit like someone saying to an Amish elder, "Boy, if I find out you are an Islamic Terrorist I'm gonna report you so fast it will make your head spin."

So I began to wonder what could possibly bring such a bizarre statement completely out of left field? It could be just natural fearfulness (and I hope it is just that, although that can be problematic for others); or projection.

In either case I do not know.

Why fearfulness? Well some part may be natural male fear. I tower over the man and am a lot younger (okay not that much younger, only ten years). I am also the children's natural father and for all of his trying to buy them nice things he can never replace me or buy their affection.

Next, I speak openly about issues, which drives people with control issues nuts because they, er...can't control it. He tries to keep a cool exterior, but I already know from many incidents that he does not. He yells at my children and interrupts them constantly when they start to express themselves fully. His ever-so threatening emails to me denote anger that he has a hard time controlling.

In that sense he is a weak man because he cannot control his temper, listen and be open.

The Projection issue worries me more. People who accuse others and threaten others concerning their lives do so because it is in their life not necessarily in the person who is playing the current "movie screen". Some times the issues are mutual, as we have seen in the recent impolsions of some leading Republicans who persecuted homosexuals while being so themselves. Or, the sad story of Pastor Haggard.

But often people project their own stuff onto other people to whom it is foreign.

He knows the history of L's verbal and physical attacks on me. If anything, and I would not expect this with witnesses around, it would be the reverse. The first time L attacked me physically I should have called the police.

It doesn't make any sense even on the surface. After not seeing my kids face to face for ten weeks, and with presents loaded in the back for Adam's birthday; I with no record, am going to jump out of the car, ignore my sweet kids who want to hug me and be abusive to their mother?

What kinda insane sense does that make? It's an ugly scene that exists only in his mind.

So why would R think that I would be verbally or physically abusive?

Why would a restraining order ever be needed?

And why does his mind go there when mine is a million miles away?

Incarnational parenting

2006-11-06T06:33:00.000-08:00

Adam hams it up with some guys at the Ballpark.

My apologies for not getting back on the Incarnational aspect of parentling. Put imply I learned this from the God Who came down and became like us. One of the key things that differentiates Christianity from other world religions is the way God, or the gods, or the philosophy MOVES.

In the circle of reincarnation one is looking for an upward movement. In Greek philosophy the same with its teaching about the immortality of the soul. In Islam (radical or otherwise) it is a matter of obedience to Allah. Up the list we go with our trying to move upward by a variety of means. Perhaps only Zen teaches us to be still, here, now.

That is probably why I like it.

But in core Christianity the primary movement is not up, it is down. God comes down, gestates in a womb for nine months or so and then spills into our riot to live among us, to be us. This is not the "far-off" God who winds up the universe and leaves, but the God who has blood coursing through His veins, gets hungry and has to pee.

*******

Now I grew up in a weird time... right in the middle of a paradigm shift from the staid and locked down East Coast 50s to the wide-open Counter-Culture California 60s. Looking back it is mostly rather funny. You couldn't go into the Living Room (which was pristine), and yet my parents were experimenting with pot. I now see they were simply caught in two worlds (believe me, I know the feeling).

They expected me to function fully in their world regardless. It did not matter that I did not fully understand the rules. I was just supposed to know, obey and get good grades. I don;t remember either parent ever sitting down and talking with me unless I had done something wrong. But more on that in just a bit.

The point is I learned, from God's example, to attempt to "incarnate" into my childrens world. To meet them THERE, rather than constantly demand they meet me in my world (let's face it the adult world ain't that great anyway). So when any of my kids are disrespectful to me I do address it immediately, but then I talk with them and try to meet them in what is going on inside. There is usually something more.

Sometimes it is that they need to get out or perhaps just a bit more attention. Our flat here at The Citadel, no matter how beautiful is still probably under 900 square feet.

L thinks my taking the kids places all the time is just eccentric or cute. I assure you it is not. It is so they can run, breath fresh air, see new things and be KIDS! They cannot do that sitting here watching TV and video games all day long.

The main thing is meeting them in their world. That is why we play games and I watch movies I am not that interested in. You don't think Jesus was bored with our diversions? Think again. But I am not Jesus. Just a dad who loves his kids.

*******

One of the things I most respect about my father is he is always changing. He has not exactly tried to "incarnate" into my life and see things from my view but I am realizing that he tried in his own way in some significant areas that have effected my life.

These were his interests, not mine. But, they became mine a as a result. The three areas were photography, basketball and cars. Not bad if you think about it. And he did a lot of that while his own marriage was crumbling. I don't know, but perhaps his new attention in those areas was because he saw what was coming down the road.

Anyway, I think in that way he did "incarnate" into my young world. I became a very good photographer; I was pretty good at basketball and over the last ten years I have gotten better at fixing cars on my own. In fact, Adam and I are now scouring the Internet looking for a Fixer project for January.

*******

One of the core issues between human beings is a lack of empathy. When God became a man He defined what empathy means in the most radical of ways. This is what kids need most. Simply giving them the Household Commandments is not enough (helpful though it may be and necessary).

Authority, Voice and Incarnation

2006-11-05T08:20:00.000-08:00

Adam and Camille preparing for Spongebob.

One of the few connection points that Adam and I can enjoy daily is playing side by side in a game called Starcraft. He's quite good. In fact, recently we went head to head like a good chess match andhis direct attack decimated my flanking him from the right. I was proud of him. Well played.

I suppose it was a replay of that story my Dad likes to tell when I was 16 and I was beating him in basketball 16-4 and he asked about getting "points".

"You never gave me any" I said.

Well he likes that story and I like this one. Older son Thomas utterly schooled me in Tribes. Proud of that. You want your kids to excel and are happy when they have success...even if you have to suck a humble bit of pie.

Well we could not play yesterday because L had barred Adam from using his computer.

"Why?"

"She said I was disrespectful."

So maybe he was and maybe he was not. It would not be the first time a 14 year old boy was sassy with his mother. So I will not assume...I mean I was not there.

But the policies of disrespect are more concerning. Adam recently told me that now whenever he has ANY argument with his sister (who is about to turn nine) he loses one day in getting his drivers license.

Well I think we all know what that means in both directions. On the one hand there is nothing more important to a young man than a car (okay, that and girls). On the other hand the power over that has been handed over to his 9-year-old sister. It's not if his argument is right or wrong...it's the simple act of speaking up for himself and respecting himself.

Do that and you lose a day.

Now Adam's relationship with his sister is very different from what I grew up with. They love each other on most days. At times Adam has been almost like a third parent as he has been the one constant in Camille's life. L has not always been there, and neither have I. But Adam always is, and he handles it well.

If that sort of rule had come down at my old house I would have gotten my license around the age of 35.

Now it is true what Bill Cosby says. Parents do not want justice "what they want is quiet!". But this is unjust because it gives Camille too much power and it disrespects Adam and makes it sure he has no voice.

Voice is at the core of our self-respect. That is global, political, social, and personal.

Sure, we are responsible for that voice. I am now as I type these words. LIBF accused me of libel and I challenged him to show me where and when. No response. I was never worried as I have been very careful to speak only about what I know is verifiable.

We are actually commanded to tell the truth, which seems a very hard thing for most people (see the present election). The attempts to silence open disclosure are constant. I get it every week.

I found out recently on a business trip that I am on a Government Watch List (obviously for my political views of this administration). I comfort myself with the honor that Tony Campolo, Jim Wallis and others are on the same watch list. I'm pretty sure that LIBF is too. [You shd check that out R. All you have to do is ask if they have not already informed you.]

Dad, you probably are too because you write those editorials I so enjoy. Keep writing them. They are really good.

When the woman at the airport asked me if I was on the LIST I laughed. Too dumb to consider...but as she typed in info I got worried. I sheepishly asked "er, am I on the Government Watch List?"

"Yes, you are Mr. MacDonald. Have a nice flight."

Now what would you feel walking away?

A surreal feeling washes over you. Then you wonder as you drop your shoes, belt and possessions into trays for scanning "who is watching me if I am on a Watch List?"

It's a mixture, in my case of fear and pride. Kind of like the Irishman I so enjoy in Braveheart who says "this conflict has brought out the finest people". But I still felt fear about simply voicing my opinion and talking mostly about facts.

********

I was "Banned" fourteen times last year from a popular blog (Tennapel.com) that is Christian Right-wing at it's worst. It's not a forum for the squeemish. You need to show up in Internet blue-face.

The interesting thing was I was not banned for being rude or overly Liberal. I was banned because I made reasoned arguments. I made scriptural arguments, logical ones, historical ones, epistimological ones. I used story, narratives, and classic apologetics.

Banned. Shut Up Mac.

So I ask you, isn't the message to my son "shut up"?

"Just lost another day...oh...there's another one...and another"

Well, he is my son. As Reese says "Tree...apple...sigh". He has self-respect, and he should. He will bear the indignity of being silenced for a period of time, but that time is running out.

My only fear for him is that he will personalize it. People want to silence you not because of what you are saying, but because of their fear of what you might say and open disclosure.

This is the nature of self-repression and overt oppression.

So far he bears it well, with good humor. All parents are idiots in their own way, myself included. When we hurt our kids is when we pretend we really know what we are doing. God knows what He is doing...we are just stewards, and rather foolish ones on many occasions.

