AT THE RISK OF BEING HER

“That’s not good.”

I was sitting in the right seat of a small twin-engine plane, next to the pilot. We were on our way to Portland, Oregon and had stopped for fuel in Boise, Idaho. As we took off I saw from the air the ugly blue artificial turf on the football field of Boise State University. I remember thinking, “I’m so glad God didn’t make the grass blue, and where did that whole musical genre called Bluegrass get that name?”

I also noticed the ominous dark clouds looming directly in front of us. Then a voice on the radio from a tower somewhere tracking our flight said, “I will be losing you for a while.” And then asked for some kind of information. My good friend, the pilot, said something about two souls being on board. TWO SOULS! SOULS?! I don’t like that sound of that! And then he gave the guy the phone numbers of our next of kin.

Within a few minutes, my good friend, the very good pilot said, “That’s not good.” “What?! What’s not good” flew the words from my paniked soul. I’m not sure if I said that out loud or not. “We’re picking up some ice on the wings. I’m going to take us higher hoping the air will be cold enough the ice won’t stick. Our plane isn’t pressurized and we have no oxygen on board. Keep an eye on your fingernails and let me know if they start to turn blue. We’re going to be flying pretty high.”

The strategy didn’t work. I asked, “Why not fly lower, in warmer air.?”

“The Rockie mountains are below us.” Oh yes, there’s that.

Could we turn around and go back? We would still be flying through the ice-filled clouds, just the opposite direction.

I became stuck in the moment; in that quagmire of limited understanding, of blindness, of panic.

That happens to us doesn’t it, sometimes. You know. When all we can do is wash our hands a lot, watch the Law & Order marathon and wonder what will happen if I get to the end of Netflix and Amazon Prime. Am I the only one wondering if a diet of vienna sausages and ramen noodles will impact my cholestoral levels? Is it wrong to look at the toliet paper supply in our house and remind Jesus of the loaves and fishes story?

“When we are no longer able to change a situation - we are challenged to change ourselves.”

— Viktor E. Frankl

Hold on for a minute. NO, I am not comparing our current state with the one that defined Viktor Frankl’s life. Not in the least. I am merely sharing a truthful quote as a bit of perspective for myself.

Back to the icy airplane. Obviously we made it through that storm. Just as I was in the midst of promising God I would go be a missionary in a bluegrass commune or something, a voice on the radio cracked through the thin air of the cockpit saying we were on his radar, we were beyond the Rockies, and could descend to warmer air. Oh the relief when that ice begin to break off of our wings!

How had my good friend the really good pilot managed to keep from freaking out like his passenger was? He had been there before. He know it was just a matter of minutes before we crossed over the mountains and could descend from icy air and sheer panic.

Sometimes the uncertainty can be a bit paralyzing right? Unfortunatley the virus spread has been devastating for many and many more will be impacted. But maybe we can change the situation a little bit. Stay home if you can. Wash your hands. Pray hard and unselfishly.

Maybe we can change ourselves in the midst of all of this. When it passes let’s all go out to eat, a lot, to help our favorite places bounce back. Let’s be more grateful. Let’s remember this so we don’t take community for granted. I don’t know when, but at some point we will clear the mountains and descend to warmer air.

Is the movie “Pollyanna” on that new Disney+ thing?

SEVEN

33 YEARS AGO. I was keeping the driveway shoveled so we could make a quick escape through the snow if necessary. 33 YEARS AGO today, it was. My Amazing-Missus woke me early and said, "It's time!" Our second baby had signaled as much. We piled into our little Honda: the expectant mom, a soon-to-be-six-year-old-soon-to-be-big-brother, and me. We met our dear, dear friends Charlie and Shirley along the way. They would be keeping big brother for us. We pulled into the parking lot at Baptist Hospital in Oklahoma City, and at 7:44a our second son, our omega, Kyle Nicholas was born.

Last Sunday morning, January 19, 2020, a little after 7:00a, that same Kyle Nicholas introduced us to his second son, Jeremiah Kent. Kyle's Amazing-Missus, Brooke delivered this beautiful, 9 lb. 10 oz. baby boy on his "due date". And now we have 7!

I'm not going to be presumptious, or attempt to be prophetic, but for now I'm embracing the idea of 7 being the number of completion. There may be another, but for now the list of Grand-Kids is complete. Chronologically: Karlee, Harper, Haddi, Nora, Everly, Malachi, Jeremiah. Welcome to the team Jeremiah.

There is a wonderful, creative, energetic chemistry among this bunch--your siblings and cousins. You'll quickly discover that when you and your band of grands are at our house, there will be a seemingly endless supply of juice boxes and ice cream sandwiches. You'll find that episode after episode of Peppa Pig plays in the background while art is being made, games are being created, and havoc is being wreaked. But it is magical somehow. There is a tie that binds and now you are a part of it all. Welcome.

Jeremiah, I know it's only been a few days now, but I'm sure you're already discovering how much you are loved, how wonderful your mom and dad are. Someday they will tell you how they came to be together. It is like something from a storybook. And now you are a chapter in that book. I can't wait to see how your chapter reads. I know how it starts: "Jeremiah was born on January 19, 2020..." And then somewhere along the way it will say, "And they all lived happily ever-after."

Happy Birthday to Jeremiah's daddy.

EXAMPLE SETTING

I DON’T REMEMBER the first time I was told, “you’re setting the example for others,” but I do still feel the weight of that admonition.

