The Nose Knows

Who knew that a simple book from many of our childhoods would be stuck in my mind currently.  A book about a nose, or many noses.  Whatever the case, I have a Dr. Seuss Brigh & Early book stuck in my head, written by Al Perkins.  It's about a nose.  The beauty of a nose, and how awesome these things between our eyes are.

Well, one problem.  My nose isn't so friendly to me.  I haven't been blessed with the ability to smell a rose, a pie or chicken a la' king.  More over, mine sniffles (a lot) and tends to get burned.  I've lived with it.  Allergy misery, red color pain from the sun, and the deviated septum from the many times I've blown said nose, had the chronic sinusitus and whatever else causes such fun.

Why do I write about this?  Because I've entered the realm of the nose job people.  Except my nose job wasn't done to improve looks (Brittney Spears/Ashton Kutcher) or change appearance (Bruce Jenner).  Mine was done so I could smell the rose, pie and chicke a la' king.  It was done so I didn't have constant sniffles.  Mine was done to fix the deviated septum.  But, my nose job hurts just like the above celebrities does.  I still can't breath just yet, and my nose is swollen.  But, I have hope that I'll be able to smell again, as well as breath a little easier.

All in all, I have hope this surgery goes as well for me as it has gone for Britt Britt, with out the smaller shapely part of her nose job.

Oh, and enjoy this fun little nose song.

The Agony of a Musician, Manager and Promoter

Where were you on October 1st, 2017 at about 10pm PST?  Most of us were probably in bed, especially those on the east coast.  The evening news had all but wrapped up for most of the country with the left coast news about ready to hit the airwaves, if not already on.  Me, I was in bed.  The quiet confines of my house in a relatively quiet little city.  My phone chimed with a news alert.  Not typically inclined to go down the rabbit hole of news at this time of night, I quickly looked at the headline and nearly put down my phone.  Then another news notification.  I again, looked at the headline.  My interest was piqued.  I went and read a story.  I then hopped over to Twitter to see what was being said.  No sooner did I see one post, there was another...and another...and another...with videos.  In my moments of trying to go to sleep I was lying there, shocked by the videos and twitter posts.  I was watching and reading of another moment in my life I will never forget where I was.  I was going to bed the night the lives of thousands at a concert in Las Vegas had changed forever.  A music festival was now the sight of terror, filled with horror and mass chaos.  Wow!  I had now words.

I woke this morning immediately checking my phone for the latest news.  More videos, more stories and more questions.  I got to work, opened my computer, and watched the news for just a few minutes.  The words to describe what I saw and heard are many, and yet not enough.  My shock and disbelief turned to anger.  I was enraged that someone could be so heartless.  Angry that a single person held so much hate in their hearts.  I found myself in a pretty bad spot.  The spot between shock and anger with hints of hate.  That wasn't me.  So I turned my thoughts to the artists, the stagehands, the roadies, first responders and officers.  That is me.  I'm a member of this industry.  My wife is a first responder.  My son has dreams to play baseball and do music.  My daughter has dreams to be a photographer, which she hopes places her at these types of events.  In short, this is my family now and in the future!  Now how do I respond?

What are my friends who perform nightly thinking now?  Every single night they get on stage, entertain people, sing their hearts out for those in attendance and then stay well after they're off stage talking to anyone wanting an autograph/picture/t-shirt.  These are the nicest people you'll ever meet.  They sacrifice family time phone calls, dinners and sleep just to make someones day special.  But now...now what will they do?  Will they stay late?  Will they be afraid to step on stage?

I'm a promoter with promoter friends.  They do this all the time.  They open the doors to venues so people can attend a concert with their favorite artists.  From before set up to well after the bands load up and move on the the next show, your promoter works nonstop to make sure those in attendance are safe, relaxed and having fun.  They work to ensure the artists are well hydrated, fed and filled with coffee/energy drink/water, and relaxed so they can entertain every one that walks through the door that night.  This great group of folks will walk the facility to make sure doors are closed that should be, artist only areas are roped off as needed, security is in place, merch people are ready to sell, and so on.  Every last detail falls on their shoulders and not a single thing goes on without their permission.  There will be glitches on the night of the show, unhappy people attending a concert their favorite artist had to back out of at the last minute, people mad because there was not enough pop at the concession stand or something; but these folks - promoters know that with a little compassion, understanding and quick thinking, the unhappy and disappointed will soon be thankful for attending the event.  Your promoter is a friend to all.  But now...how do they move on to the next concert?  Could the concert they promote be the next Las Vegas?

