At Long Last...

Denny (who is now happily married) and I have finally finished the task we began so many (two?) years ago... The Caffeinated Gospel, our book that recollects our evangelistic road trip through middle-America, is published! Much thanks to my brother Ben for the spiffy cover design.

You can get a copy of it here. ...and use this coupon code to save yourself some money: sunshineca305

Here's an excerpt from the introduction...

Why "The Caffeinated Gospel"?
We will try to avoid making any obviously cheesy metaphors about coffee being a picture of God’s love. One of us doesn’t even like coffee – and the metaphor already fails at multiple levels (need we mention that caffeine is a drug?).

What we’re getting at is the lack of evangelistic energy in our part of the world. Friends of ours have told us that they feel “inadequate” to share the gospel, and we know the feeling ourselves. We wish we could tell you our answer is easy – you may have guessed already that it’s not.

It takes work, recklessness, and the constant reminder that we are nothing without love.

What the Bird Said Early In The Year

(by C.S. Lewis)

I heard in Addison’s Walk a bird sing clear

'This year the summer will come true. This year. This year.

'Winds will not strip the blossom from the apple trees


This year nor want of rain destroy the peas.

'This year time’s nature will no more defeat you.


Nor all the promised moments in their passing cheat you.

'This time they will not lead you round and back


To Autumn, one year older, by the well worn track.

'This year, this year, as all these flowers foretell,


We shall escape the circle and undo the spell.

'Often deceived, yet open once again your heart,


Quick, quick, quick, quick! – the gates are drawn apart.'

"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing." - Lewis, Mere Christianity

Road Trip Conversations...

Here are just a few samplings of banter from our latest road-trips:

"You know, this actually isn't a bad radio station," Mitchell nodded on beat from the back seat.

"It's Denny's iPod," said Josh.

"What? No it's not."

"Sure it is."

"Great," I said. "You just complimented Denny."

"I take it back."

---

"Wouldn't it be great if a guy just came out of that house and said 'Hey! Y'all want some fresh biscuits?' and made them for us right here from scratch?" We were clearly getting delusional by this point in the trip.

"Yeah," said Mitchell. "But he'd say 'biscuit,' not 'biscuits': 'You want some fresh biscuit?'"

We all looked at Mitchell quizzically.

"Guys like that always just say 'biscuit.,'" he added, as if that clarified his point.

---

"Oh, come ON!" I sighed.

"Alan," said Mitchell, "You have a bad habit for getting behind the slowest, dumbest people on the road."

"Thanks, Mitchell."

"I'd say it was just bad luck, but...I don't know anymore. I just don't know."

"Thanks, Mitchell."

"Alan..."

"Yeah?"

"You are a failure."

"Thanks, Mitchell."

---

As we drove along the lonely interstate drinking our coffee and planning our next few days, we sometimes passed the time by reading aloud. And what better story to read than an old "Choose Your Own Adventure" book?:

"What do you think, Meechell?"

"Huh? Sorry guys, if I don't get a choice at least every 2 pages, I start to tune out. What'd you say the choices were?"

"A T-Rex is chasing us and we can either dodge right (pg. 28) or turn around and run through his legs (pg. 54)."

"Hm. I say - dodge right."

"Oh no." I sighed, knowing this was going to end poorly, "That's a terrible idea."

Denny continued reading: "You decide to dodge right and make a run for the bushes. Unfortunately, the T-Rex is not only a skilled predator, but a fast one as well. Long before you reach the bushes, you come face to face with the sharp jaws of a pre-historic creature hungry for your flesh. The End."

"What? We just died?" said Mitchell, apparently in shock.

"Great," I said. "Why didn't you turn around? You know his brain is small - they said it was the size of a peanut - we just threw a rock at him and he was dazed for three minutes! Run through his legs, and he'll have no idea what's going on! Good grief, you've gotta pay attention to the details."

"Look," said Mitchell in his own defense, "I do best at these when they give me large firearms."

"When do they ever do that? We've read five of these and not once did they give you a firearm!"

"This is dumb, guys," said Andrew, "you think we can take a break from this awhile?"

---

"Don't you think it'd be cool if people started saying 'I'll see you in Hell!' when they parted ways, instead of lame things like 'bye' or 'see-ya!'? You know, like they do in all the Westerns?" This was Mitchell again, never at a loss for something absurd to talk about.

"I'm pretty confident that would take a while to catch on," suggested Denny. "But maybe that's just me."

"Yeah...well, it took electricity a while to catch on too, you know..."

"Guys," said Andrew, "what are you talking about? That doesn't even make sense." We all looked at him blankly.

"Hey!" Mitchell said, distracted. "Is that The Fox and the Hound?"

Denny leaned closer to the front windshield, peering through the back of the van in front of us. "I think so -"

"Let's stick close to this guy for a while..."

Jollities.

Daddy Buck

I've really struggled writing this. My grandfather passed away last Sunday, and I'm hit more and more everyday by how much I miss him. We called him "Daddy Buck" and he lived next door to me all my life. He was a good neighbor, a wonderful grandfather, and a great man. He taught my 3rd grade class stories about life in the Great Depression, he told me he always knew I'd be a teacher, and he grossly mispronounced the names of everyday foods.

Here is a picture of him fishing. He loved to fish. I'm not a fisher myself, but if you gave me a rod after showing me this picture, I'd be out to the fishing hole in no time at all.

