You Say It’s Your Birthday

“You say it’s your birthday; It’s my birthday too, yeah”

This must be the worst Beatles lyric ever. Well, besides that reference to being “the walrus,” which Paul clearly is not. Because today is my birthday, so chances are it’s not your birthday too, yeah. It’s definitely not Ringo’s birthday (thank you Google for the confirmation). Though if it were, I don’t recommend sending him a birthday card since he recently proclaimed he would no longer be accepting fan mail.

You should know that it’s not just any birthday — it’s my 40th birthday. As the doctor pointed out to my mother the moment I arrived, I was born “On 10/30 at 10:30.” So as of this morning I’ve been on this planet exactly 40 years. The number itself doesn’t bother me so much but I have found myself being fairly self-reflective the last few days. So, if you don’t want to partake in my own reflections on 40, I suggest you go visit another website about now. I promise I won’t be offended.

I’ll start with my favorite poet/philosopher, Jimmy Buffett (besides Jesus, of course). I’m hearing his song “A Pirate Looks at 40″ in new ways these days. “The cannons don’t thunder, there’s nothing to plunder; I’m an over 40 victim of fate. Arriving too late; arriving too late.” Great song, though I don’t feel like a victim of fate. Sorry Jimmy. For one thing, I don’t believe in fate. For another thing I don’t feel like a victim. Sure, my recent discovery that my cholesterol’s a bit high annoys me. But that hardly makes me a victim of some fried cheese curd conspiracy (can’t eat those anymore as I once did at the Minnesota State Fair).

“Regrets, I’ve had a few,” sings Frank Sinatra in “My Way” (that’s the third song reference of this post; not sure what that’s about). And that’s probably true. To be human is to have some regrets. But fortunately I find myself looking at 40 with surprisingly few. Sinatra continues: “But then again, too few to mention. I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption.” I can relate.

So what have I done over the past 40 years? This is part of what I’ve been thinking about. Some you’ll know about, some may surprise you. But here’s what comes to mind in  no particular order:

• Jumped out of an airplane five times (Army paratrooper training).
• Fell in the duck pond at the Baltimore Zoo (when I was 7)
• Met Leonard Bernstein.
• Attended a World Series game in 1979 (the O’s won the game; lost the series).
• Married a wonderful woman when I was 26.
• Drove cross country. By myself. In three days.
• Pledged a fraternity (Delta Tau Delta).
• Ordained a priest at 31.
• Had two amazing children.
• Wrote a book.
• Got a dog named Delilah.
• Watched my father conduct the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.
• Started a blog.
• Fired the big gun on an M1 Abrams tank.
• Ran the Boston Marathon (plus two others).
• Was mocked by Jon Stewart on the Daily Show.
• Witnessed my father die at home of cancer at 52.
• Baptized a lot of babies; married a lot of couples; buried a lot of people.
• Wrote a hymn.
• Went to a show at Buddy Guy’s blues club in Chicago.
• Saw my brother get married to a Swede in Sweden.
• Captained a lousy high school soccer team.
• Watched games at Wrigley Field, Fenway Park, Lambeau Field, and the old Tiger Stadium.
• Lived in Milwaukee, Honolulu, Baltimore, New York, San Antonio, Boston, and Chicago. Worked in the East Bay area of California for a couple of months.
• Managed a victorious State Senate campaign in Maryland.
• Worked on several losing campaigns (and some winning ones) along the way.
• Developed a taste for sushi and black coffee (but not together).
• Became an uncle, a brother-in-law, and a step brother.
• Attended the Super Bowl parade for the Baltimore Ravens in 2000.
• Completed two sprint triathlons (without drowning!)
• Spent three years at an amazing seminary — Seabury-Western in Chicago.
• Watched Bryna get confirmed in the Episcopal Church by Bishop Sisk.
• Only threw up from drinking once in my life.
• Met Cal Ripken, Jr. and got his autograph.
• Ate cow’s brain (by mistake).
• Sang in a boys’ choir for four years in Baltimore (I looked great in a “ruff”).
• Preached the Word of God on a weekly basis for 8+ years.
• Saw the Queen Mum at the Tate Gallery in London.
• Gained a fabulous and endlessly talented step sister in 1995.
• Quit many instruments growing up including, but not limited to, the violin, the piano, and the French horn.
• Watched my mother publish “The Desperate Gourmet” in 1989.
• Saw George Thorogood in concert.
• Spent last Easter at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine with my family (while on sabbatical).

