IN BETWEEN

"You know what the happiest animal in the world is? It's a goldfish. It's got a 10 second memory. Be a goldfish." --Ted Lasso.

Hopefully you're familiar with Ted Lasso and his fish out of water story. Ted is a coach of an English football (soccer) team. He knows very little about the game but has an uncanny insight into people and a morsel of folksy wisdom for every occasion.

One of his best players has had a bad game and he's let it get to him. Ted gives him the goldfish fact in order to help him see that it's possible to move on. Stuck? Be a goldfish.

In another episode of Ted Lasso, they diagnose one of their players as having The Yips. I suspected that The Yips is a real thing and apparently it is. I should consult with my daughter-in-law, Dr. Brooke Fuller, a "mental performance consultant" on the matter. But that doesn't seem fair. She'a pro. I shouldn't be asking for free advice.

According to Psychology Today magazine: "The yips refer to psycho-neuromuscular impediment interfering with the execution of fine motor skills during sport.

"One of the saddest and strangest phenomena in professional sports is when an athlete starts experiencing the yips. The ability of our best athletes to perform under high levels of stress is a major determinant in attaining the highest level of sport and competition.

"One famous example of the yips involved Steve Sax who went from being named National League Player of the Year in the 1982 season to not being able to throw the ball to first base on routine plays during the next season. Fortunately, he overcame this affliction, but not all pro athletes are so fortunate."

I've actually witnessed Brooke working through an exercise with a young athlete--her niece, Nora, the gynmast. It was in the moments leading up to Nora's first big meet. She was riding to the meet with me and her Mimi (aka: My Amazing Missus). She was getting pretty anxious. She recalled a practice session when she had an incident on the bars. "Be a goldfish", I counseled. That didn't help. Let's call Aunt Brooke.

I won't go into the details of the conversation they had but it worked. Nora went on to win best overall in that meet and every other meet she entered during the season.

"Getting in one's own head" is a trip I've taken many times. You would think I knew it well, but it's sometimes dark there and fluid; so I don't know what I might find around the next corner or under the next rock--the overthinking and obsessive analyzing of situations, which leads to more overthinking and frustration. The advice for getting out of one's own head: focus on the present moment and engage in activities that ground you, such as mindfulness or talking to others. So this essay is me being mindful and communicating it by casting these words out into the ether.

I'm reading a book by David Brooks called, "How To Know A Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen." [note: If next time we meet I seem a little strange, I'm just trying to see you deeply.] Brooks suggests some questions we might discuss with one another and ourselves. Maybe, I thought, that by working through these questions, I might be more goldfish-like and therefore able to courageously navigate these senior years. Who knows, there may be others out there in their own head, or their wilderness, their in-between. In case you would like to try, here are the questions:

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What crossroads are you at?

What would you do if you weren't afraid?

If you died tonight, what would you regret not doing?

If we meet a year from now, what will we be celebrating?

If the next five years is a chapter in your life, what is that chapter about?

Can you be yourself where you are and still fit in?

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If someone asked me these questions I would reply, "Those are great questions. I'll get back to you with my answers." I would never get back because these questions are too big. I've been pondering them for weeks and still haven't settled on a definitive answer for a single one of them. Heck, I struggle when someone asks me: "Sup?" or "How's it going?" or "How are you?" My honest answer to each of these three is: I'm just not sure. Not to worry though: I like a bit of mystery and suspense.

Being in-between doesn't have to be purgatory--the kind of place where, in the dark, you might bump into depression, despondencey, or despair. It might (metaphorically) be that your number will be the next one called to order at an amazing ice cream shop or bakery. You know, where you're surveying the goodies, pointing at this one and that one, finalizing your choices and deciding if you'll have a coffee to go along with your treat once your number is called.

Let's go back to David Brooks' questions with a few ideas for answers:

1. What crossroads are you at? Banana split or affogato.

2. What would you do if you weren't afraid? Buy the new Airstream.

3. If you died tonight, what would you regret not doing? At that moment I would be beholding stuff that didn't include regrets.

