Tag Archives: hero

Deejay

Deejay: (n) short for disc jockey

I wrote and performed Christian music.

This created a problem. Most of the small-town thinkers in my hometown village did not believe I was a Christian. For you see, my wife and I had a baby born before the allotted nine months after our marriage.

We were also kind of dead-beats.

Because we wanted to pursue music, we had turned our backs on normal employment, had become unpredictable and, shall we say, risky as potential renters or borrowers.

My little burg did not like me—and I didn’t like it much, either.

All day long, and most of the week, I heard people telling me that either I wasn’t talented enough to make it in music, or if I was going to make it in music, God could find me “on my job” and set it all in motion.

I just didn’t believe that.

This brought about a situation where I had very few friends, so it was necessary that I nurture each and every one of them.

An unexpected buddy was a deejay named Jim. He was one of the more popular personalities at the local Christian radio station, which did amazingly good business considering that it was religious.

Jim liked me.

I don’t know why—I was afraid to ask him.

More importantly, Jim liked me even when other people were around who didn’t like me. Occasionally these people would speak up, voicing their opinions about me in front of him (and also in front of me).

Jim always listened carefully.

He gave them full respect and attention.

And when they concluded their little speech by saying that “I wasn’t going to amount to anything,” he patted them on the shoulder and replied, “Won’t you be surprised if that’s not the way it works out?”

Usually the person shook his or her head and stomped off, convinced of my ultimate destruction.

Then one day, it just happened.

It’s one of those things you don’t plan for. (You should prepare for it, but you don’t.)

One of the most famous groups in America decided to record a song of mine. They not only decided—they did. Suddenly, my tune was being played on radio, all over America.

Jim’s radio, too.

On top of that, the notoriety I received for signing the song with this group opened doors for me to get a contract with my group, to record an album in Nashville.

Jim was my hero.

Of course, other people suddenly discovered that they didn’t hate me.

But the amazing part of the whole story is that when Jim saw other folks coming to my side and supporting me, he kind of drifted to the rear.

I wanted to ask him about it, but then it occurred to me that perhaps this was just Jim’s calling.

He found the person that nobody liked and offered love, hoping that the unloved soul would get a chance.

Jim was and still is my favorite deejay.

He seems to have a gift to say the right words as he plays the good tunes.

 

Crockett, Davy

Crockett, Davy: (Prop n) an early American adventurer

You don’t have to be famous to make the history books.

You don’t have to be beautiful.

You don’t have to be in charge of something very important.

You don’t have to be well-dressed.

You don’t need to be the sexiest man alive.

You don’t need to be a runway model.

You are not required to write a best-seller.

You don’t have to be a victorious war hero.

David Crockett was none of these.

Although he was fairly successful as a woodsman, when he tried to branch out and run for Congress, they made fun of him and laughed him out of Washington, D.C.

He lived off the myth of his accomplishments.

Even though he was a Tennessee man, he felt rejected by his own state, and headed to Texas, to join in with an uprising, linking with a whole bunch of other fellows who were equally as confused, ignored and lonely, ending up killed at a little fort called the Alamo—which should never have been defended in the first place.

David Crockett did not die believing he was a hero or a man well-thought-of by his peers.

But as time has passed and his life, goals, attributes and tenacity have been studied.

And compared to those around him he just ended up looking damn good.

There are many people walking the Earth today who are well-known who, in a hundred years, will not be viewed quite so favorably.

So like Davy Crockett, just go out and work on what you can do.

Do it well, ignore the critics, pick your fights and die with honor.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

 

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Constellation

Constellation: (n) a group of stars forming a recognizable pattern

Christmas: when the nays and yeas get together to discuss a baby born in the hay.

To me, It is the only wearisome part of the season. One group tries to convince the other group that the Christmas story from the gospels of Matthew and Luke is not only possible, but also historical.

The other contingency works really hard to dismiss the whole, ridiculous notion of a virgin birth, a Star of David and “angels we have heard on high.”funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I take a different approach.

I like to consider what the world needs and what the Earth craves, and then find things in the perimeter which feed that urgency.

The world desperately needs all of us to become human instead of men, women, gay, straight, family, country and culture.

So I flip to Christmas: “We bring you tidings of great joy. Peace on Earth, goodwill toward men.”

The Earth also desires respect. Yes, we are a bratty species which thinks the environment is our personal roll of toilet paper.

And then we have the story of the Star of Bethlehem. Somewhere out there in the constellations there emerged a star. The popular belief is that this would have to be a huge star–not necessarily true since the people who followed it were star-gazers, and would not need to be “star-struck” in order to be intrigued with a particular heavenly body.

The elements of the Christmas story are concepts that we, as humans, would have to pursue even if there was no God. For example:

  1. Be prepared to do what is unusual, or expect the usual results.
  2. Don’t expect everything to come the way you predicted it. Maybe a woman will be the hero of the tale.
  3. Look to the stars. Look for some light. Look for some hope. Follow it.
  4. Listen for the better angels, who tell us to try to get along.

My only regret at Christmas time, as an author, is that Matthew and Luke beat me to the publisher.

Because I’ll tell ya’–I would write that story any day of the week, knowing that it was not only needful, but destined to be a hit.

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Mr. Kringle's Tales...26 Stories 'Til Christmas

(click the elephant to see what he’s reading!)

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Absinth

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Absinth:  (n.) 1. the shrub wormwood 2. a potent, green aniseedflavored liqueur that turns milky when water is added. Prepared from wormwood, it is now largely banned because of its toxicity.

All right, my imagination went nuts. Here’s what I see: a rather smarmy middle-aged gentleman, dressed in an unkempt, off-white linen suit, with beads of sweat sprouting around his brow, sitting in a large chair with once-lush velvet cushions, now a bit threadbare, presenting a chalice of drink in the direction of our hero, with a tiny, wicked smile on his lips, speaking in a broken accent: “Here. Drink. It’s dee-lee-cious.”

Our hero pauses, knowing certainly that this offering of refreshment is laced with some sort of poison–probably from wormwood. But to keep the upper hand, he takes the cup and downs it with one humongous gulp. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve and says in his best Midwestern, American accent, “Best I ever tasted.”

Our villain begins to laugh and cackle, giggling uncontrollably. “It is poison,” he says, sporting a bit of drool at the corners of his mouth. “And only I have the antidote.” He holds up a small vial which looks like it would contain really expensive eye drops.

At this point, any variety of plot twists could occur. A wrestling match for the antidote. Or perhaps our hero masterfully regurgitates the contents of his stomach, explaining that figuring our wicked friend would conjure a devious plan, he had surgically had his stomach lined with polyurethane to protect him from all poisons.

I don’t know. I decided a long time ago that it was much more fun to be a little wacky than being straight-laced and narrow-minded. Honestly, I don’t know why anyone would want to drink anything extracted from wormwood. Of course it’s going to be poison. Sometimes the name says it all.

But there are those people who call themselves adventurers, who are not excited enough about the prospect of breathing normally, moving around and enjoying pizza–so they want some danger in their lives.

I am not one of them.

But I am willing to go to the movies to view their antics.

(What did you think of the polyurethane-lined stomach??)