Would you do this for $26,230.29?

Recently, I had a continuing education in Las Vegas. It happen to be the week of the National Finals Rodeo. The strip was electric as always but with a "howdy" kind of environment.

The CE that was being put on was with the National Auctioneer Association. If you know many people in that trade, you'll realize that most of them are salt of the earth people who have chosen the unique business of auctioneer/marketing. Some of the best friends I have have come from my relationship with this trade organization.

Since we were in Vegas during the week of the NFR; we had to get tickets. We show up at the Thomas Mack stadium at 6:15 excited about the opening events at 6:45. If you've gone to a rodeo, you'll appreciate the excitement and anticipation of the cowboys and cowgirls participating in difficult and dangerous sport activities. While bareback and saddle bronc are two dangerous events, I would say that the world agrees that the bull riding is the most dangerous. Sitting in the stands, watching the best of the best, I realized the complexity of this sport. First, you're sitting on a 2000 lbs + animal, second your holding onto him with a skinny bull rope, third, you're graded on 8 seconds a pure power, and finally, once your off, either by your on choice or the bulls, usually he is ready to plow you over; so you better run like heck to the gates. That night it was amazing with on a few of the athletes not making the 8 seconds. In the end, Round 10, Trey Benton III rode Mortimer (Bull) for 8 seconds and won $26,230.77. Roscoe Jarboe came in second and cashed in $20,73077 while Tim Bingham made 3rd with $13,236.92
Thats big money, but Tuf Cooper from Weatherford, Texas won the All Round Championship yielding him $341,560.29

 I realized with money like that, this isn't any hobby. Its a way for someone to make a pot of money and most likely gain sponsorships for the pants you wear, the hat you're wearing  and I am  certain the list goes on.

While in Vegas, I had the opportunity to spend time with my close friends Dan Pate, of Pate Auctions, Curt Pate with Curt Pate Stockman, and his wife  Tammy Pate. These friends are pure Montanas and bring a southern boy into the world of livestock, rodeo and western lifestyle. They are all high on my friend list!

The question I'd ask you is "would you ride a bull for $26,230.29? My seat in the stands was very comfortable. I think you'll get my answer!

She substituted for the lady I never met.

Elizabeth, Bonnie Logan, Kyle

Meeting your wife at the youthful age of 17 has so many blessings. We practically raised each other. Just kids, we molded each other in so many ways. Early on in our dating, in fact, our second date, we both expressed our fondness for each other and desire to have God in the center of our new found relationship. It was a great date that August 1984 night, and our bond has done nothing but get stronger over these 33 years.

You may have read about my finding Elizabeth's birth mother. Its a great story, and one that shaped our lives and relationship in many ways. Going back to the "17" years; part of my desire to find Elizabeth's birth mother was the curiosity that God placed in my heart. I just had to piece the puzzle of her life together; that included the things I didn't know about her, and the things she didn't even know about her own story. Things like, in what hospital was she born. Where did she go as a foster child (the first 5 weeks of her life).

One of the facts I was never able to secure an answer for was the question, who exactly was the counselor that lovingly directed her birth mother during her time of crisis. Although I discovered every sibling and a large number of the birth family, I was never able to meet or talk to the counselor in this story of ours. Oh how I would have loved to say "thank you"!

I believe God knocks on your heart in many ways. In 2000, the knock came to me from a friend, Steve Robertson. He invited me to join a crisis pregnancy ministry. So, when I joined the board at Salem Pregnancy Care Center, I was introduced to Bonnie Logan. As of today, Bonnie has been the executive director at Salem for 31 years. This past July, Bonnie announced that after 31 years in the ministry, it was time to slow down and enter a new chapter in her life. I remember noticing her sincere interest in women in crisis pregnancies early on at our board meetings. Six years before joining the board, Elizabeth and I had gone through a miraculous time in our life. Seeing the blooming of a mother/daughter relationship was quite amazing. Even today, the emotions are still very raw; very spiritual. I realized early on that the counselors that assisted by wife's birth mother through a difficult time in her life were just like Bonnie Logan. When I would see her at church or at the board meetings, quietly, internally, when I would look at her, I would see the face of the counselor(s) at Hope Cottage in Dallas Texas. It was that piece of the puzzle I had been looking for. For this reason, and for the reason of her Godly demeanor, I grew to love Bonnie, like a family member.

She is now leaving Salem Pregnancy Care Center. But her lasting love, her presence will always be part of this center. The lives she has touched, the women she has counseled, the administrative duties she exercised all to foster a center that started small but is now medical offering free ultra-sounds. At her celebration party last night, as I toasted her with these sentiments, "Bonnie, I am confident that many of the crowns you will receive one day in heaven will be placed upon your head by the very children who were given the gift of life because of your tireless work and dedication to this ministry."

I am proud to be a friend to Bonnie Logan, her husband calls her a wonderful wife, her children call her blessed, and I call her an advocate for the unborn.

31 Years......what a legacy!

Texas shooting, is there a story behind the story?

More proof of a fallen world.

Hollywood icons recently have apologized for sexual depravity. A Hollywood producer has been accused of rape; by multiple women. Hollywood stars acknowledge sexual favors for the exchange of awards or parts in a movie. And now, another mass shooting in a house of worship in a small town in Texas.

