New Year's Eve, 2007

This morning: The world outside is cold and bright--37 degrees and clear, if you want it in the weatherperson's terms. I've been up for awhile, piddling with this and that: an email to a new friend from down Sevierville way; eating a bowl of cereal; starting the dishwasher; commenting on an old friend's blog; working on my own blog. I'm not sure, but I think I just won $12 in the Tennessee Lottery. I'm not sure, but at 257.6 I think I weigh more this morning than I have in my entire life to this point. Our house this morning is a preview of the empty nest to come sooner than we want it to. Our son is away at the house of a friend. This in itself is not unusual, but he drove himself there; without any commitment to go pick him up, I'm feeling his freedom, his separation from me. We're close, but I'm sure he's as thrilled about this as I am dismayed. Still, the sun is shining and I'm feeling good, so this morning is a good one.

This year: I come to the end of 2007 with mixed feelings and varied reflections, which I guess is natural for life. Many of the things that I feel good about are at the same time the things I'm most concerned about--my life, my job, my church, this world and so on. Undaunted is my love for my true friends and family; at the same time, unquestionable is my disdain for and disappointment in the mean and shallow nature that characterizes the majority of events and the selfishness of people.

Great things have happened this year: in April, the healthy birth of my second granddaughter, who appeared through my daughter-in-law's pregnancy to have serious looming problems; in May, the achievement of a new level at my job; in September, my son's 16th and in December his driver license; also in December, my brother's marriage. In addition to these, I've passed through the year in good health (mostly), a good thing for a 49-year-old.

Personal disappoinments this year have been few. I suppose the major one is that fact that I've written little besides this blog. For years, since the late '70s, I've considered myself a writer--of songs, of stories, of literary criticism, of a little poetry even. But that longstanding identity becomes increasingly challenged the more that I don't find or take time to write. The problem that follows such a deterioration of identity is, of course, that I must learn to identify myself in a new way. And at 49, new identities aren't easy to come by, especially when I'm unwilling to leave the old identity behind.

The year of our Lord, 2007, has raised lots of questions for me, and I think as I begin my 50th year, I would like . . . but more on that tomorrow.

In the News, 12/31/2007

Officials expect delay for Pakistani elections. . . .
Violence over Kenyan elections leaves 103 dead. . . .
Suicide bombing kills at least 12 in Iraq. . . .
Oil heads for biggest annual gain this decade. . . .
World outsources pregnancies to India. . . .
Times Square ball is greener, brighter. . . .
NKorea set to miss nuclear deadline. . . .
Huckabee stands by "Christ" comment. . . .
Edwards sees cash bonus in Iowa win. . . .
LA gan F13 accused of targeting blacks. . . .
"Psycho" sought in shooting of 6. . . .
Lumber shortage has thieves eyeing your trees. . . .
Bush Pakistan policy—time for Plan C? . . .
Candidates rush to show Pakistan cred. . . .
Vandals rip into Robert Frost home. . . .
Federline attorney ready for Spears. . . .
Mascot cat retires from mountain. . . .
U.N. takes control of Darfur peacekeeping. . . .
Expert: Teen brain key to criminal behavior. . . .
Mummy lab working to ID pharaoh queen. . . .
"Green funerals" feature biodegradable coffins. . . .
Video captures Bhutto at moment of death. . . .
Huckabee, McCain blast Romney. . . .
Hundreds injured in mass jellyfish attack in Brazil. . . .
Man arrested for stalking teen he met playing Halo. . . .
Cops: CB radio talk led to trucker's stabbing death. . . .
Alleged drunk driver kills mom, 4 girls in head-on crash. . . .
Missing 13-year-old found living with "boyfriend," 34. . . .
4 rainy days saves Atlanta from record driest year. . . . [yes, "saves"]
FDA: Chinese dietary supplements contain Viagra. . . .
Personal data theft reaches unprecedented levels. . . .
Infant skeleton found in deceased woman's suitcase. . . .
Bedbugs infest NYC homes, businesses, hotels. . . .


God, help us!

One from Two

Last night in Walnut, North Carolina, my fifty-two-year-old brother Jerry married for the first--and surely the only--time in his life. We had thought it would never happen, but just when you think something like that . . . well, let's just say that other plans and determinations take priority over ones we might make.

