The Main Point by Michael Main

Saturday, September 20, 2003

ON THE RUN

They say jogging is good for you. My grandfather runs five miles a day, of course, now we don't know where the heck he is.

I was reminded of that old joke today as I read about this marathon monk.

He ran for a thousand days on what is believed to be the path to enlightenment.

As I read this story, I was struck by two things.
First, this monk ran in handmade sandals. You would have thought Nike would have intervened, if for no other reason than to stop anyone from realizing they could make running shoes on their own.
Second, when he completed his trip on the path to enlightenment, he was back home.

I was at the church this morning, trying to cram in a little yard work before it started raining. Chris showed up around the same time accompanied by another worker who has been helping Chris install a roof on our new building.

Chris has been through a lot. He's beaten back addictions to drugs and seems to have controlled his cravings for alcohol. He's still wrestling some of the common demons of youth, impatience and anger. He is struggling to hold his young family together, but so far he's succeeding. It's been tough and certainly the last chapter of that story is far from written.

But Chris is trying. He's attended AA meetings. He's sought out spiritual counsel. He's gone to a marriage counselor, and he's seen someone to help him deal with his rage.

Chris has a lot of people bending his ear. I know a lot of what he hears he doesn't like, because sometimes I've been the one telling him, but he still listens.

The other worker with Chris this morning is an older guy. I don't know his name. I actually met him yesterday when he came trudging through the church with his boots caked in mud....moments after I had vacuumed. We exchanged pleasantries, and some tips on how to properly wipe your feet. He's an outgoing fellow but he's obviously lived a hard life. I get the impression he has no family, is unable to drive, and has surrendered to many impulses.

The life he lives is itinerant ...and empty.

It was just after seven this morning when he came over to ask to use my phone. I was dragging the lawnmower out of the storage shed and had my back to him, but I knew he was nearby... the pungent odor of alcohol preceded him. During the course of the morning we spoke several times. He seemed to look for opportunities to stop working and talk. It didn't seem to bother him that both our jobs weren't getting done. He wasn't upset when Chris determined some of the metal roofing materials were the wrong size and that part of their project would have to be delayed. The threat of rain also seemed of no consequence.

I pray Chris sees this coworker clearly.

If he does, perhaps that will make it easier for Chris to travel the long hard road ahead and also return home enlightened.

Proverbs 15:31
He who listens to a life-giving rebuke will be at home among the wise.

Friday, September 19, 2003

THE NATURE OF GREED

"Greed is a fat demon with a small mouth and whatever you feed it is never enough."- Janwillem van de Wetering

This is a familiar site at our house.

Our dog, Winston, with his nose covered in mud. It happens on those rainy days when he attempts to cover his food bowl to protect what he values from intruders.

Winston may be our special needs dog, but in truth he has some justification I suppose to covet his kibble.

There are intruders lurking in the dark.

I had a conversation this afternoon with my television counterpart. She and I have been tasked with finding ways to integrate our news operations yet I continually find myself bouncing off the familiar obstacle of obstinance. She expresses concerns that I have heard repeatedly over the past 11 months since the TV station came into the fold. All of it is couched in journalistic obfuscation but in truth it too boils down to a reluctance to share.

That little possum in our backyard can eat all the dog food he wants and Winston will still be well fed. I'll never be able to convince Winston of that though.

Hopefully I'll have better success on the work front.

Then again, maybe I'm just being anthropomorphic.

REINFORCEMENTS

Anthropomorphic.

That was the last word I remember that was mystically thrust upon me.

A blogger I read, Dappled Things, made mention recently of that quirky vocabular deja vu that seems to happen to all of us, well at least it happens to me and him.

You come across a word you've never heard or seen before, and then over the next few days you'll hear that same word on the radio, or read it in a magazine, or someone will casually drop it into into a conversation, or all of the above. It's almost like there is some unseen force at work trying to make sure the word becomes part of your vocabulary.

Anthropomorphic.

Amy will recall the specifics better than I, but last summer I remember asking her if she knew what that word meant because I had read it somewhere. We finally looked it up. A day or two later we were on a plane to Ohio and it came up in a crossword puzzle. When we arrived in Ohio, I was reading a C.S. Lewis novel and there it was again.

There should be a word for when that happens.

Thursday, September 18, 2003

FEEL THE BURN

I thought I was coming down with something this week. The burning sensation in my throat and chest were subtle clues. So, being male, I waited a few days and finally went to my doctor. Haven't seen him in close to two years, for which I am grateful.

The day after I write about not worrying, the doctor tells me I'm probably suffering from acid reflux, ulcers could be around the corner.

I got your irony right here.

Anyway, he gave me some new drug, told me if the problems persist to visit him again, otherwise I'm fine.

As I was leaving he looked at my chart and said, "When you hit 50 I need to see you every year!"