How could the sexual depravity of the Hollywood “elite” and a horrific mass shooting in a small church be tied together? I believe they have a digital common denominator.

First, I am convinced that the confusing nature of American sexuality is embodied in a generation that grew up on pornography. Openly introduced by the late Hugh Hefner, then taken to extreme levels by Hustler entrepreneur Larry Flynt. So many young people learned the fantasy ideas of sex and sexuality by the pretend world of these magazines. Then later, as the computer came of age, still pictures were transformed into video and later live streaming. The creation of feeding this insatiable appetite for sex, sexuality and experimental sexuality were seeds sown in a nation; and now the produce of which we are now witnessing. Men who can’t keep their hands-off women, who don’t know boundaries, women who dress overly provocatively, men and women who don’t understand the God created nature of human sexuality and pro-creation. I have thought for some time that pornography is the root to so many issues in our society.

With regard to the horrific shooting in a small Texas town; I think it too, probably has a digital root. This young generation has grown up playing video games. Games that are not just real –life like, but games that devalue human life. They are diversionary experiences that take the user into gun battles, killing and shooting human beings. All for digital sport. But what we don’t realize is the things that enter our eyes, the sounds that enter our ears, the ideas that are conjured up in a game, are in fact creating a worldview. All very passive, but in fact when you play them, you’re not just passing time by, you’re participating in self –talk; get down, shoot, get that one, win!

It’s so easy to blame a gun for the Texas massacre. It’s also easy to call Weinstein a pervert. It’s certainly spot on to call Kevin Spacey a sexual deviant, if in fact this man sexually confronted a 14-year-old.  But the hard thing to do is ask the question, “What was it that these people did in their private world that cause their behavior to be what it was. What molded their worldview?”

In the end, we are a product of what we have fed our minds. We need to be a generation that says no to pornography and no to violent video games.

Our heart is an empty shell and will always be filled with something. Consider God. He is the only thing that our insatiable desires can be fully quenched. All other things lead to emptiness. 

We'll soon find out what prompted the young Texan to go into a church building and begin shooting at people, from age 5 and up. But what we'll never learn most likely is the story behind the story.

God help our nation!

Calf blood? But I'm still a foodie!

Heat for the blood milk in Kenya

We only have about 4 score on this earth. Understanding that  too well, I have been a person who has enjoyed experimenting with adventure. Whether it's hiking the AT or deep sea fishing, I have wanted to be able to say, "Yes!" I’ve had that experience. Travel is no exception. Exploring the world has taken me into the unique barrios of Paraguay, to Buenos Aires where I stood in front of the Casa Rosada (crying 'Eva Peron!"). Liz and I camped in a tent in the Serengeti (Kenya) for five days once where we had the uninvited baboon tapping on the top of our tent as our wake up call at dawn. We’ve even sat on the side streets of the Champs-Elysées in Paris and watched the sun go down over the Arc de Triomphe while eating the most delicious cheese.

The common denominator of all of these adventures was not just the incredible vistas like the plains of the Rift Valley, or the river views along the Uruaguay  in Argentina, it was the fact that we had to have three square meals a day. The culinary experiences are things we still talk about.

Elizabeth tasting Terere in Paraguay

In Paraguay, we tried terere. This is considered the national beverage in Paraguay It’s made from the yerba mate plant. It is served cold in guampas. A guampas is made out of wood or of hollow bull horn. The drink, nationwide is drunk through a metal straw called a

bombilla. (For my Church of Christ Friends and Southern Baptists, it’s not alcohol, but it will give you a buzz).

Our visitor in Kenya

In Africa, we ate at a restaurant called Carnivore. It was located in Nairobi. In the restaurant, there were live fire grills, with skewers of just about every kind of east African meat you can imagine. This protein experience was amazing as Liz and I had been in Kisumu, West Kenya on a very limited diet.

Dung hut in the Maasia of Kenya.

Most shocking of the culinary opportunities we've had was found in the Serengeti (stop reading if you have a weak stomach). On an animal drive one day, we came upon a tribe of Maasai with its circular dung huts. We were invited in. These are the groups where the men jump vertically as a dance ritual. We actually visited the inside of a tribal leader’s dung hut. It was a tiny hut clad in manure and water. Still it was as strong as concrete…and no, it doesn’t smell like you would think. Inside the hut was a bedroom for the owner and his family. In the center was a closet where the family kept a calf and on the right-hand side was an open fire pit, producing smoke which

The calf's bedroom in the hut

made the experience unbearable for us to remain there for over a few minutes. So what was the culinary opportunity that I didn’t indulge in? It was the  traditional Maasai drink of cow's blood and milk. They had a

milk cow and got some fresh milk then made a small slit in the cow's neck to mix blood into the fresh milk. The tribesman offered me a drink and was disappointed I didn’t partake (would you??).

Since I’m sure you’re not interested in terere or blood milk. Let me share with you a favorite breakfast idea that we discovered at a restaurant in Steamboat, Colorado called Creekside.

