A Gentle Gentile Rabbi

We lost Robert a few weeks ago. Roughly three weeks after thinking he probably had kidney stones, Robert passed away from a very rare and aggressive form of cancer that I can neither spell nor pronounce. His death has left a huge void in the lives of many. Some 80 of us, gathered in a Zoom Room three days ago to celebrate his life. The outpouring of love was tremendous.

I didn't speak up. I wanted to. I certainly felt that I was more "qualified" than 80% of the folks who did. After all, I had spent countless hours in lunches, dinners, and phone calls with Robert in which we solved the world's problems and lamented as to why everyone else wasn't as intelligent as we were and why they just didn't get it.

Unlike me, however, Robert was a real genius. I actually know what his IQ was....and lets just say it was WAY higher than what is traditionally considered genius level. He knew I wasn't his equal. But he admired my willingness to play the imposter and try to hang with him in conversation. He actually complimented me in reference to that on more than one occasion.

Robert was a Seeker of Truth and God's Will for his life. His studies had lead him to believe that the Torah (the Law, the 10 Commandments) were still in full effect and that nothing had nullified them. He even practiced the dietary restrictions contained in the Torah and held all the teaching there to be of utmost importance.

Consequently, we had hours and hours of lively discussion and debate. It is only now after a few weeks of reflection that I can now see that Robert, for nearly 14 years, had become a Rabbi to me. Rabbi simply means Teacher. And man oh man did he ever teach me some very valuable lessons!

Robert taught me how to love my wife better. He adored his wife Karen and she was  integral to everything he talked about and lived. I cannot count the times, after seeing perfect strangers pray before a meal in public, Robert would go straight to his wallet, pull out a couple of 20s and go pay for their meal. The first few times, all I could say was "Dude!!!" He reminded me that Karen had taught him that practice and by following her example, he honored her each and every time. 

Robert taught me how to maintain my sanity while attempting to run a small business. Like me, Robert was a small business owner. It was easy for us to fall into pity parties during leaner times and just beat each other down with our tales of woe. But in the end, he would fall back into his Biblical studies and usually conclude these conversations with, "Well, Kev, just like the children of Israel, we always seem to get our daily manna. So, evidently, God knows exactly what we need."

Robert taught me how to understand God's love. He illustrated it in such an elementary way. I suppose he understood that was the only way I could get it. He would say, "Kev, have you ever been to a first dance recital of 4 and 5 year olds? They are truly awful! Those little kids have no idea what they are doing. Yet, in the back of the room, there is a Dad with a thousand dollar camera and a 24 inch telephoto zoom lens. He has that camera zoomed on his little girl and, to him, she is the greatest dancer in the world."

He would go on to explain to me that's how God is looking at me. He said, "God has his camera zoomed in on you Kev. And you are awful at what you are trying to do. But God is looking at you and saying, 'There's my boy, Kevin. He's really bad at life. He's messing it up. He's sticking his foot in his mouth. He's seemingly doing everything wrong. But he's just the way I made him. And he is mine.'"

These stories could go on and on and on. It's taken losing  Robert, for me to realize what an earthly Rabbi he had become to me. And today, I miss my Rabbi.

We All Wish We Were Bit More Like Joseph

I am sitting here at my desk in tears as I have just learned of the death of Joseph Bordelon. I have no idea what to write. But I knew I had to get something down, in order to, in some way, pay respect to my long time friend.

I had a class with Joseph EVERY day of my High School career. We took French for 4 years together. I messaged Barbara Fatheree Gilbert as soon as I read the news this morning. I know she will be heartbroken as well.

If we were all asked to describe Joseph in one word, hundreds of words come to mind. Quirky. Eccentric. Just plain weird. In High School, he was a sports fanatic. He had composition books filled with data and statistics. I remember one book he compiled that had every professional sports stadium in America. It had the construction dates, seating capacities, type of playing surfaces, It had everything. He had spent hours and hours compiling this data. Remember, there was no Google then. I have no idea how he gathered all this information. And that is just one example of dozens of composition books filled with hundreds of hours of research.

But I will not remember Joseph with the words of quirky, eccentric, and weird. I will remember Joseph with words like compassion, love, encouraging, and available.

I don't know that Joseph had a single negative attribute in his soul.

He was the  first to post an encouraging word about any life event. He expressed an absolute genuine interest in ALL of us and I know you have all been beneficiaries of his words of encouragement.

He loved the Class of '83, and all the other classes of RLT. He was the driving force behind our class reunions. At our 30th, I thought I was dancing with Donna Calhoun. In reality, Donna Calhoun and I were dancing with Joseph. It was absolute joy!

I know the word. It just came to me. It's only a four letter word. Joseph Bordelon, Jr was the human embodiment of the word KIND. It's just that simple. Kindness was all he knew!

Kindness is missing in our world today. And the world will not be the same without Joseph's expressions of kindness.

In his memory, I want to commit to being just a little more kind. Joseph was the best example of it I have ever known. And right now all I can think is that I want to be a bit more like Joseph!

Sailing! Sailing! Over the Ocean Blue!

I'm not sure how many of my tens of loyal readers know the significance of April Fools' Day this year. It was fairly meaningful as the Missus and I celebrated 30 years of marriage. Those that know me consider this milestone nothing short of miraculous. Might be. I think the word miracle is thrown around a little too casually these days. But that's another post for another day.

Anyhoo..............at Christmas time, with our little clan assembled, I asked the kids if they would join us on a family vacay in honor of this anniversary. They readily accepted. I think they did, anyway. They might have accepted with fear, trepidation and only out of a sense of responsibility. After all, can anyone imagine having any fun with me, for crying out loud?

Trying to decide what kind of trip to take was mind numbing! I shan't bore you with all the details. VRBO, Airbnb, beaches, mountains, all-inclusives, Redneck Riviera, Cabo, Puerto Vallarta, Gulf Shores, Destin, Pensacola......this list could go on ad infinitum. The interwebs have a way of making this process exhausting. And the whole premise of entering an email address on most sites result in dozens of emails on a daily basis. But no one ever accused me of being the sharpest knife in the drawer.

In the midst of all the tired head that comes as a result of this kind of decision, the questionable and controversial idea of a Cruise kept getting a lot of brain space. Of course, one of our party of 5 had been on a cruise. A few years ago, T had done the short, unimpressive route from Rome to Monte Carlo on a Mediterranean Cruise! I was fairly certain that we were not going to one up that little excursion!