Over the years I've worked with some great managers.  They work for the artist and the best interest of the team.  They attend weddings, graduations, a child's 1st birthday party, album release parties and more.  When bands first start out and can't pay a manager, these people will still work because they want to see the reward they know their band/artist will get with performing for fans.  Large or small, they don't care about the popularity or pay (though the pay can be wonderful), they too get excited to see the fans singing along at concerts even though they may be at home while the concert is hundreds of miles away.  They know the heartbreak their artists go through when away from home, how hard it is to miss a child's birthday, an anniversary date or the daughters first softball game.  But, they also get to experience the sound of relief/ecitement from their artist when family homes are spared during a tornado, their mom beats breast cancer and their sibling gets married.  But now...how do they assure their artist the summer festival tour will be safe?  That the arena will have adequate security?  More importantly, how do they prepare their artist to safely leave a stage when something goes wrong?

I certainly don't have the answers to the questions I've asked.  My heart hurts for those who lost loved ones.  I know people that live in Las Vegas that are asking these very questions and more.  I am pretty sure I knew someone that knew someone in attendance Sunday night.  A friend from years gone by was suppose to be working the concert but circumstances kept him home.  My heart is in pain for the survivors.  I asked my wife, if in attendance, would she have been running back into harms way to save others.  I knew the answer, but I had to hear it from her.  "Yes!"  And I was thankful to hear that from her.  But at the same time, it scares me.  Scares me to know that at any given moment, that here in Cheyenne, a concert that my friends and I are promoting or attending could be the next spot this happens.  I could be on vacation attending a festival, just like those in Las Vegas, and I could be helping my wife help others escape terror.  But fear is not something I will let win.

My family, friends and partners in the music industry can't see fear as winning.  If I can be a person of hope for them, then I'm ready.  As Paul wrote in Philippians 3 regarding him having no confidence in the flesh, I too strive to have confidence in Christ instead of flesh.  Then, in Philippians 4 he tells us to rejoice!  Wait a second!  I can't rejoice in this terror.  True, I'm not, but I am rejoicing in seeing neighbor helping neighbor.  I rejoice that stranger has helped stranger, celebrity musicians pulling people to safety, a school teacher helping the elderly and so on.  That is something that no race, creed or affiliation can deny - people helping people.  I'm choosing to not be anxious about this.  I'm choosing to follow Paul's plea in Philippians 4:8 and dwell on the pure, noble, lovely and admirable.  I know it won't be easy.  I know that Las Vegas will change the way the music industry practices many things.  But...

Fear, you suck.  Terror, you're horrible.  Cowards, you have no place in this world.  As I type this, the tears are running.  In my world, my partners and I choose to tell these three things, "Screw you!"  We will continue to offer hope to a lost world.  We will continue to support our friends as they travel across the world sharing hope.  We will provide a place for artists to come, turn up the volume and rock our world.  Why?  Because, that's what we are called to do.  That's what the scared child in all of us is begging us to do.  It's what the world needs us to do.  It's what God has asked us to do.  It may cost us a ton, including everything (again, more words from Paul), but I know I'm not alone in this.  Thankfully, I have a pretty large music industry family that has my back all while I have theirs.

From me, and on behalf of my friends and family in the industry, I bid fear, terror, regret and anxiousness a fond farewell.  We are better because of these last few days.  We are stronger because of you.  And most importantly, we know you will never win because we know the God who is kicking you square in the teeth and taking your name.

The Foods You Love and The Work You Do

Your childhood is formed in your surroundings.  You don't know what the big city lights hold when living in a rural area.  Nor do you know the great independence county living holds when you grow up in the burbs of a large metropolis.  Once in a while you get to experience a little of the other on family vacations.  Those excursions are awesome!  Lifetime memories.  Then, you reach your teen years, gain some freedom and can determine which surrounding you desire.  Great times are made with friends and family.  Soon, you're ready to venture out on your own full time.  City life suits you so you stay near your suburb home you grew up in.  Maybe you are just sick of the small town feel and you have to experience the bright lights of a city that rarely sleeps.  Of course, if you're like me, the big city is fun, but you want to escape to open spaces.  You need room so you head for the hills and find the least populated city you can think of, even if it is the state you grew up.  Some familiarity but away from it all.  I get it, and I don't blame anyone for choosing your home surroundings once adulthood sets in.  But, this post isn't about physical surroundings of growing up.  Rather, it is what you grow up consuming for nourishment.  No, it's not a normal food discussion either.  So, buckle up for the adventure of the food you may love and how it just might become something you will soon become nauseous at the thought of consuming it.

I grew up in a small town north of Seattle.  That town was famous for farms and strawberries.  We celebrated the greatness of strawberries by eating them nearly year round.  But the best ones were always fresh from the fields just south and north of town.  It seemed all of my friends had a summer job picking strawberries once they graduated elementary school (5th grade there).  Outside of not having a few extra bucks, I'm kinda thankful I never held that job.  Not that I didn't like work, especially since I usually did random yard work for my moms boss.  It's because I also had a job come up at home that seemed as if it lasted months.  It was a job that I'm thankful for, where my brother and I learned a lot of life skills.  However, it is safe to say that neither of us have the appreciation of the fruits of this particular job provided.  And because of living in a town painted in strawberries, and learning the intricacies of all things apples, I have stories to tell and certain foods that cause trembling upon the thought of consuming.