Thanks...warnings about ulcers and turning 50...I don't know why I don't visit him more often, it's like a trip to Sunnybrook farm.
===
Amy and I are cutting up credit cards and doing a little financial finagling. We're going to have to do something un-American for a while...live on a budget. We'll get by, but if you stop by for dinner you may get served beans and rice.

That's a diet that worked for the Mayans by the way...until the Aztec's cut their hearts out.

Our suffering won't be quite so severe, although we may both bleed a little as a result of our decision to cut the cable TV. I doubt we'll eliminate it completely, but all the fancy stuff really has to go. I'll be sad. Amy may have to go through serious BBC withdrawal. I won't really feel the pain until Spurs season.

All of our efforts aren't going to suddenly make us solvent, but we beat back the flames of debt a little. I started getting rid of my heartburn today too.

We're eliminating some stuff from our lives, and that will leave more room for something better...each other.

I think I'll keep fanning that particular flame.

Wednesday, September 17, 2003

SEEING PAST THE BIRD ON THE BRIDGE

I once heard a sermon -- one of those "I hope no one saw me wince" sermons -- that went on for 45 minutes before the preacher said, "And now I have 12 points to illustrate these observations..."

The glaze that crawled over my eyes apparently didn't ooze into my ears because somewhere along the line the Pastor said something which struck home. He said, "It's a sin to worry."

I was taken aback.

A sin? To worry?

I am a sinner, make no mistake, but I didn't count worry among my transgressions. At least not until then.

I worry a lot.

The Pastor's point was that we should rely on God. If you worry that means you aren't relying on God. So, worrying is a sin.

"Great" I thought, "Now I'm worrying that I am even a worse sinner because I'm worrying!" That, of course, only made me worry more and therefore I was sinning more.

This could get ugly.
=====

I remember driving along with my stepson, Joey, some years ago and he asked if we could rent a video game. I said, "We'll see."

Joey said, " 'We'll see' means, 'No'."

I went out of my way to prove him wrong. We stopped at the video store and rented the game.

I realized by saying, "We'll see" I was halting all speculation about what our future might hold.

At that moment, I felt guilty about it.
=====

My mother died when I was a teenager, and I don't remember enough about our relationship, but I do recall having those all too typical kid conversations involving, "What if ?" questions.

"What if this....or what if that?"

My mother had a stock response: "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

I remember being disappointed with that answer much like Joey was with my "we'll see" response.
=====

Today, Amy and I have some pressing issues in our lives. Amy blogged about it today, and was far too flattering, but I've had her fooled for a long time.

It made me think of those other times, with Joey and with my Mom. Even that dull sermon.

Being in the car with Joey that day was more important than what either of us wanted at the time.
Remembering my Mom today is far more important than recalling my fears of yesterday.

I know that Amy and I will address these latest concerns. I'm truly not worried about them.

I also know there will be other things to fret about in the future.

But I know this too: Amy loves me. I love her.

God is in control.

So we'll cross those other bridges when we come to them...and we'll see.

Matthew 10:30-32

And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
Whoever acknowledges me before men, I will also acknowledge him before my Father in heaven.

Tuesday, September 16, 2003

"AWAY, THOU ISSUE OF A MANGY DOG!"

I felt sorry for him, which made me feel even worse for wanting him dead.

My Customer Service Representative from T-Mobile was very polite and very understanding. He sounded too young to die. Especially a violent death.

Amy and I have been plunged into a swirl of digital dementia with our mobile phone service. It's so bizarre I'm having a hard time even explaining it.

First off, we get random voicemails from people who are obviously calling someone else. Initially, I chalked this up to wrong numbers, but it was happening too often. Then I started getting messages in my voicemail from people calling Amy's phone. Eventually, we determined that our mobile phone voice mail systems are co-mingling, not only with each other -- which presumably is permissible in mobile phone morality since our phone bills are combined, and we're married -- but also with complete stranger's voicemail systems. Moreover, my "voicemail greeting" is now the same as Amy's. If I change mine, it changes hers, and vica versa.
If someone leaves a message for Amy, it might go to her voicemail box...it might go to mine...it sometimes goes to both and I suspect it sometimes goes to a complete stranger.

Sensing this was a problem, I called my Customer Service Representative and tried my best to explain it. Following my explanation this is sort of how it went:

