Monday, March 18, 2024

wanna hear an embarrassing story or two?

I’ve got a couple of embarrassing stories to share with you and I have this deep, uncomfortable suspicion that our story time is going to end up in a weird place that I don’t want to go.  Let’s find out together, shall we?  It’ll be fun.


A short time ago, I was in an art gallery reception-type of event.  I knew the artist being honored and his wife and was happy to go and support them with my presence.  Sure, it meant going to a social event and having to talk to people I don’t know at all or very well, but I was happy to do it.  

The event went very well and there even were some other people there I knew.  People I love, actually.  When they left, I decided to make my exit as well.  I said goodbye to my artist friend and then spoke to his wife by the door.  She was talking to someone else and decided to introduce me.  The guy was older than me and had a drink in his hand.  When we were introduced I noticed he extended his arm in my direction.  I met his gesture with an open hand ready to shake.  Only, my open hand did not meet his open hand.  My open hand met his closed fist that he extended in order to give me a germ-free fist bump.  If you’re imagining my open hand cupping his closed fist gently and very awkwardly, you’ve got it about right.  

What could I do now?  My hand was clasped around his closed fist.  His skin was soft and warm.  I wanted to die.  

I remember gently shaking his fist up and then down before letting go.  Please groan with me in pain now.  It was the most horrible outcome possible.  

Oh, it gets worse.  A week passed and another art event arrived.  This one was at school so it was home turf for me.  Generally I’m free to move around inside the school gallery or just hang out on the outside of the glass doors.  I make my rounds to speak to students and goof around and then slip out into the common area to get some air.  It’s a comfortable space for me and I usually have relatively few social surprises.  

The awkwardness I experience most often on home turf is that parents or other student associates will attend and I’ll need to try to speak to them.  Since I live here, I feel it’s my responsibility to speak to them first and that’s a small circle of hell for me.  Because of the location, I can normally get my nerve up, go speak and then retreat if necessary.  

On this particular night, I had done all of those things and was feeling pretty good.  It was the last event of a long Thursday and my mind had already switched over to thinking about the sculpture I wanted to make in the studio the following morning.  I was still sort of adjacent to a conversation with several students and I decided to start making my way towards the exit.  I even announced this to the students and started slowly moving to the door.  As I did, I saw someone approaching and I heard them say, “I bet you don’t remember us do you?”  I scanned the faces of an older couple and couldn’t place them in my memory.  I was immediately certain I had never met them.  I asked the lady who had approached if she could refresh my memory while my mind raced through old (paper) photo files in my brain.  Paper files in manilla folders stuck in paper dividers in the old metal filing cabinet that is my brain.

The lady was quiet and had a kind face.  The man wore a straw fedora and a smile and I immediately loved him.  Did I know them?  From where?  Why were they here?  Who were they with?  I worked the context clues like an old street informant on Dragnet.  They were near a student I knew well.  Did they know her?  It was looking like I was talking to a grandparent that maybe I had met at a gallery event years prior.  This was not exactly a comfortable situation, but I was on home turf and I wasn’t rattled.  I meet a lot of parents and grandparents.  No big deal.  

The kind lady quietly said that they were the parents of a name I could almost recognize when she spoke it.  Almost.  I repeated it back and saw paper files and folders flying through the air in my head.  Who was this person?  Why did the name sound familiar?  As one of the folders hit the inside of my skull and photos flew out, I caught the glimpse of the face of the name she spoke.  I wasn’t 100% there yet, but I did have a connection.  I felt the pressure to respond that I remembered and I did remember the name and the face.  I know I started speaking as it was all still registering and coming together.  

“Oh, I do remember!  How is he doing?” were the words that came out as I was remembering exactly how I knew this person.  

