Letter From the Editor


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From the Editor-in-Chief
by T.J. Greaney

Grown Men Don’t Cry

I am one of the meanest old congers you would never want to run across on the wrong day. I can take a nail in the hand, a half dozen bee stings and a thump on the head from a falling 2x4, and I keep going. I was kinda raised that way; if you got soft, you got eaten alive.

I also have a darker, scarier side -- a little softy guy who cries in church and while watching television commercials. What the heck? I don’t usually wail away with sobs and water pouring from my eyes, but there can be tears and a stifled breath. It seems like this guy comes more often now as I get older, too. I am thinking if it keeps up I am going to keep a hammer in my pocket in case I have to get the tough guy back quickly.

This weekend I watched a tribute to Tony Snow, the former press secretary, speech writer and TV/radio superhero. He was, in my opinion, one of the finest writers, radio and television guys ever. As a man of the media, I loved a lot of his work, but none more than his speeches.

Snow wrote speeches for George H. Bush. He was a brilliant conservative and could deliver a message that even a simple man like me could understand. He fought cancer these last few years. One of the revelations he had while he was sick was, "In many cases, a bout with sickness stretches your soul, opens your eyes and introduces you to a world of unimagined grandeur, possibility and joy.” He got to the core of being alive through his illness.

I grew up in a broken home. When my parents divorced, like so many do, I decided to go out on my own. I was in my early teens. I could have gone and lived with my mom, but it did not work out that way. I remember the night I got tough. It was on an interstate highway in Alabama in the middle of a cold night when it started to sprinkle. I had nowhere to go and knew absolutely no one. I was traveling and knew at that moment that if I lost it, I would not survive. So I got tough, I shut down, I just did not allow myself to go there. That tool has stuck with me; it is a familiar tool to many.

Many adults today lived the same life I did. Many had it a lot worse and some of the kids today -- forget it, it is just bad. It is kids today who can really bring out that monster softy guy inside me most often. I think of that boy, me, walking across the field cold, wet, hungry and scared in the middle of the night with no place to go. I don’t want that for any child. All lost kids want is someone to love them, to actually care for them, a home. For most of them it is not their fault they are where they are or they have crappy parents.

Boys need to be tough and compassionate. They need love and discipline. They need to explore and sit quietly. They need to be boys. It doesn’t matter what age their bodies are either. I know many a lost sad boy who lives in a 40-year-old body.

My mom tells a story about when I was young and told her when I grew up I was going to get a ranch and help out lost boys. That was before my parents split and before I was lost and alone. Today I am part of a new ministry that shares the outdoors with boys who need loving. Destiny. God’s plan for me – predestined? Yes, I believe so.

Me, personally, I know better than to watch Terms of Endearmentbefore I have to meet with a bunch of tough guys about chunks of metal, dirt or horses. I am learning to bring a bandana to church in case – and when I am driving alone in my truck, if the band Mercy Me comes on the radio, there’s a good chance I am gonna tear up so I have some baby wipes under the console.

We are looking for a ranch if you know anyone who wants to donate or help with it. We will trade our home for a small piece out there somewhere if we can. As for me and the soft guy, I am just going to go with it. Chicks dig the compassionate soft type. My wife really likes it, and that new shirt of mine, is Salmon, not pink.

KENNEDY STOP!

Kennedy loves to read. She reads big books, like Harry Potter. For her age, 7, I think she is pretty smart. I have watched her grow up over the last several years, and there has always been something that has drawn us together. It might have been the big fish she caught that we talked about for months or maybe the special candy treats at Sunday school, I am not sure, but we are friends.

One of my pastors, Jody, is an older sage who is well spoken at the pulpit. He is a pastor with experience and senior in age at our church among the staff. His message recently struck a note with me and caused me to consider how I think on a day-to-day basis.

A part of Pastor Jody’s message that Sunday was about a guy who spent a lot of time moaning how things were not going his way. The guy was always down on himself and he just couldn’t get to the other side of it. One of his friends, finally tired of his complaining told him to “stop it.” He was startled, but his friend again said loudly, “stop it.” Pastor Jody yelled it out to us, illustrating how it was delivered originally. It was a defining moment for the guy who struggled with not allowing himself the potential he held inside.

I think there are a lot of times I could use that voice telling me, “stop it,” “don’t you talk to me like that.” I know anytime I get hungry, angry, lonely or tired, I begin to lose my strength and confidence. There are so many things to define our success -- good looks or if we are somebody important -- how can you not get confused at some point?

Actor, author, speaker Bill Cosby co-wrote a book last year, Come On, People!, with a powerful message that relates exactly to what I am talking about. In the book he addresses people who are stuck because of feelings of low self-esteem, abandonment, anger, fearfulness, sadness and feelings of being used, undefended and unprotected. Cosby says these feelings often impede their ability to move forward. I can hear him yell, “Come on people!”

That Sunday as we left the auditorium, Kennedy showed me her latest Harry Potter book.

“I am reading Harry Potter,” she explained to me as her mother stood nearby. “I am going to read them all.”

I told her I thought they were big books, and I would be very proud of her if she read all of them.

Then I told her I loved to read but I was not a very good reader. Immediately as the words left my mouth Kennedy shouted, “Stop it!” I was stunned; her mom was ready to discipline her – then we both realized she had heard what Pastor Jody had taught. She heard me talking down about myself and she was using the message to teach me not to do that. I was absolutely amazed; I was shocked; I was caught.

The point I am trying to get to is that we all can be our own worst critics. We can miss the fact that our family is healthy or our car is running well and focus on the annoying neighbor next door who has not mowed their lawn in two weeks. Why do I look to criticize others so quickly? I see the spec in their eye and miss the plank in mine.

My little bubbly Kennedy reminded me that I am OK even if I don’t read Harry Potter. I am often amazed at how God delivers his messages to me. That Sunday it went from Pastor Jody to Kennedy to me. It took that order for me to hear it clearly. Wow, how cool is that? Thanks Kennedy.

Four Hours and a Cartful of Therapy

Last week I came home from being out of town and found my wife a bit razzled with the everyday stress of the kids, work and home. Guys, you only think you work hard; I would rather dig a ditch through a concrete parking lot with a plastic shovel than try to keep up with my wife’s schedule.

Anyway, I could tell she needed a break and it was late, maybe 7 in the evening. She announced she was going grocery shopping and would be back. I began to question her decision. I don’t like her being out at night alone, but it was the grocery store and she gave me the “I am going, period,” look. She grabbed her coupons and left as I worked through the kids-to-bed program and made it to the couch around 9 p.m..

Two hours had passed since she left and I had received two calls asking my preference on chips and vegetables. I knew, although I was tired, I needed to be awake and ready to unload the groceries. She came in about 9:30 p.m., and I began to unload, and unload and unload some more.