4. If we meet a year from now, what will we be celebrating? That's a conundrum. A year is a long ways off and it will be here before we know it. Hopefully it will involve sitting beside a shiny Airstream, enjoying another banana split. My inability to honestly answer #6 is a hurdle to full disclosure of my answer to this question.

5. If the next five years is a chapter in your life, what is that chapter about? Peace, love and joy.

6. Can you be yourself where you are and still fit in? Where it really matters: yes! These days though, I tend to make my world too small.

If you're a goldfish, a small small world is okay. The comic Dusty Slay does a bit about the short memory of the goldfish. He tells of a goldfish circling his little aquarium, "Hey, look! There's a scuba diver in here." "Hey look, a treasure chest!" "Hey, look! There's a scuba diver in here." "Hey look, a treasure chest!" "Hey, look! There's a scuba diver in here." "Hey look, a treasure chest!"

Thankfully, for all of us, there is the promise of more. It's okay to occasionally speak the language of in-between where we start our thoughts and sentences with: "For now..."

Let's meet again on July 12, 2026 and celebrate the past and the wonder about future.

PROPAGATE

MY MOTHER was a prolific propagator; of many things: encouragement, grace, advice, sincere interest, gossip (although she would call it by names such as concern and curiosity). But, let's start with her African Violets.

For the entirety of my years "at home" these things were everywhere that a bit of filtered light streamed into our house. She was an african violet evangelist. Any time a guest in our home would comment on her beautiful violets she would encourage, yea, implore them to take one home. Each one was handed over with a bit of advice: "Don't overwater, don't get the leaves wet, don't thank me for it that's bad luck, talk to it (the plant) each time you water it."

In the early years of our marriage, My Amazing-Missus and I took home and killed a succession of these picky, persnickety, delicate little pieces of fauna. Undaunted, she would give us another. When mom would come to visit we could count on her sticking her finger in the pot of each of our plants and her nose in our business--out of genuine love and concern and a bit of fretting. "It might be happier with a little more light." Was she talking about our plant or our marriage?

I read an interesting opinion piece about propagation. In this case it was not about plants and beauty, but half-truths, lies, misinformation and how fertile the ground is to receive these poison seeds of propaganda. Social media was getting a lot of the blame for the choking spread, but what about the increasing appetite for it? How do we seperate the wheat from the chaff so to speak?

Maybe, like an African Violet, bringing some of this stuff into the proper light will help me be better informed and and healthier.

You know what's wonderful? There are still so many voices of truth and goodness. They are not always the loudest in the room but they are there and they are consistent. Take our two daughters-in-law. They are propagators. Many of the plants we have in our home today came from them, including those that sit on my desk or hang in the window in a cool macrame hanger My Amazing-Missus made for me. Not only do they cultivate seeds and cuttings, but they give joy and care to everyone who enters their orbit including our GrandKids and their old in-laws; along with plant care tips.

It makes me grateful for the propagators of love and peace and joy throughout our world and culture. Where would we be without them these days.

I'm writing this in my journal right how: Propagate goodness, truth and beauty today.

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The words of Jesus from The Gospel of Mark 4:3-9 The Message

“Listen. What do you make of this? A farmer planted seed. As he scattered the seed, some of it fell on the road and birds ate it. Some fell in the gravel; it sprouted quickly but didn’t put down roots, so when the sun came up it withered just as quickly. Some fell in the weeds; as it came up, it was strangled among the weeds and nothing came of it. Some fell on good earth and came up with a flourish, producing a harvest exceeding his wildest dreams.

“Are you listening to this? Really listening?”

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SAVE THE DATE

The Continental Army was officially formed on June 14, 1775, so June 14, 2025, the Army will be 250 years. That's a milestone worth marking and reflecting on. And apparently, plans are churning to do just that. Word is there will be a parade--the Army's birthday parade--through the center of Washington D.C.