Looooong story short, I booked us on a little 5 day adventure on one of those rust buckets out of Galveston. The anxiety, nerves, emotions, fears and everything that goes with spending any time in my brain are unexplainable. I cannot put into words how BADLY I needed this to be the trip of a lifetime and for my wife and kids to enjoy themselves!

My biggest character defect is the brutal, almost incomprehensible, expectations I set for everything and everyone in my life. And you know what? My expectations were exceeded!

From the rocking of the ship, to the Mayan Ruins, to the pineapple with chili powder in a very impoverished village, to the silly shows, to the quiet time reading on the balcony, to the cheeseburger in paradise on Paradise Beach, to the quiet time in prayer, I would not have changed a thing!

We absolutely pulled it off, in spite of me. We shared our lives, our laughter, and our love for each other every night in the main dining room, while Jay and Ishwar served us with seeming joy.

For the most part, I suffer from a ridiculous lack of gratitude. But not today. I am grateful beyond words. And once again, the open seas provided just what I needed.

Yeah Right!

There are challenges in life. And then there are CHALLENGES! In the area of personal growth, I find some of them to be quite absurd. Not to mention, just outright impossible.

Some time ago, the Denton Yogi reminded me of the most ridiculous, impossible suggestion in the history of ever. I hope to never read the book. But evidently, she had found it necessary to pick up the fine work of Don Miguel Ruiz entitled: The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom. I had never heard of the book or its author. And I have no idea what the other three agreements are. But I do know that Agreement #2 gives me tired-head and actually makes me a little insane.

This Ruiz character actually has the audacity to opine in his second agreement, "Don't take anything personally."

Seemingly, I just got writer's block. I don't know what to say. I cannot find the words. And for those that know me, these instances are rare. I have written about all kinds of challenges and ideas. I have opinions (and sometimes even real experiences) galore about all my rantings and ravings in prior posts through the years.

Sadly, I have experiences and an opinion about this second agreement. And the hopeless reality about this is I am convinced that I just cannot do it. And I'm fairly certain that I'm not the Lone Ranger in this regard.

Most recently, I was reminded of my inability to let things go after making the very poor decision of bantering with famed reporter, Ashleigh Banfield on Twitter. I saw Ashleigh on Live PD (the greatest train wreck on TV) and asked why she wasn't wearing her glasses. She actually responded and said that she had undergone serious eye surgery and occasionally wore them during her one year recovery. I simply responded that was too bad because she always looked good in her glasses and that her various pair of glasses always seemed to be her bit (trademark).

Big mistake! Ashleigh never responded. And I truly think she wasn't offended. But some snowfl.....I mean some other Twitter user chewed me up one side and down the other for suggesting that Banfield's wearing of glasses was a bit. Even attacking me as she had noticed in my profile pic that I wore glasses!

I have stopped arguing with idiots. This girl's stupidity was even more than I could imagine. So, I didn't explain to her why I was right and she was ignorant. I simply apologized and assured her that I meant no disrespect to Banfield.

But it bugged me. The fact that I'm writing about it obviously means I haven't forgotten about it.

I wrote years back of living our lives based on outrage. Maybe, this post is a regurgitation of that.

But I know we all fall into this dilemma from time to time. At least I do. I take things personally. From the leaders of our world to the very people in my house, I take things personally. And it bugs me. It robs me of my serenity. It makes me the curmudgeon that so many of you think I am.

A few years ago, I was corresponding with a man in California who, for the most part, has become my sinsei.

I truly don't recall complaining about anything or anyone. But evidently, I was. He responded with one simple idea.

"Kevin, nothing is personal. They are not doing it to you. They are just doing what they do and you happen to be in the blast radius."

On occasion, I am able to remember that and go on about my day. But more times than not, I am only able to respond, "Yeah Right."

Present and Accounted For

The blame can be placed solely and indubitably at the feet of Stainless. It was just a few hours ago, that as we stood in his driveway, he asked me when was the last time I had any fun? Now mind you, I have been on a couple of pretty cool vacations, been to the UK a couple of times for speaking engagements, seen a few concerts and sporting events.....and for some stupid reason I answered, "Back when I was hitting that ridiculous blog on a regular basis."

True talk. That silly response was the best I could muster. And I have absolutely no idea why it came out of my mouth. But it did. And here I sit. Back in my therapy chair. So comfortable. And so, so cheap!

Trust me when I say that a thousand or two topics have come to mind over the last couple of years. But all of them just exhaust me. And if I dared to bring up even one of them, then I would have to listen to your incessant rebuttals. And quite frankly, you exhaust me even more! As I get older, I truly am getting more and more okay with your right to be wrong and I, for the most part, have given up on trying to make you see it my way.....the right way.

Consequently, instead of addressing societal ills, of which there are thousands. I am going back to where this little experiment all began and I am going to discuss my very most, favoritest topic.....ME!

I find it amazing how so many of my favorite quotes are found on T-shirts. I'll never forget the first time I saw a shirt that read "I don't even like the people I like." Within 24 hours, I had Shoe's wife press me one out and to this day, that shirt remains one of my most valued possessions. Goodwrench, however, is currently sporting a shirt that I must one day own. My jealousy is incalculable. I offered him $100 cash the first time I saw it. On a couple of instances, I have been frozen with envy as Goodwrench has walked into the room with a shirt that says "JUST PRETEND I'M NOT HERE. THAT'S WHAT I'M DOING."

Sometimes, this strikes me as funny/sad. Other times it strikes me as sad/funny. Then there are times, when I'm all alone in my head (a very dangerous neighborhood), that the truth behind this silly sentiment, on a silly t-shirt, just completely breaks my heart.

And I start to list all the places in my daily walk, that I am so tempted to just pretend I'm not here.

I will suggest a few of these places. And I will do so at the risk of retribution. But this ridiculous quote, on this ridiculous shirt has caused me to question:

Do I pretend I'm not here on my job? Have I pretended I'm not here in a house of Worship? Have I not been here when out to dinner with friends? Have I pretended not to be here sitting on the couch watching TV with my wife? Have I really not been here at a choir concert of one of my children? Have I not been here while visiting a friend in the hospital? Have I pretended not to be here at the funeral of a loved one?

It's very, very plain to see that this list could go on and on and on and on.  I cannot describe the extent to which this truth disturbs me.

For those of you keeping score from a few years ago, I am still meditating every day. Coming up on 1,400 days in a row.  The ongoing mantra almost every day from my little Tibetan Monk is to just be present..... right here..... right now.  This simple thought might be the biggest challenge I face in my daily life.

