Different is Good

By: Dennis Bates

My wife and I get our hair cut at the same place from the same person. Actually, she calls it getting her hair done and I call it getting my hair cut. In her case “done” includes “cut” most of the time, but it also includes considerably more. For one thing, my hair is gray. Prudence dictates that I stop there.

My point is this: Much as I hate to hear this kind of thing, men and women are different in so many ways. The above paragraph is only one of them. As with any broad statement that smacks of stereotype, everything doesn’t always apply to everybody, but there are some bases for the broad brush references.

One of the more classic examples of this is asking for directions. Women will ask just about anyone where they are when they get lost. In fact, their first instinct whenever they are even slightly disoriented is to ask somebody where they are and how to get to where they want to go. Men, on the other hand, would rather starve to death in the wilderness than to admit they are lost and ask somebody how to get somewhere. It’s just an unmanly thing to do no matter how much sense it might make at the time.

Women insist on wearing “outfits;” men simply wear clothes. Outfits are carefully coordinated and match according to some set of ever changing guidelines dictated by fashion experts. Men are confused even by the term “coordinated” and matching is a sign of weakness. Blue jeans go with anything, as do khaki pants, and who says plaids and checks don’t go together?

Women eat salads and skinless chicken breasts; men could survive on pizza and peanut butter. Bread is optional and a spoon or even a finger works just as well.

Even when we like the same things, which we often do, we may see them differently. A lot of women I know like football, but many of them like it because the quarterback is cute and he reminds them of the guy they always wanted to go to the Prom with. Man love football because they like to watch the big, heavy muscled linemen crash into each other. Plus a lot of the linemen have bellies some of us can relate to. I know I can.

Cuddling is another thing both men and women like, but from different perspectives. Women like to cuddle because it makes them feel warm and protected. Men like to cuddle because it makes them feel warm and hopeful. Just being honest.

Personally, I find the differences exciting and interesting. I feel strongly that there is a reason why in the very beginning God created us male and female. Vive la difference! But even though we are different, God made us this way so that we would be united and no longer be two, but one. We have to remember that part also.

So, today my wife will have her hair done this morning, and I will have mine cut this afternoon by the same person in the same shop. It will be different, but tonight we will both have shorter hair.

 

Satan Plays Mahjong

By: Dennis Bates

            Okay, so there I was, minding my own business in the church parking lot when a big, black limo rolls in and Satan himself gets out.

            I tried to scrunch down behind my steering wheel and hide, but he must have seen me. I have to say he didn’t look as menacing as I thought he might. In fact, he looked pretty ordinary and almost friendly. Still, I was quite certain I didn’t want to be his friend. My mother warned me about such things from the time I was old enough to understand warnings.

            The first thing he did was walk completely around the outside of the church building apparently counting off the steps and making notes in a little black notebook he pulled out of his vest pocket. He nodded and smiled. Then he tried to peer in through the windows to see what was inside. He put his hands around his eyes and leaned on the glass, pressing his nose to the window panes while he looked.

            I slid lower in the front seat of my pickup truck, but every time I moved, he turned around and winked my way. Like I said, he must have seen me, but I have no idea how he did. I thought I had hidden pretty well. Guess not.

Satan walked straight to my vehicle, holding his black note book in one arm against his chest like many church members hold their Bibles. The closer he got, the less menacing he seemed to be, but that didn’t stop me from sweating bullets when he stopped less than a foot away from me.

            “Excuse me,” he said, tapping on my half opened window, “I hate to bother you, but do you know anything about this church?”

            He ducked his head so he could look in my side window at me. I didn’t want to look back, but for some reason I had to. Curiosity, I guess. That and a friendly stare that froze me in place.

            He handed me his business card. It read: S.A. Tan, consultant and entrepreneur. Isn’t everybody these days, I thought to myself.

            “I’ve gone to that little church all my life,” I finally said. “What would you like to know?”

            Satan shrugged. “Is the property for sale? I’m trying to acquire property in the area. This one interests me in particular.”

            “Why?” I asked. “It’s in the middle of nowhere and it’s always been a church. What would you do with it?”