Keep your sense of humor son. Try to respect your mother whether she earns it or not because it is good for your soul. She loves you and is doing the best she knows how. Keep your own self-respect. I respect you.

********

Incarnation in a bit...I have to go to Church.

2006-11-03T07:44:00.000-08:00

The Pumpkin.

Two statements in an email to Reese and I about L & LIBF's trip to Washington:

"Once again, no one is withholding your kids from you. Reese, you can attest to that. Chris could come to see them and take them for an outing any time."

"No visits will be set up for this time, however. "

So this is the new version of the insanity.

1) The kids can come twice a month if you have a supervisor
2) You have a supervisor. The kids cannot come.

1)You can come see and take them for the day anytime.
2) You cannot come and get them.

Unreturned phone calls with multiple messages to my kids.

Hey, but she will take my checks!

*******

Smoke and Mirrors

2006-11-02T07:39:00.000-08:00

My son's photoshop version of me.

Gotta get me some Afro-Sheen and a winkie-dinkie dawg.

Well the Ex and LIBF are going to Washington for a week and they, of course, gave me no information. I mean I am only the father.

When I requested the information, and also addressed the hypocrisy of their living together while being in Christian leadership I was told that all my words and actions are "smoke and mirrors".

There was also an invitation to take it to the "next level", which I will accept now that I have been asked.

Now this is not for everyone. And, as I have written previously, I myself have been a LIBF. But it was a mistake, as a Christian and bore out of a certain despair.

When Reese and I were a romantic couple a part of our deciding to "shack up" was practical. That may be some of it for L and LIBF. It's not cheap living in the Bay Area. That part does not bother me at all. Nor does their obvious affection for one another. It is simply the hypocrisy. L hides behind an old legal situation that no longer applies but is not legally married to her partner who, in his arrogance, acts like a father.

It is not easy being a Christian. My roomate is not one and her world-view seems a great deal more comfortible than mine. To be a Christian means to live with one foot in one world, and the other in a different one. It is quite, er...disjointing at times. But it is, nonetheless, real.

And there are ramifications. My Ex is director of Children's Ministries at a major church in San Francisco. As such it is incongruous that she should withold her own children from their loving father while shacking-up with her boyfriend, who is also a major player in Christian publishing.

Anybody with me on this?

I was involved with leadership at Horizon Church in Roseville. The pastor knew I was living with my girlfriend at the time. He never judged me; he simply came and asked me one day "What would you do if you were me?"

"I'd take me out of leadership until I got my head out of my arse and got it right."

"That was easy" he said. And that was that.

Well I got my head out of my arse, but I still am in no hurry to do leadership stuff. What people do privately is between them and God, for the most part, but in a Christian worldview it is sin to disrespect the father, to divorce them and to live with a man when unmarried...and particularly so if you are in leadership in the Church.

Even those outside the faith feel this way. It is another piece of the hypocrisy that world points to and just says we are all phoneys.

Well I am a sinner. I am not a phoney though. Sanctification (being set-apart for God) is not an easy process, but it is real.

Jesus said we should not repay evil for evil; and we should also love those who decide to make themselves our enemies. I take that very seriously. In fact, it leaves me in a quandry.

What to do?

I welcome your comments and advice and you should do so unhindered. Do I take this whole thing more public" Or do I pray it through? Do I do both? And what of my kids who are witnessing this melt-down of their own parents?

There is nothing about this that is smoke and mirrors. This is a reality that I wake up to every single morning. I am trying very hard to be fair. It's difficult when you cannot pass by your kid's room and hear them sleeping peacefully.

Obstinance

2006-10-31T04:45:00.000-08:00

Sadie in Larkspur.

My dog is obstinant. If I ask her to come, she walks away. If I tell her to go outside, she comes and sits next to me. The only thing she hears is "treats". Then she sits. Otherwise? Forget it.

It's selective hearing and a "what's in it for me attitude?"

It would be merely funny if we could also take her off her leash, but we can't. She would dart into traffic and that would be that. Obstinance is a dangerous thing.

Why is she so?

Well we have scant information. We heard that she had been chained up in a backyard for long periods of time. That would explain why she never strays far from "the Beautiful One" and is slightly distrustful of me (a man) even though I have treated her royally.

Whatever doggie-grid she is seeing through from her past is being wore away. When she first came here she was at high alert all the time...near paranoid. Later she started to take naps in the sun on the deck. Now she is like a puddle on the floor most of the day.

I suppose we both take that as a compliment as she feels safe and secure here.

Friendship and Home

2006-10-29T08:12:00.000-08:00

Hart Drive house where I lived from age 3-7 in San Diego.

I was in San Diego on business and Scott Mitchell and I decided to head to Kensington to see the old neighborhood.

While I was in San Diego I got to spend some good time with the Mitchells, all four of them. Kate and Parker view me like a giant walking amusement park. They want stories, and every funny voice I can do. At bedtime we chose a Bible story book that was all set to rhyme and I went Ghetto and started to rap it out (cracker rap) while Mitch did the backbeat. Of course, the kids went nuts...I even had to work that into the rap:

"Now big old Goliath
had been well fed
But Parker better get his
cracker hiney in the bed!"

Laura got back from her Bible study and came up and joined us. Everyone was laughing an silly. Scott tried to do one himself, but he went to Princeton, so it came out a bit stuffy.

Later I sat outside on the back porch. Laura's artistry with their house, their deep respect for each other after 12 years and their two delightful kids who only see me every few years but always come over and hug me.

I am not an envious man. In fact, one of the few biblical admonitions I seem to have nailed is "rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep". I am actually rather good at both. So seeing the Mitchells so happy, together and in tight relationship made me genuinely very happy and content.

It has not been my lot in life, probably for many reasons, some external, some internal. Yet I always have my children and they have me, even if they are being witheld. The same is true for friendship. Scott and I have been close friends for 32 years; Kim and I for 31; Roe 27; Tony 26; Big Mike 19; Spritz 18. And that's just the short list. There are many many more., some of whom are reading this weekly. I thank you all for your words of encouragement and also for your taking the time and care to sometimes question me and my own process on this. That is what good friends do.

Many of my friends have been witness over the years to L's aggression and they are, frankly, upset right now that a good father is being denied regular visitation with his kids. Some of them even feel sympathy for L because they know well how childish she can be and that is not my issue.

To my knowledge L has only one friend really (LIBF doesn't count until they get married because L can turn in a day) and that friendship only about 6 years old. I have been her friend for a couple of decades, but it is not reciprocal. And I even attempted to be LIBF's friend. I went and helped him move his things from one storage unit to another; I brought the kids out to cheer him on in an early morning race here in town, and I went and brought dinner when they moved into their new place. Beyond that, I tried to even invite him to get to know my family by asking him to officiate at my brother's memorial service a year ago. Of course, he was doing something for me there as well, for which I was, and am grateful. But once again, it is a one-way street. His response is official...it does not matter what I say, but what I do. But then what I do does not matter either (convenient huh?) because I care for my kids actively. I came and helped him move his stuff for many hours...blah blah blah.

Would LIBF come help me move stuff? Would he come and cheer me on with the kids? Would he bring me dinner when I move?

Now having read that last long paragraph, how do you think I feel?

To this LIBF would probably say (he is not speaking anymore) that I am blaming others. No, I blame only myself for once again being naive. But that does not keep me from telling the truth about what has happened or is happening. Better to do it now because it all comes out sooner or later. And while I may be naive, I do not think love is ever a bad decision so long as it is given freely.

Do I regret helping LIBF move his stuff? No. I didn't do it to get anything. Do I regret counseling and encouraging L in times of depression about her parenting? No. I didn't do it to get anything.

Love is very different than the carrot and the stick. I think a great many people, particularly religious ones, live by the carrot and the stick rather than grace and agape (gift love). They avoid the loving and gracious Lordship of Christ in favor of the carrot and the stick with each other. And they torture each other with it until all the love is bled out over time because it is all about the scenario they want and not the scenario they can give in.

The scenario I can give in with my kids is one which is unhindered and open; not rigid and prescribed and based in a deep disrespect for fathering. I will not allow my kids to see me so disrespected, not because I am proud (I am not and no one who knows me things I am) but because it hurts them.

Laura asked me about that the other night as we talked and Scott played tunes on his Guild. She was asking good mother questions and seeing from the eyes of my children. I am glad to have her as a friend. I had empathy, but I am a father and I have mostly father answers. It was a good mix...a more full picture.

More tomorrow. Rod is preaching on Mark 5 and I am looking forward to it.

I Miss Daughter...

2006-10-23T06:03:00.000-07:00

...and she misses me.

They Say It's Your Birthday

2006-10-22T18:30:00.000-07:00

Adam turns 14 today.

I am very proud of him.

The excuse the L uses to withold my kids from me is that Camille gets scared at night. Yet she admits the same happens there. She also freely admitted that she has allowed Camille to develop an over-dependence on her. Some of that has come from witholding her from regular visits in the past. She assumes that by farming her out to others this will lessen. The real cause is not having the security of two parents and way too much change for a little girl over the last five years (since she was 3).