But Goodwrench's shirt has challenged in a way that I've not been challenged in quite some time. And I really, truly want to make a change. And in ALL the instances mentioned above and in all the other hundreds of situations I find myself in, I'm going to strive, to the best of my ability, to be PRESENT AND ACCOUNTED FOR.

Lesson From The Last Jedi

There are recliners now in movie theaters! Who knew? Obviously, I didn't. I'm not sure of the exact year that I last stepped foot into a movie theater, but I can assure you that it was prior to everyone getting their own recliner! It was really nice. I may go again this weekend.

We were all together this year for Christmas. Big Tuck had some time off and was around the house. And the children (Tuck's word, not mine. Funny though!) were in town from Knoxville. Other than me having to sabotage one afternoon with some hardline views, we had a really nice visit. I made my amends and learned my lesson well.

On Saturday evening, we watched whatever Star Wars episode precedes Disney's current release in order to refresh our memories, before attending The Last Jedi on Sunday. Call me crazy. But I'm pretty sure it was just a "do over" of the Original Star Wars I saw as a kid, which I think was Episode IV. Kind of gives me ice cream head trying to keep them straight.

Anyway.....I will offer no spoilers or ruin your movie watching experience (did I mention the recliners?) But, I need to address a couple of lines from this flick that have been consuming my thoughts since we left the comfy confines of those recliners.

I don't even remember the girl's character name. I do remember she was talking to Finn. I do recall she was on the good guys' team (The Resistance) and I do know they were speaking of the incalculable odds they were facing against the bad guys (The First Order).

That's when this little pearl slipped out:

"That's how we're gonna win. Not fighting what we hate. Saving what we love."

Talk about thunderbolt and lightning! My very first thought was "Crap! I'm gonna have to dust off Cheaper Than Therapy and write about this." My second thought was "Crap! I'm gonna have to try and implement this mindset into my pathetic attempts to survive in this crazy, fallen world!"

I am NOT going to enumerate the dozens and dozens of examples of "fighting what we hate" that we are bombarded with each and every day. One of my sincerest goals with this little experiment is to try and encourage my tens of readers to think. So, you can come up with your own.

But the whole notion of "saving what we love" is raises big questions and even bigger challenges. I can promise you it is WAY, WAY harder than "fighting what we hate." The task is frustrating. It is difficult. And above all, it is going to be simply exhausting! But I believe it to be worth it. And I believe the fruit from this effort to be so much more rewarding!

Now, don't you all wish (as do I) that we had gone into see Pitch Perfect 3?

Happy New Year!

Moderately Miserable is Hard Work

Most people who interact with me on a day to day basis are familiar with my canned response when they query "How are you doing?" Ninety-nine percent of the time, I answer, "I'm maintaining my normal state of moderately miserable."

It happened just Monday night at the gym. I entered the facility with a woman, who is little more than a casual acquaintance that I met four or five years ago. She noted that it had "been awhile" and asked me how I was doing. Upon my response, she said, "I would expect nothing less."

For some reason, that kind of stung! An eye-roll, a snicker, or a giggle are the only appropriate responses to my sarcasm. Didn't she get the memo? After all, I'm just throwing out shtick here. Right? Surely, she understands that my sarcasm is just a "front" I throw out for shock value.

Or, IS IT?

Recently, I have been reflecting on the role I have purposely and intentionally taken on as the "grumpy old man." The CURMUDGEON! When first called that term on FB, I actually told myself it was a compliment. I had become Red from "That 70's Show." Minus the beer, I had become my TV hero, Red. I was a malcontent and I was surrounded by dumba***s and I liked it!

The problem with the shtick, however, is that, over time, it seemingly becomes REALITY! And I am only now realizing that "maintaining a state of moderately miserable" is hard work.

Well, actually, it's really not THAT hard! A daily dose of the news channels help. And it doesn't matter which one. Left or right! Those arrogant blowhards on Fox News anger me just as bad as that bitter, miserable chick on MSNBC. And I've actually blogged about that! Deep down, I know they are just doing their jobs. Their job is to produce OUTRAGE. That fact was discussed in this very same forum some time ago. I shouldn't fault them for simply trying to draw a paycheck.

The news channels, however, pale in comparison to this silly device I hold in my hand several hours a day. I am only just now realizing the power this thing lords over me. I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker! Without even realizing how subtly it happened, I was following some of the meanest people in this county on the Twitter. And I wasn't just reading their tweets. I was reading ALL the responses. Some of these threads go on for days. And I couldn't miss a single one!

I don't know if there is any hope for me or not. Maybe I am just a curmudgeon and maybe I just need to own it. But I have taken baby steps in trying to lessen the severity of it all.

I unfollowed all those pundits on the Twitter. Even though I agree with 99% of what they say, I cannot participate in that vitriol. I've unfriended a good friend on the Facebook. I genuinely like and care for the guy. But he has NO filter! And he posts egregiously inappropriate GIFS and comments on my Timeline. It makes my blood boil. And I just can't afford to let that discourage me. And I am off the news channels. After all, I already know what they are going to say anyway. Their respective points of view haven't changed in years.

I'm not certain as to why the change of heart. My natural inclination is to stay in the problem. It's warm and squishy there and over time becomes normal and comfortable.

But I do know this. My energy is waning in my older years. And I just feel tired. I am tired of Harvey Weinstein. I am tired of the NFL. I am deeply saddened by the Vegas shootings. But I am tired of that, as well. And I am tired of the OUTRAGE!

I am just gonna have to leave that for those of you who are better equipped to handle it.

God Is A Gentleman

I really do not want to post this one! But, if I truly want to get some relief, I have no choice. My Shrink died last year. Not that it really matters. I had not spoken to him in over a decade, anyway.

 If I said "Yesterday was a bad day," my statement could be number one on the Greatest Understatements in History list. I could not turn off the television. Watched way too much coverage of the horrible carnage in Las Vegas. And just sunk, deeper and deeper into the abyss.

My mind went into sermon mode. "Sermon mode" is code for you atheists and agnostics to probably just tune out. It's okay. This silly post is not gonna change your mind. And that's okay, too! CTT covered that a while back. As we have progressed to a society of Truth Creators, as opposed to Truth Seekers, you have created your own truth. I will not stand in the way of your creating your own truth and living it out with all the unaided zeal that you can muster.

Romans 1:22---"Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools."

Romans 1:25---"They exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator...."