If you’ve never poached an egg, put a pot of water on the stove, ad about a 1/4 cup of white vinegar and a table spoon of salt. While you’re bring that water to a boil, cut an English muffin in half and be toasting it. While the water is boiling, turn the heat down to a lite boil and gently crack your eggs in the pot (if you break your yokes, throw them away…you’ve lost the best part of the poached experience). After about 4 minutes, the whites of the egg will have enveloped the yokes and begin to float. That means they’re ready. You will need to be making a hollandaise mix so pick up a package at the grocery storage and don’t forget the butter and lemon.

 Step two: place a piece of smoked salmon on the toasted muffin, make sure and take your poached egg gently (and I mean gently) pat the moisture off of it to remove any hint of vinegar. The vinegar helps with the poaching process, you don’t want to taste the vinegar on the final product. Once you have the salmon and poached egg on the muffin, pour the hollandaise sauce all over the top of the egg. Not too much or you’ll lose the delicious taste of the yoke. The last two things you’ll want to add will be finely chopped red onions and capers. A caper is a pickled edible flower bud. These are found in the wild in the Mediterranean and East Africa.  They will add a tart salted seasoning to the dish. You can pick this up at any grocery store.

Probably my favorite breakfast,

Once you have added all this, you have what the world calls a "New Yorker Poached Egg".

Always try to enjoy life and sample the flavors of the culture that surround you. You won't regret it, unless its fresh from the cow and calf :-).

Enjoy food

Fall. The leaves call out her name!

Every October, I am reminded about a significant event that happened in my young married life. Indulge me for a moment.

I grew up in a house with a patient mother and an aging grandmother who ran a country store. On a Wednesday night, she attended midweek bible study, left with a headache, went home and sat on the bed with a beet red look upon her face. She lost her speech before she was taken to the hospital. 

A North Carolina Fall Season

Laying on the hospital bed, her eyes became paralyzed staring at the ceiling. Still speechless we all spoke to her as thought she could her us. I guess I won't know until heaven if she heard our departing words. Slowly the monitors began to loose the beat; and then Dr. Edwards said "She's gone".

Grandmaw was the first close person in my life to leave this earth. 

The reason I am posting this is because I remember the day of her memorial. A classic Carolina fall day. Perfect temperature. The leaves were rich with color. The cumulus nimbus clouds were bellowing almost as though God was separating the sky for her entrance into heaven. 

God's gift was not just years of having a grandmother who lived with me, co-reared me, and raised me in many ways, but his gift was a beautiful departure on her memorial day. The leaves are a reflection of the life she lived; beautiful, colorful,  and later wrinkled. Even her vascular hands were like the vains in the leafs. 

Continue to RIP Ms. Ella. The leaves are calling out your name this season.

The incredible Science that makes us think

Having been involved in the pregnancy care centers for 17 years, I have seen a lot of changes. In 2000, I joined Salem Pregnancy Care Center board located in Winston Salem, NC. Motivated from the life experience of being married to an adopted child whose birth-mother was ministered to during her crisis pregnancy, it was my hopes in some small way to give back and just maybe help a mother who was considering an abortion and to help her rethink that decision.

There’s no question that when leadership in North Carolina passed the NC Woman’s Right to Know Act” (House Bill 854 / S.L. 2011-405), supporters of life were excited.  Like any divisive issue, it came with extensive criticism. The law was passed and went into effect in October 2011. The bill outlined several new guidelines which must be met and carried out before a woman can receive an abortion. It was originally vetoed by Governor Bev Perdue but the veto was overridden by the General Assembly. North Carolina was the third state to require a provider to place ultrasound images in a woman’s line of sight and to describe them in detail. Also, a woman must receive state-directed counseling that includes information about having an abortion, and then wait 72 hours before the procedure is performed. In North Carolina, an abortion may be performed at up to 20 weeks. Now, the

18 Weeks

parent of a minor must consent before an abortion is provided.

These facts are interesting and uncover a lot of insight into the legislative mindset of North Carolina law makers, but more importantly is the interesting shift that is taking place in the American mindset with regard to abortion.

But why?

I believe technology and medicine over the last 10 -15 years have created a narrative about the birth process that has undeniably caused even some of the most staunch supporters of choice,  to rethink exactly what it is that is being terminated and what exactly by means of aspiration deprivation is  being ended. Pictures and ultrasound imaging have provided the ability to show to the mother a beating heart; the incredible formation of life.  With these laws, it has slowed down the rush to abort and created a new education process that, whereby a  young woman can make an informed decision. The word “education” and “informed” I believe are key words. A decision to abort undeniably comes with consequences, both emotionally and physically. In our post political world of Roe vs Wade, words were crafted to mollify the harsh idea of abortion. The positive word “choice” became the outcry.

Despite the political positioning of this issue, I have a content heart knowing that I’ve been a voice for the human being who did not yet have a voice. You might call it an advocate for the unborn.

In case you were wondering… I’m not placing any judgement on post abortive females. In fact, Salem has a program called “Her Choice to Heal”. It is geared to help women who are post-abortive. They are offered love, support and guidance.

I’m confident many who read this will take issue to my position. However, when you are looking at the imagery of the womb created by the incredible technology of ultra-sounds, give pause for what this is…..life.

