What's With This Guy?

O.K. ladies, help me out here.

I'm reading the day's headlines on Google news and glance to see that musician John Mayer has broken up with Jennifer Aniston.

First, I had no idea they were together.

Second, the article [which I shamefully read] listed off his former exploits which included [among others]: Jennifer Love Hewitt, Jessica Simpson, and Cameron Diaz.

Holy crap, he has it going on! Now I'll always defer to a good looking man who can get the ladies [ex: Tom Brady], but I just don't get the allure of Mayer. Is he our generation's Neil Diamond?

So if any female readers [or "in-touch-with-their feminine" male readers] of my blog can explain this to me, I could use the enlightenment.

Before You Praise

The NBC networks continue to laud the Chinese for hosting a marvelous Olympics. I'll admit, I was impressed with the grand scale of the Opening Ceremony, as well as their architectural feats.

But the Games remind me of many family situations where years of secret abuse are finally uncovered to claims of, "We had no idea. He appeared to be a good, normal guy."

Except that, in China's case, the abuse is not at all secret. As a gentle reminder, I encourage you to read this article that highlights the unreported pomp and circumstance the frequently occurs in their nation.

I'm not saying that boycotting the games altogether was the perfect solution. But let's stop heaping praise on the host country for spending billions of dollars to make these two weeks go well when it's been accomplished at the expense of thousands of oppressed Chinese people; the facade is not reality.

Perhaps the Beijing Olympics will be a good thing. Perhaps the lure of western capitalism will finally end the oppression of the Communist government. But if the path that China has chosen continues unchanged throughout the next generation, then all we've done is whore ourselves out for some cheap entertainment.

HT: Challies

Around Town

How about a quick recap of Cincy stories that caught my eye this week?

1) Some ridiculous marketing:the Cincinnati Museum Center uses the controversial Bodies Exhibition as a means to promote a fitness camp. I mean, if you really want a body like those in the exhibition, shouldn't you offend the Chinese government?

2) A landlord in our community was so frustrated that he couldn't rent out his apartments on a crime-ridden street, that he decided to hang a sign and advertise . . . the crime, that is. John Wallen spent a few hundred to print a sign stating, "Drugs & Sex For Sale 24/7." I'll be interested to see if people are talking about it at next week's community council meeting.

3) We don't have much of a commute to church, so I don't get to bothered by the traffic. But the preacher at the First Commandment Church of the Living God here in Walnut Hills lives up north of the city and drives in on Sunday mornings. When 71-year-old pastor Thomas Howell was driving in one morning in June, a woman cut him off. He preceded to follow her, waving a firearm at her. She decided to follow him to his desitination, called the police, and they confronted him at church. Howell said he never waved a gun at the woman, but admitted to carrying a concealed firearm on his person. Yep, he was found guilty. It should be noted that this incident is helping my position in the Walnut Hills minister of the year standings.

4) Cincinnati was ranked in the top 10 of America's hardest drinking cities. Who knew?

iWrite

I'm still swamped from teaching two classes simultaneously [the first one will be finished tomorrow night], so I'm not back to a regular blogging schedule. But you can fill that void by checking out an article I wrote in this week's Christian Standard about the urban church conference I attended in Dallas this past winter. It's yet another way to shed light on what we're doing with Echo.

X

I had one of those life maps all worked out.

I anticipated that my first decade out of college would be spectacular. It would consist of a quick ascent to ministerial success [clergical rockstardom, if you will] that would afford me opportunities for financial security and national acclaim. I'd be speaking at conferences, writing books— I'd be respected as a ecclesiastical genius.

Yeah, um, didn't quite work out that way.

The reason I start the post concerning our tenth anniversary this way is because I believed I'd be living a totally different life now. If you told that naive young lad in the picture above that he'd be living in the city, pastoring a church of forty people, and living in relative obscurity, he might have ushered himself to the back room and had a good cry. But despite the deviation complete implosion of my ten-year plan there was one thing that kept me sane.

Yes, I had Kelly.