            “Mahjong parlors,” he whispered, covering his mouth with his hand as he looked around. “They’re the latest rage.” He smiled and chuckled, “At least they will be.”

            I scratched my head. “Never heard of such a thing,” I said.

            “I like being on the cutting edge,” he said, winking at me. “You know what I mean? I’ll be looking for partners at some point. You have my number on my card. Give me a call if you’re interested. No experience necessary; we have an extensive training program. ”

            I nodded my head as I looked at the card, but I had no intention of calling the number. In fact, I had no plans to keep the card.

            “Just don’t wait too long to decide,” Satan said. “From the looks of things, most of these smaller churches won’t last much longer. There are too many empty spaces inside. So, if they don’t want to sell, I’ll wait.” He clasped my shoulder with his hand and his grip was a lot firmer than I would have suspected from his appearance. “Once I take over, things will heat up in a hurry,” he said. “Just some friendly advice. It’s best to be in on the ground floor.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.

            “Good,” he said. “That’s all I ask.”

            He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, I’d better get going. If I don’t get back to the office, there will be you know what to pay.” He laughed at his own words.

            “Uh huh,” I said, watching him back away from my truck.

            He saluted with two fingers. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you. Nice talking with you.”

            The black limo pulled away and my wife came out of the church building. She slid into her side of the truck and let out a sigh.

            “How was the meeting?” I asked.

            “Same old, same old,” she answered. “You been waiting long?”

            “Long enough,” I responded. “Dear, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to wait for you inside the next time.”

            “Whatever,” she said, smiling.

            “And I’m thinking we need to start inviting more people from the neighborhood to come to church.  There’s just too many empty seats in there.”

            Now I had her attention. She turned to me and raised her right eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you?”

            “You ever play mahjong?” I asked.

            “No, why?”

            “Neither have I and I have a strong feeling I don’t want to learn.”

 

 

Front Load or Top Load?

By: Dennis Bates

Front load or top load: that is the question of  my day. Sounds exciting, doesn’t it. Still, as my wife is quick to point out, that’s the way life is.

I learned Friday that washing machines are supposed to remain dry outside as they clean the clothes inside. It is not a good thing when water pools around the outside edges at the base of your machine. It is even worse when the pool of water takes almost as many towels to sop up as the machine just washed.

When I say I learned, I mean my wife told me all this, so it has to be true. As a guy, I figured as long as I had one or two dry towels left, I was okay. I can stretch two towels for several weeks, even a month if I’m careful. My wife is more demanding. Several days with the same towel is her absolute limit. I’m thinking, as long as it’s dry when I use it, what’s the difference?

All of that to say that today we have to shop for a new washing machine. It’s a complete waste of time as far as I’m concerned, but if  I have to so do this to maintain domestic tranquility around the home front, okay. I guess.

Now we come to the top load verses front load decision. Would that it were that simple. You can’t stop there. There are high energy machines, some with spin cycles, some with small hand wash cycles, some rinse only, cotton only, permanent press, and some  for delicate fabrics. For the record, none of the things that I wear are delicate, or require special treatment. At least you guys know what I’m saying here.

Like almost everything else these days, there are far too many options. Back in the day when I was in college and did all my own laundry, it was simple. The white cotton clothes got washed together on “Hot.” Everything else got thrown together and washed on “Cool” or “Cold.” And, oh yeah, nothing got washed at all until it was mature enough to walk to the laundry on its own.

Hey, it worked.

You women married us didn’t you? So don’t wrinkle up your noses. 

I don’t know why it needs to be any more complicated today, but for some reason it just does. Some people (mostly engineers and techie types) have made careers out of taking the simple and the obvious and making them complex and mysterious. It doesn’t have to be that way, and that is from a retired lawyer. Nobody can obfuscate better than we can. Well, almost nobody. I forgot about theologians.

In the Old Testament God said to the Hebrews, “You are my chosen people; here are Ten Commandments; follow them.” They didn’t. Eventually, the elaborate set of rules and laws that their religious leaders developed became so confusing that nobody understood them, but that was great for the religious leaders because they had a full time job explaining them.