My new sister's name is Cathy, and she's a great lady. She's faithful and beautiful and smart and funny. She has a good job in academia, and she's a great cook. And I have a great new nephew named John or Jon--I'll have to get that straight.

Jerry called me a few weeks ago to ask if I'd sing during the wedding ceremony. What could I say? Of course I said yes, even though most of the marriages for which I've sung haven't lasted. Hopefully, it's not me. Anyway, his asking me to sing wasn't that big a surprise, but I was caught off guard by what he asked me to sing. He requested "Somebody, Somewhere," a song I wrote around 1980 or 1981. It was among the first songs I recorded in Nashville and was intended for my first album (which was to have been called Fiesta). I heard Jerry tell my cousin last night that he knew the first time he heard that song he wanted it sung at his wedding. And now, almost 30 years later, it's done, song and wedding and all.

The ceremony took place at the Walnut Presbyterian Church, where my mother and aunt are faithfully present. It isn't an old old church like the Walnut United Methodist Church where Leesa and I got married (and which is now closed and sold into the hands of a private citizen). But the Presbyterian was where I attended Vacation Bible School as a kid and was host to the community youth group when I was a teenager. The place was beautifully decorated for Christmas. The music I made and that made by another guitar player and singer sounded rich in that place.

My song was early on in the service. The marriage ceremony was then handled by the minister from Cathy's church, North Asheville Baptist. After the exchange of rings and vows, the service was closed out by a prayer offered in the still-powerful voice of my retired-Methodist-minister uncle. For a small Appalachian community, this might seem quite the ecumenical affair, but for Walnut it was simply par for the course (but more on that another time).

Here's the lyric for "Somebody, Somewhere":

To all the lonely people in the world—
I'm singing this song just for you.
You're looking for love every day of your life,
But it seems like you're not getting through.
You're alone every night when you turn out the light,
And it feels like it's that way to stay.
Hold tight to your dreams; it's not as bad as it seems.
Tomorrow might just be your day.

Somebody, somewhere
Is lonely and looking
And dreaming of someone like you.
And when you have found
That somebody somewhere
The dreams you both have will come true.

I once knew a man with a dream in his heart,
A dream he just could not let go.
In chasing his dream he lost all his loves
And found himself always alone.
But then into his world came this beautiful girl,
And she loved that man through and through.
Her love helped him be all he wanted to be,
And she made his dreams all come true.

Somebody, somewhere
Is lonely and looking
And dreaming of someone like you.
And when you have found
That somebody somewhere
The dreams you both have will come true.

All best wishes for Jerry and Cathy, for Cathy and Jerry in their life together as one.

Accidentally Cool

I took this picture while at the Titans/Jets game in Nashville this past Sunday. As you can see, it's just about dark. The view is the portion of the skyline visible above the opposite side of the stadium. My intention was simply to catch part of that skyline that used to thrill me so much when I lived in Nashville as felt so certain that I would be rich and famous. (That's another story, of course.) Through the viewfinder, I didn't see the man silhouetted against the sky between buildings. I think it's cool that he's there, even though his appearance in my picture was completely by accident.

While in Nashville this trip, my friend jb and I talked a little about a man we used to work with--one of the most confusing and confounding individuals I've ever run across in my life. I'm getting worked up to blog about those days. I've already written about the early experiences with the White Water Band; now I think I ought to go into the "professional" years a bit. We'll see.

Cheese Biscuits & Chocolate

Okay, so you don't actually see the cheese biscuits and chocolate here. They've been gobbled up during the Christmas brunch. The plate to the left holds the aftermath, the one to the right some leftover sausage and eggs. Bottom right, what's left of the chocolate.

This meal came into my life via Ahoskie, North Carolina, home of my father-in-law. His mother Nettie made this stuff and instilled a love of it in her children and her grandchildren and the people who married her children and grandchildren. (I'm in the latter group.)