I wish I could remember where I read the details so I could give proper credit, but the notes I made are missing the source. According to the report the parade will include:

28 M1A1 Abrams tanks (at 70 tons each, the heaviest in service)
28 Stryker armored personnel carriers
more than 100 other vehicles
a World War II-era B-25 bomber
6,700 soldiers
50 helicopters
34 horses
two mules; and
a dog.

I love a parade! In fact, it may be the pomp of a parade that first motivated me to want to be a drummer. As a kid I remember standing along the curb looking up Boston Avenue in downtown Tulsa in anxious excitement for the first of the parade to come into sight. But, before seeing that first car carrying the the grand marshall, before you could smell the horses, before any of that you could hear the cadence of the distant drums.

I've been to and marched in many many parades: Christmas parades, Rooster Day parades, Independence day parades, and one presidential inagural parade in D.C. for the infamous Nixon, which, by the way, will be the same parade route as the Army/Trump Birthday parade.

Oh I know, his name won't be on the cake so to speak but I'm sure that since by coindence he shares a birthday with the Army, he will feel celebrated too.

It should be a fine parade. Estimates are the cost will be in the $25 million to $45 million range. "But it could be higher because the Army has promised to fix any city streets that the parade damages, plus the cost of cleanup and police are not yet part of the estimate." I wonder: has DOGE heard about this?

Speaking of memorable points along the Army timeline, remember when Elvis, "King of Rock n Roll", served from 1958-1960? Let's take a look. From Wikipedia: "Before entering the Army, Presley had caused national outrage with his rock and roll music. Many parents, religious leaders, and teachers' groups welcomed his draft into the military. Despite being offered the chance to enlist in Special Services to entertain the troops and live in priority housing, Presley was persuaded by his manager, Colonel Tom Parker, to serve as a regular soldier. This earned him the respect of many of his fellow soldiers and people back in the United States who previously viewed him in a negative light."

Speaking of birthdays: depending on your view of the state of Elvis's aliveness, on January 8, 2026, Elvis will be or would have been 90 years old! How cool would it be to have a parade to commemorate? I'm open to brainstorming what it might look like: lots of Cadillacs, maybe a flyover of an old plane dropping Elvis impersonators out over the parade route, floating under bright parachutes. Maybe everyone could wear blue suede shoes. Floats could include a "Heartbreak Hotel" and another with a jail cell and a choir of recent pardonees singing "Jailhouse Rock". And of course there will be one "Hound Dog".

Although I'm not an Elvis fan, I respect his significant musical legacy and contribution. I do, however, remember his birthday every year. Coincidentally, old Pops here too was born on a January 8th, several years after the birth of Elvis. I know it's not a unique idea, but maybe I could go along for the ride as sort of a birthday 2-fer.

Speaking of psuedo-kings: There's another series of events planned for June 14, 2025. I don't know who's doing the planning but they've come up with a thought-provoking idea.

Maybe Elvis and I don't need the conspicuous consumption of a parade afterall. Remember that one Elvis song? The one with the bridge that said:

People, don't you understand
A child needs a helping hand
Or he'll grow to be an angry young man someday
Take a look at you and me
Are we too blind to see
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way?

-- In The Ghetto

Or, here's an idea: maybe we delay gratification for a little more than a year to, oh, let's say, July 4, 2026, and go all out for a party celebrating our Nation's 250th Birthday! We could save the $25 plus million until then and make it the the greatest, most huge party in the history of the world. I realize that steals the sparkle for those who have a June 14 birthday, but maybe if we need add-ons we could do a quick shout out to a few others with July 4 birthdays like: Calvin Coolidge, president #30. He was a conservative, limited government kind of guy. And Bill Withers who wrote songs we love and need like "Lean On Me"; or Nathaniel Hawthorne, who wrote "The Scarlet Letter", a book about sin and shame and repentance and judgement and imposing our morality on others.

July 4th just makes sense. A good party needs fireworks and July 4th is the pinnacle. And, according to the Oklahoma Fireworks Act, codified in Title 68, Section 1621-1635 of the Oklahoma Statutes the law that establishes the legal framework for the sale, possession, and use of fireworks across the state. Consumer fireworks can only be sold and used from June 15 to July 6 and from December 15 to January 2. So, to light a fuse on June 14th for a joint Army/Trump birthday bash would be illegal here in the Sooner state.