Revive Me Again

Saturday Night came on quickly with the hint of an autumn cold. I took 2 Nyquil cold pills and my eye lids suddenly became so heavy that I couldn’t lift them. Forgoing my nightly ritual, I woke up after 8 solid hours of sleep and realized that I did not plug in my iPhone. In today’s world, that’s like going to bed with your shoes on…. you just don’t forget something like that.

The coma-like sleep I enjoyed in actuality was an unintentional experiment.  You could call it a scientific procedure undertaken without intention, but with a new discovery demonstrating an unrealized fact.

So, here’s how the experiment took place. Before getting on the way to church this morning, I asked Siri what the weather would be. I looked at my phone and only had 12% of my battery left. I thought to myself, I’ll get 10% in the car on the way. By the time we left the driveway, I realized that the car charger was in another vehicle. I began to think…conservation!! On Sundays, I use my phone in Bible Fellowship and our church has an app that gives you the ability to digitally make your offering. I said to myself, “the smartphone is a spiritual necessity ;-)”. By the time Jerry Morrison, our teacher, began to teach, I had the urge to check my email, respond to a text and yes, check a Facebook push notification. By this point, I was down to 2%. Then….  black-screen. It was an emotional experience. I felt like the digital door had just shut. Darkness fell upon the face of my earth.  I looked at my neighbor who was following the Bible Fellowship teacher intently with his ancient calf-skin cover 1000-page bible. Ink marks were actually in the side notes of his bible; The book even had a silk-ribboned page marker.  At the same time, Jerry, the bible teacher said, what is it in your life that causes you to take focus off of Christ. I looked at my black screen and said “could there be a hypothesis that would suggest that the smartphone in fact causes a person to take focus off of what or who you should be paying attention to?  Unfortunately, like sin nature, suddenly, I was thinking… “could someone be trying to text me”, “could someone be sending me an email”, “where can I find a charger”?  Then in that moment of self-reflection, it came upon me and I raised my hand. I confessed, our smartphones have the ability to take our focus off of Christ. Not just that, they can take your focus off of family and friends.  Elizabeth (My wife) has demonstrated frustration with me in the car when she is driving with my preoccupation to Facebook, audio book, and text messages.

On the way home, after placing a “thermometer” in my heart, I realized my issue was “digital addictiveness.”. It came on slowly without realizing I was infected.  

I think the point in this blog is to suggest we all become aware of what technology has created within our interpersonal relationships. Emotional multi-tasking with your phone typically will create a less than authentic conversation with whom you are in front of.  With intention, I am going to try to refocus my attention.

In all candor, I’m not turning my phone off. I’m not going to quit accepting and sending text messages, heck, I’m not even going to quit Facebook, but in light of this experiment, I am going to intentionally reconsider effective time management of accepting and giving text, IMs and other push notification.  I’m going to try to be a little more aware of this digital phenomenon that our technology culture has created.  

So like Christ who raised Lazarus from the grave, I'm going to try to bring back to life the idea of completely being there.  Revive me again! 
PS: If my buddy in Montana reads this...I know, you and L have preached this to me before. 

Five things can make a difference!

“The one who chooses to Love will find appropriate ways to express that decision everyday.” 

Gary Chapman

Gary, Karolyn, Liz and me

Scrolling through the net, I came upon this quote. Gary is a pastor at my church, a number 1 best-selling author and more importantly a friend.

In this quote, a couple of words really jumped out at me. The first word was “chooses”. Thinking about love; I went inward. There is no doubt that Elizabeth (my wife) chooses to love me. I am certain there are times I’m a very unlovable person. But because she makes that personal decision to love me, it causes me to love her even more. While Elizabeth in my eyes has very few flaws, I’ll go out on a limb and tell you that she isn’t perfect. But as I have gotten older, I have intentionally chosen to look inward when I see others flaws outwardly. It gives me pause to realize I am no perfect person. I have a lot of issues myself. The fact that Elizabeth “chooses” to love me causes my love “tank” to  get filled. Of all the people in the world for her to commit to, she chose me and chooses to continue loving me.

The other word that leaped off the page was “appropriate”. What are the appropriate ways to express love to your significant other. I’ll go back and use the word intention. Over our 28 years of marriage, I have intentionally made efforts to express my inner most feelings for Elizabeth. Using Gary’s book, The Five Love Languages, I attempted to discover her love language. Very quickly, I learned it wasn’t the same as mine. I also learned that offering that love language was not a special moment, but a lifestyle.-- I hope you get that. --In other words, it’s not about creating a special date night to where the moment gives cause for and isolated exchange of gifts, affirming words, held hands, acts of service or quality time. It’s about making Mondays as giving of yourself as Friday nights. And that’s when the word “everyday” leaped off the page to me. Don’t get me wrong, we love our special date nights!

Foggy day on the Sea of Galilee near Tiberus

Probably the greatest Christian witness for a person is marriage. It shows the world the most intimate  relationship, selflessness, commitment and union.  Marriage was created by God. His design where two people come together to become one. They are called to reflect what the bible calls a reflection of Christ and his bride the church. This simile to me is the most beautiful of all in the bible. In God’s creation of this union, the miracle of procreation can take place. It’s a walk together through economic good times and bad, healthiness and weakness, hard times and good times.