CSR, "Please hold."
Delightful musical interlude
CSR, "Mr. Main?"
Yes?
CSR, "It appears you and your wife both have the same message on your voicemail."
I'm aware of that, that's why I'm calling. I used to have my own message but now we're co-mingled. I guess I didn't explain it well.
CSR, "Please hold."
Somewhat redundant musical interlude
CSR, "Mr. Main?"
Yes?
CSR, "I'm going to send a test voice mail to your voicemail system. Can you hold?"
Yes.
Annoying musical interlude
CSR, "Mr. Main?"
Yes.
CSR, "Does your phone show you've received a voice mail message?"
No.
CSR, "Please hold."
Crappy Musak
CSR, "Mr. Main?"
Yes?
CSR, "This is a known issue."
What's that mean?
CSR, "Well, it means our technical services department is aware of this problem in your area."
That's reassuring. So, when will it be fixed?
CSR, "Please hold."
Throbbing sound of blood pulsing through my veins with slight strains of Mozart still discernible in the background.
CSR, "Mr. Main?"
Still here.
CSR,"I don't have that information, but I am authorized to give both of your phones 200 extra calling minutes."
Will the problem be fixed by the time I use up those 200 minutes?
CSR, "Please hold."
Stroke-inducing staccato
CSR, "Mr. Main?"
Is there someone else you expect to be here?
CSR, "Sorry, to keep you holding. There is no time frame for fixing the problem."
What's that mean?
CSR, "Well, it means it's a known issue."
Does that mean someone knows when it will be fixed?
CSR, "I'm sure someone does."
So when will it be fixed?
CSR, "Well, I don't have that information."
Does someone else?
CSR, "I'm sure someone else does, since it's a known issue"
Can you call them?
CSR, "Well, I don't know who to call exactly."
So it's a known issue, that someone knows will be fixed, and someone knows when it will be fixed, but you don't know who that someone is?"
CSR, "Please hold."

CLICK!

I had to hang up. I needed to call my lawyer to see what constitutes justifiable homicide.

Monday, September 15, 2003

ERIN'S BLOG

One good note on the day. Amy and I finally convinced our friend Erin, to start a blog.

Erin is working in China and she thinks writing a blog might help keep her sane.

Didn't work for me....but who knows?

I'M GIVING UP MEET

Spent the morning and part of the afternoon in a meeting. A meeting called by other people who then sat in front me and stared like I was some font of wisdom.

If folks stare at me long enough I'll start spouting...not necessarily wisdom, especially in the context of a meeting. I'm not sure if it's because I feel self conscious, or if I figure that unless someone talks the meeting may never end.

The meeting and my intellectual spewings dragged on so long -- well past my lunch and naptimes -- that I started having visions reminiscent of an old Warner Brothers cartoon, except my meeting cohorts began to resemble big fingers. Worse yet, I envisioned myself as something of a talking pimple.

Apply enough external pressure and out pops all sorts of gunk.

It may provide a sense of accomplishment, but I'm not sure it's really healthy.

Anyway, I spouted, they nodded and eventually we finally adjourned. However as I got up to leave, my boss asked me to write a "recap" of the meeting. The meeting which ended seconds before. He also requested I write another memo of suggestions for my television counterpart so she can have another meeting to tell her colleagues about our meeting.

I agreed to write the memo only because his first suggestion was that I attend the other meeting too!

I still had a few moments of sanity within my grasp...I told him I couldn't attend that meeting because I had a dermatologist appointment that day. It was the only excuse that popped to mind.

The day actually got sillier, but I'm too turned around to write about that. If you're truly interested, I'll try to schedule a time we can meet and discuss it.

Sunday, September 14, 2003

BEAN THERE, DONE THAT

Do you know anyone who stands in their back yard in the middle of a rain storm and yells, "I've got green beans!"?

Hi, my name is Michael. Nice to meet you.

"I've got green beans!" has become an odd rallying cry around our home.

We learned some months ago that my "sister-in-law," Kasha, is being fed green beans on the advice of her veterinarian. Kasha was on medication that made her hungry so the vet suggested green beans as a low calorie solution to quell her desires.

As I have often mentioned, we have three dogs. They aren't on any medications, although I wouldn't object to regular doses of Prozac.

Despite the lack of need, Amy decided it would be fun to see if our dogs might eat green beans, as sort of a treat.

I vaguely recall my high school biology text defining a dog as a carnivore. This apparently is evidence of another flaw in our education system. Our dogs react to green beans like Martha Stewart does to triple coupon day at Hobby Lobby. They salivate in anticipation and celebration when the mere promise of green beans is indicated by the distant whir of an electric can opener.

Being responsible pet owners we treat the green beans like any other snack; we try to limit their intake.

Amy only buys them one case at a time.

Give us some credit, Amy and I quickly realized the potential upside to this behavior -- that we might be able to parlay it into a heretofore unseen phenomenon in our household: Dog obedience.

So, I have evolved into something akin to a Jolly Green Crack Dealer.

When I need the dogs to do something they're not used to doing, for example, pay attention to me, I bellow, "I've got green beans!"

Before we left for church this morning, I used my vast meteorological forecasting skills and pronounced with authority, "It's not going to rain!"

Hence, we left the dogs outside.

Upon our return, the puddles and mud in our backyard only added to my humility as our soaking wet and wound up dogs scurried about me in the driving rain. Of course, they refused to come inside.

Bravely, I stood foursquare against the storm.

I hollered the words I knew would return a small portion of my dignity.

"I've got green beans!"

Now the dogs are inside and like opium den customers of old they are satiated.

And I am perfectly willing to ignore the absurdity of the situation.

Perhaps I have attained an enlightened state of bean.

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