My wife has certain things she refuses to allow me to do -- one of them being the weekly grocery shopping. There is one weekly run and one monthly weekly run. The MWR is where she fills in with things that are bought monthly. She is a professional.

When she returned, her demeanor and aura had changed. She was cheerful and talkative. The sparkle in her eye had returned. This grocery shopping therapy session cost several hundred dollars, I am sure -- I never look. Whatever the cost, the harvest included a smile and 16 bags of fresh groceries.

My wife traveled to visit her mom several years back and was gone a week. During that time I was in charge of the kids and the house. I did the dishes, washed the clothes and kept things up. One thing that frustrated the heck out of me was the dishwasher and the dryer not performing well. The dishes did not get clean and the laundry took forever to dry. Now I knew what she was talking about daily when she would mention the performance of her appliances. I thought she was just using them incorrectly.

When she returned from her mom’s, I had replaced that dishwasher and both the washer and dryer. I realized those were the tools she used daily to keep the house running. I learned to make sure she has the tools she needs to get her job done because, quite frankly, I don’t want to do it.

I know this month we celebrate Father’s Day, but I still want to celebrate the wife who makes this dad look so good and makes my being a dad so easy. I have to say thanks to my kids for being about as good as possible, even if my daughter roots for the Cubs and my youngest son talks in a video language I don’t understand most of the time. I also don’t understand why my oldest son, 24, doesn’t just hang out at the house anymore. In any case, they are great kids, mostly because of their mom.

You know, if I was asked to give up one of my kids or my wife to save the world from some disease, if they were the only ones with the blood that could be used to make the serum but would die from the blood removal process, I don’t know that I could do it. It is unfathomable to expect a parent to sacrifice a child. I know it has been done before and I just don’t see how that Dad could do it. He truly loved His other children and those He saved. Amazing.

God is so good. Happy Father’s Day, men.

Tourette Syndrome

Life is full of painful occurrences, and I seem to be dealing with physical pain more and more as I get older and more sedentary. Aging I can’t fix, the other yes.

A good example is when your jaw decides to just snap and you randomly bite the inside of your lip or tongue. What the heck is that? You can just be living life happy-go-lucky and your muscles malfunction? A nervous twitch? When I checked with WebMD the closes I got was Tourette syndrome: “Tourette syndrome (TS) is an inherited, neurological disorder characterized by repeated involuntary movements and uncontrollable vocal (phonic) sounds called tics. In a few cases, such tics can include inappropriate words and phrases.” That seems to be pretty close because I usually follow the bite with a curse word or two, quietly of course.

The second thing recently was when my calf on my right leg just spasmed out. That, too, was followed by my verbal Tourette reaction. My daughter had the same thing recently, which seemed unexplained. Now those things hurt and can happen in the middle of the night when I just stretch my leg to get more comfortable. I eat plenty of bad, salty foods, so I don’t think it is lack of salt as one person suggested.

Also, creaking ankles and knees are a constant for me. In a quiet room I can hear myself coming. This I think is heredetary; I remember Dad creeking down the hall. Again, I don’t think adding greasy, oily food will help; it was a phenomenon I had early on. Eating an order of french fries does not appear to help like getting my truck lubed at the quicky oil place.

I once watched a documentary on 12 people who lived sedentary lives, trained then ran the Boston Marathon. Many of them started with a low oxygen level in their blood. After the training, they had excellent oxygen in their blood and they reported higher energy and felt better. I suffer now, after six months of not being able to work out because of an injury, with low energy. Breathing all day does not help with this problem, so I am considering my options. I hope I can run a bit but may have to revert to other passive exercises, whatever those might be -- walking, push-ups or biking.

The whole thing boils down to the ‘ole saying, “I wish I had taken better care of myself when I was younger.” Growing up at my house, there was never much enphasis on exercise or sports. I wish there had been. For my kids, we are adamant that they participate in sports, and my wife is a fanatic at eating healthy and exercising. Thank God for her.

When we are faced with life issues like health, we often begin to reflect on what we should have done. I know so many who say “if only” I had done this or that. I hear that from folks who wish they had lived better lives spiritually as well. They wish they had gone to church more or tried to help others more. My friend Lee who passed away a year ago always thought his life would’ve been complete if he had been married or had more money. Sadly, he had neither at his passing. But he did, in the end, figure out that he could have some peace in his life with a relationship with God.

I encourage you to look today at what is important to you -- your family, health, a personal relationship with your creator Jesus. Are you going to be one who regretted the time here on earth or relished each moment? I, for one, want to live it, give it, experience it. That includes my relationship with Jesus, my family and maybe, just maybe, that ‘ole bike out back.

God bless,

T.J. Greaney

Grummpy Old Man

Well, my day started off like most Sunday mornings, up a little later than usual cooking homemade pork sausage. I love the mornings when all I have to do is go to church, enjoy my friends there and listen to one of our pastor’s messages. I love to walk down the halls, shake hands, laugh and hug my church family. It is all smiles and greetings, cheerful and happy.

The real life picture is not quite that way, however; it could be, but I always screw it up. It doesn’t take much to throw me off base and drop a wrench into the works – but heck, a wrench dropped on a train wreck barely gets noticed.

Saturday night I asked for a cup of decaf after dinner at the restaurant, but I am up all night without a good night’s sleep. That never helps. The breakfast sausage is easy and cooks up right, but none of the family makes it into the kitchen to eat with me. So I eat alone and drink more coffee.

The crazy morning rush begins when everyone is rushed to get out the door and into the car. It could be, and should be, a no-brainer to have the car loaded and down the street by 9 a.m. – it is 7:30 a.m. on weekdays. However, no one is ready and then I start yelling and rush the kids out of the house, my little boy without socks. Yes, he has had plenty of time to get ready, but he chose to mess with his video game or something in his room. Of course I still feel bad I have to rush him and he has to wear his new tennis shoes without socks.

I spill the coffee slightly in the cup holder during the drive, aggravating my wife. I can’t help it, it just happens. I get defensive and even grumpier. The fake smile comes on as we head into the building and the last thing I want to do is sit nicely and be kind, sing praise songs and smile.

However, God has other ideas. I have, for years, been part of the youth ministry at church, mostly the small boys. For the last months I have been working out of town and I have not been able to continue teaching. However, I do always go down to check on my favorite kids and mess with the guys who took over the class I taught. This week I met a mother, a new visitor to our church. She had three boys who were all going to Sunday school for the first time. I just fell into my old role and walked them into their classes. The sixth grader and the third grader did great. They went straight in and began to play, but the littlest one was not going for it and began to cry. I spent some time talking with him and wiping the individual tears as they ran down his cheek. He was scared, but I knew he was safe, and if he would just trust me, he would have a blast, not to mention the secret pixie stick candy I gave him.