How I convinced that girl that I was worthy of marrying is beyond me. While some might suggest that her acquiescence on August 1, 1998 proves her own mental imbalance, I would agree; you have to be pretty messed up to want to spend the rest of your life with someone like me. But perhaps that's why we get along so perfectly: we're just messed up enough that we offset each other.

I don't mean to boast but [ah, hell, we made it this long so I'm going all out] our marriage is amazing. Sure we have our fights, but we know how to fight. We get it all out and then move on, usually laughing at each other within minutes. Kelly is a constant encourager [which I need more than I realize] and she enjoys the little things in life which are easy for me to provide. She never hesitates to go along with my crazy ideas and has proved it by living in four different places this decade. And, like me, she is passionate for Cincinnati. Not only did she take my last name, by she adopted my hometown and has made it her own.

Obviously, I could write a book about all that my wife has meant to me but the most important thing today is that it doesn't feel like it's been ten years. It feels like we're just getting started in this thing. I still wake up passionately in love with the woman next to me, looking forward to my life with her.

So my ten-year plan didn't work out. But at least I got one thing right, and that was Kelly. Regardless of what happens in the decades to come, I know the person standing by my side is unwavering. And that, my friends, is better than any kind of rockstardom.

And with the way God has provided for me during the past decade, I'm beyond blessed and fully satisfied.

Happy Anniversary, babe.

That Sucking Sound . . .

. . . is the sound of a superstar being wooshed away from the city. It looks like Ken Griffey Junior has approved a trade to the Chicago White Sox and the experiment is over.

We were moving into our second apartment in Bridgetown when his trade from Seattle was announced over eight years ago. This was following up an unbelievable 1999 season where the Reds [under Jack McKeon] made it to a one-game playoff to win the Wild Card. It seemed like the pieces were in place and, with a new stadium under construction, I honestly believed that a World Series was in our future.

But it wasn't.

Junior was often injured. His conspiring with Barry Larkin led to Jack Mack's ousting. The owner of the franchise went cheap, until he gave Larken a ridiculous contract extension that hand-cuffed this team.

It's been eight miseable years. I really didn't have too many problems with what Griffey did on the field. He was injured: not much you can do about that. But I would offer that in his time here in Cincinnati, he held back the franchise to the extent that his absence will be better for everyone.

While I appreciate the athletic brilliance of Griffey [mostly displayed before he arrived in Cincinnati], he was not worth the price. Griffey is an amazing ballplayer, but he is not a leader. In fact, in my opinion, he is a leadership vacuum. Barry Larken deferred in his leadership after Griffey showed-up, almost expecting the superstar to take the lead. But he didn't; that's not his style. Even though Sean Casey didn't produce enough on the field to warrant his [at the time] large salary, he should have been retained for his leadership abilities alone. Who's the leader on this team? Griffey's presence trumped everything: he can't lead and he really can't be a follower. But as a superstar, he was always the center of attention.

As the Reds continued to bring in young players who needed someone to guide them, management brought in managers that could not overcome the leadership vacuum created by Griffey. Jerry Narron benched Edwin Encarnacion for not running out a flyball last year. That's why Griffey wasn't too keen Griffey did the same thing on multiple occasions last year and nothing happened to him. McKeon demanded that out of Griffey and he was run out of town [to Florida . . . where he won a World Series]. When you have a system with two sets of rules, there can be no unity. And the ballclub has suffered.

Depending on what happens to Dunn, I think that Brandon Phillips is primed to emerge as the on-field leader of this team. No way this would've been possible with Junior here. And, perhaps, this will allow Dusty Baker to be a little more harsh with this club. It'll be interesting to see how this all plays out.

I have no ill-feelings for Griffey. In Chicago he'll have a more demanding manager who is the undisputed leader of that team. It'll probably be good for him.

It's the end of a Reds era. And I'm ready to move on.

UPDATE:

With Adam Dunn traded to the Diamondbacks, this truly is the end of an era in Reds baseball. I would just suggest that this makes it even more important that Edinson Volquez pan out to be a perennial All-Star pitcher. Otherwise, the Josh Hamilton trade is even more of a disaster with the state of the Reds' outfield.

