So far, April is the coolest month

T.S. Eliot would have us believe that April is the cruelest month. I would argue that, despite the illnesses visited on the family this month. So far, April has been a pretty good one, all things considered.

This month I …

… Hovered over a man getting tattoos at a local shop in order to shoot video of the process. The artist asked me if I had any tattoos (I don’t) and if I ever considered getting one (I have). If I ever lose my wedding ring again, I’ll probably get one tattooed to my finger.

It would hurt, I’m assured, but my wife is OK with that.

… Took off my shoes and socks, and rolled up my pants legs so I could wade in the surf and take photos of skimboarders along the shoreline behind Sharky’s. One young skimmer’s dad told me how he and his friends made their own boards when they were kids: cut out a shape in plywood; soak the wood in water, place it on blocks with a heavy block in the middle to bend it, and let it dry; coat it in varnish.

You could see the past come alive in his eyes when he watched his daughter skimming.

… Had lunch at Bayou Joe’s with a couple of writer friends. We talked about craft and our experiences at bookish events while boats docked and diners filled the tables. A group of women asked me to take their photo, and I backed to the edge of the dock to try to fit the whole table in the frame.

“Just take one more step back,” one of them suggested.

… Patted the hide of a pony as a trainer led it out on the grass at Frank Brown Park. Then I shook a 10-year-old’s hand and listened to her talk about competitive riding. She double-looped the reins in her tiny hands and slipped her flip-flops into stirrups.

What she really wanted to do, she said, was visit the beach.

… Talked to the only female at a collectible card tournament held at a local comic book emporium. Most of the boys were too shy — or distrustful of outsiders — to allow an interview. It was April Fools Day, but you wouldn’t know it from watching the games unfold. Or maybe there was a meta-level meaning there that I overlooked.

… Crashed a party at the Temple B’nai Israel in Panama City. (Not really; a couple of the organizers expected me.) Tables were arranged with the good dishes, and plates were set aside for the traditional lamb shank, bitter herbs, egg and other symbolic foods for the Seder celebration.

I hugged a man who was wearing a yarmulke, and that’s not something you get to do every day.

Peace.

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(This was my Undercurrents column for The News Herald on Sunday.)

Praying for Strangers

In April 2010 my friend River Jordan (who, among other reasons I like her, has been known to support me in occasional “Star Trek” slap-fights on Twitter), sent me and others on her mailing list an odd request: “Would you care to join me in praying for a stranger every day for 30 days?”

It was an intriguing concept that grew out of her New Year’s resolution for 2009, she said. Facing the inevitability of her two sons deploying to Iraq and Afghanistan as the year began, River realized that she was praying selfishly for their safety. Instead, she resolved to pray daily for strangers.

She never intended to tell the strangers about her prayers, she said.

“But then something happened a few weeks into the year where I met a woman in a bus stop and felt I should tell her she was my special stranger that day,” River said in her letter. “Her amazing response is what led me to telling others.”






And although she’s a writer, she never intended to write a book about the experience. But her prayers opened her eyes to the personal stories of the strangers who crossed her path — and her husband, Owen, kept telling her she needed to be writing these stories down. Their stories became part of her story. The result is a memoir, “Praying for Strangers: An Adventure of the Human Spirit” (Berkely Books, $24.95, 336 pages, ISBN 0425239640). It’s a quick read, with tales doled out in short, thought-provoking and inspirational chapters.

River, who grew up in Bay County, now lives in Nashville with Owen and their dog Titan. She is the author of novels “The Gin Girl,” “The Messenger of Magnolia Street,” “Saints in Limbo” and “The Miracle of Mercy Land.” She teaches and speaks around the country on “The Power of Story,” and produces and hosts “Clearstory Radio” on WRFN 107.1FM in Nashville.

“Praying for Strangers” is about how reaching out to people she had never met allowed River to examine forces at play in her own life, her heart and her motivations. What she discovered was life changing. She had planned to let the resolution die when the year ended, but it has demanded more of her.

