Hip Shots, Tres

Mr. Summer:

I am all done with you. You may be dismissed. Please return to the hellacious inferno from whence you came. Or…did you lose your way? The Sahara is east…waaaay east of here. Godspeed.

To all those who “beg the question,” if all you are saying is that some event or thought raised a question, then the question is raised, not begged. Begging the question is a philosophical term applied to a line of reasoning in which the thing proposed is implied in the premise. It is a form of circular reasoning, where the “proof” offered is simply a restatement of the premise. Something like, “That movie is awful because it sucks.” Some have even suggested That Descartes’ famous, “Cogito, ergo sum,” or, in English, “I think; therefore, I am,” is a glorified example of begging the question.

I was thinking about former friends, and it raised a question (but did not beg it) in my mind: Is there any such thing as a former friend?

Farewell to Farrah. Who would have thought that the iconic beauty of the seventies would become a courageous inspiration to millions in the final, frustrating, painful year of her life?

…And to Michael. Your life and death seemed to echo, if not answer, Jesus’ question: “What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?”

…And to Ed. Batman had his Robin. The Lone Ranger had his Tonto. And Carson had his McMahon.

An old family friend and longtime preacher of the gospel came to speak at a church where I was pastor. He titled his sermon, “Glorious Obsession.” I have been obsessed with that phrase ever since. Sometimes, it just pops into my head for no apparent reason. Oh well…

It’s Sunday morning.  I’m easy.

Dad Day Redux

Yesterday marked the nineteenth Father’s Day since my Dad took a jarring, premature detour into eternity. I still miss him and often consider how different life might have been had he remained. I am sure I don’t think about that as much as Mom, but I think about it. He was a good dad…better than I realized, really. He was an even better husband. I am sure he would have been a wonderful grandfather.

Fortunately, I had a backup Dad. Since Donya and I were still a year shy of leaving our teens when we married, her dad has been in my life for a long time. To him, I have always been a son, not just an inlaw. He has loved me as well as any man ever loved a son of flesh-and-blood. That flesh-and-blood feeling is mutual.

Speaking of being a Dad, it shouldn’t be necessary for the president of the United States to tell men to be men and accept the responsibility of the seed they spread. I am glad he appears to be an excellent dad and is willing to be a role model in hopes of positively impacting the neanderthal, knuckle-headed, NBA wannabe, fun-baby producing morons who continue to decorate the American landscape with daddy-less babies. I hope it helps. But I doubt it.

And now, a Dad joke:

The room was full of pregnant women and their partners, and the Lamaze class was in full swing. The instructor was teaching the women how to breathe properly, along with informing the men how to give the necessary assurances at this stage of the plan.

The teacher then announced, “Ladies, exercise is good for you. Walking is especially beneficial. And, gentlemen, it wouldn’t hurt you to take the time to go walking with your partner!”

The room really got quiet. Finally, a man in the middle of the group raised his hand.

“Yes?” replied the teacher.

“Is it all right if she carries a golf bag while we walk?”

Least favorite Father’s Day memory: an impromptu visit to an urgent care facility that resulted in receiving a prostate exam from a high school linebacker-turned-medical doctor. I remember it like it was yesterday.

Oh wait…it was yesterday.

The Over/Under Man

What I do not overvalue I underestimate.

I put that as my Facebook status this morning because the thought hit me like a subway train. I realized that much of what I am today – and where – could be explained by my either overvaluing or underestimating a thing or person.

I never saw myself doing anything but full-time church/ministry work, but I lost that privilege because I underestimated my own propensity for stupid and selfish behavior. Even then, I assumed the day would come that I would return to it. Turns out, I underestimated AND overvalued a few things there.

I recently saw a friendship I thought would last a lifetime disintegrate. I suppose I had overvalued it…and underestimated the toll my orneriness can take on a soul. Then I look around at this little handful of people who have every reason and right to scatter like rats from a sinking ship and yet they don’t (namely, my wife, her family, and my family), and realize I couldn’t possibly overvalue their love…though I might be guilty of underestimating it.

I overvalued that Liberty University theology degree and underestimated how hard it is to switch horses in the middle of the stream.

I have always and forever overvalued the unique deliciousness of a Dr Pepper and underestimated the impact its copious consumption can have on one’s physique.

I probably overvalue my silver 2500 4×4 Dodge Ram he-man pickup truck.

I always underestimate my kids.

I may overvalue my AT&T Uverse TV and Internet service, but I don’t care. It is better than underestimating how much Time/Warner Cable sucks.

It occurs to me that it may be next to impossible to determine the exact value of most of life’s offerings…especially if they are non-material in nature. I further conclude that I would rather overvalue most things than undervalue them. Better to care too much than too little.

If you are the gambling sort, I will set the over/under on this article making any sense at all to the average reader at about 50/50.

Place your bets.

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