Archive for January, 2010

I Cried Today When I Read That JD Salinger Had Died

Posted by Oldwvpoet on Friday, 29 January, 2010

It was the summer of 1977, unemployment was at 7.7% and gas cost .62 cents per gallon (Give Carter time and he will fix that!). There was no e-mail (except for the CIA) but you could mail a letter for .13 cents. You could buy a new house for around $54,000 or a new Camaro (really the only car to own in the seventies) for $6,000 but keep in mind the average income was 13,5000. Now imagine it is mid June of 1977. The Simlmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien was the best selling novel (Than would have made me smile) and Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams would have replaced KC and the Sunshine Band’s I’m Your Boggie Man as the number 1 single (that would have made my whole face smile). Now imagine you were a 14 year old boy in the summer after 7th Grade. You were having realizations about who you were and didn’t really know how to deal with them. Your mom kept telling you that you had to get serious about school because High School was just around the corner. Your Dad was telling you it was time to give up childish games like football and come to work for him. You were realizing that when your mom told you that you were just different really meant that you were weird. And if all that was not enough it was summer vacation at Myrtle Beach and it was raining!

That is exactly where I was that year. My mom decided the best thing to do was to take us to a used book store to get something to read. My brother had just got me reading last summer when he gave The Hobbit to read while I was bored at his house. Before that the last thing I had read was The Giving Tree. As I walked through those stacks of musty paperbacks I stumbled across “The Catcher in the Rye” I figured it to be some sort of baseball book so I picked it up with a grand lack of enthusiasm, since reading a book at the beach was not really what I had in mind.

We get back to the Cottage and open my new book and I read:

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.

I was stunned; seriously I must have reread that sentence ten times. I can distinctly remember every time I picked up that book I would read that opening sentence before turning to my bookmark. The only time I ever openly argued with Dr. David Roth, one of 4 English professors who greatly influenced my life, was when he was lecturing on the importance of an opening line and called Salinger’s opening line in “The Catcher in the Rye” clumsy and weak. Yeah, the rest of the class had to listen to us argue about that for the next 15 minutes. But I digress. The rain stopped after that day we bought the book but I didn’t quit reading. I finished the book during that vacation. I read it again that summer and I can’t count the times I have read that book. It helped me made peace with being weird that week. I would even go as far as to say I embraced being weird that week. It carried me through High School.

I went to Concord College in 1982 and forgot everything I had learned from Catcher. I was a business major preparing to take over the Family Business (can you feel my eyes rolling). I joined a Fraternity to find acceptance and popularity. I flunked out in 3 semesters. I came home to go to work and attend

    The Greenbriar Community College, where I met another of those English professors Leslie Shaver. She admonished me for studying Business and got me reading and writing for Valley Images our school literary magazine. One assignment she had us to write about the 2 books that most influenced our life. I wrote about “The Giving Tree” and you guessed it “Catcher in the Rye”. When I told her that I was returning to Concord she challenged me to read Catcher. I did and returned to Concord as an English major with a Theater minor. The best move I ever made, because while I did not complete my degree I did meet my life partner and wifey Kristi Brewer

    Who I am today is greatly influenced by a man I never met, JD Salinger. His novel effects how I see myself and effects how I work with the at-risk youth that I love so dearly. Mr. Salinger was the type of author that you wanted to call up and talk to about his book. I use to dream of having coffee with this man. However he chose to retreat from personal fame and allow his art to speak for itself– unexplained, maybe we could all learn from that decision. He once said about himself, “I am a kind of paranoiac in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy.” I guess that is on explanation of his withdrawing from society but maybe a better one would be this quote, “An artist’s only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection, and on his own terms, not anyone else’s.”

    I sat in McDonalds today drinking Coffee and crying while I read that JD Salinger had died at 91. I hope he left a trunk full of short stories and novels to be published. Yet, I only want them published if that was his desire. I would hate to see his cherished privacy invaded by them being published against his wishes. As I sit here with my copy of Catcher on my desk waiting to be read once again, I find comfort in knowing that this classic that has transcended generations will allow me to remember my friend.

Zen Poetry

Posted by Oldwvpoet on Monday, 25 January, 2010

Let it fill you
as water pumped
into a cistern.

Let it kiss you
while caressing your neck
like a lover

Let it wake you
from comfort
and leave you

Let it whispers to you
a voice within your head
that you question.

Let it haunt you
causing you to jump
at the least little sound

Let it write you

Practicle Poetry

Posted by Oldwvpoet on Sunday, 24 January, 2010

We are having a Talent and Testimony night at our church tonight. It is usually singing and testimonies. But our Worship Leader loves to put me in the most awkward of positions by having me read some poetry. It is well know that I can not sing. I like to say the only 2 places they allow me to sing is the Nursing Home where they can’t hear and the prison where they can’t leave. Aaron likes to introduce other talents beside singing so I will be the only person to read a poem. It is awkward but I will do it. As I looked over my writings to pick out the poems I found this poem that I wrote years ago. Its a bit of foolish verse but I like it and thought I would share it.