Romans 1:28-32---"Furthermore, since they did not think it worthwhile to retain the knowledge of God, He gave them over to a depraved mind, to do what ought to be done. They have become filled with every kind of wickedness, evil, greed, and depravity. They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit and malice. They are are gossips, slanderers, God-haters, insolent, arrogant and boastful; they invent ways of doing evil; they disobey their parents; they are senseless, faithless, heartless, ruthless. Although, they know God's righteous decree that those who do such things deserve death, they not only continue to do these very things but also approve of of those who practice them."

AND THAT'S JUST THE CHRISTIANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes. I said it. Apparently, no one else is going to! I have a NEWSFLASH for Christians. Pagans are always gonna be pagans. They are going to practice all the above things in spades! They are good at it. They improve on it. They delight in it! The fact that we have joined them, with seemingly no misgivings, is the dilemma!

In Hollywood, and on campuses across the Nation, they pity us and despise us. They pity us for believing in such silly superstitions. They despise us for judging them when, for the most part, we act the same way.

I am convinced that God is not disappointed in pagans. They are pagans. He understands that way better than we give Him credit.

His disappointment is no doubt in us. Our secret sin. Our desire to look just like everyone else. To do what they do. Watch what they watch. Play like they play. Our inability to shine some Light into a very dark place and be the Salt we were called to be. Our desire to "worship and serve created things."

"Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools."

We have allowed God to be dis-invited and for the most part, not get ANY mention anymore. And if God is anything, He is a gentleman. And He has honored our wishes.

Trigger Was A Horse!

Last week, when the fine young scholar in Fort Worth called me a Snowflake on the Twitter, he employed a word that is nails on a chalkboard to me. I had commented on the Emmys and he said something to the effect of, "I can't believe that TRIGGERED you!" Since then, I've seen this word used time and time again on the Twitter. Evidently, Trigger is now a verb. Who knew?

Certainly, I am aware that trigger is not a new word. I hear folks all the time referring to sessions with their Shrinks and the time spent, at $100 an hour, identifying "triggers" and how to avoid them. It makes me want to claw my eyes out! But at least they are using the word as a noun. Evidently, everyone is in serious need of an excuse to justify their bad behavior, and if we can only label them as triggers, it's okay to act like an imbecile.

But in this age of Idiocracy, trigger is now a verb. And any response, to any situation, means that the person responding has been "triggered" and they are definitely wrong, as they are only responding out of HATE!

"Can you believe that triggered him?" "You are a hateful schmuck if that triggered you!" "Of all the things to be triggered by!" "Can't you think of more important topics to be triggered by?"

In fact, the mere suggestion of this entire Post is triggering me......to VOMIT!

CTT has addressed this topic before. However, since I discussed the idea that we are now a society where everything is based on unadulterated outrage, things have only, progressively, gotten worse. We have raised two or three generations that observe everything, I mean EVERYTHING.....Parents, kids, education, jobs, sports, recreation, worship, politics, society, behavior.....We only look at every situation form a standpoint of "Just what am I going to see or experience here that absolutely, positively, unequivocally pisses me off?"

I have flag fatigue. The flag and the National Anthem seems to have triggered the entire Nation! Everyone seems to be on one side or the other on this one! It is just so exhausting!

STOP IT! Deep down, we all know what a trigger is. Trigger was Roy Rogers' horse. And what a fine horse he was!

These Labels are Destroying Us

I was labeled a Snowflake last night! Can you believe it? A Snowflake! It kind of threw me for a loop. All I did was post a tweet about the Emmys and why I would not be tuning in. Soon after, some genius in Fort Worth (I know...Cowtown!) commented something to the effect that  "you should just sit in your safe space, with your TV turned off, you Snowflake!"

Dozens of tweets later, we both angrily blocked each other, and I just sat in amazement that I had allowed myself to get caught up in such nonsense. I speak, almost daily of my intolerance for idiots and how they rob me of my serenity. But there I sat....an idiot!

So, to rebuild my damaged self-esteem, I went to bed an listened to a speech on The Youtube by a conservative commentator that was recently given at Berkeley. I was grasping at anything!

I've spent most of the day thinking about labels. They have woven themselves into the thread of our very existence. I'm not sure anyone has a firm grasp on the true meaning of even one of them. But the labels exist. They are seemingly infinite. They are often misunderstood. They are seldom defined. But they are mandatory! Everyone must choose their label and proudly display it!

Of course, if someone recognizes your label and calls you on it.....FULL FLEDGED DENIAL ensues! One of my favorite dudes on the planet is a left leaning liberal.  I made the mistake of calling him that one time and he went into a complete defense posture, denying it! It cracked me up.

But we continue to call each other names and hand out labels. The divide only continues to grow. Democrats are no longer liberal. They are leftists. Republicans are no longer conservative. They are Alt. Right. Interestingly, both sides claim to be moderately "in the middle." Yet, the best word they can think of to label the other is Fascist! Are both sides fascists? Is neither side fascist? Does anyone really know what fascism means?

I know I've been and probably continue to be part of the problem. In college, Camino and I would sit in the Student Center for hours with our chairs side by side, leaning against the wall. With EVERY person that walked by, we would slowly turn our heads toward each other and say, "Idiot." Super Coop and I would sometimes go for hours in our apartment just yelling "STUPID" at each other! I wish I was making this up. No other words. He would look at me and yell "STUPID!" and I would quickly respond with "STUPID!"

The movie Idiocracy has turned out to be prophetic. The best we can do is yell names and labels at each other. It is simply all just plain Idiocracy.

I'm not a fascist. You're a fascist. I'm not a leftist. You're a Nazi.

I AM NOT A SNOWFLAKE! YOU ARE A SNOWFLAKE!

Giving God a Bum Rap

It's been awhile. The last time I was drawn to contribute to CTT, it turned out to be a disaster! I typed it up. Edited it. Was prepared to post. Then, POOF! It was gone! The platform indicated that the piece was "saving" throughout the process. But it was gone. No where to be found. A google search indicated that this phenomenon had only happened in about 172 million other instances, so I just wrote it off as getting what I pay for from a free platform.

I think about CTT occasionally. Usually its when I'm wallowing in depression, self-pity oozing from every pore. That's certainly the case this morning. So, why not? I wore my "I Don't Even Like the People I Like T-Shirt" Sunday and got a tremendous response. So, naturally, the thought occurred to me this morning to put some thoughts down and blast them into the world wide inter-web and get them off my chest. No doubt to offend a few of you. Get over it. Grow some thicker skin!