Here he is at the pool with my oldest brother (a wee lad at the time). Daddy Buck would always show up when we kids went swimming. Even this last summer, he came out on his porch and didn't nod or shake his head, or even say a word. He just watched us and smiled.

This next one is from one of his favorite barbeque joints. Daddy Buck would call me while I was in college just to go out for a sandwich. I knew, of course, that this always meant a barbeque sandwich, and I knew, too, that he would always pay - even if my brother or I insisted otherwise. Most times, I wouldn't be able to go right then, so he'd always offer me a "rain check." I never cashed in enough of those.

Here we are as children wrestling with him. He appears to be winning handily.

Needless to say, we all miss him dearly. He was ready to go though, and for that I'm grateful. He was also a man of faith, and it eases the pain to know that he is now in a far better place, a place where death itself works backwards, a place where his loving wife awaits him, a place where all things are made new.

Red Fish, Flu Fish

You know something's wrong (i.e. you have the flu) when...

a. you take a nap all morning, finally feel up to doing something, get out of bed, reheat yesterday's pasta, eat it, and then find yourself back in bed moments later, completely exhausted.

b. sentences like this one make up a good part of your daily reading: "Two of the three oseltamivir-induced substitutions (E119V, H274Y and R292K) in the viral neuraminidase from clinical isolates occur at the same amino acid residues as two of the three substitutions (E119G/A/D, R152K and R292K) observed in zanamivir-resistant virus."

c. besides reading all the fine-print of your prescription drug, you also read anything in sight, which in my case (dare I say it?) includes the first book about that Harry guy (which reads remarkably like Matilda for at least the first 50 pages...) Note: That does not mean I've changed my opinion on the matter. If I did, then you would have substantial cause to be concerned about my health. :)

d. you look up things like "the anatomy of mucus" on Google

e. you lose interest in things as soon as you begin to show a bit (the anatomy of mucus, for example)

f. you write extremely dramatic poems like this and don't remember when or why...:

the weak man in bed

you must go to the well.
there - you must pour the water
without this - there is no relief
without - this - there is.

you must find it.

In my mind I go - but
it brings no relief.
none.
not a drop

delay - for lack of words
for lack - of strength.

and so - he watched the night
the shadows on the walls
shadows - in the well.

it's cheating - you know -
that bit about the mind.
and he knows it - yes -
full well.

g. you walk around the house wearing latex gloves, and play Donkey Kong doing the same

h. laughing, or smiling, or getting up, or moving, or just thinking about it - sets you off in a violent coughing spree that lasts just long enough for you to think about it again

i. Jello. You eat more Jello than you have the rest of your life. Combined.

j. you do something you haven't done in a year and a half, like blogging twice in two days.

A Story from the Wood Pile

I'm moving rooms this week and stumbled upon this, fading away in some long-forgotten corner under my bed. I don't know exactly when I wrote it, but here it is anyways... And as a note, by the way, before I turn you over to the story, $29.99 is a steal for a Flu shot - get it now (!). Otherwise, you'll may be like me in a few days - reduced to salami and eating Jello four times a day (not fun). Not to mention the hours of work I've missed and the general feeling of uselessness day in and day out. Fortunately, there are powerful drugs at work within me (all of the legal kind, of course), and things finally seem to be on the up and up (after three long days).

And now, without further delay...

***
CHESTER. That's right, his name was Chester. He wasn't a particularly large man, though in school the boys always mocked him as "Chester Chubbs" - nor was he a particularly observant one. He was an ordinary man by the day's standard and concerned himself with the hither-tithers and what-nots of what we might expect from the husband of a loving wife. Not that she was all that loving this day. Which is why, you should know, he found himself at Kroger's instead of Roger's Rotisserie Rooster Barn for his lunch-break.

All that to say, Chester was not in the least bit distraught by this turn of events (though perhaps befuddled), as it wasn't everyday he had the chance to pick out Cosmic Pineapple instead of the usual square kind (which is probably why his wife never offered him this job all that often in the first place). Nor was he bothered when he discovered the existence of Fruitle-Oodles in the cereal aisle (despite the passer-byer's mumbled comment that "there's a reason no one's ever heard of 'em").

But Chester would not be thwarted. Not this day. He paced around that store like one of Old Man Kroger's kin, though by the size of his nose, he was clearly not related to anyone respectable. And as it so happened, he left the store in the self-same manner - grinning like a niño who had just robbed his father's coin collection.

Now as I have mentioned, Chester was not a particularly observant man. But I also mentioned - or maybe I didn't - this was already turning out to be a particular sort of day. Had it been a normal day, Chester surely would not have observed the man hop-skipping his masked self in between Volvos and Buicks on the outskirts of the parking lot (in fact, on a normal day, Chester would have been eating a not-so-fresh rotisserie chicken or two in a place where no one had ever even heard of a parking lot), and Slingo (the masked man) would have made it to the other side of the road unharmed and untouched.

As it was, Chester did notice what he thought was Zorro's arch-enemy prancing his way east to west; his not-quite-unloaded cart did come soaring towards the masked man at unprecedented velocity; and Slingo did end up in room B28 of the Muffleton Hospital with not but a knot on his head and a few fractured phalanges. Which is why, as I was trying to tell you all along, a lone shopping cart now sits at the edge of Kroger's parking lot with nothing in it but a bag of Fruitle-Oodles.