Can a Spouse be a Hobby?


My wife and I have been married 13 years now and we’re no closer on our choice of joint hobbies than we were from day one.

I love camping, she loves opera and ballet. What do you think are the chances we’ll ever be able to see a Luciano Pavarotti concert at a KOA campground?

And so we find ourselves in marriage kind of like an old baseball mitt in the closet. You’d never give it away, but is the sentimental reasons your only hold? In comparison, is the glove special because your favorite granddad now long since gone, gave it to you on your birthday? Maybe it’s because of that playoff game in seventh grade where with that mitt you tagged out the neighborhood bully named Bobby Bigalow and fixed his little red wagon once and for all. Or how about that first game in college where as a freshman, you climbed the left field wall and robbed a senior of a game-winning home run.

Maybe it was the first picnic date where you tossed a baseball to that cute little blond, never realizing you were destined to fall in love, marry, and make your own love story. Or could it be, maybe it was the first time you pitched a ball to your three year old son, who looks just like you, and encouraged him to really let the ball fly?

Maybe it takes an old baseball glove in the closet to make you realize that sentimental memories are the greatest hobby you can share. Maybe a picnic with that cute blond with a few streaks of gray may be the hobby I’ve searched so long to find. We won’t forget to bring the glove either!

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Tell Me Intelligence can be Learned


Why is it that when you have a horrible and disgusting experience eating something, the first response by the server or waiter is, “Do you want another one ?” Whatever happened to just getting your money back? I recently ordered a strawberry shake, a favorite of mine, at an ice cream shop. The shake wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either. Meeting the needs of my discriminating taste buds, I was halfway through with it when my straw came to what I thought was a delectable strawberry. Sucking with great gusto, I siphoned the object of my desire through the flex straw and it shot in my mouth in a flash. I know strawberries, I love strawberries, instantaneously, I knew that, “this was NO strawberry.”

What it turned out to be was the biggest one-winged fly I had ever seen from the planet Humongous. Grossed out and trying to regain my composure, I waited in line to speak to the hapless server and show him the hideous creature from my beverage. His response in monotone, and with zero emotion responded, “Would you like another strawberry shake?” I replied, “Why do you think you can hit the jackpot and find the other wing for me?”

Have I been scarred too mentally and emotionally by this ordeal? Not too bad. Unlike the woman who spilled coffee in her lap and sued for a million dollars, I shall go on my merry way. However, did you know it takes a full 93 minutes to finish a large drink by sucking on a coffee stirrer? It gives me a great sense of security knowing that from now on, the only thing that will go up my straw again besides the beverage is an amoeba. I can live with that!

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It’s True, Life is like a Box of Chocolates


Forrest Gump was right, life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get. My mind rewinds over the events of the past three days. Our oldest son had an emergency appendectomy and is doing well, our daughter calls needing help with the number for the Auto Club because she has a flat tire and is stuck somewhere north of Atlanta, a dear college friend and my wife’s former bridesmaid drops by with her family for the first visit in 27 years, and I celebrate the birthday of an inspiring 86 year friend that has more energy than I do.

I am so glad that life is a varied and scenic train ride. I use the example of a train because it seems most fitting in describing my life. As a Pastor I ride the gospel train for I make many stops. Each month around payday I see a light at the end of the tunnel, sometimes my life clicks right along, while at other times my ‘train’ seems to come off it’s wheels and derail.

Despite the obstacles I face every day, I  rejoice in this one point. I have yet to see the Conductor come back and punch my ticket! I know that this is a part of the journey I have the patience to wait for.

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Is ‘Jeopardy’ our Only Hope?


While flipping through channels the other day on television. I came across the one-billionth episode of the game show “Jeopardy”. Have you ever tried to analyze the reason why this show continues to be a favorite? It is because we are all astounded that there are actually real people who are teeming with this intelligent drivel. Just think about it, do you really think the rest of the country would admit that the only answers they know fall in the category of, “Okay, Alex, $500 for dumb answers please!”

Sadly, it’s this category that most of us know well. Has it ever occurred to you that most Americans couldn’t care less that the average yearly temperature on the planet Neptune is slightly lower than a Minnesota root cellar in January? Or, that a cow belch has enough methane to heat a four bedroom bungalow for a year? Or that ants have peripheral vision if their antennae don’t curl? Hey, Im at the age when if I remember to take a water pill, I feel like a Jeopardy champion!

It must be that we ask dumb questions because we find thinking to be too taxing. The other day, I heard a  woman tell a group of her friends that a horrific accident had happened to her husband that required 43 stitches to his head.

One of the group asked, “Did you take him to the hospital?

“No”, she replied with a bit of sarcasm, “I just adjusted the width on my Singer sewing machine and did a beautiful zigzag pattern on his bald spot. Why it saved me a bundle.”

The additional question was priceless. “You sterilized the needle didn’t you?”

I guess we’re all doomed to a continual life cycle of insipid questions. If we don’t ask them, then we have to answer somebody else’s. I was in a department store recently looking for plastic baby pants as a gift. You know, the kind that goes over diapers? Not finding any, I asked the cashier if the store had any. Thinking she was being helpful she asked, “Did you looking in the baby section?

Holding my sarcasm, I said, “Do I look like the kind of person who would look for rubber pants in the automotive section? That question stumped her!

You know, maybe we’re on to something. Maybe “Jeopardy” really is America’s last hope for intelligence.

“Okay Alex, $200 for Viking Literature, please…..”

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