Well, that’s all I can come up with on short notice. I do have some work to get to on my birthday, after all. But before I sign off, here are a few of the “regrets” — or should I say goals for the next 40 years:

• Haven’t traveled much beyond North America and Europe — I’d love to get to Israel.
• I want to play guitar in a blues band. Unfortunately, if I was the guitarist it would be a pretty mediocre band.
• I have yet to get “discovered.” I’d love to make a cameo in a movie, preferably as a small town vicar.
• Write a bestseller — for some reason “God’s Shoes” hasn’t shown up on the NYT bestseller list.  Though I check every week.
• Get to all 50 states before I die. I still haven’t been to Alaska, Montana, South Dakota, Oregon, New Mexico, South Carolina, and Idaho.
• Run a marathon in every state in which I’ve lived. So far I’ve taken care of Maryland, Illinois, and Massachusetts. Moving to another state anytime soon won’t help my cause.

Dearly Beloved

Went to Morristown, New Jersey for a wedding this weekend. One of Bryna’s (many) cousins got married at St. Mary’s Abbey, a Roman Catholic Benedictine monastery. When your mother in law is the oldest of twelve(!) from a big Polish, Catholic family you go to a lot of family weddings.

Zack stayed in Briarcliff for a sleepover with his Aunt Liz and Uncle TJ and was spoiled rotten. Ben came with us and got to experience his first wedding. The worst part for Ben, besides watching the bride and groom kiss (“Gross!”), actually took place the week before the wedding. “What do you mean I have to wear dress shoes? What’s wrong with my sneakers?” Well, besides the fact that they used to be white and are now a sort of off-brown, nothing. Mercifully, it was Bryna who took him shoe shopping. They returned with what I’d basically call black sneakers. I assume some sort of compromise was at play.

But in the end, Ben looked smashing and it was nice to have him with us and let him be exposed to the sacrament of marriage for the first time. After the ceremony ended, while we were waiting on the receiving line, Ben did proudly point out the fact that he’d just untucked his shirt. His way of sticking it to the man (or mom) I guess.

One of the occupational hazards of being a man of the cloth and going to services led by others is that nagging sense of judgment. It’s a terrible thing — and it’s hard to enter into something prayerfully when you’re wondering why the priest is wearing/doing/saying that. Since my sabbatical earlier this year, I’ve gotten much better at this. But…nonetheless…did the priest really have to say to the groom, in lieu of “You may kiss the bride”…”If you don’t kiss her, I will.” What? Are you kidding me? Especially coming from a monk, that’s just creepy!

Okay, that’s all; I’m done. It really was a lovely service and I even introduced Ben to the priest after the service. It was nice to be able to introduce our Benedict to a Benedictine. He, of course, loved the name though I made sure to point out that he was named well before the current pope…

Angels in the Outfield

So, the Tampa Bay Rays took the “Devil” out of their name before the season and now they’re going to the World Series. Hmmmm. They’ve gone from the worst expansion franchise in the history of baseball as the DevilRays to the World Series as the Rays. Hmmmm.

A lot of people in certain circles are holding this up as an example of God’s hand at work in the world. Banish Satan and just look at the possibilities! And on the surface of things, this is a compelling example of the theory. But as “theology” it’s hogwash.

Let’s consider the evidence. The Duke Blue Devils? Three NCAA championships and 14 Final Four appearances under Coach K in the past 27 years. The New Jersey Devils? Stanley Cup champions in 1995, 2000, and 2003.

On the other side of things, why didn’t the Los Angelos Angels advance to the World Series this year? Sure they made the playoffs and had what many considered the best team in baseball. But they’re home this week watching the Rays play the Phillies. And what of the New Orleans Saints? The San Diego Padres? Shouldn’t they be sitting atop their divisions? And, despite all my prayers over the years, why haven’t my beloved Orioles been to the World Series in a quarter century?

