Showing posts from November, 2015

Grand pa

Something happens psychologically to your brain.
I mean no one wants to be called grandpa. “You’re too slow, grandpa,” a taunt athletes make to each other (or at least I’ve been told. I’ve never been much of an athlete, except when I made the final point my eighth grade year in the final minute of my final basketball career as a B team 3rd stringer! I am proud to say I was the only 3rd stringer of the B team, a title of dubious distinction.)
No one, that is, except for, well, grandpas, I suppose.
Tucker Clark can call me Papa (what I called my grandpa, A.W. Clark...yep, I am the middle link between two Clarks, two generations apart). Or “Pa” which is what I called my other Pa ‘Keown. Or granddad, which is what my kids called Waymon Terry “W.T.” , Melissa’s Dad.
I have even thrown out there “great dad”, you know like how you call your uncle’s father. You don’t say “grand uncle,” you say, “great uncle” so “great dad” has a nice ring to it, if I do say so myself.
Then of course, ther…


“Hey, I’m going to a funeral , do you want to come?”
I’m not surprised by the answers I got from my kids and you wouldn’t be either.
I said it jokingly (is that wrong to joke about a funeral?), knowing they are here to celebrate a newborn baby, whom they will love forever, not to mourn the passing of a well-lived long life of a Christian whom they (nor I for that matter) never knew.
While the humor may be a tad morbid, it is ironic that we Christians can puzzle over a Biblical truth that says the day of one’s death is better than the day of one’s birth.* Irony is also found in that the most cynical and pessimistic book of the Bible, Ecclesiastes, is written by one of the most celebrated, richest, indulgent and even wisest human in the Bible.
Irony and but not surprise is fond that even today, we see a man who just a few years ago claimed he was winning when he clearly was not now has HIV and a mess of legal problems.  My prayer is that he will now seek and find God and truly be winn…