Let's begin with the plantation I spent my high school days living on.  Yes, just north of Seattle and in what was almost the exact middle of town, there was a plantation.  It wasn't a big one, but there were a lot of apple trees.  And a lot of pear trees.  Crab apple trees were in the mix too.  The first year we lived there we soon learned those trees produced...a lot.  I don't know that the local Safeway store could keep up with our stock.  We couldn't give enough of these delicious gems away.  Bags upon bags of each lined our kitchen.  That isn't including what was lost on the ground.  What we couldn't give away, we used. Everything we ate consisted of pears or apples.  Fried, raw, chopped, stirred in, smashed and more.  Main dish, side dish or desert, breakfast, lunch, dinner or snack.  There was no wrong way or bad time to consume an apple or pear.  My parents (mainly my dad) went as far as to go get an apple press to aid in making applesauce.  We had pancakes with chopped apples topped with applesauce.  There were fried and candied pears to top the ice cream.  Apple crisp, applesauce on port chops and just about any combination you could think of.  We even made applesauce to give to friends.  If we weren't giving it to them, we had them over to help us consume the stuff.  Even after I moved out of the house, I had to deal with apples (the house I moved to had just as many apples that I was dumb enough to take to my parents if I didn't sell them or give them away).

Fast forward to strawberries and the annual Strawberry Festival.  An annual week long event that we attended parts of.  Go Kart rides/races, a parade, carnival, bed races and more.  The festival was punctuated by strawberry shortcake.  Growing up I loved everything the festival held.  Then I volunteered for a few years as an adult.  It was great learning how to organize a small portion of the festival.  I made great friends for that part of my life.  I was able to share that time with family, and even saw my brother and father get involved.  It was awesome!  Then, in the middle of another dreary and drizzly Seattle day, I decided to help the Festival Strawberry Shortcake booth.  I gladly accepted a free shortcake to help promote the food we were celebrating.  Then I had another bowl of goodness...and another...and another...By the time 11am rolled around (about 3 hours after the 1st bowl of shortcake) I had consumed at least 6 bowls of fresh strawberry shortcake.  That was Friday.  I can't confirm I had more that afternoon.  I don't remember much about Saturday (except the lightning, canceling the parade, and telling someone that standing under a metal water tower would not help protect them in a lightning storm), but I'm pretty sure I did have more shortcake.

What does all this nonsense  mean?  Why am I writing about it?  Will it make a difference for you and your life?  Outside of a few chuckles, it probably won't impact you much at all.  This may be more therapeutic than anything.  BUT, it's also to give you a little background into my life.

I know how to harvest apples (and "accidentally" miss the bag to hit your dad on the head).  I've learned to eat what is available, even if it is just slightly different than the meal before.  I know how to make different things from one simple fruit.  Yes, a simple apple can teach you all that and more if you give it a chance.  It can also teach you how to come together as a family, how to be generous, be a good host, and most importantly, how to make the most of every situation.  Better stated - it gave me the ultimate knowledge that I have to choose my attitude.  Yup, a simple apple taught me all that.

The strawberry gave me just as much knowledge.  It taught me how to help friends and strangers.  It gave me limited organizational skills (I'm still learning this).  I learned how to make sure electric cords weren't strung through puddles, how to keep people safe at all times, notice the small things affecting my surroundings and to appreciate a free meal (or seven) even when it is the same as the last.  I saw families be a family for one week a year.  I saw how to run a festival and how to work with the masses to make something special.  It provided great life lessons.  Yes, a small red fruit gave me a lifetime of memories and lessons, just different enough to add to all I learned from an apple.

I may loathe applesauce now.  I may shudder at the thought of eating strawberry shortcake.  I may never volunteer to taste your beautiful looking and probably great apple or strawberry pie, but I will admire your work.  Sure, a fresh apple is great, but I have to dip it in caramel sauce in order to get it down without choking it down.  Yes, I'll have some strawberry shortcake, but it will only be once a year, twice if you're lucky.  If I have to have toast with strawberry jam, rest assured I asked for something else first.  I'll still eat apple crisp, but I hope there is some vanilla ice cream to top it with.  I love these great fruits.  I just have a hard time looking at them without bringing up some wonderful and sometimes dark memories.

As I discussed this very thing with my brother, these are some very dark roads for me.  But, I can't be who I am without these roads in life.  I am appreciative of what these two (three if you add the pears) fruits taught me.  I kinda miss not having those apple trees to help my two children learn what I've learned.  Okay, I really don't miss the trees or mass amounts of applesauce, but I do miss everything that went into the products of that small plantation I called home for many year.