In the New Testament, God tries to clear things up for us. He sends His Son Jesus to tell us we’re making things too hard. All we have to do is “believe in him and love one another.” Period. Beginning and end of the story. We didn’t. Instead, we got more rules, more interpretations and more leaders ready to take advantage of the confusion they helped create.

A washing machine cleans our clothes; God cleans our souls. It doesn’t really take multiple cycles or constant reinvention for either of those things. It just takes us. We have to listen and do what we’re told. Nothing more.

I Was Wrong

By: Dennis Bates

Dave Letterman is just the most recent example of one of the most significant problems facing our society today. His announcement that he was the subject of an alleged blackmail plot and his admission on national television that he had affairs in the past with several staff members are big news, and the details that will no doubt come out in the following days promise to make that news even bigger.

There are some who say his unveiling lends credibility to the old maxim that what goes around comes around. As a comedian who makes a living using his acerbic wit to poke fun at the foibles or other prominent people, he is now getting a dose of his own medicine. Perhaps. Others say, as one of his recent guests did, that his actions  just prove he’s human. Duh! What else would he be?

All the rationalizations trying to lend him cover notwithstanding, what bothers me more than anything about this is the way he’s treating it, and the way his buddies and audiences are responding to it. Of course, there has been ample precedent for this type of reaction, and it doesn’t matter whether you approach things from the right or the left. There are less than shining examples on both sides, whether the person is a former President or a former evangelist. They just prove that a lot of the public is nonpartisan in its myopia.

Here’s what I mean. Mixed in between Letterman’s comments that have been generously described as an apology from him to his wife are the usual Letterman quips. Even though their barbs are self directed for the most part, they have the effect of trivializing and  attempting to excuse his conduct.  To say that “…when a person hurts someone, they have to fix it…” is a far cry from an apology. To add “I have a lot of work to do” is similarly no apology at all. At best it merits an equally flippant response such as “Do you think?”

Letterman appears to be trying to deflect any personal wrong doing or responsibility here when his comments are taken in total. The fact that he has a national television show to beat his breast lightly and whisper “mea culpa” doesn’t impress me much.

Furthermore, the willingness of his supporters and audiences to accept that kind of modern day non confession is even more appalling. It reflects in a small but significant way the total lack of morality that eats at the very soul of our society today. Everything is relative; nothing is wrong, especially until you get caught.

Let me suggest something radical to Letterman and all of us who continually fall short of perfection. I’ll even provide the words. They won’t serve as a spring board for jokes or clever quips nearly as well as some, but then, they are supposed to do that. They don’t need to be recited on national television either, even if doing that helps the ratings.

Here they are:

What I did is wrong. I did it; nobody else, and I was wrong. Please forgive me. I will try to do better in the future because I will try to do what is right.

It’s as simple as that. If you want the advanced course, you might try that from your knees and direct it heavenward after you tell the person   you wronged. I’m not saying that Letterman hasn’t done that; I don’t know, and I don’t need to. At least he didn’t try to cover up what he did; why not go the whole way and admit that what he did was wrong, simply and directly? Then, and only then can he get the forgiveness he needs.

Don’t Look

By: Dennis Bates

Annual pay raises for federal employees, when I still got such things,  used to show up on the first pay check for the first full pay period of the new fiscal year. That wasn’t the first of the year, as in January. The federal government employees new year started sometime after September 1, and that’s about as specific as I can get.

Never an employer to do anything that would be normal by most employer standards, those who decide such things have determined that federal employees get  paid through an elaborate, almost logarithmic formula.

The amount for a two-week paycheck is calculated roughly as follows: annual salaries for the different pay grades are set; they are divided by 2087, which is the number of hours in a federal government year. Never mind the fact that every other business has determined that there are 2080 hours in a work year. (52 weeks times 40 hours a week.) The hourly number is then multiplied by 80, which is the number of hours in a two-week pay period, and that’s the employee’s gross pay.

Logic would tell a person of normal intelligence that the government is having its own way twice with this system. The hourly rate is effectively lowered by dividing annual pay by 2087, but the employee is paid by multiplying that number by 80. (Guess what: 80 times 26 pay periods in a year is 2080.)