As with anything, a marriage produces dividends. They can be good and bad depending on how you have fertilized the relationship. Other than putting your spouse as number one on this earth, the witness that you are showing your children will pay huge dividends when they marry. And as a parent, I know you want nothing but the best for your children. It’s God’s natural order

So, consider Gary’s quote. “Choose”……”Appropriate love”……..”Everyday”.

As a consideration, shoot a text to your spouse….tell them what they mean to you. I predict you’ll love the reaction you get.

It couldn't have happened to me!

It couldn’t be me? Grant it, I’m middle age, but how could this have happen to me.

Coming to terms with the aging process can really frustrate a young minded middle age guy (notice my description of self). Although I could stand to lose 15 pounds, I have always been health conscience attempting to stay active. I’ve considered myself very healthy.

Over the last few years, Elizabeth and I have argued about very little. However, when we get in front of the TV, we played tug-a-war with the volume. I wanted it on 18, she wanted it on 10. For a long time, I thought it was just a gender thing. Later, I began struggling in group settings hearing people I would be having a conversation with. Then, embarrassed, people would speak to me and I would simply nod my head to acknowledge them. They could have been asking me a question, they could have told me they thought I was stupid….I’d just grin and try to change the subject to “it’s a great day”. It honestly became uncomfortable.

A few Sunday’s ago, I had a friend come to me and say “Kyle, did you not hear me hollering for you this morning?” I said “no”.  The time had come for me to have a hearing exam. But before I called the doctor, I ask this close friend, an attractive lady who happens to have hearing aids, to give me the scoop. When I called her, she said it would be a “game changer”. She suggested that it would change my quality of life. I was thinking… “are you serious?”

So, because I have faith in my friend, I called Dr. Scott Mills, an audiologist with Carolina Hearing Doctors. When the lady called me back, Dr. Mills asked me a series of questions. 15 minutes later he took me to a glass room and sat outside behind me asking me to press a button when I hear certain sounds. By the end of the hour-long meeting, he diagnosed me. In fact, I do have hearing loss; in both ears. He asked me about sounds…what could have caused this issue.  Like talking to a priest in a confessional box, I admitted to hard rock, shotguns and diesel engines. Years of rocking in my vehicle, killing ducks in cold duck blinds and running the bush hog caused me to lose my hearing. Heredity possibly caused some of the problem too.

So, he ordered me a set of hearing aids. Anxiously I waited one week. Treating me like her little baby, Elizabeth came to the fitting. Packaged like an iPhone, Dr. Mills unpackaged these new hearing devices. I was wondering deep in my heart, “would these things make any difference?”  So, he placed them in my ears and said, “can you hear better”. I said “No”, he said “good, I have them turned off”. Them with the press of a button, he turned them on. Have you ever had an AHA moment?  Wow! Instantly, I could hear things. He and his staff explained how they worked, and off I went.

Since that fitting, I have heard the blinker on the car, I have heard birds that I have missed. I now want the tv on about 10. Funny thing now is that I ask Elizabeth to lower her voice.

I came to terms with this issue of middle age called hearing loss. Rather than being frustrated with what I can’t change, I hit it head on. I can honestly say this has been one of the best decisions I’ve made in some time.

God where are you?

I purchased my NASA approved eclipse glasses on Amazon. As they promised,  they were delivered within two days. As with half the population within 100 miles of either side of the totality line, our office waited in great expectation.

When the time came, sporting my safety glasses, I looked up into the heavens. The picture that I saw was amazing. It spoke to me of heaven itself.

Years ago, King David wrote, "The heavens declare the glory of God; and their expanse shows the work of his hands."

Obviously, I don't look into the eye of the sun on a regular basis. But with these powerful shades, for just a moment I could see the sun and moon perfectly pair with each other. I said to myself, this didn't happen by accident. How could it? I looked up and beheld the majesty of an almighty creator.

If you're a person who is skeptical about this God thing, think about yesterday. Think about the chances of this happening. It couldn't have happen without an intelligent creator. The way I see it is God is not giving you any excuses to wonder. The writer in the New Testament book, Romans says "For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood from His workmanship, so that men are without excuse".

Sunset after the eclipse

Yesterday, He was clearly seen. I thought about it all afternoon and even now. Even as I watched the sunset, the silence was screaming to me "I AM GOD".

I hope you will use this solar eclipse event to
create, ponder, or restore your faith in an Almighty God. If he can lineup the planets, just think what he can do in your life.

So as to the question, "God, where are you". I hope you get it. :-)

A handshake means something.

Wrong

Today, I reached out and offered a handshake to a young millennial. Don't think I'm picking on that age group, that's just what he was. He's not a friend of mine on social media, so he probably won't read this blog...but if so...good.

I remember my dad telling me as a young man, "offer a tight squeeze, and look the person in the eye".  This young man didn't attend the Jerry Swicegood School of Handshakes. I honestly felt like I was holding the hand of a corpse. It was limp and lethargic. If the hand had a personality, I would have called it melancholy.