Still she at least has some excuses with Camille. She has none with Adam who is now 14. In fact, he is at the age where he can legally make decisions on parental rights. I an reticent to bring this up with him as, once again, I do not want him in the middle of this mess that L has created. I'd rather wait it out patiently for now.

In a recent letter L implied that there were "documented problems". I asked in a reply letter to name just one.

I got no reply.

Of course all people make mistakes, especially parents. L has made some significant ones, but nothing intentional and neither have I.

I received several letters of support this week from people who have actually seen me with my kids. I am grateful. Thank you all.

As I have written, my own family situation was less than steller, but at least my father could have me come and stay overnight if he wanted. And sometimes he went a good deal beyond the norm...like sitting through a doubleheader at Candlestick Park when he really didn't like baseball. I was about Adam's age at that time and it meant a lot to me. But you see, he had the option and it was good because my mother is a little crazy and my dad isn't the least bit crazy. So I had another outlet, albeit not as often as I would have liked.

When I was sixteen I met my first mentor. He was a high school teacher and he became like a second father to me which was pretty crucial.

SK did not ever try to keep me from my parents...he just filled in while they did their own thing. But as much as I loved him, and as cool as it was to have a teacher to run with, study with, listen to music with and play hours of ping-pong..I would have preferred it had it been my dad.

In all fairness, SK had just gone through a heartbreaking divorce and he needed a project: me. It worked for both of us because I needed what Robert Bly calls a "male mother", a mentor.

Now R is shooting his own feet off because my son will grow up knowing he was an accompliss in keeping him from coming and spending time with a full-on father. You cannot be the mentor and do that. And I will not lie to my son, about anything. I never have and I never will. It's just a matter of when.

So R is disqualifying himself as a mentor every day my son cannot come and be with me because it is morally wrong. I have more compassion for L because I know she lives by fear and is fueled by a quiet rage. Always has been, probably always will.

But R is new to the situation and should be able to be more objective.

*******

Lest you think me self-righteous, this morning at church Rod Miles preached on Luke 7 where the contrast is between the Pharisee who invites Jesus to dinner and the Prostitute who lets down her hair, breaks open the alabaster vial of expensive perfume and annoints Jesus' feet with her tears.

In the story, I most definitely identify with the prostitute in her brokeness and also her reliance on the love of Christ. Simon the pharisee is probably a very righteous man, but he does not understand love and he simply wants to evaluate Jesus, not engage in a scandalous love and devotion like the prostitute.

"He who is forgiven much, loves much".

This has become a constant test in forgiveness. I have left several messages for my kids (both of them) and none have been returned that I am aware of.

So here is the scorecard: I cannot have my kids here (despite no incident); I could have a short visit with a court appointed stranger that would send a deadly message to my kids; and I cannot even get them on the phone.

Personally I think it is because they are both pissed that I am writing about this publically and openly. They also do not understand my resolve.

And here is my proof:

1) I have been accused of libel, yet with no example or any action taken.
2) I have been told my words "mean nothing" yet they are being added to a file
and I get several emails in one week that are on the attack.
3) All relevant information about my kids is also being witheld
4) My phone calls to my kids are not being returned
5) I am accused of "documented incidents" but not a single example has been produced or any document.
6) Camille is being witheld based on a non-incident for which I have a witness
7) Adam is being witheld for no reason at all and he wants to come.
8) As unfair as it is they have an established "supervisor" here who has volunteered and is someone the kids trust and feel comfortible with.

Tomorrow we dissect the latest attack letter from L including my responses.

*******

Adam is one of the four greatest gifts God has ever given me. Each of my children stand out in their own unique way. L once said that I gave the kids "there sweeteness". It was a rare moment of weakness and disclosure, but she is right. She laso, about the same time wrote me (I still have the card) about my attempts to get through the "rock-hardness" of her heart.

Guess I am not done yet.

Adam's Birthday, part 1

2006-10-21T07:16:00.000-07:00

World Series 2002.

In 2002 Adam turned ten on, well October 22nd. There was a little thing called the "World Series" going on them between the Giants and the Angels. So we hopped in the Mustang and beat it down to (then) Pac-Bell Park.

You do not want to know what the scalper's tickets cost. Let's just say it would be a couple of major car payments.

But you only turn ten once, and if your team is in the Wolrd Series it just seems right.

Well they lost. Grr. But I did get a fantastic picture of a Barry Bonds launch and we had big dogs with all the fixens and got a great Giants blanket and ha da bodacious time.

*******

Adam as long as I have known him (tomorrow will be 14 years), is one of the easiest and most fun people on the planet. Ever optimistic, open, fun-loving, relational, energetic and smart. He's affectionate, respectful and playful.

Now it is a supreme compliment that Reese gives me when he does something and she looks at me and says "Tree...Apple...sigh..." because Adam and I are a lot alike. Of my three sons ("music comes in here") he is the only one who may be taller than myself...which will be kinda freaky for me as no one is taller than me in our whole family. I imagine it probably freaked my own dad out quite a bit when I shot up not 2 or 3, but 7 inches taller than him.

That's freaky.

If ever Adam does come over and he is 2 inches taller and I am looking up at him I will have to remember his wide and expansive heart. We share a great deal of active love to each other and express it often. I truly respect him, and I like him (as a father you are only required to love and ask for respect). I respect his straight-up way. More tomorrow.

Mr. Nanosecond

2006-10-19T11:55:00.000-07:00

Nanosecond device.

When LIBF was attempting to intimidate me he also made sure to tell me, again, that he would not give a "nonosecond" of thought to anything I had to say.

Then he wrote me two emails.

I friend called me yesterday and told me about seeing Thank You For Smoking. He said one line in particular would amuse me, when the guys says "Hey, I'm the father, you are just ----ing my Ex-wife."

Well I do not find it all that amusing, but I see his point. It's potentially amusing at best and simply true at the very least.

Anyway, finally (after not giving a nanosecond's concern for my view, but two emails later) Mr. Nanosecond has fallen silent and my Ex has taken up the call.

Her particular modus operendi is shaming and implied blaming. She never answers when asked for a tangible example because she does not have one.

She wrote me a long email, which I answered point by point. If I get a response it is because I forgot something or made a mistake. If not, it means she cannot reply because I am right.

I do not expect a reply.

I will be quoting others in the next few days who have actually seen me with my kids and therefore can form a tangible opinion. L and LIBF cannot because we spend no time with them.

The one irrefutible point in all of this is that children need the nurture of their father. That is being witheld. Every week it goes on it hurts them. Their deflections aside it is not debateable.

(R....add this to your file please, and go see Thank You for Smoking.)

"Basic Needs"

2006-10-17T17:18:00.000-07:00

Maslow's basic hierarchy of needs.

L sent me a terse email with the usual set of accusations. But the consistent one was that I did not meet the Children's "basic needs".

Here is a quote or two:

Hoping and hoping that you would be able to tend to basic needs.

You are good at the fun outings, the special trips and projects, but you are unable
to make sure basic needs (including the need for safety and security) are
taken care of.

And she uses similar phrases a number of other times. "Basic needs" is the theme here. Then she even attacks Reese on the same point:

Reese has been taking a minimal role the past year, coming to events when asked,
but not tending to basic needs of the children.

So you can see that "basic needs" is the real issue for L.

So let's have a look at that...a good hard look.

Given Maslow's hierarchy of needs we start with the most basic of needs...food and drink.

I figure french toast sticks, bacon, eggs, and several types of cereal on hand is a good start. I wish that every child had such waking up in the morning. Later fresh salad, sandwiches, dinner of pizza or pasta or BBQ meat and roasted potatoes. For drinks (thirst) maximum of two soft drinks a day, but always juice and water (bottled) on hand.

I figure we have that one covered.

Moving right along we have the need of security and protection.

I watch my children like a mother hawk. The are never out of my sight in public (never). In fact I am always calculating any possible scenario that could bring harm to them. I see every car, every possible scenario and they are able to bound about freely never knowing that I am ready to take immediate action if they are in any danger.

That's in public. At home they have their own room, bunk beds. Fresh linens on their beds, and we have a watch dog that adores Camille especially. They have free reign around the flat, but the door is locked and they have to stay inside after dark. Even during daylight I prefer Camille go out with either myself, Adam or the dog. She has never been locked out (as she has it her mother's house).

We have never had an incident or security breach of any kind.

When it comes to social needs, a sense of belonging and love it is a very warm household. All ideas and requests are considered even if not implemented. One of our favorite things is board games (usually with the ballgame on in the background). They are generally long games and we talk and joke and really get into it. It's loose-leaf like the Scrabble games at Pinecrest that Grandma Dee always wins.

There are always lots of hugs and if there is a problem it is talked about openly and without fear.

On social needs we could do better here...make new friends and establish those. But that is hard to do with the absence of your actual children.

Self-esteem issues are pretty high on my list. I did not have it, I had no idea how beautiful and smart I was until I was only smart. That's a shame. But all of my children are beautiful and smart and I make sure to mirror that back to each one of them and let them know I believe in their giftedness. They know their father believes in them.

On the last, all you can do is encourage self-actualization. Heck, I am still working on that myself...but having parents behind you encouraging that is a must. I would never suggest that L does not do this. It's just that she fails to see the myriad of ways I do the very same. Why?