Practical Poetry

I sat down in my big chair
To read a little Billy Collins today
I did not get very far
Because of the voices of ghosts.

I could hear my fathers sigh,
As he mumbles under his breath,
“That will not get you far,
why waste the day.”

I could hear my mother scold
(She has never said anything under her breath.)
“Read something real
a practical book is what you need.”

As I shook those old voices from my head
Something moved in the corner.
I jerked my head,
Only to see a Roach.

I jumped from chair barefoot
(because shoes hurt my ankles)
and rushed to the scene.
I took a swing and missed.

Then he moved again.
I brought my copy of “Picnic Lighting”
Down fast and sharp
And smashed it on the floor

Parents are not always right,
Old voices are a joke
My practical poetry took me far
And the roach is dead on the floor.

Broken Heart for Haiti

Posted by Oldwvpoet on Wednesday, 13 January, 2010

I have been allowed to work all around the world. I have worked with the Lei people of China, Orphans in India, people living in real slums in Accra Ghana, and with the poverty stricken people of Haiti. My world view has been greatly changed from these experiences. It has changed who I am and how I view the world. Nothing will change your heart about a people like spending time with people.

My heart is broken for Haiti right now. In all my travels my heart has never bonded with any people like it has bonded with Haiti. I fell in love with the people on my first trip and that love grew over the next 2 trips. While I have not been to Haiti in several years, it allows me to understand how Paul felt when he talked about his desire to return places; I am actively involved with Haitians in America. Just the thought of the people having to deal with yet another disaster on that precious little island is overwhelming to me. I am working hard to make contacts with my friends over there to see what we can do to help.

The community of Christians must never be localized. We must not be defined by borders or patriotism. We must act like a global family and pray for each other. After we pray we must sacrifice. Sacrifice by giving up the latest WANT we have to meet needs of brothers and sisters. Sacrifice by giving up comfort and go get muddy and dirty helping a brother rebuild.

Haiti is hurting right now. Let’s not just talk about our faith right now and live it for the world to see. Let the Church come to the rescue of Haiti

Don’t Break the Ice

Posted by Oldwvpoet on Wednesday, 6 January, 2010

Don't Break the Ice

One thing we have learned in Mission Raleigh is Computers connected to the Internet will attract youth. We have used this for years at Raleigh North, Cedar Point and Bradford Crossings. We tend to have a hang out time where youth can get on the computer and just chill till time for the lesson.

Over the past few years at Raleigh North every computer would be full and we would have to make them change shifts so everyone could have time on the computer. Well yesterday was quite different. While the computer were there and we had several youth using them we had more playing Chess, Don’t Break the Ice, Bop it and interacting and laughing and having an amazing time of fellowship instead of everyone in their own little cyber world. The cool thing about this is we have not planned or even tried to bring on this change. It was all God. I rolled my chair back to William and said
Do you see this?” I was an amazing thing to see happen.

One of my favorite stories in the bible is in 1 Kings; right after Elijah ran from Jezebel like little girl and hid in the mountains God came to speak to him:

And he said, “Go out and stand on the mount before the LORD.” And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. 12And after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper. 13And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And behold, there came a voice to him and said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” — 1 Kings 19:11–13

I have learned over the 15 years that God has allowed me to serve him, that while we look for God in big events we usually find him in the little things. I have been to youth events attended by hundreds of youth but I saw God more clearly around that table with youth laughing and playing than at any of those events.

Handy Notes

Posted by Oldwvpoet on Monday, 4 January, 2010

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands… Isaiah 46:16.

I write notes on the back of my hands almost daily, it drives my wife crazy. I have tried carrying notepads and electronic organizers but some how my hand ends up with a phone number, and appointment or a name written on it. You see my average day is crazy and my crazy days are well indescribable. When you work in at-risk communities life is a crisis. So I don’t always have time to fish out a notepad, much less try to type something into my Droid phone, so I grab a pin and scribble on the back of my hand. The other positive aspect for my hands to be my notepads is that it leaves the note ever before me. Anyone who has worked with me for 15 minutes will tell you my memory is, well not good. A combination of brain cells killed at Concord College and an ever changing schedule has left me that way. So if I write a note and put in out of my sight it will soon be forgotten. But not on my hand it is constantly in my ADHD line of sight.

I take great comfort that God keeps notes on His hand. The fact that I am engraved on His hand gives me two types of comfort. It is a reminder that I am important to him and that I am ever before him. You see God’s commitment is well beyond that of mine. Because the notes on my hands are written in ink that will eventually fade, but God engraves my name on his hand. A reminder that I have a security in Him that is beyond my understanding.