The government is not content to stop at this point. Tax rates change, life insurance payments change and health insurance changes, none at the same time of the year. Therefore, the federal employee’s pay check is constantly adjusted and readjusted to reflect those changes until everything settles out sometime in February.

Just think of how much money could be saved if the government programmed its computers to make all the changes just once. Of course, that would mean that the programmers would have to be changed too, and the fiscal minds that actually run our government might find that to be too mundane. After all the government thrives on continual chaos, so where would the sport in that be? Look how well our current system has worked. Oh, wait a minute…we are having  this temporary down turn, deficit thing, aren’t we.

The creative lunacy of the pay system has different effects on different employees, all of whom are taxpayers themselves, I might add. I used to work with one woman who refused to look at the information that told her how much her “raise” was. (They weren’t always raises, just in case you wondered.)  Her reasoning was that that government always cheated us and no matter how much the pay adjustment ended up being, it was always $50 a week less than she needed.

As the diatribe above reflects, there’s some small truth in her position, even if it’s very small.

The whole process always made me think about the passage from Matthew 6:19. Jesus told the multitude on the hillside not to bother itself with storing treasures on earth because moth and rust ultimately consumed those treasures.

Instead, Jesus told the crowd to store its treasures in heaven where neither moth nor rust could touch them. Perhaps Federal fiscal policies, including those that set federal employee pay should be added to moth and rust as destructive agents, or, maybe my coworker had the right idea after all. Don’t be so concerned about money and other treasures you can store up on earth. You can’t store enough here anyway.

Greath Truths

By: Dennis Bates

If you’re like me, one of the more interesting facets of the Internet is the endless string of emails you receive from friends and relatives who mean well, but really ought to think seriously about getting a life. You know:  the jokes, the websites to videos that are the “funniest thing I have ever seen,” and the always popular chain letters that promise wealth and happiness within 10 minutes of sending the letter on to your ten best friends.

Think about that one for a minute. Do you think they will still be your best friends if you keep filling their inboxes with chain letters? And, if those chain letters really do bring health and wealth, why do the same people keep sending them? If they really worked, wouldn’t those people be on some private island somewhere enjoying their health and spending their wealth?

Let me be crystal clear about this; with the exception of an occasional joke or two, I NEVER pass those things on. Read that as not at all, even if I find some inspirational value in them. I have too few friends as it is. I don’t need to irritate those I have left. It’s an arbitrary rule I have made up that acts as my own personalized spam filter, and it applies to both outgoing and incoming emails. Trust me. It’s better this way for both of us.

Still…and you had to know something like this was coming…occasionally I get something that is just too good to keep entirely to myself, especially when I can add my own cute little comments to it. Forgive me if you have already received this list, but I have pared it down some and added my own observations.

The list is called “Great Truths” and it is broken down into age groups.

Great Truths Little Children Have Learned.

–When your Mom is mad at your Dad, don’t let her brush your hair.  My daughters taught me that one early when I asked them why they screamed so much when their mother fixed their hair as they were growing up.

–Never ask your three-year-old brother to hold a tomato for you. Those of you who don’t get that one never had a younger brother or had to clean the tomato off the walls after you unwisely asked him to hold it for you.

–You can’t hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk. I know about this one personally. I tried it. My mother found the broccoli I was supposed to eat immediately. I still had to eat it, and, trust me, the left over green milk isn’t all that good to drink.

Great Truths Adults Have Learned.

–Wrinkles don’t hurt. I should add, if you don’t look in the mirror.

–Middle age is when you choose your cereal for the fiber in it, not for the free toy in it. I miss those toys. They were much more fun to play with than fiber is.

Great Truths Older People Have Learned

–Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional. Kind of self explanatory. I’m still considering my options.

–When you fall down, you wonder what else you can do while you’re down there. After all, if you’re like me, it’s going to be a while before you find a way to get back up. There’s no sense in wasting all that time. Oh yeah, those communication things you can wear are for wimps!

–Wisdom comes with age, but sometimes age comes alone. Have you ever noticed that at one instant you can have these profound insights that seem so wise and then the next minute…wait, what was I talking about again?