To that end I can only encourage. Camille's is drawn to art and is gifted. She has multiple art sets, an easel here and we paint side by side and advise each other as we go along. Adam and I like to play as teamates online with video games and he is a cunning warrior and every bit my equal even though I have been playing a lot longer.

The point of self-actualization is that it comes from within. It's God given. So many parents decide what their kids should do, but I believe it comes from within.

I have recently talked a bit with a mentor of mine. When I was in my teens he was like a father to me. He recognized in this shy gawky kid real talent and he was really the first adult to listen to me and mirror back that what I thought and said and did mattered. I have tried to do the same with each of my kids and if you meet them you will see it in them.

I am NOT solely responsible for this (let's be clear on that) but you never get there without father-love.

I am not interested in just meeting my children's "basic needs" and I never have been. Those needs have never been in question. What I have shot for are the needs that are at the top of that pyrimid. L thinks those superfluous. I don't and I never have or will.

Bags Of Fun

2006-10-15T04:24:00.000-07:00

Cammie with Bag O' Fun number 1

When we go picnicking, which is pretty much any weekend they are here, we also take the Bag's O' Fun. There use to be only one (the one in the background) and it has in it a wooden and steel Bingo set, Uno cards, and the Authors game. We got the second (larger and longer) bag for swim masks, towels, squirt guns, the football, kites and a backup of kite string because we seem to lose them. We sometimes even bring a battery-powered bubble machine, which is a lot of fun.

We have quite a few rituals while picnicking. One is often the eating of "The Sandwich" (we try to make the biggest one we can). Adam and I run pass patterns, we once again spend ten minutes trying to figure out how to put the kit together (There is a backup the BOF #2). Hereis a short video:

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=630737686

Well needless to say the BOFs have lay dormant now for well over a month. LIBF continues to try and use a combination of guilt and subtle intimidation (he recently implied I was libeling him, which I have not. He simply dislikes and is uncomfortable with my telling the truth).

Because seeing my children unhindered and regularly is non-negotiable, this is not fun. But I have peace about it. Sure I get frustrated at times because of the injustice. (Wouldn't you?) but I also am banking on all those regular times we have spent whole days together at Pt. Reyes, Bolinas, Baker Beach, Crissy Field and China Camp Beach to get us through.

Having children is an investment of time, nurture and love and it forms inside of them that way. My daughter may not understand right now why I don't come for an allotted hour. All real protest involves pain and is not appeased by expediency. Expediency is always offered for it is the basis of control and manipulation. The end result is a disaster for all involved. But she has all those warm memories and all that time and those words of care inside of her already.

I remember one great day when Adam was maybe 2, and I took Sean and Thomas and him to the beach (Baker). As was often the case I had to do so alone as L was not interested in coming. I was in Alameda with my folks and my Dad said "You're gonna take these three to the beach to BBQ alone? Yer a braver man than I."

It was a nice compliment. And we did go and had a most memorable day. It was kind of misty and my older sons helped me lug all the stuff up under a canopy of trees and we barbecued park steaks and I took pictures (which I will find and post) and Adam was as happy is a Big-Headed Clam. Later we hid the small portable BBQ up in the clustered trees...we came back next year and it was still there and we used it.

Jesus said we should become like children and a part of my philosophy with my kids has always been in incarnate into their world, not demand they live in mine. That is especially important here with Camille. She doesn't need any of our mess...and let's face it, it's adults who do the messing. They cannot seem to help themselves. So I have always tried to see through their eyes.

I think at this point Adam has a "whatever" attitude not in a defiant way, but in just the way I have described ("I don't want any of your adult mess. Wanna play Starcraft online?" Er, yes). I applaud this. And I actually do not wish it either. I was perfectly happy to be supportive of L and LIBF, brought them dinner when they moved in, was available for extra kid duty to help out (and get more time with my kids...it was not all altruistic), and suddenly they simply turned on me for no good reason. I do not want any of their mess either and I have been scolded now a few times by close friends not so much that I am too forgiving, only that I seem to forget.

I won't make that mistake again (I think). In that regard I suppose some of this does land in my lap. We all know the old saying about getting burned. Well I use to allow it regularly and I suppose it is only fair that I own that I allowed that.

Now LIBF has also accused my of "blaming others". Anyone who knows me knows I own my own stuff. I am not blaming, I am simply NAMING what is going on. I am simply telling the truth, which I understand is unnerving. But as Thomas Merton points out "The lie brings violence and disorder into our nature itself." Now Merton is talking on a grand scale, but it is no less true on a small personal level. If I lie then my internal life is in disorder. If I accept lies then the same.

Living a truthful life is not comfortible. In fact, it is embarassing. But it is "self-cleaning" and self-respectful. I would like all of my children to grow up with the moral courage to speak the truth with humility. I say all because my older sons already do this. Sean does not think himself humble, but in a very real way he truly is. Thomas just is...he is very, er...Zen. I respect both of them greatly.

I am not allowing this "travesty of a mockery of a sham" and I promise you I won't. And sometime in the future we will once again be at Baker Beach playing Uno and trying to find the missing piece of the kite and Adam will be flipping the food on the grill. It may be next week. It may be a year from now. I do not have the power and legally it would take at least a year to get it back.

So I have decided to simply take the high road and emphasize what my kids need, the injustice and telling the truth.

There is freedom in telling the truth...even the freedom to find out you are wrong. I always hold that possibility (and sometimes I find it is true).

Paul says three things "abide" (last): "faith, hope and love". That is all I have for my kids...that and food and bags of fun.

Retreating

2006-10-13T18:34:00.000-07:00

Adam's treasure from Pt. Reyes.

Adam just informed me that his mother is gone with my Daughter and he has no idea where.

The are on "retreat". And there is really only one place to go...Inverness.

It a place I found and have sent countless others to to get spiritually grounded. I do not begrudge L. going there at all.

The irony though is LIBF accused me recently of breaking an agreement because they could not get immediate phone contact with Adam the day after the "non-incident". It was because we were in Inverness having lunch and playing with the dog. Cell phones do not work so well out there.

Which is why I suppose I cannot get through to Lori's cellphone right now and find out how my daughter is. Howveer, LIBF has no excuse. I called him and he did not answer. He also is not home watching over my son.

For all I know, Daughter is sitting at exactly the same spot R and Adam and I did that weekend that they found so offensive, having a sandwich and looking out at Tomales Bay.

Now that I cannot get ahold of her on the phone is of no consequence when it is me. But it is a felony when it happens the other way.

Here are the words he wrote to me:

On Saturday you did not answer Lori's repeated phone attempts to contact Adam. That is a legal violation of her custody and her access to her son. Again, it is the action that speaks, not your email, not any of your words.

So how is what is true for the goose true for the gander? And mind you, this is from Live in Boyfriend...not even a committed Goose.

The difference is I really have no problem with L taking Daughter on retreat on her own weekend. I am certain they will have a great time, just as my time with Adam at the same retreat house was so special.

We walked on the beach and a dalmation came up and played with us for over an hour and there was a shipwreck off the coast of Drakes bay and we brought back a brass portal (see above) that Adam gladly called his "treasure" and we grilled steaks in the kitchen at St. Columba's and read stories and at 3 a.m. he fell out of the other bed in the St. Jean Vianney room like a stone and we still laugh about it till this day.

I hope Lori has such a time with Camille. I have not the slighest objection.

No, it is the utter hypocrisy that I object to.

She can go anywhere at anytime and I have no access. I go for lunch to the very same place (with someone they have agreed can be supervisor...which is already so wrong on all levels but I submit to it) and her Live in Boyfriend makes it seem like a major legal infraction because we are out of cell contact for a few hours.

Now she is and he isn't answering.

That's just crazy folks...just as crazy as crazy can be. It's beyond crazy and it is hurting my kids every day.

*******

So my daughter has been witheld from me for over a month for no reason. They cannot produce one single point. My son is mostly home alone and on his own. Very wise when the lad is 13, just started high school and is in a new city.

These people need help. Seriously.

Art

2006-10-11T13:09:00.000-07:00

Pots painted by Cammie and her Papi.

In Eden God gave Adam an artist's dream in cultivating the Garden.

God is the Supreme Artist and as we, male and female, are created in God's image we are also creators. Sure, we don't do it ex nihilo, but we do it with we are given.

Daughter and I planted seeds a few months back and she made a great chart to keep track which I shall publish tonight. Then we painted like 20 clay pots and just had fun. We ran out of paint in fact and walked hand in hand down to the art store 8 blocks from here. She loves that art store "I just love being in here!" she says to me. Then we bought some acrylics and got back to having fun with the pots (some pictured above).

Last night I had marinated tomatos on my big hot sausage sandwich slathered with hot and sweet mustard, red onions and a bit of horseradish. I was watching the A's lose game one (they will be back) and there is nothing better than baseball and a great hot sandwich. Those toms came from Camille and my planting and waiting, watering and pruning.

Out on the deck, all of Camille's seeds have come to fruition and in the pots we painted together.

She is a creator and an artist. I love her art.

Adam Part 3

2006-10-11T12:08:00.000-07:00

I love this picture of the Ad-Man

.

Adam Part 2

2006-10-10T07:02:00.000-07:00

Adam and I reconstruct Kite Number 2 from the "Bag O' Fun"

One of the stronger biblical admonitions is to respect your father and your mother. It's a needed respect for loving authority in life.