How To Skin[e] a Mole*

For the longest time I searched for the perfect system by which I could record my thoughts while out and about. As technology developed, I wanted to be in step so I leaned towards digital methods. I owned a Handspring [the knock-off of the original Palm Pilot], which I used fairly well. Then, yearning to see my calendar in color, I purchased a PDA [can't even remember the brand now] that ran the Windows friendly Pocket PC software. When we started the church and I went Mac-only, it was not worth it to make the handheld compatible [over $100 at the time for the software] so I was back at square one.

But over a year-and-a-half ago I found a new way to keep my thoughts: an old-fashioned notebook. I chose to use the Moleskine [pronounced "mol-a-skeen-a"] notebook and I love it. Sure, it doesn't sync up with my computer, but it's small enough that I can stick in my back pocket and it forces me to strive for good handwriting. I take the book with me practically everywhere. Names, ideas, to-do lists— it was all working.

After writing small and using both sides of the paper, I was within a few months of filling the notebook. I was beginning to anticipate the accomplishment that would come with filling up the book but, of course, just last week, I lost my notebook. I know I had it with me Sunday morning as I made the trek out to the church in New Richmond. After that, I have no idea. I searched the house and the church thoroughly and still found nothing. I'm thinking I dropped it out on the street and someone picked it up looking for an identity to swipe [fortunately, I don't write any of that kind of information in the book]. So twenty months of my scribbling is now gone. And I've tried not to think about it because it depresses me a little.

But, all in all, the Moleskine served me well. And I've been thinking of ways to better organize my chaotic thoughts. So even though I'm saddened to think of my loss, I'm a little excited about picking up a new notebook tomorrow and continue using this old/new system.

P.S. I use the gridded version of the Moleskine, in the reporter's style. Although I like the look of the book-style, the reporter's style allows me to write all the way to the edges.

*No actual moles were harmed in the publishing of this blog post.

AB

I've been blessed with two biological brothers, but God has always provided other men that have been like brothers to me. Of those, none can compare my friend Aaron Burgess who is celebrating a birthday today.

I knew Aaron from college and really didn't like him . . . at all. When I took a job at the alma mater, Kelly and I were looking for a home church and Aaron had just become the minister at my grandparent's church. After a lunch together, we decided that his church actually needed us and our friendship was formed. We developed a solid friendship, based on a mutual passions for God, ministry, our wives, and baseball. We supported him through those years, and ministered together until I took a ministry at Aaron's home church.

When we thought about starting a church, Aaron was the first person I talked to and he immediately offered to be a part of it. He and his wife Dorota joined Kelly and me at the very beginning in praying for Echo. And three years later, they've relocated downtown and our committed to the city as much as we are.

The thing I really haven't realized until the past few years is that Aaron is an unbelievable encourager. I almost expect my phone to ring Sunday nights after church; it's Aaron, complimenting my sermon in a brutally honest way. Outside of my family, I have no greater advocate. He selfless wants my success. It's a very good thing to have someone like that in your life.

So thanks for eight good years of friendship, man. And have a Happy Birthday too.

Wall-ee

Since I spend hours each day on my MacBook Pro, I'm pretty particular about my desktop wallpaper. Recently, when I was not satisfied with what I found around the interwebs, I went as far to create my own. But, hopefully, I've finally discovered the perfect solution to my wallpaper woes.

I subscribe to the blog feed of Smashing Magazine which specializes in various graphic design issues. In capitalizing on various clock desktop themes, they started a design competition for monthly desktop wallpapers. So it's practical [you can always glance up at the screen if you're unsure of a date] and you're only committed to it for a month.

So as the calendar is ready to flip again, you might want to check out Smashing for a nice new theme.

Friday Foto

Busy. Crazy busy. That's my life right now. Eventually I'll update on my teaching effort, but I'm getting ready to start another class next week. For two weeks, the classes will overlap and I will struggle to post anything substantive here. But I'll drop a little something here and there. For instance:

This is a pic I took earlier in the summer downtown.They have a great kids area where the water is abundant . . . and colorful. Fountain Square is becoming one of Kaelyn's favorite Cincinnati spots.

