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I was about 8 years old and felt very jittery about our first little league opponent: Weiler’s Garage. They wore green jerseys with yellow pinstripes on their baseball pants, and green was the color of many gigantic things, such as The Incredible Hulk and Jolly the Green Giant.

Most of the players on that team also lived up in the mountain, and we all heard rumors about what went on there. People shot each other. Criminals hid at the shadowy ends of sinister looking driveways. Some of the mountain inhabitants even smoked unfiltered cigarettes and drank Budweiser.

We pulled into the small park surrounded by woods. Our team emerged from various vehicles and walked toward the ball field – our orange jerseys and hats made us look like miniature flames darting through the grass, threatening to engulf the entire mountain. Continue reading “The Absurdity of Root Beer Barrels”

Bath time at our house is like bath time at the zoo. The boys take one bathroom, the girls take the other, and by the time everything is said and done you would think a tidal wave of suds had washed through the house. Seven-year-old Cade gets in the shower while two-year-old Sammy screams in the bath (not a big fan of getting clean). Lucy and Abra play peacefully in the other bathroom.

A few days ago I walked into the bathroom just after Cade had gotten out of the shower and was getting dressed.

“Dad,” he said, “there’s a stink bug!”
Continue reading “News Bulletin Regarding the Recent Stink Bug Attack in South America”

My 6-year-old daughter Lucy has a series of bumps on her skin that she doesn’t think about during the day, but at night they are painful, and they itch.  The doctor gave us a name for them, something I can’t remember or pronounce.

“Nothing serious. They’ll go away, in time,” the doc said.

When we first noticed the bumps, it was maybe six months ago. Every night, when I tucked her into bed, she requested two things.
Continue reading “When My Daughter Asked “Why Doesn’t God Answer Our Prayers?””

Fame.

Untold wealth.

Close encounters with the paparazzi.

These types of results have been experienced by those generous enough to share their most-read post of the previous month here at the blog. Are you ready for how this is going to change your life?

For example, last month’s winner was Caleb Wilde. Since then he’s received a degree, landed a book deal and is adopting a child. Even better, he was asked to go on “Dancing With the Stars,” and I bought him lunch (only one of those is a total fabrication). All because he shared his blog here. There’s a chance that none of this would have taken place if he hadn’t given us a link to “Funerals: The Worst of Life.”

So head down to the comments section and give us the link to your own most-read blog post (or personal favorite) from the month of May. Continue reading “If Fame Scares You, Do Not Click This Link”

I wish, for the sake of the discussion, I could tell you that my daily schedule is as follows:

5:00am: Wake up. Hike to a neighboring mountain summit where I write by hand for seven hours with nothing but trees and lakes and triple rainbows in view.

Noon: Return to an empty house where I eat my lunch while reading Dickinson and Thoreau. I occasionally chuckle to myself, marveling at their ability to create in isolation.

1:00pm: Nap

3:00pm: Hike to a neighboring stream where I write until dinner, at which point I catch fish with a fishing pole made out of a beech tree branch, loose thread unraveling from the inseam of my jeans and a paperclip.

8:00pm: After contemplating the sunset and the numerous constellations for which I have made up names, I go to sleep and dream about the next great novel I will write.

But a wonderful wife, four fun kids with their baseball and their ballet, friends, and church keep me from becoming a recluse. Also to my disadvantage: the fact that I have no paperclips in the house.
Continue reading “Why I am a Hermit (When I’m not on Twitter, Facebook or the Blogosphere)”

This week, Jen Luitwieler, Kristin Tennant and I are each taking turns blogging about writing, community and solitude. Check out Kristin’s take today (link supplied at the bottom of the page). Tune in here tomorrow for my thoughts, mostly pertaining to the fact that I am a hermit.

Most of the decisions I make on a daily basis are of a self-centered nature.

There, I’ve said it.

Being self-employed, I decide where I’m going to work, how long I’m going to work, and what I’m going to work on each day. If I write at a café, I decide what drink I want and whether or not I’m going to blow $7 on lunch or go home to eat.

Living in America, I can decide where I want to live, what I want to do and how to spend my time. I choose where I want to go to church and whether or not to have cable and which phone service to sign up for.

I am free to agree or disagree with the president, my pastor and my dad (those last two are the same guy). I can spend all of my money on clothes or books or Taco Bell, if I want.

The amount of choices that confront me each day are astounding.

And how I answer them has a lot to do with whether or not I am an enemy of God.
Continue reading “How Bo Jackson Made Me an Enemy of God”