So I am reflecting on that morning and how it got out of control, like so many other days and nights and times. So my 9-year-old lollygags around and is easily distracted – is that really that bad? Is he just creatively curious? Do I need to plan to leave at 8:30 a.m. and not 9 a.m.? Did I have to take the coffee spill so personally? Does any of that stuff really matter? Am I missing the simple fact that God had me, it was safe, there were no big deals or horrible disasters or things to really get in the way of that being the beautiful morning it was?

When I think back of the little boy in church and the innocence in his face, tears on his cheeks – I regret being mad at my son. God gives us a choice each day, each moment, to choose if we want to trust in Him and be happy or to be mad and angry, grumpy and crabby. I want to learn to trust Him and be happy. It is hard for me, as I know it is for many men. I am thinking about the movie Grumpy Old Men – jeez, am I getting that bad? Yes, there are times to be mad, but for me I have to look at that choice real hard.

Hillary Ya'll

Did you know that Hillary Clinton spends a lot of time in south Texas? She is apparently almost family to those who live there and is even considered a Texan among many of them. Who new? As much time as I spend down there, hunting, fishing and traveling, I have never seen her. You would think I would run into her buying a pair of gloves, some deer corn or something at Goliad Feed or Morales Feed and Supply in Devine or South Texas Feed Company in Kingsville.
.
I am a fourth generation Texan. My family is from the gulf coast regions, Galveston and Houston, and I am a very proud native Texan. The recent press release sent out by her staff is very informative and has taught me a lot about this honorary Texan.

The recent press release read: “Rio Grande Valley Elected Officials Endorse Hillary.Texans for Hillary today announced the endorsement of several Rio Grande Valley elected officials, a list of supporters that continues to grow. In a show of support, the Rio Grande Valley elected officials stood behind Hillary at her South Texas Kick-off Event in McAllen.

‘The people of the Rio Grande Valley know Hillary Clinton, view her as an adopted Texan, and have witnessed first-hand her commitment to improve their quality of life. They know that she is the best candidate to deliver solutions in the future, because she has been delivering needed change to their lives for over 30 years,’ Congressman Ruben Hinojosa said.”

There are a few things I can’t figure out here -- what has she been doing down there and why have I never heard a word about it? All through the Rio Grande River drought and water problems I never saw her. When they were working to put in basic sewer and water service to the poorest regions of south Texas, I can’t remember her being there. When the cattle ranchers were struggling and the high fence issues came up, I am afraid I missed her. When my church, as many have, went to south Texas to rebuild schools and churches, I never heard her name. When the Border Patrol took me around for three days and told me stories of illegal immigrants and how they make their way into the country, I never saw her.

It goes on to say, "Hillary will work to fix our economy, expand access to affordable health care, and protecting our nation's soldiers. We stand with Hillary because she has and will continue to stand with us. They know she did not have to discover South Texas on a map when it came time to run for President. I think South Texas will play a big part in helping her carry Texas on March 4th.” What does that mean?

I tell you what, I would be glad to have some help from Clinton trying to find good places for the Kids Outdoor Zone boys and girls camps to hunt and fish for our summer camps. Sounds like she knows every rancher in south Texas. I would love for her to help work the kitchen at one of the camps and patch up some of the boys who need it.

Better yet I could use her help at the girls’ summer camp. The girls need guidance, care and love just as badly. I can see her at midnight sitting by the campfire after a day that started at 4 a.m., talking to the girls about truth, honor and dignity and what that means to her. She can share stories of marriage and the ups and downs that are a part of that God-honored institution. She could actually help raise money for the camps, I see she has millions in her war chest for her presidential campaign and sponsoring a kid at camp is not nearly that much.

I won’t be voting for her this year for president – I have other thoughts. But it was interesting how much she has done for my family in south Texas. Actually they can’t figure out what it was, but I am sure it has been a lot, according to her press releases. One last thought -- can you really be a Texan and not ever say y’all? I will be listening.

Valentine Tricks and Tips

OK, so you get 14 days to figure it out guys. You mess this one up and you are in big trouble at home or with your girl friend.

In years past I have given guys interesting things they could do to impress their loving wives or girls friends at Valentines Day. I shared the treasure map idea, the old post card idea, the family photos with the cut out red hearts – lots of great ideas. This year I went looking on-line for a good one I could use, but I just couldn’t help but think that most of them were silly. Some of these just had me cracking up

On-line Idea: One web site for people who love flowers said; your best bet is lavender oil scent, it's not a difficult task to purchase a bottle of lavender oil essence these days but if you truly want to impress your sweetheart this Valentines then try making your own. Steam is the best way to extract the oil but if you took to crushing it with your manly brute strength you will always win them over.

TJ: So they want us to squeeze a bunch of flowers and do what. I saw a whole lavender shampoo, bath oil and soap set for about $6. at Wal-Mart, in and out, you’re done.

On-line Idea: Take her for a walk down a garden path It's cheap. It's effective. And, it says 'I Love You' more than pound-gaining chocolates. What's more, it will keep her in shape.

TJ: First this had to be a woman writing this for them. A man would not live to see the sun rise on Valentines Day with a comment like that at my house. I have learned never to speak of weight or need of exercise, ever. Secondly, where do you find a garden path in February with flowers?

On-line Idea: Time with friends, this is a great one for couples that are friendly with other couples. You and your pals can join together to each give her and her pals plane tickets for a "girl's weekend", or him and his friends tickets for a "boys weekend". She or he will love that you were so thoughtful and will know that you planned ahead.

TJ: I just want a weekend pass to lie on the couch and watch TV. She on the other hand would love this one if we could afford it.

On-line Idea: Make jewelry, the most traditional Valentine's gifts can be made special with a little time -- personalize your gift with engraving. Include that secret pet name, or an inside joke that makes you smile. The thought will be romantic and sweet.

TJ: I have made some jewelry in the past. I like the paper clip bracelets and the ones I made with a bunch of boys from fishing camp with brass leaders. Make something for my wife, I think not. I buy her expensive jewelry she doesn’t wear – but she always loves to collect it.

Other on-line ideas: Scatter a trail of rose petals (though beware -- some petals may stain fabrics or carpeting), sit in front of a cozy fire in the fireplace and watch romantic movies, cuddle up on the sofa and look through vacation photos or your wedding album.

Well, I am not sure about these last ones, the ladies are going to love them, the guys are going to struggle. But they are probably the best ones I have found. You have got to get a card and some other cute things as well guys.

God has given us a very special gift men, it is woman. I know I don’t always appreciate my wife for all that she is an does for me and the family. There truly is nothing I can do to ever really get it right, but if I gotta sit on the couch for an hour, hold her hand and smooch a bit, I’m willing to try. I love you pookie, happy Valentines Day.