The girls are off to Lexington. I have a wedding to perform tonight so I'm going to do that, hammer down my tasks for Sunday, and meet them there tomorrow morning.

Busy, but very, very happy.

Where's Our Worship Leader?

One of the blessings we've had at Echo is having a consistent worship leader. Tye VonAllmen usually fronts the band Artists and Authors with his wife Andrea [who is now blogging here]. But he's also a wicked drummer which allowed him the opportunity to tour with up-and-coming local band Seabird. So while we've missed having him with us on Sunday nights, he gets another taste of life on the road and we're blessed to have Andrea help us out. To get an idea of how good this band is, check out their recent album release video here. That's Tye behind the drum-kit.

I really need to get a copy of that CD. Still waiting for the release from A&A too.

Signing Off

I'll admit: I am not a fan of professional golfer Michelle Wie.

She was driving the ball 300 yards of the tee at age thirteen. Throughout her teen years she's entered a few men's PGA events, despite never winning on the women's tour. Some blame an over-aggressive father for pushing her into this career path which cause many people to despise her. But, all in all, she's just a kid— only 18 years-old now.

Wie was entered in an LPGA event this past weekend and, after her round on Friday, she left the scorers tent without signing her scorecard. Anyone familiar with professional golf knows that this is one of the rules (in fact, a golfer lost the Masters in 1968 because he signed an incorrect scorecard). Even though officials immediately chased her down to sign it, she left the official roped-off scoring area which should mean a disqualification. But the LPGA let her go out on Saturday and play her round, waiting until she finished, before informing Wie that she had been DQ'd. At the time, she was in 2nd place.

Again, I'm not a Wie fan, but this is ridiculous. I love the game of golf but this antiquated rule has got to go. I can understand the need for such a rule back in the day: there was no television coverage or instant scoring. But with today's extensive coverage of tournaments, and with all the demands on the professionals, from catering to local events to dealing with media interviews, why can't they final take the signing the scorecard aspect out of the equation? Basically, what they're saying is that a golfer's score isn't official until the player signs his/her card. Then why even show the score during the tournament? What other sport penalizes you for not verifying your own score. Do they do that in professional bowling?

I understand the basis behind the rule, an ideal which accompanies all of golf: honesty. You're accountable to faithfully keep your own score. But just because hackers like me take an occasional mulligan doesn't mean that professionals are doing so.

By the way, the LPGA doesn't really like Wie too much, because she has at times shunned their league. Adding insult to injury, LPGA offical Sue Witters, who informed Wie of her DQ, (perhaps unintentionally) belittled the golfer's youthfulness with the comment, "I felt like I was telling somebody that there was no Santa Claus."

Additionally, if the LPGA knew they were going to disqualify her and let her play on Saturday, they are just cruel. I would suspect that they wanted to milk Wie for a few more television viewers before sending her home.

Overall, very bad form.

[insert no golf clap here]

Isn't She Lovely

My wife is amazing.

No one action leads me to make that observation. It's just that, in every aspect if our relationship, she always comes through without failing. She's absolutely wonderful.

That's all.

Must Read Cincy

If you're like me and continue to wonder how Cincinnati ended up like this, an article in yesterday's Enquirer is a good read; it discusses the presence of the African American community in the city. Most interesting observation (and one that I tell people consistently) is made by Henry Louis Taylor Jr.:

"The city leaders created a money map that sifted and sorted people into communities based on the amount of money that they had," Taylor said. "Race itself doesn't become a factor of any consequence until homeownership enters the equation."

So the racial segregation of Cincinnati was actually economic segregation which impacted the African American community the most. Of course, when blacks who could afford to live in communities like Hyde Park or Mount Lookout inquired about living there, they were refused until courts showed it was illegal.

I'm not saying there is no race problem in our city, but the economic diversity is really the issue.

Wire Less

Not a lot of posting going on as of late. In addition to a busy schedule I've kept the past couple of weeks, I've been having some computer issues.