So, the memory that that was in that brain folder was this:  This guy was a guy I met exactly one time 14 years ago.  I had been teaching part time at the school I graduated from and I accepted the full time job at my new school.  When I arrived on campus at the new school, I was introduced to several students who were hanging around in the week prior to classes beginning.  This one guy, I had been told, was a great art student with a lot of promise.  He was not feeling fulfilled in the old art program and was moving to the same school that I was leaving in search of greener pastures.  We were literally just passing each other as we traded schools.  His girlfriend suggested that he meet with me before leaving.  He made an appointment and we met in my office that day.  We talked about why he was unhappy and I gave him some pros and cons that I could see about both schools.  He shook my hand and left my office.  The next day, he packed his bags and left for the other school.  I never saw him again.  The girlfriend stayed and I taught her for the next couple of semesters.  I think I heard that they parted ways.  That was the entirety of my experience with this person.  

Back to the moment.  I’m standing in front of this adorable couple of gray haired humans and I had regained that memory of the name they spoke.  I’ll be honest and tell you that I was already starting to question how they even knew me.  We had never met.  I had met their son once for about 15 minutes, again, 14 years ago.  Why did they even know who I was?  How could they know me, better yet, recognize me?  

I wasn’t sweating like I would in most awkward social interactions, probably falsely comforted by the home turf.  “Oh, I do remember!  How’s he doing?” were the words I said.  The lady’s face fell into what I can only describe as a sadness that she was all too familiar with.  Her husband spoke up and said with a stillness, “He passed”.  

Yeah.  I wanted to be anywhere else immediately.  What had I done?  How did I get myself into this?  I was literally just trying to leave and now I’m neck deep in emotion.  The lady and the gentleman said several times over the next few moments, “He used to talk about you a lot”.  I was comforted by their grace towards me, even as I could feel their still tender pain.

Luckily, and I do mean luckily, I did not ask the next question that came to my lips.  I wondered what happened.  14 years is a long time and there was a global pandemic a few years back.  It could have been almost anything.  The young man would be in his mid 30s now.  Lots of young people die.  It could have been anything.  They didn’t specify or leave any hints that I could find.  Or, at least, I didn’t notice any hints as my head was spinning out of control.  I had scrambled to recognize these beautiful people, been put on the spot to remember their son and now I was barely treading water as I learned of his death.  All I wanted was to leave.  

The next morning I texted the student/friend who was in the exhibit and asked how she knew the people.  She explained and I asked if she knew how the guy died.  


Suicide.  


If you’ve ever wondered why social interaction is such a big deal to me and people like me, this is your answer.  I dread social situations because it seems like every time I subject myself to them I walk away drenched in sweat after having shaken a stranger’s closed fist and asked a beautiful couple how their dead son is doing.  And then, because my brain is the way it is, I will dwell on these experiences for months.  Agonizing over every single detail.  Why.  Did.  I.  Say.  That.


Here comes the left turn.  

How did that guy I met once for 15 minutes, 14 years ago, talk about me a lot?  What did he possibly have to say?  I have no idea what I said to him specifically.  I say a lot of stuff.  Some might even say that I say a lot of stupid stuff.  It’s sobering to think that something you say once on a random Tuesday might ring in someone’s head for years.  It might be the only story they tell about you to others.  It might be the thing they base their career path on.  It might be the thing that drives them to be kind or terrible to others.  


When I finally stop torturing myself over the terrible social interactions, I’m going to get right on torturing myself over my words.

This is why I’m a hermit.


Sunday, March 17, 2024

the sunday scaries

Over the last few years, I’ve noticed people posting on social media about having the “Sunday Scaries”.  Apparently this is when you get a sense of dread, anxiety or fear on the last day of your weekend.  I suppose in some cases, this can ruin ½ of your weekly number of days off.  

Dang.  That sucks.

I’ll confess to thinking about work on Sunday.  I start to think about the week ahead and the specific things I need to do.  I’ll think about projects and specific students that I need to check in on.  By Sunday evening, I’m checking and responding to school emails.  I just did that right before I started typing this.  