TJ Greaney

tj@countrylinemagazine.com

The Oldest Generation

I feel drawn to the oldest generation. Recently, while walking the Trail of Lights in Austin a service cart pushed up next to us in the crowd. The golf cart’s battery was out and the driver was struggling to push it – with an older couple on the back.

I grabbed hold of the back and started to push. The older gentleman sitting on the back looked up at me and I said “hi.” I asked him if he was enjoying the lights and he said, “ I don’t know where I am,” then smiled at me. My heart fell to the floor.

I have always had a compassionate heart for the older generation. I have spoken about them many times in this column. I have talked about how they are heroes in so many areas and have done things and understand things that the other generations may never experience. Many lived in a time of no TV or video, relying on books and some radio. Simple things, quiet things, slower things.

I have written about the time I stopped at a garage sale and bought a small box of old memorabilia from World War One. Later that night I found it included a diary and medals; it also included currency from around the world. The money in the box alone was worth hundreds of dollars – I paid five. The sad part to me was she must have never looked inside the box. Did she just over look it? I could not figure out which house it was when I went back. Later I got mad she never explored the things her father or grandfather left her. I still have everything in a box. I don’t know if I could ever sell it.

I never got to know my grandparents; they died when I was young. I remember small things but I never got to talk with them in a way that mattered. I know one of my grandfathers owned a gas station, the other worked for the railroad. I have so many questions that will go unanswered. I wish we could have documented them, the life lessons, the things they failed at and the things they succeeded at.

We video taped my mom and had her tell me her life history so we would always have it, more people should do that. One Christmas I gave my father a question and answer legacy book. He gave it back to me years later and it was complete. What a gift.

I guess what I am saying here is that time goes by fast. Our lives are moving fast. I want to encourage people to chronicle their family and their lives for those who will come after them. Take pictures, use a video camera, maybe even write down some memories or
thoughts.

My daughter’s friends were describing a person they saw recently and said, “he was old like 50 or something,” I had to crack a smile. They never thought of me sitting there and being almost 50. Not that 50 is old, but when you are a young teen, it seems very old.

I am glad to be older myself. I don’t ever wish to be younger than I am now. I see things more clearly but my vision is not as good as it once was. I listen more now but I don’t hear as well. My emotions are closer to the surface but I am more reserved in my haste to react. I pray more and try to learn God’s will in my life with a true desire to understand it for Him. I strive for gratitude and gratefulness each day in my life and am disappointed in myself when I miss a teaching moment or a memory opportunity with family and friends. God knows my weakness and forgives me daily for my shortcomings. For that I am grateful sometimes, hour by hour, minute by minute.

This year my goal is not to loose weight or exercise more, to get out of debt or read more books. This year my goal will be to be more the man God wants me to be, and in that – all the above will be true.

Happy New Year and God Bless,

TJ Greaney

Publisher

Places We Could Never Imagine

December 07

Well I could write this column about all the changes to our family since last month, or this year. I have a saying, “If I wrote on a piece of paper where I think I would be in 10 years, the best I could imagine, I would cut myself short.” Yes, God takes us places we could never imagine.

OK, so I don’t want this to read like a sermon, but I do want to get across the message of change. Change is inevitable in all things. Most people don’t care for change; I know I struggle with it. It happens in all areas of our lives and some affect us more than others.

There are the unimaginable changes, the planned ones and the ones that just go on from day to day. Good or bad. Sickness and death are horrible changes that can come without warning. This year included the unimaginable diagnosis of cancer with one of my best friends and his death just a few short months later. It included the injury to my shoulder and the slow but successful healing that was little less than miraculous.

There are changes we would have never expected. For example say one of the guys on your favorite radio show leaves. The show goes from a pair to a single, a duo to a uno, a team to a single player. You question why, you might be angry, you might be happy; you might not care one way or the other. But eventually you will move on and life will continue, different, maybe missing an old warm fuzzy, but it goes on.

Then there are the day-to-day changes. A meeting gets changed, a traffic jam, a drop of Bar-b-que sauce on your shirt at lunch. You learn to roll with them as they come up, you might not like them, but you roll with the changes, the inconveniences.

Yes change is inevitable. You will experience life, death, happiness, sorrow and times of contentment. They are all part of our experience here. One of the rules I learned some 21 years ago when I quit drinking was when you’re in a bad place, go help someone in need. Get out of yourself and off your butt. Change where you are and what you are doing.

As we prepare for 2008 and the changes life will bring, I want to thank God in front of all of you for the wonderful gifts he given us in 07’. For you, the readers of Country Line, who have been here with us, some for over 14-years. Thank you. The brief moments of clarity as my friend Lee left us to be with his Father in heaven. The work and direction God is sending me professionally. The time, each and every moment with my mother and father who are getting older now (late 70’s). Thank you God.

To my wife and kids, thank you for accepting change and allowing it in my life and the hardships that come from it in yours. Thanks, I love you.

Care for someone today. Pray a little each day. Be thankful and don’t worry so much about change, God is going to take care of you, no matter what.

Oh yes, and here at Country Line Magazine it is MERRY CHRISTMAS!

God Bless,

TJ Greaney
Publisher
tj@countrylinemagazine.com

November 07'

90 percent is Better Than Where I Was...

I have been pretty avid about working out for the last several years. I started going from 5 to 6 in the morning, then 6 to 7 a.m. the last year or so. Yes, early each morning, but it worked for me and I got pretty fit – until.

One of the things I have always had is a hard head. I don’t mean physically like extraordinary hard bone – I mean I just did what it took to get the job done, sometimes right or wrong. It was the same with my working out – I invented ways to work out, I also watched guys I saw there regularly and copied their workout. I eventually made friends with guys there and worked out with them.

The problem was that every once in a while I would show up and my partners would not. That is fine; it’s not like I didn’t miss once in a while but that is when I continued to try and do things my body did not agree to. Recently, not long after a few of these days alone at the gym, I began to hurt in my chest and shoulder.

That is when the doctors appointments began. We started with first things first -- heart and blood work. All good. So why all the chest, neck and shoulder pains? This went on for weeks, months. Nights of lost sleep and daily discomfort, pain. The doctor suggested several very expensive tests.

So here is where God began to work. Friends at church and my home Bible study began to pray for me. One of them, Marci, was going to school to be a physical therapist and suggested I might try physical therapy. Problem is we don’t have insurance and we were already stacking up bills from all the other doctor visits. She told me about a student program at Texas State University in San Marcos where they charge a small fee for full therapy.

Marci gave me the contact number and I made an appointment. When I walked into that clinic I could not bend my head forward. My shoulder and chest were in constant pain and my left arm and hand were numb. I felt at times I just would not be able to go another minute.