My wireless connection has been irregular the past few days. I scoured the internet for solutions and, despite numerous efforts, I got nothing. Finally took it to the geniuses over at the Apple Store and they were able to determine that my wireless Airport card needs to be replaced. Part plus service would cost about $200 bucks.

Hey, computers are expensive so I can even deal with that. My problem was that, since I have a first-generation MacBook Pro, they would only replace the current card I have, refusing to upgrade it to the card now found in all MacBook Pros. So basically, I'd be paying a hefty charge with no actual upgrade benefit.

I've explored a few other options to get a renegade install of an Airport card I need. There's one more local place I'm going check tomorrow morning who'll do the upgraded card [802.11n capable, for you geeks out there] and if they won't do it at a decent price I'm just going to order the part and do it myself. I still don't feel completely comfortable about doing it, but it seems I've been left no other choice.

So I'll get back to regular posting soon, once I get my issues figured out.

UPDATE:

Received the new card in the mail tonight. The installation was flawless and the internet is operating faster than ever. I'm a happy camper.

This Old House

Scott and Robyn Duebber are awesome. I declare it.

They are expecting child number two any day now [hopefully not before Scott leads worship at Echo on Sunday], but their awesomeness is not limited to feats of procreation. They moved to Price Hill last year, rehabbing an old house near St Lawrence Catholic Church, and, like us, are committed to raising their family in the city.

Scott also is a witty blogger, whose musings you should be reading. It is his blog, more specifically his using the blog to chart his house rehab, that got him featured in a City Beat article this week. To catch it, click here and scroll down to page 15 [note: fear not, Scott's inclusion in the magazine has nothing to do with pending lawsuits concerning prostitution advertisements].

I'm proud of Scott and Robyn. I'm particularly proud to have them in public view as solid Christians who love their city and live it out loud.

Smile [because they say so]

One of Kaelyn and mine's day-together activities is stopping by Sam's Wholesale Club to eat a pretzel. The food is cheap and delicious— two things I can definitely get behind. We went today, not just for soft-pretzel delight, but also to pick up a bulk order of diapers.

Those of you familiar with "the Sam's way" know that, when you leave, they check your receipt against the items in your cart to ensure that you haven't shoplifted anything (I still find it somewhat hilarious that I belong to a club that assumes I'm a thief. But those pretzels and bulk pricing make me overlook the infringement of my rights). The door-checker person then takes their highlighter (usually yellow) and runs a line through the receipt giving you final permission to leave their store.

This is peculiar enough, unless you have children. Then the door-checker person goes one step further.

Before I describe this, I at first assumed that this practice was native to one rogue highlighter, or perhaps a weird policy limited to my local store. But then I went to another Sam's Club and the exact same thing happened, so I'm pretty sure it's company policy.

You see, when the door-checker person sees that you have a small child with them, they release their inner-Picasso and use their highlighter to craft a drawing for your child. It doesn't matter if there's a line of people waiting behind you, they draw the kid a picture. Most of the times, it's a smiley face. But if the door-checker listens to NPR, they'll perhaps draw an entire stick figure for your child. Nevermind that they're using a highlighter so it's impossible for most mammals to even recognize that there's anything there at all, let alone a picture. Finally, the door-checker proudly hands it to the kid, announcing, "here you go, sweetie."

Kaelyn's not very old and still amuses easily, but she has yet to be impressed with any door-checker artwork. Why they tell these people to draw highlighter pictures for kids is still confusing to me.

But even though this is awkward enough, the thing that still amazes me about this practice is that THEY USE THE BACK OF YOUR RECEIPT TO DRAW THE PICTURE. I'm not sure if they fully recognize that the point of the receipt is that it validates your purchase if you need to return it. It is not a canvas, nor is it something that should be awarded to my child. I need that piece of paper, but you drew all over it and gave it to a two-year old. What if (for some insane reason) my child actually loves that little piece of art you made? Then I have to wrestle it away from her just in case I need to return those 100 rolls of paper towels.

In the end, I suggest that you either get another piece of paper or just screw it all and hand out lollipops. My daughter draws better than you and I just want to go home.