Mirror Imaging in Music

Music is an integral part of my life.  Yes, I'm sure I've said it before, so that line might sound like a broken record.  Yet, I think it important to confirm.  From a pure entertainment standpoint to a part of my professional life, music is something I don't think I'll ever escape from its clutches.  Not that I currently want to, nor foresee me wanting to, but just in case the desire arises, it just isn't going to happen.

Music was an escape for me while I was growing up.  I would sit in my room blaring music loud enough to drive my parents crazy.  Despite the loud obnoxious sound emanating from my stereo, my parents would only encourage me to turn down the sound.  Never were there discouraging words towards my music.  In fact, they encouraged me to discover my likes, my passions, my dislikes and even somehow supported my "rebellion" through the music.  My brother wrote about being an outcast in his youth group, mostly because of music.  Sadly, I think I set that musical outcast precedence due to my musical tastes that gave me the "rebellious" label.  I listened to Stryper, Petra, Bloodgood and the even harder stuff.  I listened to P.I.D., Gospel Gangstaz and E.T.W, as well as other rap groups of early Christian Hip/Hop movement.  It was this rebellion in music that has put me where I am today.

I'm deeply involved in various music ventures.  I'm a part of a group of rag tag guys and gals that promote concerts in Cheyenne.  Yeah, even here, with this group of great individuals, my rebellious musical tastes show since we promote non typical Christian music.  I'm a manager/booking agent.  I freelance write, and soon I'll be co-hosting a podcast.  Music is a part of me.  More than all of the above, I'm also excited to see what my son creates in his musical endeavors.  Yes, even he is writing music, produced a video and enjoys just singing along with his Pandora stations.  

Lastly, my daughter enjoys listening to music.  Her musical tastes aren't large, but she is my rocker chick.  She'll go with me to any concert, anywhere, on any given moments notice.  

Music is becoming a reflection of not just myself, but also my family.  We continually seek something fresh, something new, something that we can enjoy and seek the much needed escape it can be.  My Facebook page cover photo states, "Music is my drug cause it heals my scars."  That statement is so true.  I find healing, comfort and yes, even God in the music I select (it doesn't have to be Christian music for me to see God).

Today, I have found that refreshing music.  Something new, something fresh.  It was what I needed.  I find that this finding is reflective of what I need as a person, and we as people often seek.  New, refreshing and entertaining.  We want a renewal when work becomes too burdensome.  Some of us seek new on a daily basis, a quest for adrenaline.  All of us want to be entertained to help us forget the hardships of the day.  So, what I thought was just a simple refreshing new album also provided a chance to refresh and reflect on how my music desires and tastes are actually a reflection of life as a whole.

A Mess of Thoughts with a Bad Memory

Do you ever have those days where every thought you want to put pen to paper, yet you don't do it that very second?  You know you will remember that thought later in the day and you'll write it down then.  No?  Just me?  Fine.  Must be my age.  Man, I had hoped I wasn't alone, but maybe I am.

Of course, I follow a guy on Facebook that brought this subject up earlier today.  Even the great Bob Beeman (Sanctuary International) admits that his memory doesn't remember the things he wants to write down later.  So, I'm learning to listen to those I respect and admire.  If he says he doesn't remember what he needs to write down, then I trust that he speaks with an intimate knowledge of a failing memory of certain things.  I should take heed.

So, I'm going to try and do something that may cause others to wonder about me.  They will question why I'm just randomly speaking into my phone.  It will probably put me into the, "certifiably crazy," category.  Not that this classification would be new to me, but solidifying that status would be great.  What is it I'm going to do?  Easy, I'm going to download a recording app on my phone that will allow me to record my thoughts.  This should allow me to remember what I need/want to write down when the opportunity presents.

I share this with you for transparency.  I'm not perfect, and my memory is even worse.  I have had a lot I've wanted to share, but due to not writing it down at the time of the thought, I haven't shared.  So, I'm going to teach myself a lesson.  Record it and then I shouldn't have an excuse.  Key word, shouldn't.  Also, I share to provide you with a fair warning.  I'm going to be writing more.  Hopefully a lot more.

The more writing starts tonight.  For the next couple of weeks I'll be sharing with you at least every third day.  My desire is for that to be therapeutic for myself.  With any luck, I hope it will be therapeutic for some of you as well.  Do I know what I'll be writing, sharing or discussing?  NOPE!  Not at all.  But, I will share.

That's all for tonight.  On the bright side, I at least remembered to share about my failing memory.

Ariana And Manchester

Our world has been shook one more time.  It's a story that seems to be repeating itself.  Large gathering, bomb(s) explode, injury and death following.  It never gets easier to see, more painful to listen to and enrages even more.  This time, Manchester, UK.  Another concert, this one just happened to be a pop singer - Ariana Grande.

As a person that can't comprehend this atrocity, upon learning of the bombing I wanted to know.  I needed to know as many details possible to learn about the scene unfolding.  In today's world, it's what most people do, turn on the news.  I'm gripped by the scenes on my computer (I stream everything - no cable).  More importantly, I'm broken by the thought of children being the target of this recent attack.