Over the next few weeks I went to San Marcos two or three times a week. The pain moved around and shifted spots. I had to do therapy at home and take some medication I didn’t like. But I saw progress. My student therapist was Sarah. I was her first patient and at the end of October I finished my last session with her. She was leaving to work at a clinic as were the rest of the students, so my time with her was up. But the last thing she got to do before she left was write in my file that I was 90 percent recovered.

I had never been so miserable and I was praying for relief just about every moment of the day. I knew I didn’t have the money to have more testing or doctor work but was going to have to do it. The point is to say I needed help and trusted God to provide me with a solution. The program at Texas State is a special little secret and open to the public when the students are in class. I understand more now how chronic pain, especially back pain, can just be devastating.

Mine was a problem with a disc in my back, manifesting in pain and numbness. I am still doing the exercises Sarah taught me. I have yet to return to the gym for fear I might re-injure myself. So if you see me sitting around with my arms out flapping like a duck, it’s Sarah’s fault. If you need some sort of physical therapy, try Texas State. Most of all, trust God will help you with whatever the problem is you are to overcome; He will never let you down. Been there, seen it.

Emailing Emotions

October 07

I get a hundred or more e-mails a day. Most of them are impersonal advertisements or solicitations from who knows what – if you have e-mail you know what I am talking about. For me, for the most part, if I did not ask for the e-mail or am not expecting it – I delete it before I even open it. I don’t look at funny pictures or videos or stories. I don’t pass on your prayer e-mails or touching stories to nine of my friends, I just don’t.

A former business partner told me once that the reason he sends e-mails is because they are emotion free exchanges of information or directives. That people do not have to argue or misunderstand what is expected of them or what you are saying to them. I think he was wrong; many e-mails are often taken emotionally.

I have sent e-mails that were totally misunderstood, or it was what I meant at the time but almost immediately wished I had not sent it. Most people have done that. Recently I wrote an e-mail just ripping apart a guy I was upset with, however, I sent it to a friend instead of the victim. We got a laugh out of it, I got it off my chest and out of my head and the victim was none the wiser. I got to think about things a little more and decided a bit of grace was in order before the chopping block.

I have several e-mails from friends who have passed away over the last two years as well as my father. I feel strange when I see them and wonder what would happen if I e-mailed them. I read the e-mails and remember the things that were going on when I sent them. What do you do with those? They are huge emotional e-mails for me now.

I have a few handwritten letters from my dad before he died. I cherish those. I look at his penmanship and his choice of paper. It is all classic dad. You don’t get handwritten letters too often anymore. I would guess if we all sent our moms or a friend a handwritten letter today, they would be thrilled and the letter would be a cherished momentum.

I never really liked getting cards, either. The ones that have the words inside partially underlined by the sender and then an “I Love You” at the end. I have always thought that was cheesy. At least write a paragraph and say something personal in regards to us. E-mail cards are even worse.

So I guess the point I am trying to make is that e-mails are best used to transfer benign information to another. When you really need to get something done, use the telephone. Don’t cop out and expect huge results from an e-mail – if you sent it to me, chances are I deleted it before I even read it. Try calling, writing a letter or write inside that card next time.

I think it shows that you care for some one more when you show them that you gave them some of your time. That you had to think about them only for just a period of time. God gifts us when we give of ourselves.

God Bless and share His love.
TJ Greaney
Editor
Country Line Magazine

*When you get an exasperating letter what happens? If you are young, you answer it promptly, instantly -- and mail the thing you have written. At 40 what do you do? By that time you have found out that a letter written in passion is a mistake in 99 cases out of a hundred.

*An old, cold letter.... makes you wonder how you could ever have got into such a rage about nothing.
- Mark Twain, a Biography

Sept. 07'

You know, they say you spend the first half of your life trying to get off the farm and the second half trying to get back. I was never raised on a farm, I was raised in Houston, and the suburbs were as far as I ever got into the country. However, I dream of living on a piece of land I can call my own. I want to give my kids the chance to experience the wandering and roaming that comes with land. You know, I am not sure the hippies of the ‘60s didn’t have something when they started communes.

We have talked at our home about buying a communal piece of property and building homes for both grandmas and grandpa as well as for the nieces and nephews who would want to be there as well. Would we get to where we hated each other after a few weeks, months or years, I don’t know. If someone left junk in their yard all the time or someone’s dog dropped all their waste in another’s, would there be problems? Probably. But would there be enough good to override the bad? I wonder.

We have asked others what they thought about the idea and surprisingly many have had the same thought. Some said if we did it they wanted to be a part of it. Yes, some of it sounds very Davidian or cultish – but it wouldn’t be that way.

The place I am looking for I think comes from the heart, though. A longing for family and time together. A place where we could share the lives we have left and the future of the kids together. Someone once said, “I am closer to the end than I am to the beginning” – that would be me today…

The whole concept works on paper. My mom wants to teach kids about the old ways. She wants to teach sewing and gardening and crafting. Grandpa would teach carpentry and gardening as well and most likely golf. My wife would teach the Bible and some other living skills, maybe manners. I would work to pay the bills, maybe do a little fishing and hunting to provide sustenance. My wife’s mom would be in charge of all the shopping. My niece, Niki, and her son, Jake, would be a huge help building the barns and fixing fences. She is really interested in the idea.

I see kids on horses and bikes and four-wheelers. I see barns with lofts and hay and tools. I see an old truck just for driving on the ranch. The kids would be driving it early, when they are 12 or so, all around the property.

So what am I missing? Where is the glitch? I know there would be details, but I can’t find where the whole thing doesn’t actually make some sense. I don’t see it happening anytime soon because of all the commitments it would take and just finding the right piece of land – it is after all just an idea, or do I just need to sell everything and do it?

The whole idea for me started when I was thinking of how I was going to take care of the grandparents as they got older and selfishly wanting the kids to run free on a piece of land. God will answer our prayers, He will grant us our dreams, but sometimes His answers are not what we want to hear, the word, “No,” comes to mind. In the old days you took care of family; today it is not so easy. I honor my elders and want to have them around me. God willing they will stay in good health and hang in there while I work on the compound idea and how to fit two mothers-in-law on one piece of property. Ideas?

The War at Home August 07

Jason has been a warrior his whole life. I have heard stories of his childhood obsession playing with green army men for years. He would play for hours in his room or in the yard strategizing and destroying the enemy. The most recent story I heard was when his soldiers would die, he would bury them then forget where and they would be lost.

“I didn’t just dig a hole and stick them in it; I had a service and all. I did it right,” he explained. I can tell you somewhere in south Austin, buried in the yard of his childhood home, are possibly thousands of small green army men. The graveyard.