The Shack Book Review [Part One]

One of the blessings of my previous class at Xavier was the freedom to choose our own subjects for papers. Fortunately, my class was on views of the Trinity, so I tailor-made one of my papers so that I could read and examine The Shack.

As I mentioned here before, The Shack is a piece of fiction that is quickly becoming a best-seller and is said to be transforming the way that people are viewing their relationship with God. Originally I was skeptical, but I knew some good Christian people who enjoyed the book so I decided I would refrain from commenting any further until I read it myself. Well I have read it and studied it thoroughly. And after finally taking the time to type out my response, I am ready to unveil the following conclusion:

I do not like this book at all.

In my previous post on The Shack I gave a quick synopsis on the book. So as I continue here, I'm assuming you at least have a cursory understanding of what it's about. Quickly, The Shack is about a guy [named Mack] who is angry with God because his daughter was killed by a serial killer. So God chooses the location of her murder [the aforementioned shack] to be the site of His reconciliation with Mack. Mack spends the weekend with the Trinity [described as a black woman, an Arab man, and an Asian woman] who try to tell them "the truth" about God.

As I begin to critique, let me start here: to be fair, I don't know William Young [the book's author]. I don't fully understand the circumstances surrounding his life [which were apparently somewhat hellish] and I am not judging him directly. As I understand it, the book was supposed to be a therapeutic gesture written for his children, but Young later sought for the book to be published; from there it gained widespread popularity. So it's no longer a personal matter, but a public one, and people are going to this book for spiritual guidance, then it is then fair game for me to deconstruct its contents.

I'm assuming that Young had good intentions in getting this work out there to the masses, but there is objectionable content in it. And while some suggest that it's just an innocently written fictional book that shouldn't be over-examined, I disagree. There is power in the written word. And just because something was done with good intentions does not excuse it from scrutiny if it is, in fact, harmful.

As for its artistic merits, I found it lacking. I've admitted before that I'm not very big on fiction. That said, I can easily recognize good writing and The Shack isn't it. For example, while I disagreed with practically all of the "factual concepts" found in The DaVinci Code, I could definitely see why it is so popular— Dan Brown was a good storyteller. The Shack was not at all similar. Young vacillates between humor and seriousness to the point that it is uncomfortable. And much of the dialogue seemed forced, completely unnatural. It isn't good fiction.

So if I were merely a book critic, this would be reason enough alone for me not to recommend it. But even more than its literary attributes, this book attempts to speak authoritatively on theological issues. Again, Young can claim that it was never his intention to do so, but he does make statements about God and Christianity that are presented as fact, not opinion. So it must be examined from a theological perspective as well.

A roadblock to examining The Shack theologically is the fact that it speaks authoritatively under the veil of a rather emotional narrative. The catalyst behind Mack's weekend conversation with the Trinity is the brutal sexual assault and murder of his daughter. I would suggest that Young's use of the worst possible crime in our society [the violation/death of an innocent child] as a backdrop to this story is a method of deflecting any criticism towards his more controversial statements. Bolstering this observation, Young gives the illusion that this story could possibly be true by inserting himself into the story as narrator. While all of this might seem like no big deal, it creates a barrier for those who dare to criticize the content of the story; so if I question Young's assertions, I'm a heartless person who is unsympathetic towards parents who have lost their children. But the inclusion of such a horrific back-story works for Young by giving his statements strength. So if you are going to truly assess The Shack for what it is, you must immediately divorce the narrative from the given statements about God.

Like I said in my earlier post on The Shack, I am always skeptical of the theological fiction genre. One might counter that that's exactly what C.S. Lewis' classical writings were, but there is a distinct difference. Notice how Lewis worked theology into fiction— He never directly spoke through the Trinity, but always used different representations: The Screwtape Letters is very theological, but it is a conversation conducted between demons; in The Chronicles of Narnia, Aslan was certainly a Christ-like character, but it was in a completely different world; in The Great Divorce, the heaven seen does not specifically involve the Three Persons. This is advantageous because if Lewis' theology [like all humans] isn't perfect, it does not suffer from putting definitive statements into the mouth of God.