More than a year later, she continues praying for strangers.

“This is not a conversion prayer, or a testimony time,” she explained. “It’s simply a beautiful way to connect with another human being on a personal, spiritual level. No one has ever been upset with me or called store security for me pausing and telling them that they stood out to me in a special way and that I was wishing them blessings and prayers for their good year.”

Peace.

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(This was my Sunday "Undercurrents" column for The News Herald.)

The beat goes on: Ten years later, Stan’s still bangin’

News Herald Photo by Robert Cooper

In the summer of 2001, a young man with a passion for urban music stopped by the office to promote his efforts. Stan Jones, 18, had recently graduated from Rutherford High School, and he was looking to break into the local music scene. I interviewed him for a story in the teen-focused “Generation NeXt” section.

Things didn’t work out according to his plan, but that’s not always a bad thing. Stan served in the U.S. Navy for six years, deployed overseas where he made loads of contacts with artists, promoters, musicians and venues. In Japan, he had his own radio show.

And when he left the service, he had a new plan.

“I wanted to come back to my hometown and connect my hometown to the rest of the world,” he said. “I could’ve gone anywhere else in the world, but I decided to come here and contribute to the development of the independent music scene — try to do it right.”

For a while he ran a small recording studio and worked with lots of independent local artists in a variety of musical genres. Then he got the idea to publish his own magazine focusing on urban music and independent performers. The third issue of “Bangin’ Bay” magazine hits shelves later this month in stores all over the Southeast.

“It’s taking off fast, but it’s still a hobby at this point,” he said in a conversation last week. “I think we just might be onto something. When you have a passion, you can work with people but don’t rely on them. You have to pursue your own passion.”

Now 28, Stan attends Gulf Coast Community College part time, and he travels a lot to attend musical events, conduct interviews and promote his magazine.

“It takes me to a lot of places and blends into the personal side,” he said. “You’ve got to balance it with a little fun in there. … I want to have a little fun in the bank too, definitely.”

He’s still working to promote local and regional artists, and to that end he organized the recent All-City Jam that featured several regional rap and R&B performers. A diverse roster of talent performed for hundreds that night, but it was a mixed success, he said.

“It was a packed house, a big turnout, but not the caliber of show I expected,” he said. “Each time, you want to get better, and you try to surround yourself with people who share your vision and support that. I set my standards really high.”

Peace.
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(This was my Undercurrents column for Sunday, April 3.)

Recognize!

I've been a bit busy recently. New responsibilities at work mean I'm out and about, interviewing, writing, making videos, etc. much more than in recent years.

I got flowers today along with a box of sugar cookies, courtesy of the Panama City Roller Derby, to thank me for a story and video I did this week. They also brought gifts to Jan (the Entertainer section editor, where the story ran in print) and Andrew (the photographer). It's nice to be recognized.

This week I was in a choir room at the United Methodist Church where I was doing a story and video about a blind singer who has a friend that helps her transcribe her sheet music into Braille. As I was leaving, I thanked the ladies for inviting me out, and the choir director stopped me. She took my hand and looked me in the eye and said, "Peace." Everyone laughed together.

Peace.

Still haven't found what I'm looking for

Spring Break meets the Tao of Poo.

PANAMA CITY BEACH — Thursday afternoon, I jogged through the shoreline sand to catch up with two college students who had walked ahead while I shot video of them. They were in flip-flops, board shorts, T-shirts and sunglasses. I was inappropriately clothed for the beach, and my dress shoes weren’t helping me get traction in the sand.

The bright red shirt and black slacks earned me some dubious glances from the sunbathers. So did, I’m sure, the sight of a gray-bearded guy with a funny hat shooting video in the middle of Spring Break.

My companions for the afternoon were students from the Campus Crusade for Christ, who were strolling on the beach in hopes of sensing a person in the crowd who might be open to having a spiritual conversation. “Divine appointments,” they call them.