It seems that some people know their destiny early. They, I believe, are the lucky ones. They are driven to be whom they know they are. After high school Jason went straight into the National Guard. A week or two into it he called home and wanted out. His mom and I talked and she decided to put the kibosh on his leaving.

“No, you don’t want to regret this,” she coaxed him. He knew in his heart she was right. He completed the time with honors.

Not long after returning from his National Guard training and duties he was milling around trying to figure out what he was going to do next. Police work became his next objective and he started his education at cop school. Upon graduation he found a position in a small town east of Austin and went to work. Police work was good to Jason. He shared story after story of his days and nights on the job. He loved his work and you could hear it in every word.

As he began his emersion into police work, each month he would report for National Guard duties. Then came 9/11. The world was thrown into frenzy. Americans raised their hands over their hearts and were proud to be Americans as we took on the terrorist of our world. They had attacked us all around the world and we were detached, but now they were in our country and everyone felt the heartache and patriotism. We are Americans and this is our country and that cannot happen here. Jason was standing tall ready to go should they call.

Eventually he moved to a bigger city and a new position in their police department. There he had drug duty and sting operations -- he loved all that. He always said, “I want to be in the tough part of the city – the rough side.” He usually was.

After years of weekends and summer training Jason’s time with the National Guard was coming to an end. He had never been called up to fight in Iraq, some don’t. He was well into his new job and had gotten married and had a newborn baby girl. Everything was in place. Except for one thing -- he had to decide, do I re”up” with the guard or not.

Resigning with the guard meant a lot of things. It meant he would be able to continue to work on the pension and other rewards he would eventually receive when he completed his service. But it also meant he was probably going to go to Iraq for a period of time, most likely a year or more. A decision that meant leaving his wife, new baby daughter and other family. It meant months of boot camp style training with long days and short nights.

We had long talks about the pros and cons of going to Iraq and the chances he would take. He went to council with others and prayed about it with his wife. When he told me he had decided to go and that they had a date for him to leave, I was mad. How, why, why now with the baby?

But I know why Jason went; I know why he is there. He is there because since he was little boy, he has been preparing to be an American soldier. He is there because deep inside Jason, ingrained in this young man with everything going for him, is the desire to serve his country. He is old school patriotic. He is willing to give his life so others may be spared the tragedy of 9/11 or something even more horrific. He is, like so many of our American soldiers, committed to the calling of God and country.

Don’t tell me American is anything less than great. Don’t put our president or our soldiers down in front of me. I stand next to my nephew who is headed to Iraq; I am humbled by his bravery, his honor of country, his willingness to die to protect his nieces and nephews. He is willing to sacrifice all he has for you and me. He is a man. I pray a legion of angels will protect him as he goes forward and that God will use him to minister to others in His great commission.

We can agree to disagree here in America and not have our hands cut off, our families killed, our daughters beaten and raped because of the freedom our soldiers have sacrificed for. So, tell me, what are you doing?

Roof Leaks, Flat Tires and Other Fun Things - July 07

I was driving down the road early one morning not long ago and came to a stop on the freeway in traffic. Frustrated and aggravated, I looked around and saw a guy in a small compact car with a nice starch shirt and tie on, drinking a cup of coffee. I imagined he had to be a work at 9 a.m. and was early. His car was clean on the outside and I fantasized he must have gone through the carwash as part of his routine on Saturday. In my mind he worked a government job that did not require him to have a cell phone after 5 p.m. or weekends. I thought about how nice it must be to not have those worries. I thought he probably lives in a home or a new loft maybe. He has a lawn service and a maid or even no lawn at all!

I was in my truck headed to buy some roofing materials for my home. I had a roof leak for a while and needed to tear it all out and replace it. My day started early with some tear out, so I was covered with dirt and grit. The day before a tire had shred on the truck, and I had to deal with it out in the country on an old gravel road. The truck was dirty and I felt sweaty and grubby already. All in all none of this was in my planner for this week.

Now I am not one to be whining about being dirty or hard work. I have done and do my share. But as I am getting older, it appeals to me less. I can still get in there with the big boys and make it happen -- I just don’t like to. I don’t mind it so much early in the morning with a cigar, that part I kinda like, but in limited amounts. I have had my time in the construction field.

What I was doing that morning watching that fellow was probably something everyone does. The grass is greener on the other side, nobody has the problems I have, I hate my life and more. I have been there plenty of times – and that day on the drive to the supply house – I was wallowing in it good. Self pity and woe is me to the core.

Sometimes to get past these burdens we have to look for medical assistance, medication, therapy and more. I have done them all at one point in my life or another. Today I still struggle, but I know from past experiences things get better, it will pass. I know that the crisis of yesterday is a memory I cannot recall. How could that be?

In the Bible there is a story of a guy named Job. He was the man, for years. He had land, horses, goats and lots of camels. He had it all. Then he lost it all – he got sick and was cast out from his family and friends. I mean, if you want to read a story of someone who hit bottom – he did. But through it all he never blamed anyone, never screamed cuss words at God. He took responsibility, not really knowing what he did or did not do, and dealt with it.

To me there are too many people who blame others for their hard times or misfortune. They blame others for the lack of happiness or opportunity in their lives. They don’t like their lives. Martin Luther King Jr. said once, “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”

We all do it to some degree, we covet thy neighbor’s “whatever,” new vehicle, yard, house, girl or boy friend. We dislike our jobs for all kinds of reasons. But I can tell you that whatever you do or whomever you are, there is someone who would covet your gifts, property, lifestyle, medical treatment opportunities or job.

The back porch flooded last night so I have to dig a ditch and put in some pipe. The wet vac won’t work and the starter rope on the pressure washer broke off inside the carriage. But you know, all in all – the grass looks good from all the rain. I love the sound of the rain and how it does slow the world down temporarily. I am also blessed to have a house to work on.

By the way, Job did get all he lost back – and more. He was faithful and honorable and God blessed him. It was hard and he could have buckled, but he didn’t. I don’t know if I am that strong – and I pray I don’t have to be. But I can dig a ditch, re-roof a garage and next time I might do it in a tie, with a cigar of course.

Cutting Loose the Apron Strings

I was watching a new TV show, “Mom, Wife, Bounty Hunter,” or something like that recently. The show itself seems pretty set up and cliché – but I loved one part that night. The daughter was going out on her first date, and her mom and dad laid out all types of guns, from handguns to shotguns to an oozy, on the dining room table. When the little boy came over, they had him in the kitchen and asked him a bunch of questions. Yes, we have all heard of that one before – but it was funny to see it.

