Hi peeps!!
Well, a quick moment or two before I go catch Harm and Mac FINALLY kiss and get together on JAG (it should have happened a year or two ago, as should have the show's ending), let's review the week that was (and still is), shall we?
Do I even remember Monday? (This is SO not good...)
Well, I definitely DO remember this....
Professional wrestling fans call it a "mark out moment". It's one of those rare, take you by surprise events that only come around once in a blue moon, and you find yourself shouting, exhilarated, and enthralled all at the same time.
The biggest "mark out moment" for me in "24" history was in this episode.
CHLOE PACKIN' HEAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My wife and I immediately went into high-five mode when Chloe aimed and fired, and fired, and fired, and fired, and fired.....
....I never thought I'd say this a year ago, but I LOVE CHLOE!!!
OH, now I remember why I don't remember Monday; I was fighting complete exhaustion (GEE, WHAT ELSE IS NEW???), left work at 4pm to rest, then worked on the computer from home (which has become a tradition, thus, why I'm not blogging as much).
TUESDAY: Day two of fighting exhaustion (when eyeblinks last seven seconds, something's wrong...) I make it through the day, but my wife sends me to bed even before her "NCIS" show is over.
WEDNESDAY: Hey, a good feelin' day today! Worked, and worked, and worked.....but did get home in time to listen to my wife watch her trifecta of "Lost Alias Eyes", while, I, ah, worked from home.
THURSDAY: Very rough day. It begins with a trip to the dentist for the final two of SIX fillings. Yep, six. Some are replacements, others are me continuing to be a bad boy.
Then, off to work....for about two hours. Then I couldn't go another step. I take a sick day, come home and collapse, frustrated and wondering what in the world could be this issue that now lingers into its third year....
....and I'm able to rise from bed about 630pm, slowly revive, and go to the computer around 830pm, to, ah, yep, log in to work computer and go at it again.
TODAY: My son turned 13. A teenager. I can't believe it. I was just holding him in the recovery room on Wednesday April 29, 1992 showing him Orioles highlights on the 6pm news. Then, I remember Los Angeles rioting in the streets later that night, which, of course, had nothing to do with celebrating Robbie's arrival.....
I realized in my stupor yesterday that he'll never be a "kid" again. He's a full-fledged teenager now, so I welcome myself to a bold new age of parenting.
I'm not ready.
:)
So, tomorrow, I head to RIR to help set up our company's big event, The Chili Cook-Off, where my tradition is to help set up, then get out before the brew flows (not my atmosphere). Then, we take Robbie and his best friend out for Robbie's birthday celebration; a little mini golf at Bogey's, a little food, a little present or two at home, and no cake. Robbie doesn't eat cake. Hey, there's $14.95 saved right there!
FINALLY:
I really, really wanted to blog about this Wednesday night, but simply didn't have the time......spent the evening on the work computer (have I told you that anytime lately?)
April 27, 2005. I knew it was the 20 year anniversary of a big event; then, shortly before the day came, I realized it was also the 10th anniversary of another memorable event.
April 27, 1985: 20 Years Ago: My Senior Prom.
I promised to do the "gator" under the gazebo in the center of the dance floor, and actually did it (no one who knows me now would believe that). It was a "double date" scenario, with dinner at Darryl's.
(NOTE: I don't know what this means, but the restaurants I took dates to for my junior and senior proms both ended up closing...)
It was a wonderful night, a wonderful date, and it's nice to look back and have great memories of one of those high school events that should come off as "wonderful". And it did.
April 27, 1995: Coming home from Nashville
For years, as a guy in Christian radio, a music director with lots of contacts in Nashville, I wanted to attend Gospel Music Week. The one week of the year when all the radio and print guys and gals, the artists, etc, get together for seminars, concerts, interview opportunities, and what used to be known as the Dove Awards.
I tried for years to get my radio station to pay for a trip; never worked. So, finally, one year, Bonnie gave me cash for Christmas and said, "this year you're going to Nashville".
And we did, in 1994, all three of us.
In 1995, I went solo. To be at the entire week.
But, in retrospect, I think the trip home was a fantastic microcosm of the week, and of where I was in life in April, 1995.
First, home won out over glitz. I gave up my Dove Awards ticket to leave Nashville early (Thursday afternoon instead of Friday morning) so I could wake up Friday morning in my own bed. Being gone since Saturday was plenty, and I didn't see going to the Doves, in the end, being very consequential, so, mid-afternoon, I fired up my Chevy Cavalier for the first time since the previous Saturday, and the drive home began.
When I travel, it's "let's go". Nashville to Glen Allen is a ten-hour trip. The Tennessee/Virginia state border is the halfway point, at Bristol, the city with multiple personalties due to a line.
I get to the halfway point, stop to get the obligatory gas and some fast food, so I can return to the road as quickly as possible. In fact, I think I went a little beyond the halfway point.
BUT....about this time I realize I'm getting really, really, really tired. So, for the next two hours or so, I'm constantly debating whether to make it the rest of the way, or find a hotel, call home, and say "see ya in the AM".
Up I-81 I go, and, as I finally approached the I-64 interchange, I began to believe I'd make it home. In my cassette player I'm listening to the debut release from Sierra (a lady trio a la Point of Grace who were excellent, and I enjoyed getting to interview them...), and their self-titled song comes on.
"Sierra, a higher place."
It plays as I get to the top of Afton Mountain.
At exactly 12 midnight.
A higher place at the darkest hour.
The rest of the way was a breeze.
And by 2am, I was on the front porch.
The significance? My first major career transition was underway, but I didn't know it. My time in Nashville wasn't supposed to parlay in a bigger radio job or work at a Christian record company, but did confirm my faith that God had a plan for me, and that, though God hadn't yet revealed it (I'd been searching for at least two years by this point), He had it.
At the fact He had it, whether I "knew" it or not, was the point.
The next Sunday I preached for the first time in 8 years. Within 18 months, I'm a minister, six months after that, Christian radio is done.
I hope not forever, by the way.
The dark hour, but the mountaintop.
That means, no matter the circumstance that surrounds your eyesight, remember who sees far beyond that. I couldn't see the top of Afton Mountain in the dark that night, but I could feel it.
The feeling, by and in faith, was the more important memory, even to this day.
April 27....pretty big day.
Now, to go see the end of JAG....
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