Of course this is very difficult in some cases when fathers and mothers do not respect themselves, or their kids and are abusive.

My parents were not abusive, they were just screwed up like, well, like we all are to some degree. But as a Christian I hold to this seriously...to respect both.

Now this is a lot easier with my father. My mother is...er, relationally challenged; but my dad keeps trying and we have made progress to the point where I believe he feels respected and cared for by me.

It is really for the child's benefit...not the parent (although they have less crap to deal with to be sure). If the child does not respect his parents they are left in a personal anarchy and confusion that can be hellish.

We have all read stories of successful athletes who were raised soley by their mothers. The mother has to do both parts because the man has deserted them. My own father was raised by a marvelous woman who did it all alone. She also helped raise me and my memories of her are sweet. She was the grace of God.

(It is at this point that L would always yell at me "Could you get to the point!!")

Nope. My blog, and you can shut your yapper.

In this case I deserted no one and I write a painful check every month so that I can, er...not see my kids but be an additional source of revenue for L. I not only did not desert my kids I was forced out.

Now that may sound like sour grapes...but actually it was a mercy. I doubt I would be here today had she not done so because she had so destroyed my self-esteem and self-respect that I truly did want to die.

There is a story about two of my best friends, Scott and Kim, coming back from Tahoe right past Roseville. As they approached Scott said to Kim "should we stop and see Mac?"

They deliberated and decided it was too sad and gruesome to watch what was regularly transpiring. They had seen it for years and did not want to see a man they love so demoralized and sad. They kept driving right on by.

I cannot say I blame them. A few years later Scott would say "I feel like I have my friend back from the dead".

Now how does all this relate to Adam????

He is a young man and he needs his father and we are very close. In fact it is unusual that I never had a rough patch with my boys through adolescence. I remember when Thomas went through a bad patch of depression and his lanky frame at 14 draped on my lap and my just holding him, praying for him and stroking his hair as he cried.

No imagine while he is going through that he is not allowed to see me freely?

And here is the brutal message: "We (meaning L and LIBF) need to "protect" you from your own father."

That is a sick message for Adam to hear. How are kids supposed to respect their parents if one parent treats the other (through coercion) like a second-class parent?

What does that set in the heart and mind of a young man?

L's rage and ability to block out reality scares me...but no one is perfect or gets a perfect parent. My dad use to rage at me...in the words of Monty Python "he got better". It did not matter that it happened when I was in my 40s.

You still need your dad. And every child, if they can, is better for respecting their father and mother. I feel better about myself when I respect my father. My mother...well I try.

Respect is a funny thing. Many people think it must be earned...which is problematic because people are so messed up and judgmental. I personally think it needs to be freely bestowed. My kids never got to "earn" respect. I gave it to them and they accepted it and embodied it.

When L decided to go for a better degree and in theology I had a choice to have her earn respect or simply to give it. I gave it. Even now, after what she has done, I am reticent to withdraw that.

Ironic huh?

Here is what my kids need and it is simple. They need regualr weekends with their father who loves, respects and engages them.

Anything less is bullshit and ego.

Adam

2006-10-10T06:33:00.000-07:00

Adam walks his sister to the snack shack at China Camp Beach to get shrimp cocktails.

It's far to easy to overlook Adam in all of this. He's the most communicative, open and gracious of all four kids who are much the same. He has a heart a mile wide, a mile deep and is 6 feet tall at 13. He is respectful but also has a healthy sense of himself.

Very low maintenance. And in such a situation we all worry about the 8 year old girl and for good reason. It is unhealthy for her to be witheld from her natural father because this si the formative time when young girls get their depiction of men. If father is aloof or unavailable it does not bode well. And if mother has the power to deprive a young girl from seeing a loving father than damage is done as well.

But see? It's so easy to gloss over what Adam is feeling.

We talk on the phone pretty much daily and IM back and forth. He thinks, as I do, that this whole mess that L has conconcted is simply "dumb". He misses me and I miss him.

We play Starcraft together when he is here, and I bought him the game for his new computer that LIBF bought him. He is very good at the game and I don't think I have yet yelled at him the way I use to when Sean, Thomas and I use to play. We are not talking bad yelling...in fact I was talking to Thomas recently and we were laughing about that. We use to go to Prima early Saturday mornings and play for a couple hours. I'm very competitive and I suppose I have mellowed now. I think I stopped ragging on them when Thomas started kicking my ass in Tribes.

I'm really good, but he can still kick my ass.

Adam is a "hugger" which is unusual for a 13-year-old...but as I said he has a very open heart and feels secure in himself. So he saunters out in the morning and comes over and gives me a big long hug. It's a nice moment. Lately we had been playing basketball together down at a schoolyard.

I was thinking last night and wondering why I continue to not be worried or distressed. I mean it has been at least 5 weeks now and I have not seen my daughter or son and there is no end in sight. I feel very calm although I miss them. I suppose it is because I know with an unshaleable conviction that I am right in this. That is unusual...very unusual. I am often my own worst critic...but in this I see the greater good of two children having equal access to both parents and the detriment of one parent lording it over the other.

See I would never do that. I would not make it a matter of ego and power to deprice my children of time with their mother. No possible way that happens unless she starts beating them or they get locked out of the house on a regular basis.

Well she does not beat them, and they do not get locked out regularly and I am a patient man (or have become one). I know they are safe and my only concern (besides the lack of father-nurture) is that they are being farmed out and neglected for pride's sake. My daughter spent Saturday sitting at her mother's work in San Francisco when she could have been walking around the Zoo with myself and Reese not too far away.

L will say.."but you could have come and got her for an hour or so". Do you see how utterly screwed up that is? What message does it send a child when she is "allowed" and hour here or there?

Part Two coming up next...

Ignored

2006-10-08T13:54:00.000-07:00

My daughter called me today a couple times. She was bored as her mother was at work and LIBF is in New York on business.

She is watched by her 13 year old brother who is a great kid.

But we could have been at the Zoo today.

That's Ridiculous!

2006-10-07T08:19:00.000-07:00

The "Seal" with Doggles.

Adults often project their own issues onto others. These others can be kids, or an abode...or even a pet.

My mother is a classic cat/dog lady. She likes them because they cannot talk back or take issue.

In this little skirmish we are in the analogy which is easy. L is the 37 theater mega-plex and I am the alternative theater with three screens.

Do I project? Yes. I'm sure I do despite my desire to be fair. But I do not project wildly on 37 screens and without discrimination. In fact that last observation was on Screen One. Do with it what you will. I only have two left.

Screen Two: Projection is not about entertainment in this context. It is about blame. I am not interested in blame. I only brought up the fact that my daughter was locked out of her house on LIBF's watch to reveal an irony and blantant contradiction. She was safe here and cared for and he used power to come get her...then she got locked out of her house that Sunday morning.

That would never happen here.

I do not think him irresponsible by any means. It was an honest mistake.

I do not think my Ex is a bad mother...in fact, other than this one crucial issue, I think she is a remarkabely good mother.

Screen Three: Is what we make of it. We can continue to posture and leave the well-being of the kids outside. I'm more than willing to allow Ms. Multi-plex to show a short film so long as I get to then record open time with my two lovely children in freedom and respect. I can leave the projector off.

I'm really not interested in projection anymore. I am interested in recording life and more life.

No Speak

2006-10-04T17:55:00.000-07:00

One of the main gifts given to humanity is speech. It came long before the written words that I type here and have existed for only maybe 5,000 or so years.

In the Garden in Genesis (Bible) one of the unique features was the naming of the animals. God asked Adam to name the animals and even God went by that name (It's why the Platypus is so named...I feel certain it is just as ridiculous in Hebrew. It does kinda fit.)

Speech had a certain power and it still does today. In a very real sense every newspaper you read, every news report you listen to, and every show you watch is simply the "naming of the animals" in some way or another.

Human speech is a remarkable gift and all of our arguments against one another are attempts to try and name the animals in each other without seeing the animals in ourselves.

I see the animal in myself. It displeases me. I'd rather be in denial but it is too late for me. I took the "red pill" a long time ago.

I stand alongside those who have taken the "blue pill" often.

One of the telling signs of those who have taken the blue pill is that they cannot handle dissonance or disagreement.

They cannot admit they are wrong because it would destory the artifice of certainly.

So they simply try to silence dissonance and truth-telling.

*******

Now lest you think I think I am "right" let me clarify. I am wrong all the time. Regularly..er, daily. I do not have the luxury of self-imposed certainty nor do I need it because I have faith. I live in relationship with a God in Who's mere shadow I am pretty much always wrong.

I got an email in response to my not accepting a subliminal relationship with my daughter via email (for no reason...they have yet to produce one) with the admission that my email to my daughter with a great picture of the bird eggs and a note to her were summarily erased because

"I did not see the other one you sent as I am reading fewer and fewer of your emails"

Let's be clear on this. I send brief practical emails when appropriate. That's it. The majority have been supportive of L and her various moves the last year.

So if she is viewing fewer and fewer emails that would maybe be like 2 a month instead of 6 of a practical nature.

Fear and more fear.

******

L use to scream at me when i wanted to talk about issues "This conversation is OVER!!!"