A short search on google identifies that the custom of handshakes started in the medieval times. As dangerous as those times were, it was important to demonstrate that you weren't carrying a weapon. Later it became a customary way for a gentleman to politely greet one another. Then it was a demonstration of a bond, an agreement. Today it is gender neutral.

Right

In 2017, I don't think that "bond or agreement" would hold up in court, but I am certain it is a polite way to greet someone and demonstrate the emotion for which  you have in meeting someone. The eye contact part of that exchange is to authenticate your sincerity in the meeting of a person. I think we have all seen someone with shifty eyes. It makes us uncomfortable.

I say all that to say this: we all want to be received as credible and authentic. Whether its in business or in social settings. Consider your handshake and eye contact. If its difficult, break through the fear because the dividends it will pay in the minds of the people that meet you is in-calculable.

Preparation for Town Management & Business Ownership

Who would have thought in 1983 that my friend, Lee would be an executive manager of a successful town and I'd would have owned a business for 28 years. 

We had just turned 16. We were idealistic young "bens" (boys trying to be men). School had just let out. For 9 months Lee was an experimental driver; one might call him a novice. Me on the other hand, I had only had my license for three months. But like most "country boys" we both had been driving the back roads since we were 13, praying we wouldn't get caught. I had a jack-up, large tired, roll-bar pick up strewn with KC 1,000,000 power spot lights. I considered myself a sophisticated redneck.

For months we had been dreaming about heading to the mountains.  Camping, experiencing nature as two independent men (or so we thought). So the week after school was released, we loaded up the bed of the truck with sleeping bags, lounge chairs, coolers, flashlights, food, a tarp and rope. Basically everything but a tent. Decidedly, we wanted to rough it. 

Cades Cove

In that day, 16 offered a little more confidence from parents. They endorsed our trip.

So with about $75 in our pockets each, we set out for Cades Cove, Tennessee. We made our way through Asheville and detoured through Cherokee. Winding our way up the mountain, we turned  at the Sugarland visitors center and headed along the Little River to the primitive camp ground and 11 mile loop road called Cades Cove.

Cades Cove, a valley surrounded by the tall green canopied Appalachian mountains is a popular destination in the Great Smoky Mountains.  Its a broad, verdant valley surrounded by mountains and is one of the most popular destinations in the Great Smokies. The 11 mile loop road offers some of the best opportunities for wildlife viewing in the park. On any given morning or afternoon, you can see large numbers of white tail, the occasional black bear, and smaller animals like coyote, ground hog, turkey, raccoon and skunk.

So when we arrived, we set up and organized our campsite. Using the tarp and the rope, we created our lien too shelter. Open air on the front and sides, it was our hope to protect us  from potential rain and morning dew. 1 out of two wasn't bad. It never rained while we were there. Roughing it meant sleeping bags, but we brought with us certain evidence of the city. We had two lounge chairs that folded out into a layout recliner. I'm certain my mother turn a few shades of tan laying in this orange poolside recliner over the past, but for now, it was supporting the comforts of my sleeping bag. Lee had a similar night-time heavenly rest.

The days were filled with exploring, sight seeing and wildlife appreciation. Despite our age, our personal wildlife was fairly tame as we were quite honestly two fairly innocent kids. I'd love to tell you that we created magnificent meals on an open fire, but our most impressive protein was a tube steak packaged by Oscar Meyer and our sweet course typically was a honey bun. I should include that our midday snacks were salted peanut butter crackers prepared by Lance. 

The test of friendship came one afternoon when we decided to visit the populated area called the Y. This was a rocky beach at the confluence of The Little River and West Prong Little River. As we had driven by earlier, it was populated by beach dwellers. They happened to be dressed as though they were at Myrtle Beach, so you can imagine the minds of two 16 year olds. So with our packed lounge chairs, we showed up at the beach. Both of us fair skinned from a winter and spring of long pants, we rested the legs of our beds in the water. Lee, the more righteous of the two of us, laid down and fell asleep. Me, on the other hand, felt the need to do a little reconnaissance. I was curious if any of these pretty young ladies were the welcome wagon for the Great Smokey Mountains. After about thirty minutes or so of talking with some of the locals, realizing that I wasn't interested in their Appalachia  demeanor, I made my skinny 125 pound way back to Lee. I'm certain he was dreaming about pretty girls, the mountain men that we were (or thought) and simply getting rest considering our taxing schedule we had created 

I'm not sure what got over me; was it the devil, was it mischief, or did I think Lee was overheating from the Tennessee hot sun. I had a plastic cup that had been filled with Cheerwine (Yes, no beer. We never drank the first sip of alcohol on this trip), I dipped it into the cold cold waters of the union created by the two rivers, and decided to give Lee a Methodist baptism, a sprinkling of water, however not on the head, but on the sunbaked belly of my good friend. I really don't remember anything about his response with the exception of the look on his face, and the fact that he turned over my lounge chair. I do remember laughing at myself and him. That caused the situation to get even worse. As the water cooled down his belly, time caused the situation to cool down. I think the only unholy words used on that trip was him calling me a Jackass. I guess the shoe fit.