It's simple. Extra sharp cheddar cheese is cut up into little blocks. These are folded into the dough of individually shaped biscuits, and then the biscuits are baked as ususal. While they're baking, cocoa and sugar and some other stuff (milk and butter maybe?) are blended into a chocolate "sop" or gravy or syrup, whatever you choose to call it. Ahoskie folks get a plate of biscuits; Nettie was known to be quite strict on rations, so your plate of biscuits might be only two. Then they get a little bowl and pour chocolate in it. The biscuits are dipped in the chocolate and eaten by hand. This has been introduced to my family in Walnut and has become our traditional Christmas meal (at breakfast, brunch or lunch). My brother and I, both always fond of our Mother's biscuits and gravy, tend to serve up our biscuits and chocolate that way; that is, we put the biscuits on our plates and pour the chocolate over them, thus cutting out the need for dipping.

We had ourselves a busy little Christmas. Once school was finished, we spent three nights--Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday--in Gatlinburg at a resort called the Mountain Loft. On Wednesday, I had to travel back to Johnson City for a meeting and an Honors College staff Christmas gathering. On Thursday, we went to see a Pigeon Forge musical called The Miracle, in which a friend of mine performs. It's a fine bit of Christian message and entertainment. We came home on Friday. On Saturday the 22nd, my son and I traveled to Nashville to see I Am Legend on the IMAX screen, to visit friends and, on Sunday, to attend the Titans/Jets game. On Monday we cleaned house like mad people. I attended the early Christmas Eve service, and then all of us attended the late service. On Christmas morning, we left for North Carolina, at the aforementioned brunch at my mother's, at supper at my mother-in-law's and came home with older son, daughter-in-law and two granddaughters in tow.

Whew! And it's still not over, so I'd better run for now!

All good wishes for continued season's blessings.

My Take on the 4 O'clock Club

Yesterday I missed the monthly meeting of what has come to be known as the "4 O'clock Club." We're a group, currently, of up to five men who gather on the second Tuesday of every month to share a few laughs and a few stories, drink a little beer and enjoy each other's company. When something comes up to prevent my attending—be that something work or just stupid forgetfulness—my life is a little lonelier for having missed the opportunity to spend time with these friends.

Honestly, I'm not much of a beer drinker. I like a good beer on such occasions, but my favorite beer-drinking situation is at mealtime. A beer is great with most any lunch or supper. I also like to drink one at the end of a long day or period of physical labor, even though I rarely do so.

No, the beer I can take or leave. It's the friendship around that table—indoors or outdoors—that matters most to me, and I think that it's ultimately the same for the other men . . . except for Dennis, for whom friendship and beer are probably more balanced in importance. Just kidding. Dennis is the beer enthusiast among us, but I think we'd all agree he's a central figure in this circle of friends.

So, yesterday, as three of my friends were sharing themselves and a pitcher or two of beer, I was sitting in a classroom and listening to an honors student talk about the Appalachian culture of coal and the music that it has inspired. It was an interesting talk, but I had to leave in the middle to accompany my son to his guitar lesson. (By the way, he has his driver license now, and so in coming months is likely to drop me off at the Acoustic Coffeehouse on those second Tuesdays and make the trip to the Boones Creek music shop on his own.)

A make-up session is in the works for the 17th, and I'm looking forward to it. A possible Christmas meeting is in the works for the 21st, and I'm looking forward to that as well. And then, of course, comes the 8th of January and another year's worth of second Tuesdays.

I wish this kind of thing for everybody. I know men whose lives and wives won't allow this, whose image they create for themselves or whose image is created for them won't allow this. That's sad—or, in today's (or some recent) vernacular, "Sucks for them."

I have one friend in particular that I think of often. He's gone, disappeared from here. I don't know if where he is he has any true friends—or if he's ever had any true friends. Not that his friends aren't true or that he is false, but he never has, by his own confession and probably for many reasons, been able to form deep friendships. And that's sad—

For Christmas, if I could, I would give him—and all of my friends—a 4 O'clock Club.

I have nothing more to add at the present time!

Tennessee Driver

Imagine that this is a Tennessee driver license and that my son's smiling face is on it. He's been 16 since September, but now he's really 16. I'll enjoy the freedom this new situation will eventually give me, but for awhile I'll miss driving him places he needs to go. At least I'll miss being in the car with him every time he's in the car. I'll probably not enjoy those times--probably nights mostly--when I'm listening to every car that goes by the house in hopes that I'll hear the gravel in the driveway telling me he's home safe and sound.