I’d been having these sorts of conversations on a daily basis lately, as one story has led me to the next. A talk about paddle boarding directs me to a local surfer/pastor/comic book artist, which leads me to the Christian Surfers Association. A story about free pancakes for spring breakers provided by a Christian group is across the street from the annual Campus Crusade rally, where the students gently turn the questions on me.

“Do you mind me asking …” the question begins. It’s how I have started any number of interviews, and the young woman asking me uses the technique well. No, I don’t mind you asking. I will do my best to answer.

Even a visit to Zen Garden Market turns into a talk about the healthy body/mind/spirit connection. A belly dance teacher stops short of bringing enlightenment into the equation, but it hangs unspoken in the air. Later, I stop in at a Goodwill store and walk out with a book called “Zen Environment.” Maybe I’m just impressionable.

Someone early in the week said I was soon going to be pegged as that guy who only writes about Christians. I thought that was funny because a friend still kids me about all the wiccans, pagans, palm readers, numerologists and Goths I wrote about back in the day.

“Found any witches to report on lately?” he says.

No, but I’m looking. If I find them among my divine appointments, I hope they don’t mind me asking.

Peace.

Springtime adventure: 'Find the cool'

PANAMA CITY BEACH — I realized what I had been missing this week.
It wasn’t Friday morning, as I kneeled in the sand and watched surfers catching waves near the jetties at St. Andrews State Park, although that was part of it. The sun was warm, the wind fresh and crisp. The laughter and good spirit among the surfers was a tonic for the soul.

And it wasn’t Thursday evening as I shot video of women in a belly dance class at the City Arts Cooperative in downtown Panama City, although that was part of it too. The women were, without fail, gracious and tolerant of the stranger in their midst. As they practiced footwork and veil choreography, they showed a sisterly bond with one another that made mistakes a welcome part of the learning experience.

It wasn’t even when I toured the Zen Garden, admiring the blooming desert roses and the tiny goldfish schooling in a lotus pond, though that was definitely part of it as well. The sea breeze in the trees, the trickle of water down a manmade waterfall, the soft conversations floating through the hallways all combined for a peaceful state of mind.

What I had been missing, and what I recognized this week, came upon the spur of a moment when I decided to try something outside my experience. Not a big thing, just a small thing. A token that illustrated for me how insular my world had become in recent years.

I asked for, and drank, a shot glass filled with the pulpy green squeezings of wheatgrass.

Right? Not a life-changing trauma. Not an earth-shattering revelation. Just a tiny swig or two of springtime condensed into a thick, vibrantly green liquid. Sweet and charged with life.

Work has kept me indoors in recent years. Changes have thrust me back into the sunshine. (A coworker joked that he couldn’t imagine seeing me with a tan. It could happen.) And I have a directive to seek out the places, people and events of local interest. “Find the cool,” I was told.

I invite you to come with me. Suggest some subjects. Discover what we’ve been missing. You’ll find our videos, stories and photos at newsherald.com in the “Get Local” and “Outdoors” pages, and presented in print.

It’s springtime, the world is waking up. Let’s see what it has for us.

Peace.



This was my Undercurrents column for the News Herald on Sunday, March 6.

Busy-busy-busy

Work responsibilities have changed again, and I'm doing more writing/videography. Here are a few of the things occupying my time in recent weeks:

Group offers free 'life changing' pancakes for Spring Breakers

Finns Island Style Grub: fresh, homemade and consistent

Mr. Surf's offers free skateboard street course Fridays

From earth to spirit: Zen Garden feeds body and soul

Drawing on faith: Local pastor, artist, surfer remains a seeker

Independent spirit: New theatre brings indie films to light

Early catch: First cobia of season reeled in a pier

Paddle board basics: A surf sport for all ages

Which just goes to show, I suppose, that the more things change, the more they stay the same.
Peace.