The great gift we have is that we can talk and we do not have to be "right" all of the time. God's grace is sufficient, and we can choose to love instead of being ruled by fear and anger.

For right now I have to trust in that grace and love that God has for my kids while they are witheld from me. I do. I am at peace on that. I know they suffer because of it, but there are far worse things and they know that I love them.

L would like to silence me and control all my contact with my children. It cannot be done.

She has already lost. She just does not realize it yet.

Eggs and emails

2006-10-03T20:07:00.000-07:00

Boo and Peanut's nest with eggs.

I sent this picture with a message to Daughter a few days ago. I followed it up with phone calls and an email to her mother.

No response...for days.

I called again tonight and finally got to talk with Daughter and she was very excited that Boo and Peanut (our finches) have two viable eggs. As I sit and write this both of them are nestled on top of the two eggs. We are hopeful that in 12 more days we will see two little finches.

*******

I had to write the check today. Even though my kids are witheld from me for no good reason I have to write the check.

I did. You know how us deadbeat dads are!

Again, I do not begrudge what I pay. I would pay at least that if I got to live with my kids and gladly. The only downside is I do not get to see my kids.

I just get to pay.

Still, I am truly not bitter about paying. Someone recently told me about a guy who makes a great deal of money...but he lives in a van (not down by the river). He does this so that he is untraceable and because he wants to spend his money directly on his sons without hindrances.

I understand his stance, but the reality is that one parent will shoulder the financial burden and the other should pay into that in way of support.

I do not think a dime of what I pay goes to my Ex. It all goes to my kids. I actually wish I made more money. I'd voluntarily do more.

*******

In the State of California the two issues are exclusive. I take that serious.

I could easily withold child support while my kids are witheld from me. But I don't and I won't. It does not feel right to me, and my integrity and honesty are paramount to me.

But it also is not right that my children are witheld from me for no good reason. So....two wrongs do not make a right and I will not do that wrong (witholding my obligation as a father).

So I write the check and I wait to see my sweet kids here in their other house. I wish they did not have my "other" house to deal with, but then that was not my choice, it was L's.

It was her choice not mine. That's God's honest truth and there is no excuse for broken vows.

And I will not be a victim and I will not allow my children to be deprived of a loving and nurturing father.

Ghandi's Birthday

2006-10-02T13:20:00.000-07:00

Born October 2, 1869.

Ghandi continues to be a teacher and also emblematic of the quest for peace, non-violence and tolerance.

Non-violence does not work in every place and in every time. It worked in India, it worked in Manila, it worked in Poland (perhaps for other reasons) and has in other times and places. Most often those places have some sense of Judeo-Christian values at the very least, and as such a moral conscience can be appealed to.

In Tienneman Square there was no such sub-text and the tanks just rolled over them. And elsewhere. Yet as tragic as that was it has been instilled in the global conscience.

Ghandi was a "uniter". He was able to bring Christians, Jews, Muslims and Hindus together in community.

There is nothing we need more at this time than a man like Ghandi. But we do not have such a man, though Os Guinness reminded me recently that in a given time quite often the right person "turns up". We can only hope.

In the meantime, we can hold to a commitment to peace, fairness, even love and grace, yet with a hard-edge of truth.

We do not need to pretend that there are not huge differences in our religions and beliefs. That would by lying. There is no way to reconcile the high-end world views of Hinduism with Christianity. There may be some cross-overs between practical Zen Buddhism and Christian practice, but the raising up of Jesus as Lord stands in stark contrast. Islam is another matter. We Christians can respect our common heritage, but not the call of coercion to enforce faith (even though we Christians historically have been guilty of the same).

No. What we see now is not a battle between Christianity and Islam...it is between Capitalism and radical Islam.

Lincoln was a uniter and it cost him his life (he was, in fact, the first Republican president by the way). Ghandi was the same. It cost him his life. The ultimate Uniter is Christ who was also killed.

So today we celibrate Ghandi and how he changed humanity for the better. He is what we could be, just as we can be disciples of Christ. We fall short out of fear, or anger, but mostly fear which fuels it.

Ghandi was not afraid. And Ghandi loved God.

Kids

2006-10-01T15:01:00.000-07:00

Camille.

Today would have been a good day with the kids. Adam and I would have played Starcraft, we would have made hotdogs for lunch, played Monopoly and Daughter and I would have painted more pots or canvases on the deck. A good long walk with the Pooch, but really pretty much concentrated time because my time with them is so limited.

We would have make jokes and cuddled on the couch and watched the new Spongebob episode and I might have even made my signature breakfast potatoes (they take awhile). I would have asked Adam to help with some minor chores and he would oblige. I've been working Camille into starting this. It is part of being family. Still most of the time they are doing something and ask to wait just a bit.

Okay. Fine.

Camille would have been fascinated by the finch eggs. And I might have suggested she do a painting of that with her various art sets here. I would have asked them to make their beds and clean their room, or at least straighten them up.

We would be missing something for dinner or snacks so we would hit the store. Fresh Bordenaves bread, or cream cheese or ice cream. A nice bottle of wine and a amber beer for R.

Camille and I would both forget, once again, to use the cookie dough that has been in the refrigerator for a month (it will out live us all).

In the late afternoon we would maybe hit China Camp Beach and eat sandwiches and play Authors.

A movie at night...either two separate ones (guys room or girls) or one in the main room. Then teeth-brushing for Daughter, stories, a nice back-rub (this is her mother's trick) and leaving the lights on because she gets scared at night no matter where she is.

The Boy outlasts me at night because I wake up at like 4 (maybe 5:15 on a good day). He's fine. He sleeps in till 11 if he wants.

Camille doesn't. I have been at my desk only 2-3 hours before she comes out and comes and gives me a hug. Then she sits on the couch and I ask if she wants hot chocolate and she always says yes. Later she turns on cartoons and starts to ask about food.

As with all my children breakfast food requires almost Jimmy Carter-esque negotiations. Not a one of the four of them have ever agreed to the same early morning nourishment. They alternately love and hate eggs...or eggs with cheese are good, but without...forget it. Waffles are in...waffles are out. For awhile I was able to sidestep with the simple use of sausage. This too passed.

So I just cook food...the potatoes with garlic and onions, the eggs and sausage and then make sure there is milk and plenty of sugar-encrusted cereal around.

I figure they can have nutrition at lunch and dinner.

Later Adam and I would do high fives (well now it is fist to fists) after pummeling Internet Zergs. Then I would aks him to do a load of dishes, which he does without whining.

There are always lots of hugs and jokes and I only get sore when they start to mess with each other too much...which usually is a sign that I need to engage one of them more.

And that is what would have happened this weekend if I had been allowed to see my kids. Anyone who knows me knows this is true.

*******
I continue to insist this is simply about power and fear. Nothing I have seen contradicts this in any way. My children are missing valuable time with their father at a crucial time (an 8 year-old girl and a 13-year old young man). I have done nothing but love, nurture, care and be creative with my kids. All four of them.

I have had power myself at a few times in my life. It made me circumspect and I realized my power needed to be used for the good of others. I also knew God would hold me accountible for its use and misuse. Not to say God would send me to Hell for making mistakes (I've made plenty...I just admit them) but that it was meant to be a gift to bless others and not a hammer to be used for coercion.

This is the correct use of power. To GIVE.

P.S. If it seems I am exaggerating, ask any of my kids directly if this is true. In fact, Sean and Thomas had it even better because not only did they have their own room, they had their own Batcave.

Charlie Brown Wises Up

2006-09-30T08:16:00.000-07:00

A classic scene.

"Chris,

I'm wondering if you'd set anything up for supervised visits for this weekend, or if you wanted to come do something w/Ad & Cam Saturday or Sunday for a few hours.

L"

*******

L,

My answer is now public and will continue to be every day.

I am not angry. I am simply determined and focused. I will continue to publish on this issue every single day until you see how unfair this is and how our children are being deprived by your own personal control issues.

Next week I will begin to send out a series of these pieces to various outlets and blogs.

This is not about me. It never has been. It is about you. I remind you that if you had any question the night daughter called you, you had a "supervisor" present in R and you never even asked to speak with her.

I think that about sums it.

You just got on the phone and gave me an earful and then had LIBF dump on me. R was here. She witnessed it all.

Then two days later my daughter is locked out of your house while LIBF is asleep.

I have shown myself to be reasonable, open, and supportive of the many changes you have made that involve my children and also of you personally. I have even accepted the unfair judgment that Reese was to be a "supervisor". We know it is not an issue and nothing has ever occurred at any time.

I'm just glad the last two years I have had a witness. You have no grounds for anything. In the meantime, I have provided a home and private bedroom for my children and a safe place to be. I have instituted fun rituals and been open to your suggestions for improving upon even those. There are millions of kids who would love to have that, including my two.

In response, you continue to withhold them, farm them out routinely to other families and demand to have everything on your terms.

I do not agree to your new terms and I will not. We have had a precedent set these last two years in practice, so stow it about Placer County. That travesty is null and void.

And there is nothing more you can take from me that you have not already taken L, so you have no power...just accountability for your actions and how they will affect our children for the rest of their lives.

What else can you take from me that you have not already taken? I cannot think of a thing, seriously.

I will publish this letter tomorrow for adults who are reading. I will also always tell the truth, albeit age-appropriate for the safety of my children.