I’ll also confess this:  I look forward to Mondays.  I look forward to the week ahead at school.  I love my job.  I love my students and I love teaching.  Tomorrow, I’ll have a couple of hours of office time to catch up on bigger email requests and to work on maintaining the Sculpture Studio before class.  Then I have a class that I love.  After that, I get to listen to a new episode of This American Life on my commute home.  Mondays are pretty sweet.  

I know this isn’t how everyone feels about Mondays or about their jobs.  I understand that it can seem a bit insensitive and arrogant for a person who loves their job to wonder why everyone doesn’t work a job they love, but if you’ll allow me a bit of space here, why don’t we all work jobs we love?  

When we all went into quarantine 4 years ago this month, heck, it may even be close to the very day, we watched the news as a virus stretched across the globe and killed a ton of people.  Some were people we knew.  Many of us lost loved ones and the rest of us worried about them.  Most of us sat at home and got a bit of a reality check.  It’s just a job.  It’s not your life.  Your life is separate from your job.  And many of those jobs went on just fine in our absence or we were able to do from home. 

This was a major time of re-evaluation for me.  I do love my job and I think my students enjoy having me as a teacher.  However, if I could no longer do my job, it wouldn’t take long for someone to be hired in my place.  A couple of years would pass and I’d be all but forgotten.  It’s a job.  I am not my job and neither are you.  


The average American lives 70-ish years.  Most Americans are lucky enough to not have to begin working a career-type full time job until their 20s.  The average American works 40-ish years.  Let’s think about that a minute.  You have 70 years to live.  You’re toddling around or in school (against your will probably) for the first 18 years.  You probably signed on for 4 more after that.  Now you’re 22 and in the prime of your life.  You start your career working at a lower level, working hard, trying to make a good impression so you’ll be noticed.  Maybe you work extra hours.  You do that for 40 or so years.  Now you’re 65 or more and your health is in decline.  If you’re lucky, you’ll live a few years in retirement.  Then you’re dead.  

For those 40 years you’re working, you’re spending 5 days each week at that job during the bulk of the day.  The people you associate with are people you interact with there.  Your job quickly becomes the major part of your life.  Weekends are a blur because you have 2 days to do all the things you didn’t have time to do Monday through Friday.  

How is it that we’ve willingly signed over the majority of our lives to a job?  Especially a job that we don’t love?  This job you have right now, is that how you really want to spend your life?  

I know I’m lucky/blessed to have a job I love.  I understand that some of you are working towards a job you think you’ll love.  Maybe you have to put in a few years at a job you don’t love to make it to the job you do love.  That’s cool.  Maybe you got the job you thought you wanted but it turned out to be a bummer.  Maybe you’re realizing that this job is just using up all the good parts of your life.  It will do that.  


I remember the week after the 9/11 terrorist attacks hearing news anchor break from his report by saying something about the fragility of human life and that this should be a wakeup call to us all.  That if you’re not doing what you love to do, maybe it’s time to rethink your life.  I remember hearing that again in April of 2020, because, honestly, who has a shorter memory than us?  

Maybe it’s time for you to rethink your life again.  This job you have, do you think that’s why you were put on this Earth?  Is that how you really want to be spending 40 years of your life?  

Students talk to me often about types of degrees and possibly changing their majors.  I always have the same question for them:  If you could wake up every day and do whatever you want for the rest of your life, what would that be?  That’s the job you want.  That’s what you should be doing.


You only get to do this once.  


Friday, March 8, 2024

to be like mary

When I thought about today being International Women’s Day, I had a lot of women come to mind.

My mom, of course.  The absolute strongest woman on the planet and I’ll fight you over it.  In her prime, she could outwork the strongest man you could find and I’d put money on her outworking most of them still to this day.  She’s a beast in the best, most respectable way.  

My aunt LJ, who you can read about on this blog somewhere in the past.  Former Head Nurse in the ER who enjoyed physically removing rowdy troublemakers from the waiting room.