There’s no doubt there’s evil in the world. Anyone who lived through 9/11 can’t dispute that. But that doesn’t mean God cares who wins a football game. Or who advances to the World Series. If so, you’d have teams with names like the Cleveland Yahwehs or the Phoenix Messiahs. And more players named Jesus Alou.

Enjoy the World Series. And don’t read into the fact that the Yankees, the “Evil Empire,” as they were once called by an executive with the Red Sox, didn’t make the playoffs for the first time in 14 years.

Technical Difficulties

“We are experiencing technical difficulties.” Perhaps that should be my mantra; I’m hardly a technological wizard. But I wouldn’t be alone. Did you catch the beginning of Game 6 of the ALCS between the Rays and Red Sox? Of course you didn’t. Because TBS was experiencing “technical difficulties.” So they showed a rerun of some inane sitcom call the “Steve Harvey Show” for the first 20 minutes while they sorted things out. I can’t imagine what it was like in the control room; and who paid the price of failure with their job.

But when it comes to experiencing technical difficulties I can relate. And I admit that one of the main reasons I had children was for the free at-home tech support. Though I’ll need to wait at least a few more years for the investment to pay dividends. Sure, Ben and Zack are great at figuring out problems with the Wii game system. But my computer issues are a bit more complex at this point.

My latest annoyance has to do with recording my sermons. I started to do this during the summer and it worked for awhile. I even have some of them on my website, which I like to make available to parishioners and especially Sunday School teachers who regularly miss them. Yes, I post the text but reading a sermon is much less effective than listening to one (though if you know the preacher and are familiar with his or her cadence you can “hear” it in your head).

I have a great little recording device called the Zoom H2 — the quality is pretty amazing. But for some reason it’s been cutting off my sermons toward the end. You could argue that it just “knows” when I’ve stopped preaching well and goes into sleep mode (at least it doesn’t start reading the bulletin).

Here’s an example. This week I preached my stewardship sermon. You can listen to it for 9 minutes and 48 seconds. And then it stops. Here’s the full text. Not sure if any of you will actually read this but if so, please do fill out a pledge card. 

Someone would probably tell me I need to purchase a memory card. But why would it have worked when I first got it? I’ve deleted all the old sermons from the device so that’s not the problem. So, I’m still experiencing “technical difficulties.” It must be a personal problem.

Fade to Black

I’ve always admired those who drink black coffee. Besides being more manly in a hair-on-your-chest kind of way, it’s just much simpler. For years, after ordering my coffee I’d have to take that little detour to the ‘fixin’s bar’ to add cream and sugar. While secretly envying those bold and rugged types who just took their coffee and went on their way.

For some reason when I think about strong, black coffee I envision an old cowboy camp. The cook rings the breakfast bell, and the cowboys stand in line for their grits and black coffee brewed on an open fire. I have trouble picturing the Marlboro Man asking for sugar and half-and-half. 

Regardless of how you drink your coffee, I think nothing’s more unappetizing than non-dairy creamer. I associate it with styrofoam cups, bad coffee, and dingy church parish halls. And it’s hard for me not to think about my Aunt Wanda. A dear woman, my grandmother’s sister had a knack for malapropisms. She would get Coffee Mate and Cremora mixed up and refer to it as Cremate. Which is kind of funny except that the consistency is remarkably like the ashes of the deceased.

I recently became aware that my cholesterol is a bit high. It’s annoying since it’s a very tangible sign of aging. And it’s not like I eat Big Macs five days a week — I get plenty of exercise and eat pretty well. So besides eating a bit less cheese and red meat I’ve started eating more fish and oatmeal. But the most painful realization was that half-and-half and I had to part company. For a long time I’ve thought that without cream, coffee almost wasn’t worth it. Almost.

But since I got this news I started putting whole milk or 2% milk in my coffee and it just doesn’t do it for me. So I’ve decided to go whole hog and just drink it black, which I’ve been doing all week down here in Mississippi. I’ve started to actually enjoy tasting my coffee as opposed to drinking what Bryna snidely referred to once as my “warm coffee ice cream.”  And I’m starting to feel more manly already. Not manly enough to change the oil in my car (no clue how to do this) but manly enough to “just say no” to all the fixin’s. And it feels, and tastes, pretty good. Plus it’s a lot easier to project my rugged image without having to ask for my coffee to be made “light and sweet.”