We left our mark on Cades Cove and decided to drive through Gatlinburg to get to I-40. While we both thought we were sophisticated rednecks, we were able to see the real definition of rednecks in this narrow gap in the mountains. It was a Sunday, and probably out of obligation rather than reverence, we decided to attend the Gatlinburg Church of Christ.  Worn out, I quietly told Lee, "if i begin to fall asleep during the sermon, give me a nudge". During the singing my soul was stimulated enough to keep awake. However during the opening prayer, I caught myself nodding. When the preacher began speaking, I knew this was going to be challenging as his presentation was melancholy. Sure enough, about 5 minute into his sermon, my head felt like 50 pounds and I began to dose. Lee, a rule follower, gently shook my shoulder and like a car wreck with whiplash, my head came up. this happened about four times in the next 15 minutes, and finally with the same look that Lee had at the river, I said "leave me alone". The invitation song woke me up. 

We risked the norm that day by wearing shorts to church. In that day, casual and church was like 13 year olds and cigarettes. they didn't go. But we did that and was accepted. When we finally got to I-40 with the 3 hour ride ahead of us, Lee had this great idea. Since he didn't sleep through church, he decided to unfold his lounge chair and place it in the back of the truck. He must have looked great. Along with the roll bars and lights, I had a small rebel flag hanging on one side of the roll bar and an American flag on the other. Like Gettysburg must have been on July1-3 of 1863, Lee was lying between two opposing flag. He was not going to be fighting the blue or the gray, He was going to be fighting the sun. By the time we crossed into North Carolina, Lee was sound asleep. Having gotten my rest in church I was wide awake listening to Elvis Presley's American Trilogy. With a tank full of gas. I didn't stop until we were near hickory, when Lee and I both were not only awake but hungry, Lee rose from his reclined position, hopped off the tailgate of the truck and I saw something amazing. Lee's arms and legs were no longer fair skinned. In fact, they matched the color of red found on the American flag and rebel flag. He was burnt to a crisp. 

That trip was one of those monumental experiences from being a child to becoming  a man. We learned to cook, make up our bed, get along, handle conflict management, and the important use of sunscreen. Its a great memory. We rolled back into Mocksville with about $5 each in our pockets

I occasionally show up at Cades Cove. I still enjoy the scenery and always ride the 11 mile loop road to see the animals. As I cross the Y and look at the rocky beach, I always remember the spot where I almost got my neck broke (by Lee), and I am thankful for a friendship that has lasted since the 1st grade.

 . 

It started on the water.

Some people would have probably called me cheap, but others that knew me understood. There was something about being outside and on the water that caused me to have some of my most cherished dates with my wife Elizabeth Swicegood; what were we doing? Fishing, yes fishing.

Back in 1984, I had seen a number of afternoons on the water. There wasn't a fishing pond within 5 miles of my parent's house that I had not paid a visit to. So, when I took my first visit to Elizabeth Sharp's house, I had only heard there was a pretty girl from Texas that had moved in. No one said anything about two fishing ponds. So, I possibly could have been accused to picking Elizabeth as my girlfriend because her dad had a 100-acre farm with two fishing ponds.  One open and the other with great cover. The two tranquil bodies of water were special. Un-fished for many years before they moved from the prairies of north Texas, these two ponds were target central for me as a 17-year-old. Ok, don't get excited, the bulls eye was the brunette for sure.  Not knowing if my new potential girlfriend would enjoy fishing, much less take a bass or bream off the hook, I asked her what her thoughts were about making a date night a fishing experience. Using words like "experience" conjured up something a little more special than "lets go fishing". I had multiple rods/reels and plenty of fishing lures. Happily, she said yes, and there began our incredible experiences on the water. So many things happened on the banks of the ponds an in the aluminum seats of our John boat. First, I learned that I was attempting to date a very competitive person. She wasn’t just concerned with the quantity of fish caught, but who got the biggest. Second, in those quiet moments of nothing but the sound of a lure hitting the water and the mockingbird repeating its repertoire, we would talk, share and learn so much about each other. There were no distractions like TV, movies or other things to interrupt the senses. In that era, no Facebook, Instagram or other digital distractions.  I remember fighting the North Carolina mosquitoes on breeze less afternoons, but suffering a bite or two because we continued to reel in fish. We would end our angling focused dates just minutes after the sun was welcomed by the horizon. The only expense I can remember was the $1.20 per gallon gasoline that was required to drive from Jericho Road to Pete Foster Road, maybe 5 miles. 

Did I fall in love with her while fishing? I don’t know, but I’d say it help create a line between us that could not be challenged. It was strong. 

On the day of our wedding, I woke up early and while she was getting ready for our big day, guess what I did? Yep, I went fishing. Quietly I reflected on the many times we fished and hopefully the new life we would share together on future trips.

My love for catching fish came from my Grandfather, Roman Gobble. As a child, he would take me to High Rock Lake in Salisbury, NC and he would demonstrate the required patience caused by a tangled line or a lure that needed adjusting.  With his help, I reeled in my first fish. Like the fish, I was hooked. I look back with fond memories on the fish I caught, the sunburn I endured, and the lessons I learned in his little Bomber bass boat with its 90 Hp  Mercury.