Initially, the dad in me kicks in.  How could...better yet, what kind of coward would attack kids.  I don't care if it was a 21 year old attending the concert with their mother, a 14 year old attending their first concert alone, or the 7 year old celebrating a birthday at a concert with their friends.  These are kids, a future ahead of them brighter than whatever kind of pathetic life this person ever lived.  I was enraged.  Coward was the nicest name I could think of in describing this person(s).  The anger and hurt vied for leading emotion in my head and heart.  Justice being served in death for whomever did this started as a rally cry in my mind.  Then, rational thought began to take over, especially in light the guilty was apparently dead.  Yet, it was this rational thinking consuming me and truly breaking my heart.

Yes, the loss of 19 lives is devastating.  More than 50 injured is senseless as well.  Despite this, my response was understandable as a dad.  But, as a person professing christianity, I'm not sure it was the right response.

See, as I understand it, we should mourn the loss of life.  All life.  Every single person that passes over to the other side is meeting their eternal fate.  And it is there that we who believe are to be concerned.  Where are they spending their lives eternally.  All life, all people, coward or not, innocent child, parent or grandparent and everyone in between.  Gone.  And I was more concerned about retribution.

Wow!  I failed.  But, God brought me back around.  My heart aches for Ariana.  I'm pretty sure there is a level of guilt she feels.  She shouldn't, but she will.  I can't imagine my child missing, the feeling of not knowing where they are, if they are anywhere.  Yet, there are parents lost without their child by their side.  They probably feel guilt as well.  Sadly, they will probably feel that guild the rest of their lives.  My heart breaks for those parents.  There are children in a hotel room with strangers caring for them.  They are being cared for, but it's not their parents.  I'm pretty sure they couldn't sleep or eat, and certainly are scared.  Tears are welling in my eyes when I think about these poor children.  Life isn't fair to begin with, and then going through something like this is beyond comprehension.

Then, there is the perpetrator.  My human self is glad.  My faith led mind and heart breaks for this individual as well.  I'm not inclined to believe they are in heaven tonight.  Sure, they could be, and I won't say definitively it's impossible.  They had a family as well.  Their family will never see their son/daughter/husband/wife ever again, just as the victims families will never see their child/parent/spouse.

But, what is more troubling to me is the response of other christians.  Sure, they'll post on social media, text their friends and call their prayer chains about praying for Manchester.  Yet, they will just as quickly show their anger towards terrorism (which they should) and how we need to eliminate every radical muslim.  They'll share how no reasonable parent should take their 6 year old girl to see someone who said they hate Americans.  They'll judge Ariana as not being a great role model for girls today.  Just remember, pray for the victims.  The double standard will be set and reached in a matter of minutes.

This double standard is what truly disgusts me.  I reiterate, every life matters.  The coward, the young and old.  Every single one.  Terrorist, peace maker, believer or not, they matter.  A fact that many christians conveniently forget when it comes to things like this.  Maybe, just maybe, one day we'll learn.

My thoughts and prayers go out to everyone involved in the Manchester tragedy.

Easter Paradox

Easter!!!  Another chance to celebrate a holiday.  Another day many of us expect to spend with family, sharing laughs over another gluttonous spread of food.  Some will partake in the regular attendance of a worship service, while others will attend one of their mandatory two services at a random church.  Kids will hunt for baskets of gifts at home, then turn around and fill those very baskets with eggs found in a hunt at Grandma and Grandpa's house.  Yes, Easter is filled with celebration aplenty.

Today as I traveled the streets of Cheyenne, I couldn't help but think about the double standard we have set in America.  Yes, I know.   You're probably tired of hearing about a so called double standard.  All of us are bombarded by media (both right and left) pointing out a double standard in things.  But, it hit me today that Easter is a paradox of holiday standards our society has set.

Name a holiday that is considered mostly sacred where the expectation is to relax and gather as a family.  You guessed correctly.  Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Everyone is entitled to gather with family and relax on those two holidays.  We as an American culture demand the time off to relax, enjoy the time away from everything related to work and fill our stomachs to our hearts content.  If we find ourselves scheduled to work, our inclination is to raise hell to our bosses claiming an unfairness not found in other countries.  We then look for any and every other profession that gets the day off and demand equal treatment.  And if you are afforded these holidays off, you look for those professions that do open on these holidays so you can protest, complain and yell of injustices of those businesses by not being fair to their employees.  Example: go back to Thanksgiving 2015 and how appalled the masses were when they found out Target, Kohl's and WalMart were going to be open Thanksgiving evening.  Or how shocked you were to find out the movie theater was going to open Christmas evening.  Be honest with yourself, you and the masses were outraged over these outlandish events with many an hour spent yearning for yesteryear.