Recently, I had the privilege of speaking at the memorial service of a good friend, a man I hold in high regard. We’ll call him Dave. Also speaking at the memorial was Dave’s son, let’s call him Kent. Kent told this story about his dad:

One evening at meal time Mom (let’s call her Barbara) called Dave to the table and passed a bowl of mixed vegtables. “What is this!?” Dave asked and added, “I’m not eating this!” Barbara surprised said, “Why not, you’ve eaten this dish for 30 years?!” Dave replied, “The kids are grown and gone and I’m tired of setting the example.”

Example Setting is serious business. As I said, it’s weighty and fraught with danger. What if I hold myself up as an example and then prove unworthy? I mean, look at me (but don’t follow me), I watch too much TV. I need to exercise more. I don’t floss as often as I should. My attitude and outlook often is not what you want someone to strive toward. According to many I’m unpatriotic, although I disagree and therefore I am belligerent. You get the picture.

Thankfully, God provides grace and filters that somehow let our kids see a better version of ourselves than may be real. For example, look at me and then look at our two sons: they are good husbands and great fathers, they are honest, hard-working, humble and good example-setters.

I know what you’re thinking! And, you’re right! Look at their mother!

I’m trying to be a good example for our grandkids, but I’m still going to pick the mushrooms off my pizza and watch as much Sponge Bob as they want to watch.

“Few things are harder to put up with than the annoyance of a good example.”

— Mark Twain

SIDE BY SIDE

USING TRAILER PARLANCE AS METAPHOR, we’ve been hitched for a few years now. Both of us, my Amazing-Missus and I, are from the Tulsa area—she, just from the south of Jenks; me, just north of Jenks. We met in Bixby.

The insightful C.S. Lewis, as far as I know, never visited Jenks or Bixby, but he did have some keen wisdom on relationships:

“Those who cannot conceive Friendship as a substantive love but only as a disguise or elaboration of Eros betray the fact that they have never had a Friend. The rest of us know that though we can have erotic love and friendship for the same person yet in some ways nothing is less like a Friendship than a love-affair. Lovers are always talking to one another about their love; Friends hardly ever about their Friendship. Lovers are normally face to face, absorbed in each other; Friends, side by side, absorbed in some common interest.” —C.S. Lewis. The Four Loves.

Let’s talk about some of the side-by-side stuff. Early in our marriage we discovered one of our favorite places to eat together was Coney-Islander, a little hot dog joint native to Tulsa. (By “little hot dog” I’m talking about the size of the establishment and also the size of their coneys. They are adorable.) It is still our favorite. It started in 1926, and in all these years, hasn’t changed much. I hope Coney-Islander doesn’t hire one of those new fangled UX specialists to “take the company to the next level”. Their level is just fine. At Coney-Islander, you sit on the same side of the booth, side-by-side. This is so you can work out the Weekly Scramble on the old blackboard on the wall. It’s a C-I tradition.

We often spend weekends in Tulsa. We’ve found a great place in mid-town where we can park our Airstream. It’s close to some of our favorite side-by-side type places: the Circle Cinema, a throwback art-movie theatre; Tulsa University, a Coney-Islander, and a short drive to downtown where you’ll find the arts district, Glacier Chocolates, Guthrie Green, Antionette Baking Company, Spinster Records and Driller Stadium, all good places for side-by-side moments.

There is a mix of blessings to traveling in an Airstream: people want to talk about it and “take a quick peek inside.” Recently we were hitched up and leaving Tulsa for Shawnee, where we were to attend a very special event—a birthday party for a five year old. Often, as we leave Tulsa, our route is via Peoria Avenue, through the narrow streets of Brookside to a Coney-Islander, before getting on the highway out of town. As I pulled into the parking lot on this particular Saturday, I noticed a fancy Mercedes following closely. Before I could hardly get out of the truck, there was a woman who looked like she had just come from the Lululemon store up the street, or the hair extension store somewhere nearby. “Can I please droll over your Airstream!?” (Her actual words.)

Sure, I say. I’ll be inside drooling over “a couple of coneys with everything.” (That’s how you order them.) She’s holding her phone in the air and explains to us that she has her boyfriend on FaceTime so he can take the tour as well. My Amazing-Missus graciously hosted the tour while I went into the air-conditioned Coney-Islander to wait. As I watched her walk toward the diner from the Airstream after the tour, I saw it all as a tableau of sorts or an Edward Hopper painting (but far less forlorn)—that silver trailer, this little hotdog joint, and her; walking from one to the other. Not to over-romanticize it, but it was glimpse of a magical side-by-side life together. Our travels: together, our favorite things to do: together, our memories: together, and our future: together.

And then I thought, I hope that if Miss Yogapants and her FaceTime friend find themselves in an Airstream someday they will have great side-by-side adventures too. Like the old song says:

Oh, we ain't got a barrel of money
Maybe we're ragged and funny
But we'll travel along, singin' a song
Side by side
Don't know what's comin' tomorrow
Maybe it's trouble and sorrow
But we'll travel the road, sharin' our load
Side by side
Through all kinds of weather
What if the sky should fall
Just as long as we're together
It doesn't matter at all
When they've all had their quarrels and parted
We'll be the same as we started
Just travelin' along, singin' our song
Side by side

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Here’s a Coney-Islander Weekly Scramble for you. Sorry I don’t have a coney for you to enjoy while you try to figure it out. If you just can’t quite work it out, email me and I’ll send you the answer. hey.pops.hey@gmail.com.

P.S.: No Googling for the answer. You’ll hate yourself in the morning if you do.