The two modes of communication are separate. I will not allow my kids to get in the middle as you have. No one reads doghouse but adults.

Do not worry. You will get your check next week even though you withhold my children from me. I know you worry about such things, but visitation and child support should not be connected. I am a man of my word.

Mac

*******

Of course there is an epilogue. I looked at my phone logs and then R's and there were like 8 calls from LIBF's phone. I'm not dealing with him because he is just the Live-In Boyfriend. His credability was lost when he over-reacted to a non-incident and took my daughter.

Once I see my kids again on a regular basis, and he apologizes I am open to re-establishing the trust he has decimated. Until then I have no interest in speaking with him and I do not trust him as anything other than a tool.

I talked earlier about Ron (my first wife's husband at the time). I could always count on him to listen and be fair. Sometimes I could see it pained him because he was caught between what was fair and the expectations of his wife. Tough place to be. But I often asked him "well, what would you do if you were me?"

Good man. I felt genuinely saddened when I heard he and Karen were divorcing. I felt bad for Karen because I am partly responsible for her even having to remarry. I felt bad for Ron because he is an honorable and humble man.

LIBF is a good man, but he is not humble. Therein lies the difference and also why I no longer trust him. A humble man would have thought more about my daughter than his own past fears. He would also have thought about me. he would have asked to talk with R if he was really concerned. But I received a letter shortly after basically saying that nothing I could say or do could change his position.

This from the Live-In Boyfriend who sleeps while my daughter is locked outside.

Note to LIBF: You don't get to have a position because they are not your kids. You are not even married to their mother. Ron was married to Karen and he had the full responsibilities of a step-father. He did a fine job.

You don't get a say. You only get to mimic their mother's view like a puppet.

*******

As for me...I always wondered why Charlie Brown never wised up and kept letting Lucy hold the football. SLAM!!!

Metaphorically speaking, I have wised up. Took me 18 years to figure it out and a great deal of pain: When it comes to L, I've been playing the wrong game.

Baseball is really my game. I got bat speed, a great curveball and I can put a 97 mph fastball next to your earlobe if I want. I do this as a writer on a daily basis.

So Lucy can hold the football all she wants. I'm not available.

Mrs. Doubtfire

2006-09-29T16:28:00.000-07:00

Chris Columbus did a great job with Robin Williams a number of years back on the plight of fathers who are separated unfairly from their children. It's a great comedy, but I often cry when I watch it because it shows what extreme measures fathers have to go through to just see their children unhindered.

In particular there is the scene where Williams complains to Sally Fields, somewhat bitterly, that he had to be "watched" by some supervisor like he was some pervert with his own kids. He never did anything wrong except becoming divorced.

But he loves his kids and is a talented man so he dresses up as an elderly woman so he can be near them unhindered.

Well I don't look good in drag.

Kid's know it is not fair. They have an intuitive sense but one parent usually has the power. In Williams case he had none.

But that was in the film...I believe he did quite well in the real world when instead of becoming the nanny he actually left his wife FOR the nanny...but that's money folks! Ironies abound! And if I had it I would not be in this position. This would be over in a month and for good.

No, the money I could spend on a lawyer actually goes to the woman who is witholding my children from me. Every month.

What I pay is not unfair. In fact it is voluntary and an amount she suggested which I felt was fair. No State of California intervening. She has the majority of expenses and what I pay is fair...unless I have to hire a lawyer so I can see my kids.

And that is the insane part.

When my Ex decided to divorce me she wanted a high-priced lawyer to just kick my ass. I knew that was 30-40k minimum flushed down the drain and held the line for mediation.

I held the line and refused to be baited. I was patient. At every provocation I pointed towards mediation and also a man we both trusted (even though she had been in love with him at one point while we were married. He was not in love with her.). She finally relented to common sense and the dollar.

It was a fair settlement. She did much better than me in the long run, but the original settlement was not unfair. I am happy she made a killing on the other house. But my point is that I have been the steady and fair person in this whole mess and I am now.

I didn't want a divorce. I have dealt with it.

I didn't want to be away from my kids. I have dealt with it.

I didn't want Reese to have to be a "supervisor". I dealt with it.

What I will not deal with is this latest unreasonable attempt to keep my children from me without reason.

Oh sure, she will take my check on Monday, but I have not seen my kids in weeks and it could be a long time.

Why?

Because she can. That is the only reason.

At the end of Mrs. Doubtfire, Williams gets to see his kids because his Ex finally recognizes that her kids cannot live without their father. It is not in their best interest. When confronted she says it was because she was angry at the time. Well any of you who have known My and L's relationship know that she is angry.

Good luck LIBF.

But anger runs it's course. It cannot supercede the love of a father for his children or their love for him. That will not be denied.

Just delayed.

The Land of Os

2006-09-29T09:35:00.000-07:00

Os Guinness.

I met Os Guinness yesterday for the first time. Well it was not exactly a private meeting, but in a Q&A after hios lecture we had a nice chat back and forth on Postmodernism, Pluralism, the Emergent Church and discussions for the Public Square.

The thing that struck me most about him was an unpandering balance and fairness. Whether the questions were about Hilary Clinton, the Iraq War or Megachurches, Dr. Guinness kept steady eyes on the truth in an unwavering yet gracious way.

He has an encyclopedic mind. No notes or books to tow along...no he has given this all much thought and to misquote Sean Connery from The Rock "My blueprints are in my head!"

To a lesser degree I understand this as I rarely take notes anymore and am able to write with a certain freedom because I have already done the work. I suppose it is like a batter who has spent intolerable hours in the batting cage. He can go warm up a bit, but he's got the mechanics down and the muscle memory.

I did write down one small journal page of notes on shifts...paradigm shifts.

1) Corporate or communal (body) life has shifted to individualism;

2) Authority has shifted to preference; and

3) Exclusivity has shifted to syncretism.

Now none of these are new to me, but it was nice to hear them spoken by someone else..someone in a suit and tie with a degree, whereas I look like an aging hippie in a t-shirt and shorts (I was...Tabs, wearing my McMenamins' shirt proudly amidst all the suits and ties. Hooray!).

I went with my new friend Rod Miles, who is pastor of a church plant in Marin. Actually I was his invited guest and it was a yearly prayer breakfast attended by some good 300 people. Catholics, Jews, Episcopalians, Baptists, Presbyterians...on and on.

Well I did not know anyone except Rod, who is a delight. But then I saw Father Tom Brindley of St. Columba's and we visited just a bit. I have a long history with St. Columba's going back fifteen years. But that is another story.

And, of course, once I saw the ballroom I feared it would be a Religious Right Dumbfest.

It wasn't at all. I suppose that is because it is Marin.

In fact, the only time my eyes glazed over and I wanted to put a bullet in my brainpan was when the president of the local Presbyterian seminary and a liberal, got up and did the longest most pompass prayer I have heard since....well, since I left the PCUSA. So there you go.

He left after his prayer out the back way and you could hear a loud crash in the kitchen.

I admit, I chuckled.

More in a bit. I have to go to work.

Women

2006-09-27T06:12:00.000-07:00

Reese with garlic fries.

We were at the Giants game last night, actually on business. You gotta love a job where they give you $100 tickets right on the third baseline for free and you have to be there to take pictures.

My roommate Reese had not been to a game since she was a teenager. It was a great deal of fun and I made sure to spoil her where I could (note the hat...cool huh?)

Now the reason I accept just being roommates with such a beautiful woman is because I can. Also, I would be foolish not to since women, in my experience, are a great deal of trouble and it is very hard to find one with whom you can live in relative peace.

I admit it is probably not any easier living with a man, and certainly not with me.

I use to think I was a smart man. I mean I can write, paint, argue, read books that would make an ordinary person put a bullet in their brainpan...smart. Wicked Smaaaaht.

But I am really not very smart. Or perhaps the issue is wisdom...hmnnn.

*******

For say...oh...what day is it? Tuesday, Wednesday...er two decades I serial monogamied two women. Well actually there was some cross-blending between the two...so it was not exactly serial monogamy it was transitional monogamy.

I use to always be in a hurry.

Later I would not be in a hurry at all and I also sat down and actually thought about it. Hmnnn... I kept coming up with the same conclusion that the common denominator in my failed relationships with women was, er...me.

*******

So with that knowledge I leapt into action and proceeded to do the exact same thing another time.

After they removed my remains from the wood-chipper, I sat down again and thought about it. Did I mention I am really not a very smart man?

I was named after A.A. Milne's character "Christopher Robin" but I am really a lot more like Pooh. Still "Pooh MacDonald" would have only brought more trouble, and I have had plenty.

I decided that I needed to not date or engage in conversation women who were highly intelligent but who also had anger and control issues.

This was a breakthrough not unlike the infamous "Pirranha Brothers" sketch done by Monty Python. At first they threatened the person with being beaten up if they paid them the money. Second, they threatened to not beat the person up unless they didn't pay them. On the third try, they threatened to actually beat the person up if they did not pay them.

And this was the turning point for the Pirranha brothers.

So in my mid-forties (I can scarcely believe it) I hit the turning point and I realized I should only date or be in relationship with women who were smart and also fair and kind.

(Of course they have to be beautiful...but that has never been an issue.)