Well, where is the outrage today?  Why are we silent about companies being open on Easter?  Why are we not calling for unity to boycott the businesses open on Easter?  Well?  Where?  Yeah, that's what I thought.  It's not something anyone wants to spend time on.  Or is it the fact that if falls on a Sunday anyway, and most people have Sunday's off?  Maybe it's because we want to gather as a family at a buffet for Easter Brunch and if places aren't open, then how do we do that?  See the paradox now?

See, we as a society are all about convenience.  It is convenient for us to protest about something one minute, yet not lift a finger the other because if we did we'd lose some of our precious traditions.  Whats worse is that the very ones who don't complain about places being open on Easter are the ones that should be relaxing and celebrating more than most, and that those claiming to be christians celebrating the sacred holiday.

OUCH!!!  I bet I just struck a nerve with many of you.  Yeah, you the pastor, the Sunday School teacher, the board member.  You are the ones that rightfully find disdain for companies open on Thanksgiving and Christmas yet expect your favorite dining establishment be open for you after a long day at work (because Sunday is just another day of work, right).  Sure, you proclaim the triumph Christ has over sin and death, but then are disappointed when Target isn't open so you can get those Easter gifts for your kids at prices discounted enough to help make sales for the holiday.

Don't worry, I'm guilty too.  I made a quick run to the office supply store to get some things printed.  My wife ran to the neighborhood grocery store to get food for the work week.  But, here's where my thinking lies.  I didn't raise Cain about people working on Thanksgiving or Christmas.  I'm not inclined to hold one holiday in higher regard than the other.  I truly believe that these days are just the same as the next.  Sure, I enjoy the time spent relaxing and sharing a meal with family as much as the next person.  However, why should I do that on days that society tells me I should be doing it?  If I believe what is in my Bible, then shouldn't I celebrate Christ's victory over death and sin every day, holiday or not?  People in many professions don't have the option to have every holiday off, but they don't complain, and live these days just as the next - believer or not.  And, if they can do it, then so can I.  And if I can do it, then so can you.

So, explain to me again.  Why isn't anyone upset that WalMart, TacoBell and Office Depot were open today, Easter Sunday?

Beautiful Daughter

Dear Beautiful Daughter,

The moment I laid eyes on you was the moment you had me wrapped around your little finger.  You knew my voice, but you were meeting me for the first time.  Your cry excited me knowing that I was going to hold you very soon.  That cry also scared me as I knew the world would soon come knocking.  But, at that moment nothing else mattered than hearing you cry, seeing your mom cry in joy, and knowing that you were mine.

As you grew you continued to have me wrapped around your little finger.  You would fall asleep on my chest, your eyes twinkled every time you looked in mine, and you would hold my hand every time we walked through the mall.  But it wasn't just me that you had wrapped around your little finger.  NO!  Your grandparents, those who baby sat you, your teachers...every one you came into contact with you stole their heart.

Why did you steal my heart?  Because you were you.  To this day you have no fear of people.  There is no person you won't talk to.  There isn't a friend you have never met.  This "no stranger" attitude has given you a beautiful soul.  So many wish they could talk to people the way you do.  So many wish they had the energy you do.  Sure, some will joke about you having too much energy, but in reality, one can never have too much energy.  And that energy is beautiful.  The fact you talk to everyone is scary at times, but it shows a love for them no matter what.  That love is beautiful.

Truth be told, you could be quiet every second of the day, and that would be beautiful.  You could love to read, ride dirt bikes, bake to your hearts content or do anything else, and you would have stolen our hearts.  You are me, and yet you are your own person.  That, the person you are is enough for me to have my heart stolen by you.

As you've grown, words are harder to find, emotions aren't as easy to share.  The laughs are still there, but sometimes not as hearty.  It's okay, it's a part of life.  However, I need you to know, you're still beautiful.

I still need you to know how precious you are, no matter the age.  I need you to know you still have me wrapped around your little finger.  I need you to know that the only opinion of you that matters is my opinion of you, you mothers opinion of you, and most importantly God's opinion of you.  I need you to know that wherever life leads you, I still love you.  All these words to express and yet I can't say enough.

Dear Beautiful Daughter, read these words as often as you need.  They will never change.  Their meaning will never be any different.  And, no matter what the world tells you, please know that you are my Beautiful Daughter.

Casper, Cheer and Angry Mom

My two children are active in athletics.  Both Ethan and Rachel participated in everything they could in elementary school.  Ethan just slid into a baseball routine in Junior High, with the exception of one year playing competitive basketball.  Rachel still participated in anything and everything she could in Junior High sports.  Now in High School, the single sport path is alive and well for both of them.  Ethan remains in baseball, and his Senior season begins in about a month.  Rachel opted for Cheerleading.  Yes, I called it a sport.  Yes, I'm serious.  She's always getting kicked, kneed, elbowed, knocked in the head and any other weird injury you can think of.  Plus, she does weights after school and during the summer.  So yes, cheerleading is a sport, and a very competitive one at that.