Mississippi Burning

I can cross Mississippi off the list. It was one of the few states I had never been to but I write this from the Credo Conference being held in Canton, MS at the Gray Conference Center. So it’s off the list. I realize getting to Mississippi before you die generally doesn’t make anybody’s top ten list. But it did make me reflect upon which of the United States I still haven’t gotten to.

Alaska’s the big one — though listening to Sarah Palin makes me feel like I’ve been there. Or at least that I can see Russia from here. But there are others: South Carolina, Montana, South Dakota, Oregon, New Mexico, and Idaho. I knocked off the state of Washington in the spring by attending an Episcopal Communicator’s conference out there. I do hope to get to every state before I kick the bucket. Not for any particular reason, but just because they’re there. 

In the spirit of “when in Rome” I had grits for breakfast this morning. I used to eat grits in Army chow halls but I now realize they were pretty lousy as far as grits go. I remember choking them down because I had a commanding officer from Alabama and he basically ordered us to eat the grits. This morning was the real deal — and, with a touch of brown sugar, they were delicious.

The grits were followed by crawdad etouffe for lunch and topped off with broiled catfish and turnip greens for dinner. Incredible. And not a bad culinary introduction to this much-maligned state. I might have to move here just for the food and southern hospitality. Just don’t tell Bryna.

A Cool Hand

A strange thing happened to me the day Paul Newman died.

But first some background: My running buddy and fellow priest Patrick Ward is a movie buff. Since he’s got about 16 years on me, he’s always bemoaning the fact that I’m about a generation behind on classic movies. I admit I’m a bit lacking in this area. Okay a lot. Sure I’ve seen Casablanca and I love The Caine Mutiny. I think I saw Easy Rider.

But every time he mentions a scene from, say, The Bridge on the River Kwai, while we’re out on the trails I have to hang my head and fess up that I have no idea what he’s talking about. So he’s taken it upon himself to round out my classic film education. I believe he sees it as his “bounden duty” (whatever that means).

After one of our usual Thursday morning 6-milers, he initiated my remedial education by handing me a copy of “Cool Hand Luke” starring a young Paul Newman. Newman died later that day which was slightly eerie.

I waited a couple of weeks, until I was alone in a hotel room in Newark, to watch it. And while I usually don’t hang out by myself in Newark hotel rooms (I was there for a Provincial Council meeting, thank you very much), it did feel like the perfect place to watch it. If you haven’t seen it, it is a great movie – the story of a chain gang in the rural south – and it’s full of Christological imagery. Not the scene with Joy Harmon; but Newman’s character is a true Christ-like figure for the other inmates. And it’s where the line “What we have here is a failure to communicate” came into the lexicon.

The education will continue, I’m sure.

All Made Up

I wore makeup for the first time in my life this morning. Wait, that sounds odd on several fronts so I’ll clarify. I didn’t run away and join the circus – I’ve been tempted but I’m a lousy juggler. I haven’t decided to become a metrosexual – I’ve never even been tempted to get a pedicure. And I haven’t become a cross dresser – I only do that on Sunday mornings.

No, I had to get makeup for a taping of the Faith Streams Book Club. This is a new internet venture being launched by The Odyssey Network and my publisher set this up. So I taped two five-minute segments with host Timberly Whitfield that will be put up on their site and e-mailed to their membership list in November.

Timberly was great – energetic, open-minded, and genuinely excited about my book (she has a six-year-old daughter so she related to much of it). Prior to this venture, Timberly hosted a show called New Mornings that aired for six years on the Hallmark Channel. And she has a pretty fascinating story herself – she grew up in Africa as the daughter of missionaries of the United Methodist Church.

I think the taping went pretty well – they were pleased with it. It’s certainly all new to me. But after I got home, I did have to yell down the stairs to get Bryna’s advice on removing makeup. Definitely not a skill I ever thought I’d have to learn.