July 4th also would be perfect because Hobby Lobby already has all the trappings of a good celebration lining the shelves. Where in the H. E. Double Hockey Sticks are you going to find plates, napkins, banners, gnomes, flags, swizzle sticks, tablecloths, lights, hats, visors, flip-flops and a CD of saxophonist Kenny G playing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "Onward Christian Soldiers" for a June 14 extravaganza?!

Oh well, enough of all that. It's not my call to make. It's his party--he can strut if he wants to--strut if he wants to; you would strut too if it happened to you; ta da dat dat dat.

IN THE MOMENT

"Sometimes we don’t recognize a narrative when we’re living it." That's not a quote from a famous speech or a book or movie. I read it in the comments of a sports blog. That doesn't make it less thought provoking though. Does it?

You know the analogy about future/past perspective: "You can either look through the windshield or you can look in the rearview mirror."

There's at least one other option (we'll get to that in few more paragraphs), but first let's step out of our car and pretend we are watching it from the outside as it goes through life. Try this: imagine you're in one of those Little Tikes cars going through Kindergarten. Looking through the windshield at your future is myopic at best. We can barely see past recess and naptime to gathering our jacket and lunchbox to head home for the day. This little car doesn't even have a rearview mirror which is fine. There's just not much "past" back there to view anyway.

How about the cool car of our adolescence? Again, there's not much in that rearview--little experience to inform the decisions about the road ahead. We’re probably more enthralled with what’s happening in the car rather than what’s ahead. Hopefully we see the next curve coming,

It seems like this is where we can fall prey to the third option in our windshield/rearview mirror metaphor. This is the one where we are looking at the windshield but not through it to the path ahead. We are in the moment and the moment only. Next time you're in the car try it. Just look at the windshield. Focus on some bug guts if that helps. Don't try it long because it can be disorienting. It's like time is marching on, the miles are passing but we're neither forward-focused or looking back to inform the future.

Ever have one of those moments when you're driving, your mind drifts, all of a sudden you realize you've driven several miles but you can't remember the details?

Don't get me wrong; I'm not disparaging living in the moment. I'm a big fan of daydreaming and peaceful reverie. Maybe though, I need to replace the blank stare at the bird poop on the windshield with an occasional look out of the side windows, taking in the moment, making the most of the trip.

All this introspection about introspection turned to some recent soul searching for me. It all started when watching a documentary called "The Jesus Music". It dawned on me just how formative that era and that music was. Jesus Music was at the heart of what Time magazine called "The Jesus Movement". This thing that started in southern California, and as it spread across the country and my psyche, became part of me and I became part of it in a small way; maybe a few small ways.

The whole hippie movement had an appeal. I was fascinated by the whole "antiestablishmentarianism" of it all. (Ever since I learned that word and discovered it was one of the longest of our language I've been trying to find a way to use it in a sentence. Check that off the bucket list.) This movement gave me a way to be a little transgressive but still compliant with my upbringing.

Not only did I quickly adopt this new genre of music, setting "christian" messages as lyrics to the rhythms, melodies and chord structures and instrumentation of folk/rock music of the 60s and 70s, but I got the opportunity to join some fine musicians as the drummer in a Jesus Music band called "Light". It was largly bank-rolled by a man named John Frank who was the founder of Frankoma pottery. He had a heart for ministries to kids.

We played in coffeehouses, which were springing up in empty downtown buildings all over (places for young "Jesus Freaks" to hang out), and at "Jesus Festivals" (outdoor mini Woodstock type gatherings). We didn't play in churches. At that time, drums and electric guitars were the devil's instruments.

a concert poster i saved from back in the day. according to the u.s. inflation calculator $2.00 in 1972 would be about $15.30 today. Still a pretty cheap date.