I love watching these two participate in the sports they love.  I get to as much as I can, simply to make sure they know I care and support their endeavors.  With baseball, that has meant a lot of travel, both in state and across this great country.  Cheer hasn't had many travel options, and it may not in the near future, but long term future...who knows.  But, the travel for cheer did finally happen this month.  March 8th to be exact.

State Spirit Competition for Wyoming High Schools was held up in Casper on March 8th.  Every single school in 3A and 4A, plus one 2A school converged at the Casper Events Center for one afternoon of cheer and dance.  Sitting there, supporting my daughter, I couldn't help but think about how all the other parents there were just as proud of their daughter/son as Janda and I were.  And, the more I watched, the more proud I was of my daughter.  The more in awe I was of how athletic her and her peers are.  But there was one more observation, again of the parents.  Man, there are some competitive cheer mom's out there!

Top to bottom, these teens poured their hearts out, leaving everything in the hearts of the judges.  All overcame injury (only one on the mat that day), individual adversity and doubt, team challenges, and one team even overcame tragedy (more on that later).  At the end of the night, awards were handed out for All-State Dance, All-Cheer, and All-State co-ed (first time guys were recognized in Wyoming).  Then, team awards.  Some categories had 4 trophies, some 3, a couple 2 and even one category had 1 trophy (the only 2A school represented that day).  While all the scores were tallied, every single cheerleader converged on the mat and waited, anxiously to hear the results and get a trophy...hopefully.

A couple of the Cheyenne schools placed, including Rachel's team taking home 3rd in All Girl Stunt, something they were surprised with after the long year they had.  However, of note for this type of competition, one school took home every top trophy.  One of those was as co-winner, but still the best in the state.

This is where the, "overcoming tragedy," part comes into play.  Kelly Walsh (Casper) was at the top of their game.  Everybody in the building knew what they had gone through (small state, tight knit cheer community, word spreads quickly).  The East High cheer squad honored their team one night by wearing green ribbons in their hair (guys had bandannas).  A team should never have to go through what K-W had.  On their way out, the dance team carried their fallen team mate out with them by way of a banner.  Her picture and words of love on the banner, they made sure she was present as well.  They did all they could to honor Aurora.  These girls gave every ounce they could.  Every bead of sweat, ounce of blood, ache in joints and muscles were felt by them and on display for all to see.  At the end of the routine, with their fingers point to the sky, each girl broke down and cried, with good reason.  They did it!  They finished their season, one down and a team still in shock with their loss of a friend and teammate.

Day over, dinner consumed and back at the hotel.  Janda and I turned in for the night.  The next morning I woke and made the trek to the breakfast serving area.  I tend to mind my own business in these areas simply because I haven't had any coffee fully consumed.  I won't be anti-social, but try to mind myself.  I also have a bad habit of eaves dropping on loud conversations.  This morning was no different, loud conversation easy to be heard in the entire room.  Good morning, Angry Mom!

As I listened to the conversation, I am amused, bewildered and eventually disgusted with the discussion.  First, mom and family discussed how unfair the judging was (national judges flown in from around the country, not local).  Mom was upset that her daughters school didn't place.  Okay, I get that, but in the spirit of good sportsmanship, being angry about it achieves nothing.  She also believed one school should have won over the other.  Problem, said schools are in different classifications (3A and 4A respectively) and did not compete against each other.  Lastly, the part that disgusted me was her disdain for K-W.  She didn't think it was fair of them to carry a banner out of, "That girl," and gain sympathy from everybody including the judges.  "They shouldn't have done that.  It was an unfair advantage for every team and that's why they won."  Okay, this is where I took exception.  Mom is now upset about a team rallying around a fallen teammate.  Upset these girls took all of their emotions of losing a teammate/friend/family member and went all out to honor her through their routine.  C'mon lady!  You're picking on a dead girl!

This is when I reflected on society as a whole.  Are we so focused on ourselves that we refuse to see a bigger picture?  Are we so arrogant that we believe only our kin should win?  Do we have a hard time recognizing the good in others performances?  What are we doing to ourselves, our kids and our friends if we continually focus on ourselves and how we feel we've been wronged?  How low will we stoop to justify our words of disdain/displeasure over outcomes?  Sadly, too many would do the same as this angry mom, be upset over a team grieving the death of one of their own, and doing so publicly during the biggest moment of these girls lives.

Congrats, K-W, you deserved it.  Congrats East HS on your accomplishments.  South HS, props to you as well.  And, to all the other schools that placed, job well done.  For those that didn't place, your work did not go unnoticed.  Well, it didn't go unnoticed by most of us anyway.

Open Letter to Hollywood

Dear Hollywood,

I love you!  I love you as the people you are.  I love your art.  I may not agree with every movie you put out, but I love the fact it is an art, and you are free to express that art any way you see fit.  That is a gift, you use it to the best of your ability, and I love you for that as well.  Despite my love for you and the arts, I've never looked to you for my moral compass, my voice of reason, or my understanding of reality.