When my daughter turns 30 and is going on her first date, I am personally going to have the boy come out back and watch me stick an arrow through an apple at 40 yards with a razor sharp, three bladed broad head arrow. Then I will explain how it is the silent killer and how I love to shoot it -- every day. I will tell him how I put an arrow completely through a 400 pound wild boar hog at 50 yards. I will also explain that if he does not recommend to my daughter they get home earlier than required – he won’t like the results.

Yes, a scare tactic, but a father has to do what a father has to do. For my 24-year-old son things couldn’t be more different. I never had any trouble with him. He was always home early. His friends razzed him about it a lot, but he didn’t care. He quoted the old saying, “Nothing good happens after midnight,” to me many times. I can’t remember exactly how it came that he chose to be disciplined that way – but it was great.

That little guy who used to sleep under my feet in the fishing boat has graduated from college now, has begun his career and just recently moved into a home he bought by himself. The problem is that now he doesn’t want to come around as much. He wants to do his birthday at his house, he wants us to come over to his house for dinner, he took the bass boat to his house. Everything is upside down.

I know that untying the apron strings can be difficult for a mom. Mom gets sad that he isn’t around and wants to make cookies to take to him. She still wants to go help clean his house and maybe do a load of laundry. She wants to help decorate and give him furniture. I just kinda want him home before midnight one more time.

I thank God for children. I can’t imagine not living the crazy life that is family and children. As I walked around the house a few nights ago, I looked at the piled up baseball uniform and glove on the stairs through different eyes. I looked at the violin case by the front doors and the pink flip flops lying in the middle of the entry. I absorb them silently, thoughtfully.

These things will usually get a raz out of me because they are tossed about and out of place. “Take your stuff to your room,” “Get your butt in bed,” “Goodnight, again, and quit coming downstairs.” All these are common phrases I mumble in aggravation at my daughter and youngest son.

Once, years ago, I was coaching my oldest son’s ball team from third base. The boys were young and distracted by everything around them. The ball was hit and my runner on first watched a plane as it flew over, my batter about ran him over before he realized he needed to run to second. Luckily, through a comedy of errors he made it safely to second. I was frustrated and mad that he wasn’t paying attention and just as the crowd quieted I yelled out, “What are you doing? Why are you not paying attention? What do you think, that this is some kind of game?!” Not a sound from the families lining the fences and sitting in the stands. After the game I apologized to the team and the families. I have never forgotten that moment.

I still forget that kids play games, they leave their things lying about and they are just kids. Yes they need discipline, yes they need direction, yes they will make mistakes. But I am far more flawed than they are. I make more mistakes in a day than they do in a week. I know better -- they are learning.

As I study the Bible and learn of the grace I have been given I am humbled. I pray that I will mature and be better tomorrow than I was today. I pray that my little girl and youngest son learn early the things I am learning today. I pray they want to be home before midnight and my daughter’s boyfriends are gentle and kind and scared of my arrows. I am humbled by the gift they are, and I pray to be worthy of them.

V Tech - May 07

I was in the process of writing this editorial on Virginia Tech and the argument for gun rights as I went to check video files and the things others were arguing. I came across a video file that was slowly scanning the memorials that students have put up around the VT campus and I realized I was writing about the wrong topic.

One poster board from a sorority girl to one of her fallen sisters read, “Thank you for choreographing the belly dance for us – I am glad I got to hug you after our last practice.” I began to cry. I thought of all the parents and friends of students who did not get a last goodbye or a last, “I love you.” The ones whose last words were of anger or disappointment with their child or friend.

Just a few weeks ago my daughter’s school had a lock-down because the ex of one of the cafeteria workers committed suicide in the parking lot in front of the school. It was apparently in front of the school police officer and some of the cafeteria workers. That guy could have chosen to enter the crowded middle school cafeteria and taken the lives of many of those kids, including my daughter.

It is not about the guns, it is about the people who are so sick they would do something like this. This is also not something new. History tells of mass killings since the beginning of time. Poison, cars and bombs have all been used. Look what happens almost daily in Iraq right now -- hundreds of people are killed by bomb wielding martyrs in the middle of a market.

It is not where you live. It happens in small Amish schools in the country and high schools and colleges, it happens in Fur’s Cafeteria and McDonalds. I don’t know that you can get away from it or protect yourself.

I do agree that an armed society can protect itself in many situations. You don’t hear those stories told on the nightly news very often – but they are out there. The problem is there is evil in the world. There has always been evil – since God cast out Lucifer and his followers. (Rev 12:7-9)

Yes, I fear for my family and those who may be in harm’s way. Yes, it makes me mad as heck if I dwell on it too long. But we each have a destiny, some end in a blaze of gunfire – others die old. It is how we live each day that matters. You will never know exactly how many people you have affected in your life. You will never know if you’re telling that teenager at the grocery store hello with a smile kept them from killing themselves that day because they saw a glimpse of light from a stranger. Well, actually you will find out when you get to heaven and all of that is revealed.

I think we will find a lot of those killed at VT will have done many things that meant a lot, even after they were gone – maybe even more because they were taken from us. I don’t like it; I don’t accept it all the time. It doesn’t mean we don’t fight to make things safer or kick butt on those who perform these acts of inhuman suffering. Ultimately God will judge it all and I pray that those at VT who lost their lives were met with “job well done my good and faithful son/daughter” when they stood before Him, and hopefully they will have made a difference on this earth in a way that mattered.

It's The Simple Things in Life - April 07'

There is a small bird, I am not sure what kind, that sings each morning outside my bedroom window. He, or she, starts their song just as the sun begins to rise. I love that. When you head for the coast there is a point where you can smell the musty thick fragrance of the bays and estuaries; I love that also. They say it is the small things in life that we overlook. I am convicted it is the small things in life that make life special.

Kenny Chesney sings a great song about the simple things in life, like the kids at home and a loving wife, that he misses the most after losing them to drinking. I am blessed that with all the drinking and getting in trouble, God willing, on April 17 I will celebrate 21 years clean and sober. Now I don’t say this to brag, although I am proud of it; I say it to remind myself that I have done something good, important, and to this day I have remained committed to it. But it is truly the simple things that matter to me the most today.

Recently I lost a friend to cancer, and if you read these editorials you may know that it was Lee. Through that whole ordeal I had to stand tall and be the one who did not waver. I held my emotions at arm’s length as best I could. Now, a month and a half later, I am beginning to grieve. I think the first sign showed up on a recent hunting trip.

I am an avid outdoorsman and any opportunity to sling an arrow is an important one for me. The recent outing had been planned for months and it was with a group of other outdoor writers at one of my favorite ranches. I got there Sunday and had until Thursday to hunt and hang out in the woods – perfect. The problem was that on Tuesday morning I became convicted that I needed to be home. Why? Because both my kids had ballgames that night. I have missed plenty of ballgames I assure you, and home Bible studies and Sunday mornings, but this feeling, this time, it was different.