Have a great week full of great truths, no matter what stage you’re in!

Heal Thy Self

By: Dennis Bates

The phrase “Physician, heal thyself,” is so widely used that sometimes we forget that it is recorded in Luke 4:23 as a proverb quoted by Jesus. Loosely interpreted, it means get your own house in order before you tell others how to live.

It applies to writers too.

When I started writing novels three years ago I was fulfilling a lifelong dream. My undergraduate degree was in journalism. I wrote for more than four years on a midsized newspaper and for a news service before I got sucked into the black hole of “having a career.” I always loved writing and have finally gone back to it.

Fortunately, now I don’t have to sustain myself from my earnings. To put it succinctly, they range from meager to nonexistent. Writing professionally is a tough gig, and like any other profession, there are tradeoffs. If you want to make money, you have to be willing to write what agents and editors can sell.

Some writers can do that better than others. I’m one of the others. I have always said that I want to write what I feel I am led to write, the way I am led to write it. That’s one of the reasons I self publish. Most non writers  don’t realize that writing the great American novel is less than half the job. You have to market yourself and your stories, first to agents, then to publishers, then to editors and finally to the public.

And you have to be willing to wait your turn and be patient. I’ve never been good at that. Even if you sell your book to a publisher, it may be a year or more until it is actually published. Then if the bookstores don’t get the buzz going, all your work goes for naught. Frankly it is not a job that lends itself well to those of us who took it up at a more mature age. Read that an old age.

But none of that should matter if we are doing this for God and His purposes, right? Of course that’s right, but that doesn’t make it easy to accept all the time. Nor does it make it easy to put it into practice. Down deep, whether we admit it or not, doing what God wants us to do would be even better if it were wildly acclaimed by the masses. I want the Psalm Sunday masses cheering for me; I just don’t want the next weekend when those same people screamed “Crucify him!”

It doesn’t work like that.

My second book, “Sharon’s Story,” hasn’t taken off like I wanted it too. Of course, I haven’t marketed it as I should have, but that’s another essay. Yet, I have always believed in that story and always felt God had a purpose for it. I just wanted His purpose to land it on a best seller list somewhere.

I guess that wasn’t what He had in mind, at least not yet. Still, last week my former pastor called me and asked me if he could buy ten books from me for a church group to use. I was thrilled because the purchase inluded an invitation to me to meet with the group and discuss my book. That is exactly the kind of thing I enjoy doing the most.

As an aside, my wife likes that kind of thing too because it means she doesn’t have to listen to me drone on for hours about my stories or writing in general. She likes to talk about my stories but not as endlessly as I do.

Yesterday my former pastor called and said he needed more books. He said the first ten were gone in an instant and he could use ten more. He is coming to get them in a few minutes. To be sure,  twenty books in less than a week won’t get me on the best seller list, but it convinces me that God does have a plan. His plan. After all, that’s what I signed up for.

I need to believe that, not just talk about it. What is God’s plan for you? Do you believe in it, because He does.

Baby Boomers

By: Dennis Bates

Much has been made of the fact that this is the 40^thanniversary of the Woodstock music festival in upstate New York. A movie has come out suggesting the event  was the turning point in the generation of the Sixties and maybe it was, but perhaps the aging eyes of the generation and the fading memories have been overly kind. Only time will really tell.

I am one of the Baby Boomers. I remember Woodstock and even saw the documentary made of the actual concert. Woodstock was only one of the events that shaped my generation, and my next novel, which is tentatively entitled “Except for the Eagles,” takes a look at what happened to my generation. Hopefully it will be released this fall.

The following is a small excerpt from that book, which like all my books is copyrighted. I hope it peaks your curiosity. The characters speaking at this point are Jack and Sara, and they are taking one last look at San Francisco before they move back to Iowa where they were born.           

            “We were the Chosen Generation…the generation of peace and love that was supposed to change the world and make it a better place. What happened to us, Sara? What happened to all of us, not just you and me?”