I'm treading on dangerous ground because, as you remember, Stainless told me years ago that "the biggest difference between me and God is that God never wakes up in the morning thinking He's me!" The very nature of this piece supposes that I know what God must be thinking or am at least convinced that God is being besmirched. Neither of these are probably true. But there's nothing like a "Force Majeure" or a couple of them in a short span to get the juices flowing!

I'm not going to address the existence of God. I've never really met an atheist. Oh, I know a few folks who claim to be atheist. Bless their hearts. If they would only use that dusty Library card in their sock drawer, that could so easily be changed. So, the premise of the piece assumes that God exists. That He exists and man oh man, look at how His name is getting run through the mud.

The "Force Majeure" or "Act of God" is how these natural disasters are described by the legal types in contracts, insurance policies, and the like. Folks who don't recognize God, believe in God, acknowledge God, or want anything to do with Him decided to call these horrible weather events "Acts of God." I find that almost laughable, while at the same time very sad.

Now, with that as a basis, let's look at the oh so delicious next step! All weekend, we just heard Mayors, Police Chiefs, Governors, Vice Presidents, and Presidents call on everyone to PRAY! No, you cant make this up. We are supposed to pray to the God that created this thing in the FIRST place!

But WAIT!, There's more! This is more exciting than an infomercial! Evidently, God answered those prayers and the forecast damage from the latest storm dropped to $50 Billion from $200 Billion and I have not heard ONE person give God any credit. As a matter of fact, the only credit I've seen was assigned to the "Bermuda High." I don't recall any Mayors, Police Chiefs, Governors, Vice Presidents, or Presidents asking us to kneel in prayer to the Bermuda High!

It is just SO exhausting! Blame it on Him. Asked Him to intervene and change it. Then, when He does,  completely deny that He had anything to do with it!

So, all I have are two words, QUIT IT!

Butterfly Kisses

My daughter, Jentry, could not have been more than 8 or 9 years old the first time she heard Bob Carlisle sing "Butterfly Kisses." And after hearing it that very first time, she said, "Daddy, on my wedding day, you and I are going to dance to that song!"

Last night, at her wedding reception, she kept her word, and when the Father of the Bride and the Bride were called to the dance floor, "Butterfly Kisses" was the song of choice. Fortunately, for me, we laughed and talked during most of the song and I didn't have to listen to the lyrics.

I am fairly certain that it's too soon to be addressing the events of this last week. There will, no doubt, be more in the weeks to come. But we made our last of three trips to the airport a few hours ago and it is eerily quiet around here. Let me assure you, that has NOT been the case for the last week as the house became "millennial central", beginning around Midnight last Wednesday night/Thursday morning. It was loud. It was chaotic. It was borderline insanity a time or two. But it was absolutely awesome! And I would not have changed a thing!

Everything culminated last night at The Orchard in Azle, Texas. Jentry and Chad had chosen the venue a long time ago. Jentry SO wanted an outside wedding. And why not? The global warning alarmists had convinced everyone that the Earth was on a "slow bake." It was only logical to assume that we would have a mid December day in the high 60's to low 70's. That was not the case. North America is evidently experiencing record breaking lows. And we've had lows in the "teens" all week. We were forced to move inside. So, please let me express my gratitude to you Climate Changers!

With the exception of one glitch, everything seemed to come off perfectly. It was a magical night. And I could not be more happy........or RELIEVED!

I was blown away by the wedding party. Six bridesmaids and six groomsmen joined Jentry and Chad and I will forever have nothing but fond memories of each and everyone of these kids. They each exhibited such a penchant for service and there was no request that they did not take on and fulfill.

My Angel Baby was absolutely gorgeous! The smile never left her face! I cannot even begin to explain how, to my very core, I wanted all her expectations to be met. After all, she had told me many years ago what this night would look like.

I did not tag Chad in the post. But yesterday morning, I linked the song, "I Loved Her First" to my Facebook timeline. There was no need to tag him. Chad's a sharp dude. He knew exactly who that song was meant for!

And just a few hours later, I put her hand in his and gave her away.

And then, just a short time later, my Angel Baby and I danced.

"I know I've got to let her go, 

but I'll always remember

Every hug in the morning and 

Butterfly Kisses at night."

A Quiet Man's Life Speaks Volumes

I witnessed a scene this morning that touched me deeply. From across the room, I watched three men stand with their Mother and look into the casket of their Dad, and her Husband, as they said their final farewells. The man was Billy Smith, my wife's Uncle. He passed away this week and his funeral was this morning in Paris, TX.

It was a wonderful service and I was humbled to assemble with family and friends and celebrate this man's life.

Billy was one of the good guys. A kinder or gentler man, I'm not sure I've ever known. But I really didn't know him like his family and close friends did. You see, Billy was a quiet man. He was always sitting off to the side. He didn't seek to be the center of attention, nor apparently did he need it. I can only imagine what he thought of me when Teresa started bringing me around. And even though he might have been thinking, "Who is this loud-mouth blowhard?",  he never found it necessary to say it out loud.

I remember being at his house several years ago, when almost without provocation, he said, "Now, Kevin, there is some store-bought cake in the kitchen." I found it interesting that he wanted me to know that it was "store-bought" and not from the skilled cooking hands of his dear wife, Carol.

On another occasion, I remember Billy giving a plate of chicken bones to their dog. As I understood it, that's the biggest no-no one can do and I'm certain that I'm the one who mentioned it. But Billy said, "Aw, I've fed chicken bones to dogs my whole life and I've never seen it hurt one of em." I was cracking up.  I've told that story dozens of times.

Billy owned an Appliance Repair business for over four decades. Evidently, he had been in every home in Paris, TX. Wherever you went in Paris, everybody knew Billy. We were together at the world famous Fish Fry in Paris one Saturday night and it was like ELVIS WAS IN THE BUILDING! Every person in that restaurant knew Billy and they ALL spoke to him. Even this morning, prior to the funeral, Teresa and I were having breakfast in town. I struck up a conversation with a group of runners who had come in. I mentioned that we were in town for a funeral. The locals asked who died? I said "My wife's Uncle, Billy Smith." Immediately, they gave their condolences, spoke highly of Billy, and said that he had fixed their refrigerator.

The Funeral Home was packed this morning. And I'm certain that the attendees were not all family. That's what happens when a good man dies. People show up and pay their respect.

I've  never heard one bad word about Billy Smith. And to my knowledge, he never uttered one bad word about anyone else.