While I was at the ranch I struck up a conversation with a fellow who had spent the last 25 years on the road as a salesman. I told him I thought I would leave the next day because I didn’t want to wake up and regret that I went hunting when I should have been at my kids’ ballgames.

He told me, “You will always have regrets. Life is full of regrets.”

He said he raised girls and boys who all love him dearly, and his wife is an angel. I pondered that for quite some time and I think he is right. I will always regret not reading more books, not writing more, not hunting either here or there, not doing something.

However there are things I don’t want to have on my heart as a regret. One thing is that I don’t want to forget to tell someone I was sorry. I want to tell my kids I love them over and over and go to every ballgame I can. I want my wife to know that she was the love of my life. I want to listen when people talk to me. I want to be remembered as a guy whom people liked and who cared for them.

God gives us glimpses and nudges to help us find our way. He sometimes pokes us hard to get our attention. I have recently received a smack across the head with God’s favorite baseball bat. I heard Him. I pray that I can only continue to listen to the bird outside my window in awe, to kneel when a youngster talks to me, to love my family the way they deserve to be loved. Are you collecting regrets?

Cell Phones, the Radio and Noise in General
Editor March 2007

I get so anxious at times with all the noise in my life that I just want to scream. Yes, that is coming from the publisher of the No. 1 Texas music magazine and the No. 1 outdoor radio show host in Texas. If it wasn’t for the noise from both of these endeavors, I might be an airline pilot or left fielder for the Houston Astros and then where would I be?

When I get up in the morning I like the first few minutes to be peaceful. The most noise I like is the gurgle of the coffee brewing or the faucet running.

They say the loudest noise ever was the eruption of the volcano Karakatoa and that the sound traveled around the world several times. I think that might be equivalent to the sound of, “Honey take out the trash, feed the dogs and then let’s go over calendars” – the sound of wife-ecus de-Sandra-decus at my home on several occasions. The sound has always been heard in the morning before I have had a chance to get to the coffee maker.

I know folks who hit the on button for the television first thing when they wake up. The kids sit at the television watching cartoons or other shows in the morning while they are getting ready for school. The radio is on as soon as the car is started in the morning on the drop-off drive to school and the drive to work. Not that listening to the morning drive guys isn’t fine; it’s the constant example I am referring to -- noise.

Some people can handle this constant bombardment of noise in their head, their life. I can’t. I am convinced that quiet time is important to the human spirit. I think that without quiet moments in our lives, we miss feeling life. I truly believe that too many of the kids today are being raised in a world of noise and do not experience the peace of quiet.

Recently I was with a group made up of young boys who have hunted and boys who have not. There were some differences I attribute to the lesson of hunting. One was that the hunters could sit still, not wiggling all the time. The hunters could listen better than the others, or so it seemed. The boys who had hunted just appeared to be a bit more disciplined. Draw your own conclusions, but the hunters were required to learn these lessons if they were going to be successful in the field – they had to sit quietly, listen, watch and relax.

Do you have quiet time in your life? I have a challenge for you. A month ago I challenged my family to a week without television. My wife was mad as heck at first and said she would not participate. My kids had no choice – and I competed in the challenge with them. It was one of the best weeks we had had in a long time. We read books, magazines, talked and the kids played outside a lot. The lesson we learned was that quiet time is good. The constant bombardment of noise is optional. We can actually interact without noise. God speaks to us when we listen. Things go smoother, we get more done and we actually have the opportunity to think clearer. Are you up for the challenge, to find a quiet time in your life? It can be hard, but the rewards are fantastic.
God Bless,

***********************************************************

Feb. 2007

Lee And I

Lee and I meet in the kitchen each morning at about 5:30 for our morning coffee and to discuss the way of our world, as it is that day. This routine just recently restarted from days gone by, over 17 years ago.

Lee is a friend I met at a 12-Step meeting way back in the late ‘90s. I had a few years clean and sober; he was trying to get a few days. We have built a friendship since those days, which is very special and important to me.

Lee has done some amazing things in his life. He is the only person I have ever met who actually ran away from home and joined the circus. At 14 he and a friend dropped out of school and were headed to Kemah, Texas, to work on the oyster boats. Along the way they passed a circus. For the next year they worked as setup and tear down hands for one of the big Shriner Circuses of that time. He traveled the country that year, and his stories and photos are wonderful.

When Lee got back from his jaunt with the circus, he wasn’t home long before he signed up for his next adventure as a merchant marine. Lee, at the tender age of 16, was off on his first ship and toured India and Japan, including Hiroshima. That was in the mid ‘60s when Hiroshima was a strange and rare place to visit. What a trip.

I can tell countless stories, Lee stories, but I won’t here. Just suffice it to say he is the most energetic and adventurous person I have ever met.

Since I have known Lee, his life has been centered around his daughters. He had custody of them both and his biggest joys, tears and wishes have been centered around them. Now both are young women with kids. When he gets hugs and kisses from his granddaughters, he absolutely lights up. A single dad raising girls is one of the most difficult things I could imagine. So much to teach them and lots of girls things that frankly I don’t think most men can even talk about aloud.

So as we sit and drink coffee, my workout partners at the gym go on without me. They don’t wait, and I am not rushing off. I love this time of day, and to spend it talking with Lee makes it a great day – no matter what happens after that.

As I write this I am planning a meeting with the CPA and some doctors. We also have to work in a visit to the hospital and talk with Hospice. Both daughters, their kids and Lee’s sister are at our home, and we need to get back to the grocery store sometime today, too. On most days this stuff would be just another day, but right now nothing is trivial or without cause. Planning and making sure things are taken care of and at the same time keeping the wheels on the family cart is tedious and wearing, but through it I find a peace from God and things fall into place.

Lee has cancer of the liver and stomach and I am not sure how many more mornings I will be able to sit with him and drink our morning coffee. By the time this is printed, he may be better, he may not. The doctors couldn’t administer his chemotherapy this week because he is too weak; I expect he will remain too weak for the treatments.

As we prayed over him Tuesday night he gained a sense of peace. Everyone saw it and it was so clearly God’s hands holding him. I know that Lee has accepted the Lord as his personal Savior, and I will see him in heaven. I can just imagine him there, in perfect health and all his glory. Planning adventures and exploring the depths of heaven and what it has to offer. If you can get in trouble for pushing the limits there, he will. God will be spending overtime on my buddy Lee when He finally gets him, whenever that is. I did my part down here, Lord. When you get him, don’t say I didn’t warn you -- he gets up early, likes his coffee strong and has a lot of things to do. Until then, it’s one teaspoon of creamer and a teaspoon of honey with Lee’s coffee about 5:20 a.m. and I will be there.