People like evangelist Jimmy Swaggart had a few things to say about the music:

"Swaggart, was conducting one of his mass revival crusades in New Haven, Connecticut. Before the cameras and the glare of stage lights he paced back and forth, waving his arms like he was fending off a swarm of bees. He raised his Bible high above his head. He shouted at his audience about the moral degeneracy that dragged reprobates through the gates of hell. He took aim at ‘the devil’s music’: rock and roll. How had Christians made peace with this vile, hideous music, he asked with urgency in his voice: ‘You cannot proclaim the message of the anointed WITH THE MUSIC OF THE DEVIL!’ shouted Swaggart. —https://www.historytoday.com/miscellanies/god-gave-rock-and-roll-you

One of the earliest pioneers of Jesus Music, Larry Norman, had a hard-driving song to counter Swaggart's point:

I want the people to know that he saved my soul
But I still like to listen to the radio
They say rock 'n' roll is wrong,
We'll give you one more chance
I say I feel so good I gotta get up and dance

I know what's right,
I know what's wrong,
I don't confuse it
All I'm really trying to say
Is why should the devil have all the good music?
I feel good every day
'Cause Jesus is the rock and he rolled my blues away!

larry norman from his album “only visiting this planet”

Apparently a real rocker, with shoulder length hair, swatting the hornet's nest so to speak, didn't do much to smooth the gap between this new movement and the established church. It took Billy Graham himself to calm the panic of church leaders and help them see that there can be other songs along with "How Great Thou Art" and "Just As I Am" to move people.

By 1969, Graham had launched a series of youth nights during his crusades, which attracted young Jesus Freaks with a laidback coffeehouse vibe, and folk singers. By 1994, huge acts such as DC Talk and Michael W. Smith headlined a series of revamped Billy Graham crusade youth nights. Teenagers could belt out Smith’s “Place in This World” and headbang to DC Talk’s “Jesus Freak” before hearing a “grandfatherly” Graham deliver a short gospel sermon. Graham’s reaction after the first such concert, held in Cleveland: “Personally, I didn’t understand a word of those songs [as they were being sung]. But I had all the lyrics written down, and they were straight Bible; great lyrics.” —https://www.christianitytoday.com/2024/04/songs-love-sing-billy-graham-edith-blumhofer-crusades/

Shortly after that, I toured with a youth group, playing drums in a musical, performed in a number of churches. Teens and young adults gave great reviews. More than a few old deacons gathered on the church steps afterward to have a cigarette and wonder out loud what fresh hell they had just witnessed, no doubt prophesying the end of the world as they knew it.

As Jesus Music was taking root I began working with youth in local churches. I always made it a priority to try to expose as many of them as possible to a wide spectrum of music and musicians, not just as listeners but as participants themselves. Now, many years later, I look in the rearview mirror and realize I am grateful for those early troubadours, those ground-breaking disciples. I am grateful to courageous leaders like Billy Graham, to my own Dad and Brother who were open to new expressions of the power of music. I am grateful for the vulnerable who let me set up a drum kit and play in the Sanctuary of the church they led. And I'm grateful to some of my favorites:

Larry Norman
Randy Stonehill
Second Chapter of Acts
Jars of Clay
Jennifer Knapp
Audio Adrenalin
A Few Small Fish
U2
DC Talk
Switchfoot
Sixpence None The Richer

... just to name a few.

Now at 70-something, most of the ride is in the rearview mirror--not trying to be morbid, just honest. If I'm not careful though about too much longing for the good old days, I'll wake up and someone else will be doing the driving. I'll be in that rear-facing seat in the back of the station wagon, which is terrifying because we had one of those in a family car of my youth and I would always get car-sick riding in the way-back. It's a wonder I don't have a drug problem; I always enjoyed the haze of a Dramamine induced nap on a long, long road trip.

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Here's a suggestion for road trip music for this stage of the journey:

Now think back to when you were a child
Your soul was sweet, your heart ran wild
Each day was different and life was a thrill
You knew tomorrow would be better still

But things have changed, you're much older now
If you're unhappy and you don't know how
Why don't you look into Jesus?
He got the answer

--lyrics from verse 2 of "Look Into Jesus" by Larry Norman.