He leaves a wonderful legacy.  An example that I sure wish I could learn to follow. Elvis has left the building. But the memories of this quiet, strong, yet gentle Man will never leave any of us who were fortunate enough to have known him.

It's Upside Down, Maslow!

I'm not certain at what age we are first exposed to the fine work of Abraham Maslow. Remember him? The dude with the triangle? The whole Hierarchy of Needs? It seemed to come fairly early, though. Maybe 6th Grade. I didn't completely understand it. But I was still down at the bottom of the triangle and remain there till this current day.

I've been thinking about ol' Abe recently. The same cat that blew my head off with the whole Problems and Consequences idea threw another little jewel out there that pretty much sums up the dilemma, as I see it, of almost everyone on the Planet.

Almost as an aside, and with basically no explanation, he simply said, "There's a very fine razor's edge between self-actualization and self-absorption." This wasn't news to me like his other point that resulted in my last post. I certainly knew this. I have tremendous experience with self-absorption. But, it was an interesting way to state it.

I hearkened back to my youth and "Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs" and started playing with the idea that in this current age, we have flipped the triangle upside down and have made Self-Actualization the preeminent human need. It is paramount above all others!

From what I see on social media, a lot of this self-actualization involves our genitals. (My daughter just closed this post as she rolls her eyes and thinks, "My curmudgeon Dad is about to go on another rant about our obsession with our toilet places) But, the evidence is clearly there. And it is sad to see, yet so fascinating!

Not long ago, ABC News reported that we are now up to FIFTY-EIGHT gender identities. I've not confirmed this, but rumor has it that Facebook is now recognizing 72 gender identities. Talk about pressure! What a horrible burden to place on our young people! Bless their hearts! We just didn't have it this bad back in the day. But today, these kids are being forced to sift through a list of 58 possible gender identities and it's taking them years to do it! There is no time for food, water, safety, security. The bottom tiers of the hierarchy will just have to wait. This is a laborious, monumental task! And after all choosing an identity, they have to determine the pronoun they wish to be referred to, lest they be offended. This can be a lifetime job, leaving little time for little else. I spoke to a Millennial recently who stated that the stuff going on, even on his college campus, is some of the stupidest stuff he's ever seen. But you can bet your last red cent that he's never going to voice that opinion. Those people who preach love, tolerance, and non-judgment would label him as every kind of "Phobe" one can think of and banish him for life.

The genitals, however, are not the only defining point of self-actualization. There are those who have never spent one second of their lives pondering what gender they are who stand tippy toe on that razor's edge between self-actualization and self-absorption. I know I certainly do.

In 2010, I became insufferable to everyone around me as I went from couch potato to Marathon finisher in 11 months. My story grew tiresome to everyone around me. But I could not have cared any less what you thought. I knew for years that the Marathon was the ultimate example of what it looks like in life to set a goal and to achieve it. Something to take pride in! Something to give me value and self-worth. It only took a couple of years for me to see the folly of that and just how wrong I had been. So, I did the only natural thing and entered my first Triathlon. Go figure!

I have a good friend that spends most of his time in honest self-appraisal. One to two hours a day, journaling, appraising, taking inventory, praying, meditating  in order to arrive at the top of the triangle--- self-actualization. He calls me occasionally wanting to go over all these findings. It is a beating to listen to. But I haven't shot him down yet. It's a lesson he needs to learn on his own. That lesson is that his quest for self-actualization is nothing more or less than self-obsession.

I think old Abraham would be spinning in his grave if he knew where we have taken self-actualization. We've taken it to the "razor's edge." We have turned it into self-absorption. Self-obsession! And that razor is starting to cut deep. Very deep.

What's the Problem?

It's been a while. Actually, it's been quite some time. Words just will not come for the Post that I really want to write. It's swimming around in my head somewhere. But I just cannot seem to spit it out. Maybe it will come. Maybe not. No doubt fear is providing the writer's block.

But, I heard a guy speak tonight. And I'm fairly certain that no sleep will come until I get this thought out of my head. It struck me hard. Kicked me right in the gut. Because he addressed one of my favorite topics. He was discussing problems. And boy oh boy, do I have problems!  I am on record in regard to my problems. I've even been known to rudely express in large groups, "I know you people think you got problems. But my shi....stuff is REAL!"

Anyway, here's what the dude had to say.......He described a conversation he was having with a trusted friend. He was listing all his problems. Joblessness, IRS debt, no transportation, a number of ex wives, kids that despised him. The list went on and on and on. Problems, problems, problems!

After he  had worn himself listing all his problems, his friend suggested, "Man, you don't have any problems. What you have are CONSEQUENCES!" The friend went on to encourage him to STOP trying to FIX the consequences and get real serious about FIXING the problem. And the problem was staring at him every morning as looked into the mirror to shave.

His talk went on for another half hour after that little nugget. But I heard very little of what he had left to say as my mind started racing applying this simple truth to all sorts of situations.... in my life, in your lives, and in the World in general!

My house's foundation certainly came to mind. Some of you are aware that we are just now on the back end of a major home renovation. It all started with the foundation. The situation was so bad that we had to move out of the house in order to install several piers inside the house. It may be one of the most traumatic experiences I've ever gone through. However, the foundation was not the problem. The foundation was a consequence of not maintaining the moisture levels around the perimeter of the house and letting the damage progress for several years after the first signs of an issue presented themselves. Consequently, for six weeks, we been fixing consequences. Not problems.

It's not too much of a stretch, to apply this same thinking to our country's abysmal situation. Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump are consequences. They are NOT the problem. The whole system is so broke in Washington and nobody seems to have any interest in fixing the problem. That leaves us trying to fix the consequences. And believe me, both these scumbags are consequences.

I'm not much of an Economist. But is the $20 Trillion debt the problem? Nay, nay, thrice times nay! The debt is a consequence of years and years and years of not addressing the problem.

Crime, poverty, dope......

I can go on and on. But I find it too depressing. Just dream up any problem you can. Then ask yourself. Is it really the problem? Or is it a consequence?

I see a real need to get down to causes and conditions. And it hurts like hell to actually do that. As a rule,  I refuse to address the problem. Therefore, I spend most of my time fixing consequences. I'm not convinced that you are any different.