Sure, some of your movies are based on a true story.  Based on, not really is.  That means you have used your artistic liberty to add, subtract, shorten, modify as you see fit to make the film.  These are some of the most touching films one can see.  Yes, they reach my heart strings.  No, I don't believe the events are complete reality, but I do believe the events are close to reality.

Even your purely fictional movies have a bit of reality in them.  Maybe based on something you have experienced yourself or something a friend or family member has gone through.  Maybe you saw something on the drive in to the studio that caught your eye and made you laugh.  You thought, "Now that would make a great movie!"  And you should incorporate your life, your thoughts and what you see into your art.  It is who you are.  It's formed you to be the person you are both on and off screen.  Okay, maybe not on screen, but at least behind the scenes while filming.

However, that is your reality, not mine.  Yes, you have a job that not many can do.  You act like a person you are not.  You memorize lines folks like me could never begin to memorize.  You put your life, and the life of your family, out in public eye for everyone to see.  That is not something I would be willing to do on such a constant basis.  Yes, you live a tough life, one that I'm not envious of.  But, you also live a privileged life.  Your job allows you to travel the world if you so choose.  You are able to have house keepers, trainers, chefs and more if you desire.  Some of you have nannies that take care of your kids 24/7 regardless of you being home or at work.  A lot of you are involved in charities you believe are worthy of your time and financial support.  Great!  All if it.  Great.  You have the means, and I support that.  Good on you.  You've worked hard to afford all of what you have.  Me, I can't say I would want that responsibility.

Don't get me wrong, I'd love to have a trainer that comes to my house, a chef, or a house keeper.  I'd love to travel the world.  But, I don't.  And I'm not sold on me not changing my habits if I were able to hire the people you hire.  I'm not sure I would like me if I had those people coming in and out of my house all the time.  My kids might be even more spoiled than they are now if I had a nanny for them and me providing everything for them.  Sure, the finances would be great!  I could support so many things I love, just as you support your chosen charity(ies).  But, I don't have the job you do that provides millions every time I finish the last day of work.

See, the Ben Affleck, Meryl Streep, DL Hughley and Whoopi Goldberg's are not my reality.  They are well respected actors/actresses, but they do not live in my world.  Just as I don't travel the world acting, they do not reside in Cheyenne, WY.  Sure, some of the Hollywood elites have worked in middle America at jobs that pay minimal income.  Some of them may have been raised on the streets of the inner city or suburban America.  But, because of what they do now, they have lost touch with me, my family, my friends and my peers.  Because they have, they presume many of us have as well, even if they work with charities supporting those that don't have.  How can I relate to someone who wears thousand dollar suits to events where tickets to attend cost hundreds of dollars?  How do I relate to someone who believes the only part of life is the arts?  I'm sure I may have something in common with Hollywood elites, but it won't be much.

Here's my plea.  My desire is simple.  Dear Hollywood Elite:  Come, join my family for a month.  I don't have much, but I have enough.  I don't expect anything from you.  Just come.  Eat with us.  Go to work with us.  Go to school with my kids.  Join me as I watch my daughter cheer at her High School Basketball games.  Or, come on out in the summer (it might be warmer, but no promises) and watch my son's baseball team.  Join me in the press box keeping score for his team.  Sit in the bleachers with his mom and grandparents.  Seriously!  Just come and visit for a month.  You'll get tired trying to keep up with all we do!  My wife volunteers at the County Fire District both in running calls and teaching classes, on top of her full time job.  Oh, she is also a part time student.  I own my own business on top of my full time job, volunteering for the Legion Baseball Team and a local concert promotion company.  You could even join us at our church on Sunday or either of my kids youth groups on Sunday and Wednesday.

See, dear Hollywood Elite person, the very one you think you speak for is more like my family and I than you and your peers.  Most of us work full time jobs, volunteer at our kids schools/sports teams/churches/etc, and somewhere in the full schedule we actually have a social life.  We spend our money to see the end result of your job.  Please, give us a the courtesy of treating us as equals to you instead of ignorantly thinking you know what we want and believe.  And if you could, Hollywood, please share this letter with your peers in the top 40 music industry as well.  Sadly, they've been fed the same line of thinking you have been.  Remember, it is us, the fans of your work, that have made you your millions, given you the recognition and a platform you can use.  It is up to you to use that platform, that money and recognition wisely.  Speaking for me is not using it wisely.

There you have it, Hollywood.  My open letter and invitation to you.  Which of you is up to the challenge of living in Cheyenne, Wyoming for a month.  Who is willing to run to and fro with my family?  The door is always open, the invitation has no expiration.  I will ask nothing of you except a friendship, a chance to shoot the breeze, maybe seek some knowledge, and a chance for you to see some of the most beautiful county in America.  If you do take me up on the offer, I'm easy to find, just drop me a line and we'll plan your visit.  Hope to see you soon!