Well, needless to say things have gone a great deal better since then.

*******

Both of my ex-wives are very smart, industrious and beautiful. I sat at last year's holiday festivities in Ex No. 1's house and watched the two of them dance.

They should get a room.

But they won't because they also evaluate each other constantly as they do everyone else.

Moving from one to the toher? I have no excuse...Instant Karma baby. The gift you give yourself that keeps on giving.

Now that is not to say these women are at all bad. Nope. In fact, I could not have picked two finer women to raise my four kids. Sure, they have down-sides...welcome to life. But both have a nurture and care for my children that is rare these days and I am proud of both of them for all of their effort and grateful.

Now if they could just figure out how to treat adults they'd have it made.

*******

My first Ex tried to withold my kids from me. It's natural after a divorce (which can be a vicious thing). I was smart in my ignorance and simply kept seeing the kids. I also challenged her at every point on withholding them from their natural father and she gave in because it was in their best interest. I respected the hell out of that.

Later, she remarried. He was and is a very good man. We did all the negotiating over the years and even became friends...in time. To this day I am grateful for Ron and all he did for my two older sons. They maintain a good relationship with him even though he and my Ex are now divorced.

He was and is a good and humble man. He never steamrolled me, but he always spoke his mind. Gospel guy. We worked it out.

Second Ex is another matter. The fact is I really like her a lot and I care deeply about her and her future. She doesn;t give a rat's ass about mine.

I cannot explain it...it just is what it is. Sometimes God calls you to love those who despise you. I seem to get the call more regularly than most and I'm not happy about it.

My guess is there is some deep wound that I trigger in her. She knows it is not in our kid's best interest to not come here freely. She knows this.

She has no excuse. If she had really been worried the night of the non-incident she could have just asked to speak to Reese on the phone (who she had agreed would be supervisor). She did not. Instead it all came out...the anger, the accusations (unfounded) and then the repeated phone calls while I tried to console my daughter. Then the STOMP.

This is why I no longer suffer the company of angry and controlling women.

Good with kids...most definitely...but then she has the power. Good with adults? Not so very much.

*******

With brings me back to the issue of women.

This is what men think about all day: women.

Yes, sure, we also think about money, jobs, the yard, our retirement, friends and even God (notice what place God gets).

But we think about women because we are built that way. I am thankful to say that at 49 I am no longer beholden to this. I can choose otherwise and I pity any man younger than me (especially in this culture).

Being in love with a woman is not about sex. That's the very early translation and often mishandled. It's really about love and trust and respect. It's about communication and a climate of grace.

Now I am blessed because my roommate is very beautiful, kind, honest and smart. While we are not an "item" neither of us is the least bit interested in anyone else. So we live here in peace, care, good humor, love and mutual respect.

Things could change, but only for the better.

I have to say one more thing about her: She is great with my kids. So am I.

Side-light: Tagged

2006-09-25T08:46:00.000-07:00

Books...yum.
Man & Nature by Gregory Bateson
Love in the Western Word by deRougemont
Moffat on love on the NT
Walker Percy on Semiotics
Thiliecke on The Church
Bonhoeffer, Lewis, Kierkegaard and Malraux.

My Sis tagged me on this meme that was sent from Jaclyn (who has awesome taste...they both do...check them both out).

1. One book that changed your life - Have to say the Bible though I know it's corny. Genesis, Ecclesiastes, Pslams, Proverbs, the Song of Songs, Gospel of John, Colossians and Johns letters in particular.

2. One book you’ve read more than once. I read Walker Percy's The Second Coming every other year. I also read Pascal and Thomas Merton repeatedly.

3. One book that you’d want on a desert island. Again it would have to be the Bible...just so I could pray the Psalms. If that was not available...the complete works of Mad Magazine.

4. One book that made you laugh. Confederacy of Dunces or Woody Allen's Without Feathers.

5. One book that made you cry. I cry like a baby with movies, but books do not make me cry. Okay, once Anders Nygren made me cry with Meaning and Method but that was because it is almost unreadible though important. The sequel Meaning and Mentos is much more explosive.

6. One book that you wish you had written. Azotusland...oh...I wrote that. Ooops.

7. One book you wish had never been written. I'm with Sis on this...anything by Ann Coulter. Robert Schuller comes in a close second.

8. One book you are reading at the moment. Thomas Merton's Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander.

9. One book that you’ve been meaning to read. Eugene Peterson's Christ Plays in 10,000 Places. It's on my coffee table.

10. Tag five Myspacers: Okay...Seanathonorama, David Eugene, Tabitha Jane, Martha, and Lara.

Fear Part Two

2006-09-24T11:42:00.000-07:00

Adam and Camille.

I've sat with this situation for a couple weeks now. The answer is always the same: fear-based.

Fear turns to anger, anger turns to suffering...and I sound like Yoda now.

The fact that I am writing about all this incites more fear in those who have the power (actually the one who has the power. LIBF has no real power at all...it is all "borrowed").

So they have to make it out that I am irresponsible. I am not.

Or that I do not pay child support, I do.

They make personal attacks based on incidents years ago that were untrue.

Again, there has never been an incident of any kind.

Pascal wrote that those "who fear should not, and those who did not fear should."

It's a funny saying, but if you crawl into what he means it makes sense. The people we know who do not overtly fear are the most dangerous. Our current president is a good example. It would be better if he had a healthy dose of fear and circumspection.

He doesn't. Those around him even less.

Then we also know people dominated by fear and we wish they were not because we see how it hamstrings them. Perhaps you know someone like that. Someone who if they could just shake off their past fears and look ahead would be much freer than they are now.

That's Pascal's notion.

The reality behind Pascal's statement is that it is ALL fear-based. It's easy to see the former, but not easy to see the latter because it looks so impervious. It isn't. In fact, what fuels the overt lack of fear is fear itself. It's like the bully in school. They look fearless but it is fear that fuels them. A deeper fear.

*******

The opposite of fear is love and faith and hope. These three are not easy things themselves by any means. They are costly and often difficult, but St. Paul says of all things these three "abide" meaning they have permanent residence where fear cannot go and has no place.

I have been in both positions (Pascal's verse).

I have been utterly fearless and merciless with opponents. I evicerated and humiliated them when I was younger. As a college student there was no professor I would show the slightest mercy to in debate. Later I confronted cultists who claimed to be God.

I was a hammer.

But as Pascal says, it would have been better if I had known some fear during those days. Years later the reverse would be true, and if I had my choice I would take that because it teaches compassion to know real fear. It humanizes to an extent and you understand the undercurrent in all human life of that one thing...fear.

It also elevates love because we all have choices and to love is the very best in every single situation.

I think ideally you want to be inbetween. Understand your fears and name them, show compassion and be willing to take real hits for love's sake. There is really no way around it because the other folk you have to deal with will generally fall on one side or the other. They will be too fearful or not fearful enough.

Let's face it..it's not such a fun topic and it's just easier to anesthetize that issue with alcohol, sugar, shopping, cigarettes, online blogging, television, etc. (the list is almost limitless). As Pascal also said about humanity:

"All men's miseries derive from not being able to sit in a quiet room alone."

If my daughter does not learn how to sit in a quiet room alone she will turn, as all human beings do, to all manner of other things. Probably you cannot do that at 8 years old. It's too young and being a human being is about the most difficult thing you can be. Even God (in Jesus) found it difficult. So, you have to do it by degrees. I have confidence in her that she will do well.

My sons have done well...three of them. They are all honest young men and play things very plainly. They have good hearts and fine minds and a certain independence that I admire. None of them are arrogant, but none of them are cowed.

At some real point you have to trust God with your kids, and also trust in your own love for them. I admit I felt a twinge of fear this morning at the thought that I might not see my daughter and youngest son for many months. The fact it is unfair makes it worse. But that is where love, faith and hope come in. And the three are said to be as real on the "other side" as here and now.

I'll trust in that reality and not in fear.

*******

I jokingly mentioned Yoda earlier on the issue of fear. That saying about fear leading to suffering use to puzzle me till I saw it from the inside out.

The other day I was walking with my Pastor friend Rod and we were talking about Christology, apologetics, and new ways of presenting Gospel. We walked past the old Seminary (that I once attended until my wife became pregant with Adam). Rod is not a man dominated by fear...his fears are simple ones like fear of being arrogant or being late for an appointment. I enjoy our talks very much and he has the scent of Jesus on him. He is much more in the center of Pascal's statement on fear than I may ever be.

As we wound up back by the old toy store in San Anselmo talking and laughing, George Lucas walked up and looked in the window of the toy store. I thought that was pretty funny given the years I have spent in toy stores looking for and buying his toys. Lucas was about four feet away dressed in a simple plaid shirt and jeans. No one was with him.

Of course I wanted to say hi. I have always wanted to meet him. But thought better of it, but not from fear. It was a quiet morning and I imagine George Lucas likes his solitude looking into a toy store window...and besides I was enjoying Rod. So I said to Rod "there is our neighbor George Lucas...but let's leave him be."

But he had a nice ease about him. Usually a famous multi-millionaire travels with an entourage and an air of importance. Lucas stood there alone, looking like the assistant manager at a framing store on his day off, staring at a large race car model in the window, and imagining what he could do with it.

My estimation of George went up. I hope he buys the car.