Lewis Swicegood with a rainbow catch near Helena, MT

Now we have grown kids and the contagion has spread to my family. Like the feeling of having a fish on the end of your line that Elizabeth & I felt in 1984, my kids and son-in-law felt the presence of God on the water this past week; they enjoyed the glory of the moment and they bonded their relationships even stronger with the simplicity of a rod and reel. We fished this week in Montana. The area is called “Land of the Giants”. It's name relates to the size of rainbow trout that are caught on this section of the Missouri River. Ashton (my daughter) and her husband Ben, shared the boat with Lewis (my son). If only there’d been room for one more, I would have enjoyed hearing their conversation. They were in the boat from 7:45 AM -5:45 PM. Each landed fish; multiple big fish. Being a fly-fishing trip meant that they were able to learn the art of the cast. The faith required to cast the fly line over the head, pausing for one moment to delicately deliver the fly into the water. Ashton & Ben quickly learned the rhythm and count of casting a fly; Lewis had the contagion a few years ago and picked up the rhythm again rather quickly. My mother and father were in another boat making their day of memories. They too brought a number of 18-22 inch trout into the boat. Elizabeth and I boated to  a different section of the river. Quietly as I watched Elizabeth gracefully cast her line, my mind….my heart was brought back to those sunny afternoons in our small hometown

Ben & Ashton Burton experiencing their first day of Flyfishing

where we shared together fishing. Indescribable, my heart was filled with contentment. This sport, this hobby, this outdoor activity that brought Elizabeth and I together in so many ways, continued in our middle ages. But now, we had brought along our children and our son-in-law.

As I look back 33 years ago, I can’t think of any other way I would have wanted to go out with my girlfriend. The catches we caught on the banks and in the boat were such small catches compared to my ultimate catch…..Elizabeth Sharp Swicegood.

As to fishing.... All good things don't come to an end.. they are stored in my memory to revisit! I'll go there and relive those moments and yes, I will smile.

Go fishing, I think you’ll be enriched.

33 years later, we still in enjoy the catch. 

A Land Filled with Giants

I 

Travel is my favorite past time. And when I travel, I like to get off the beaten path.  I remember flying into the capital city of Paraguay, Asuncion, and enjoying the Latin metropolitan scene but hiring a taxi driver to take Elizabeth and I across the tropical rain forest  through Caguazu over the border to Brazil in Cuidad de Este to the world’s largest water fall system, Iguazu falls. Adventure! That particular 12 hour day trip is worth a story in and of itself.

Finding places that are not overrun with people & billboards is where I believe you really find the beauty of this world. Concrete, asphalt and towers are necessary, but finding peace, tranquility and nature usually is far from these man made objects.

Soon, we will be traveling to a similar adventure; this time Americana style. My home away from home for sometime has been Montana. My close friends, Dan Pate & Leah Welsh have welcomed us into their world; Big Sky world. We will be making Helena our home for the next week or so combing  central southwest Montana and enjoying the land that was described in the memoirs of Lewis & Clark.

Dan & Leah's back deck looks out over The Elkhorn Mountains. The Elkhorn Mountains are a classic Rocky Mountain range that is comprised of approximately 300,000 acres. You literally can see only 1 house from his back yard. It surrounds the capital city of Helena, Montana City, Townsend and Winston(No tobacco fields in this Winston). It’s an incredible mixture of cowboy, mountain man and back to nature personalities. 

Soon we will be going to one of the places that I would described as being off the beaten path. It’s called Land of the Giants.  Land of the Giants is a three-mile section of the Missouri River that connects Hauser Reservoir dam to Upper Holter lake.  Only miles from Helena, and less than 30 minutes from trout city, Craig.  The river meanders through a spectacular canyon with steep walls. There are no boat ramps to allow for drift-

boat access. Fishermen are forced to access the Land of the Giants by jet boat from upper Holter lake and boat up stream to the fishing.  Here’s the great thing; this location has some of the largest rainbow and brown trout that the Big Sky state has to offer. Ponderosa pines line the river with the backdrop of colorful rock formations. Lewis and Clark were so amazed at the beauty of the rock formations that they named this area upstream “The Gates of the Mountains”. The Missouri offers and intertwined combination of activity for the sportsmen, history buff, nature lover and trout angler. The times I have been here, I have felt the glory of the moment, I have seen the never-ending day. I have celebrated the vast sky encapsulated by the canyon walls. There with my guide and fishing partner, I have been where explorers were longing for the Pacific Ocean and where few people travel today.

As you can tell, I’m excited about the Land of the Giants. Catching Rainbows, and having a reunion with my Montana Family! This time I will be taking both my kids, my son-in-law  and my parents. I’m anxious to see if this place causes a contagious spirit internally among my daughter and son-in-law as It did me the first time I looked up and saw the Big Sky.

My Montana friendship made over the years has also been a big part of the magnetic draw to this area. Dan is not just a good ole cowboy (His middle name “Tex”, seriously) he’s a second generation auctioneer whose love of the industry drives him as it does me.

So, my advice to you? Get off the beaten path. Visit those places that are less commercialized. Experience America! Hit the water, hike a path, let God’s nature fill your senses. Find a friendship that makes the landscape have even more dimensions. 

As Muir once said "The Mountains are calling and I must go."