It cost me a friendship a few weeks ago. A dear friend is so wrapped up in fixing consequences that she has NO idea what the problem is. In the middle of watching about 10 guys destroy my house, with my nerves running six inches out the ends of my fingers, and my brain too big for my head, she called. It was the same conversation we've had several dozen times. My tolerance and patience failed me. I was rude, caustic, and just plain mean. The loss of a friendship is NOT the problem. It is a consequence! Eventually, maybe one day, I will get down to the problem, to the actual causes and conditions of why I act that way.

My wife did not leave me today. But, hypothetically, let's just say that she packed all her stuff and hit the road. My problem would not be the potential loss of a marriage. The problem would be ME. And just what is it about me, that made her decide  to pack her things and hit the road after 27 years of marriage? I'll say it again. Causes and conditions.

I suggest to you that we spend way too much of our energy and time fixing consequences. And that's a shame. And it's sad. Sad for me. Sad for you. And sad for this broken world.

Just Dad, Me, and Ali

Muhammad Ali died the other day. There was no where to turn this weekend without hearing or reading a tribute. I terrorized my family all weekend with that noteworthy line from Coming to America, "His Momma called him Clay. I call him Clay."

Cassius Clay was arguably the most famous man of the Twentieth Century on the Planet! There is NO WAY I am going to delve into all the facets of this icon's life. It has ALL been said. From the "Conscientious Objector," to the religious conversion, to the multiple marriages, to the kids (born both in and out of wedlock), there is simply nothing new to say. In fact, I DON'T CARE!

The theme, however, that I keep seeing repeated comes from the folks my age, that were born in the 60's. More than a good number of you just keep posting, "Muhammad Ali reminds me of time spent with Dad." And oh what a time it was!

Boxing was still Boxing back then. It had not yet become as authentic as professional wrestling and been ruined by some of the sorriest people to ever waste oxygen. It was on Network TV. It didn't cost $100 on PPV.  It was broadcast via satellite all over the globe and it was the spectacle of spectacles!

There was no "school night" bedtime on the night of an Ali fight. My mom and sister would go to bed. But Dad and I would be glued to the television. We would mock Howard Cosell. But, in truth, was there anyone any better in the fight game? For some reason, the loss to Spinks stands out most in my mind. But watching an Ali fight with Dad are some of my greatest memories from childhood.

I met The Champ back in 1991. I shared an office with a dude whose wife worked for the property management company of the building we worked in. She called and said that Ali was in the lobby. I tore down there as fast as I could.

And there he was! Just him and a handler. Just the three of us. No crowds. No fans. No spectacle. I froze. I had no idea how to proceed.

His handler noticed me and said, "Son, you want an autograph?" I said "No, I'd just like to shake the Champ's hand." He then informed me that an autograph would be okay. He asked my name, turned to Ali and said, "It's Kevin, Ali." The Greatest just kind of grunted. He repeated, "He said Kevin, Ali."

Ali was holding a stack of pro Islamic tracts. The "To:" was already written, as was his name and the month and year. My stomach tied up in a knot as he wrote, with horribly shaking hands, "Kevin" and entered the day between the month and year on the date.

I then put my hand into the largest hand I have ever seen and shook The Champ's hand. I managed to stammer out, "It's an honor. Thank you." He threw a slow, shaking jab at my chin. And I walked away.

I found it difficult to get back to work. I felt ill. I told my office partner that I was almost sorry that I ran down there. I did not want to remember Muhammad Ali that way.

I only wanted remember the spectacle. I wanted to remember the interviews with that annoying Howard Cosell. I so wanted my lasting memory of the Greatest to be the nights of  those nights, when it was just

Dad, me, and Ali.

In Defense of Millennials!

BP posted a video about Millennials on The Facebook the other day and it was hilarious! I did not share it with The Angel Baby because her mother implored me to not use that word so much this Summer. I honored that request for about forty-eight hours and then went on one of my rants, pointing out the same tired "talking points" about what a pathetic generation that has arisen!

I know! I know! They got trophies for going winless on their 5 year old soccer teams. Their sports leagues no longer keep scores in order to protect their self-esteem. They cannot handle criticism and think they deserve pay raises for their perfect attendance!

The list goes on and on and on. They are easy to pick on. They make good targets. It's almost as though they deserve it. I would like, however, to make a few points that are worthy of consideration before we flush this generation down the toilet:

1) THEY DO NOT CARE! Our criticism of them slides right down their backs. In spite of our scorn, they continue to trudge along the best way they know how. They are coming out of College with an average of $30,000 in loans. Is the cost of higher education their fault? They know that 99% of corporations won't even look at their resumes if they are non-degreed. In fact, one Hiring Manager shared with me that he can only consider candidates with a degree from a list of FIVE universities! Did the Millennials set this ridiculous standard? I think not. But this is the burden that has been placed on them and they are DOING IT ANYWAY!

2) THEY ARE MORE AUTHENTIC THAN WE EVER WERE! They are disgusted by our shallowness and yearn for something real! That's why they are pouring out of churches like rats off a sinking ship. Religion, as we taught it, is so plastic and fake. They don't see the point of the "going through the motions" like we do every Sunday morning and they have disengaged from the lack of genuine spirituality.

3) THEY REALLY NEED TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE! I can name a whole list of Millennials that are ALL about serving others. They go on Mission trips. They visit orphanages. They are obsessed with providing clean water to third world counties. They even go to Animal Shelters, just to pet the homeless animals, for crying out loud!

4) THEY ARE WAY LESS MATERIALISTIC THAN WE WERE! They could not give a popcorn fart about wearing Calvin Kleins or if their shirt has a horsey or an alligator on it! They shop at Thrift Stores and for the most part, go to class, worship, and work looking homeless, if they can get away with it.

Oh, for the most part, I still think they are a sorry generation. In spite of the above comments, they do present themselves as a tad "entitled" sometimes. I'm just not convinced that they are the sorriest generation.

After all: Just WHO gave them the trophies? WHO insisted that we no longer keep score? WHO drove their college tuitions sky high? WHO mandated that they be college educated and that it be at one of five Universities? WHO carried them to churches that look like Museums for Saints?

I may not know much. But I know the Millennials didn't!

The Hardest Lesson of All

A few years ago, Shoe and I had the opportunity to hear a guy give a talk that impacted us both greatly. As a matter of fact, we seldom have a conversation that the dude's name is not mentioned. That fact may not sound like much of a big deal. But Shoe and I speak on the phone, at least once a day, EVERY day!

The bad news for this guy is that I recently got hold of his email address. Remembering the tired cliche, "nothing ventured, nothing gained," I fired off an email to this old hippie from California, with little or no expectation of what I would get back. He did respond and we spent the better part of a week corresponding via email and now it's become a bucket list item to one day have a cup of coffee with the dude, face to face.