            I put my arms around her waist as she stood silently in front of me, and I waited for her response. For a moment there was none, but I knew there would be, so I tightened my embrace and waited for it. Finally, with a deep sigh, Sara turned slightly and looked at me.

            “Maybe we quit believing that there was a God, who was in control; maybe we just didn’t listen to Him and did our own thing. Maybe we just heard the things we wanted to hear and ignored the rest, or maybe we just failed, even though we tried. On the other hand, maybe we were just full of crap from the very beginning.”

            Sara’s always had a way of mixing the sacred and the profane like that so that each part worked with the other bringing an interesting balance. Baby Boomers all did that at first, but somewhere we lost it…all of it…the balance, the unique attitude that made it all work, and finally the will to care if we ever found it again. And several other generations caught up with us and dubbed themselves as the Chosen Generations.

            “So where does that leave us?” I asked.

            “I think a better question at this point is where does it take us?” Sara responded. “If we stay where we are, we might as well be dead. Sooner or later some politically correct person with a smiley face will fill us full of medication, restrain us in a chair at a facility that smells like old people who need to have their diapers changed, and whisper sweetly into our ear that they are only doing that for our own good…oh, by the way, would you sign these papers giving everything you have left to us? Thank you very much.

            “It’s more than a little bit ironic that the generation that advocated recreational drug use now has to worry about getting too many pills from too many people for too many reasons, most of which are fabricated illnesses made up by the drug companies so they can make bigger profits.

            “Somehow, I don’t think Timothy Leary had that in mind when he proposed that we ‘tune in, turn on and drop out,’ and that’s one reason I can’t stay here anymore. It’s never been what I had in mind either. I have too much life left in me.”

            “That’s a little cynical, don’t you think, Sara?”

            “Maybe,” Sara said shrugging, “but cynicism is one of the few things our generation has left that it can count on. If things turn out better than we expected, we can say we’re glad that they weren’t as bad as they could have been. On the other hand, if they turn out worse, we can say, ‘see, I told you so.’ We can’t lose with cynicism.”

             “We can’t win either,” I said.

              “Perhaps we were never supposed to win,” Sara said. “Maybe that the was the biggest illusion of them all…that we could make a difference and win on our own…definitely that was a total lie.”

This Page Intentionally Left Blank

By: Dennis Bates

Have you ever read a book that says “This page intentionally left blank? I used to see that in legal documents a lot and I never knew why. The first time I published a book with Staci, I found lots of blank pages on the formatted manuscript before it went to the printer. I dutifully marked them all and reported them to her.

She responded telling me that the pages had to be left blank because the way the printer of the books did things, everything needed to be done in even numbers. Therefore some of the pages were purposely left blank so the printer’s machines could handle them. Even thought there was no designation that said that, the pages were intentionally left blank.  

Some days that’s the way writing is. It’s almost as if God purposely leaves your mind and your heart blank. It’s not a mistake and it doesn’t need to be corrected. In fact, the more you try to correct the pages that God intentionally leaves blank in your life, the worse it gets.

They are supposed to be that way. We just need to understand them for what they are: God’s way of bringing us into balance . On days like that we need to be still and know that He and He alone is God. He has something He wants to tell us and we need to listen so we can hear what it is. Leave the page blank. He wants it that way.

When you start writing something, you begin with a blank piece of paper. Why? Because it would be confusing to use a page that was half full. Where would we write what we had to say if the page weren’t blank. In the margins, between the lines, on the back? It seems simple doesn’t it? We start fresh.

Yet, so many times we try to give God pages of our lives that are already filled with our own words, our own thoughts and our own desires. We expect Him to write his words for us in the margins or on the backs of pages we have already used. Is it any wonder that we get confused and mix up His will and his thoughts with our own?

I don’t think so.

We need to intentionally leave some pages blank in our lives so God can write on them. Then, we need to step back and allow Him to show us what He wants the Holy Spirit to tell us. Then, and only then will we get His message clearly.  Don’t hurry to fill those blank pages yourself. Let God do it.

A Special Day

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STACI!!!!

DON’T WORRY, I WON’T TELL YOUR AGE, UNLESS SOMEBODY ASKS.

DENNIS