And this is exactly where Young makes his initial [and crucial] mistake— he puts words into God's mouth. Fiction or not, that makes huge statements and you must ensure that you make no mistakes. And I'm afraid Young is mistaken.

In the next part of this review, I'll give specific instance from the book that I find problematic.

PART TWO OF THIS REVIEW CAN BE FOUND HERE

Brush With Greatness

Last Sunday morning, I had a great experience . . . at Speedway nonetheless.

As I was headed out to the little church in New Richmond I stopped at the gas station for my morning Diet Coke. While I'm usually a UDF guy, Speedway wins my summer loyalty with their slashed fountain drink prices. Plus, they have the Speedy Rewards Card which you can scan and get points to get free stuff. Never redeemed the points, but they're there if I need them.

So as I'm paying and putting change in my wallet, I hear someone stand in the door and ask if they can use their Speedy Rewards even if they're paying at the pump. The cashier told him that he could leave his card and she could scan it inside. I'm out the door and decide to hold open the door for the guy and then notice he's substantially taller than I am. Then I look at his face and realize that I'm in the presence of [arguably] the greatest basketball player who ever lived:

Oscar Robertson.

Here's some info if you're unfamiliar with him. The Big O played college ball at Cincinnati* and played in the NBA for the Cincinnati Royals [now the Sacramento Kings]. Professionally he AVERAGED a triple-double.

Back to my story: as I realized who it was, he exited the Speedway and said thanks to me for holding open the door. I replied, "Have a good morning, Mr Robertson" making sure to pronounce it properly and not "Robinson."

I took two thoughts away from my encounter:

1. I keep running into local celebrities while holding open doors at gas stations. During my ministry in Madeira, I held open the door for Marge Schott. She went in bought a pack of cigs and two lottery tickets. I remember asking the cashier if she came in much and he replied, "Everyday. And she always buys a pack of Marlboro's and a couple lotto tickets." I found it strange that a woman living in an Indian Hill mansion was still trying to strike it rich.

2. Can you imagine Michael Jordan pulling into a gas station and going inside to use his Speedy Rewards card? I wonder if Jordan has even pumped his own gas in decades. It just goes to show that guys like the Big O paved the way so that today's athletes could live large and the younger generations couldn't care less. Some have said that Oscar is bitter because he didn't make the big bucks that today's players make. Honestly, I'd be bitter too. But he is still an incredible guy. Later, on that day when I saw him, he was in Indianapolis to receive a reward for his benevolence work. It's that humanness in old pros like Robertson that makes me proud to have the opportunity to hold open a door for him.

In a somewhat related note, I'm heading over the Deveroes League tomorrow night [Tuesday] to watch the local college players if anyone's interested.

*Although the Big O was by far the most dominant college player of his time, UC didn't win their back-to-back national championships until Oscar left school.

I Don't Feel Tardy

I had to manually log-in to the blog tonight. The site will usually keep me logged-in if I post within a couple of days but not so after a week respite. I know it's been awhile since my last post when I see the check-box on the log-in page that appears to ask, "Remember me?"

We had a crazy week, starting off with Time-Warner Cable hijinks. Great week at the North American Christian Convention. I have much to post on, but it still might take me awhile to get back into the swing of things. I have another project I'll be devoting some time to this week:

My life as an adjunct professor.

Beginning this week I'm going to be teaching some classes for my alma mater's degree completion program. They are five-week intensive courses that meet in the evenings. It's something I've wanted to do for awhile now but was never able to do; I do think completing the second Masters at Xavier helped. The good news: I have three other classes I'll be teaching this year. The bad news: they're all different classes which means my preparation level is high.

My first course will be on Worldviews. It's interesting subject matter, but it covers a wide-spectrum of information so I'm having to work hard on the course plans. Still, I'm looking forward to the opportunity. There's not a lot that my religious degrees empower me to do, so I'm just excited to be able to use my knowledge.

When I graduated high school I was voted "Most Likely To Return To Teach At The Alma Mater." I'm still curious as to why my classmates voted for me in that category. Perhaps it was somewhat misguided clairvoyance as they knew I'd teach at my college.