This brief correspondence filled the coffers with possible topics for my little blog. I suppose, however, that they will need to marinade in my little brain for quite some time before I am capable of tackling them. One thing he said, though, is pounding in my brain like a clanging cymbal. It will not go away! Naturally, it involves possibly my greatest character flaw. What he said was something like this:

"Nothing is personal! THEY are not doing it to YOU. THEY are just doing what THEY do, and YOU happen to be in the blast radius."

He's joking, right? He could not possibly mean that. There is no possible way he actually believes that asinine comment.

Oh, it does kind of echo similar sentiments that have been expressed to me over the years. "Kevin, don't take things so personal." "Kevin, why do you take everything so personally?" "Kevin, believe it or not, everything on the planet is NOT all about you!"

Last Friday, my inability to practice this simple awareness hit me right between the eyes. On a topic that has absolutely NOTHING to do with me, I heard an absolute idiot express the stupidest opinion I have ever heard, and that dummy lived "rent free" in my head for the rest of the day! And I would be lying if I said he didn't creep back into my tortured brain on more than one occasion over the weekend.

My negative self-talk, on any given day, gives me dozens of reasons to hate myself. This one, however, is NUMBER 1! For me, even at 51 years old, this is my Hardest Lesson of All.

I think that the self- loathing is amplified by the fact that today was my 256th day in a row to meditate. Is it working at all?

Those closest to me seem to think that the meditation is making a difference. So, I'm not going to give up hope. And for today, or maybe the rest of the morning, or maybe for just the next 5 minutes, I'm going to just sit back and relax in the blast radius. And with all the earnestness in my heart, I'm going to try and remember that "they are simply doing what they do."

I'll Alert The Media

Probably the most overused movie quote incorporated in our house is from the the movie Arthur.  When Arthur informed his manservant of his intentions to take a bath, Hobson promptly replied, "I'll alert the media." Hardly a week passes, in our house, that when some one's immediate plans are being discussed, one of us quickly responds, "I'll alert the media."

Lately, my little brain has been considering mankind's need for significance and his almost ridiculous lust for recognition. Indeed, I am beginning to believe that man's search for significance may lead to the undoing of us all. And I really haven't thought this all the way through. Maybe "search for significance" and "need for recognition" are two separate entities. Quite possibly, they are worthy of their own posts. But for today's rant, I am going to jump back and forth between the two. It's okay. It's my blog.

For years, I've belonged to a Fellowship that rents a meeting space here in town. It is well known among the members that "clean-up" is every Saturday morning at 9:00 A.M. Several years ago, I looked up and realized that only two members were there for clean-up. Spring was there. And I was there. I asked Spring if the two of us were going to clean this place by ourselves. He looked at me and said, "Yes we are. And we're not gonna tell a soul." How funny is that! Poor Spring. He actually thought that I was going to be of service and not get any recognition. I looked him squarely in the eye and replied, "You may not plan on telling anybody. But I'm telling everyone I know!"

Spring's idea of service without recognition was quite possibly the stupidest thing that I had ever heard of. I mean it was truly a ROFL moment for me. I would like to tell you that things have changed over the years. Sadly, they haven't, for the most part.

The old adage "if you spot it, you got it" really rings true with the condition with which I suffer. And man oh man, can I ever spot it! You are out there killing yourselves for recognition. You so need to be significant. You truly need the recognition. And it's happening at every level in society....from parking lot attendants at places of worship to occupiers of the most powerful seats of power in the nation. We have a crazy, almost insane obsession with making a name for ourselves....to be significant....to be recognized. It is literally killing a couple of people with whom I used to be very close. It makes me sad. But I am forced to sit idly by and let them learn this important life lesson.

There is good news. There are exceptions. They do exist. They are out there. I remember a couple of folks from my youth who exemplified what a true servant might look like. The Old Man married one of these strange people after my mother died. How he got so lucky, I'll never know. It was his second wife in a row that exemplified servant hood. Just a few houses down from me are a couple of people who have served on every board, committee, organization, and booster club that time will permit for two people who also have full time jobs.

I've never talked to them about it or interviewed them as to why? I've just simply observed. For nearly twenty years, I've just observed.

Seemingly, these people and a small percentage of the inhabitants of our planet seek to be of service without accolades or recognition. It's a foreign concept to me. But evidently, they do it. And they do it because

It is just the right thing to do.

"The fruit of faith is Love. The fruit of love is Service. The fruit of service is Peace." --Mother Teresa

Einstein Was Not That Stupid

At one time or another, Albert Einstein has been credited with saying or writing just about every clever word ever uttered. Mark Twain runs a close second. Will Rogers no doubt comes in third.

Then, there's Honest Abe. I posted that famous quote on my Facebook timeline from Abraham Lincoln when Abe smartly opined, "You can't believe everything you read on the Internet."

The world wide interweb offers a daily deluge of meadow muffins because of our ability to take a tired cliche, drop it on a picture of, say, John Wayne, and within just a few hours, millions of people think the Duke said something that he simply was not bright enough to say.

One of the more famous attributions goes to Albert Einstein for defining insanity. Although, there is absolutely NO  historical evidence to support the claim, Einstein supposedly defined insanity as "Doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results."

It's kind of cute. Maybe even a little clever. The Recovery folks have spouted this nonsense for years. It's even in their literature. The problem is this....IT'S JUST WRONG!

Just relax. Take a deep breath. Think about it. Really think about it. Expecting a different result is actually kind of healthy thinking. The desire for a different or better result is evidence of a healthy, positive mind. If this were not the case, no one in the world would ever cast a rod & reel in hopes of catching a fish. The professional fisherman or hobbyist will cast and cast and cast again with the certain expectation that the NEXT cast could very well bring a different result.

Stainless made this very clear to me several years ago during one of the darker points in my life. He lovingly and patiently pointed out that "Kevin, I know THEY are telling you that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. That is simply not true. You are doing the same thing over and over again, knowing *&%$ well what the result is going to be. And you are doing it ANYWAY! That sir, is insane!"

Hopefully you have had one of these "Ah Hah" moments! This was a game changer for me. This change in perception has profoundly impacted how I go about my daily walk.

Einstein was not stupid.  Old Albert probably understood that "expecting a different result" is really healthy thinking. In fact, "expecting a different result" is really a sign of HOPE!

And isn't HOPE what we really need anyway?