My wife, who obviously deserves some sort of medal or sainthood for “enduring” me.

My daughter, who just in the last few weeks, overcame some self-doubt and bounced back to have one of her best track meets ever.  (If you’ve ever run more than a few steps on purpose, you’ll get the importance of this.)

My students, and please forgive my ignorance on how to word this if it offends anyone, who seem to me to be about 90% female in number.  I know that not all prefer the “she/her” pronouns and I also know that some of my more “male” students may prefer “she/her/they” pronouns, but I can personally attest to their strength and endurance in one of the most physically demanding studio areas.  For whatever reason, I tend to have less than 5 guys in my classes each semester.  Women rule the sculpture studio.  These women can weld, grind, chainsaw, hammer, bend steel, carry 50 pound bags of plaster and move very heavy sculptures and they can do it better than most men.  

It was thinking about my students and their general badassery that got me thinking about another strong woman from my past.  Mary Freakin’ Mintich.  

“Freakin’” was not, of course, her middle or maiden name.  In my memories of her, though, it is implied.  He name was actually Mary Ringleberg Mintich and we just happen to be coming up on the 10th anniversary of her death.  

Mary, or Ms. Mintich, was my undergraduate sculpture professor.  Before I reached her class, I would see this older lady walking the halls of McLauren Hall and Rutledge on the campus of Winthrop University.  She was always smiling, never in a hurry, and she was always wearing the coolest socks with her Birks.  To this day, when I think of a college professor, she is the image that comes to mind.  

Her office was on the main floor of McLauren and just outside her door was a large sculpture.  A tall pyramid with a mirrored face and a small, metallic resin cloud near the top.  It occurs to me just as I’m typing this that the cloud image that I have used so regularly in my work all these years was embedded in my brain on those daily walks down that hallway 20+ years ago.  

Inside the office, she had a small fridge and you’d find her having lunch with her friend David Freeman while also doling out advice like the most helpful fortune cookie writer ever.  It was often not the advice you thought you were seeking, but it was always the exact advice you really needed.  

The sculpture studio, though, that’s where she belongs in my memory.  She was a classic art professor, demanding that you sketch and think through every aspect of your project.  She would walk around the class and look at your ideas and from my perspective now as a teacher, I understand that she knew immediately which sketches would be successful sculptures in a few weeks.  She would ask questions you never thought of and she would offer advice that wouldn’t make true sense to you for weeks.  Calling her wise would be a severe understatement.  She was a treasure.  

In 1992, when I had her class for the first time, I noticed that every sculpture I saw her make was larger than she was.  Every sculpture I saw her make also brought the word “beautiful” to mind.  If there was one thing she did better than offering wisdom, it was craftsmanship.  Her work was perfect.  

one of the easiest Mintich sculptures to find on the web

I took every class I could take from her while in undergraduate school.  I even took a class my advisor told me not to take because it was during my student teaching semester and I have zero regrets about that.  Ms. Mintich essentially had to make up a class for me to take that semester and it was a wonderful, one-on-one class that we scheduled around my teaching schedule.  She may have had a soft spot for me since she was also once a K-12 teacher.  She also seemed to like me because I grew up around so many sculpture tools in my dad’s welding shop.  When it came time to teach welding to one of our classes, she decided to keep her socks and Birks on and let me teach everyone instead.


Or maybe I wasn’t special at all.  Maybe that’s the magic of a great teacher like her.  Maybe she had a presence that made all her students feel like they were liked and special.  I wonder how much that feeling had to do with me switching my interest from 2D to 3D.  I wonder if she had any idea how much she changed the course of my life.  That’s power.  


Thanks Ms. Mintich.  


Thursday, February 22, 2024

coffee with an introvert

One of the goofy things I do in life is “Coffee With McAbee”.  It’s my little version of a talk show/podcast that happens in real life, rather than in any sort of recorded fashion.  In these “episodes” I get to have coffee with someone and have a fun and interesting conversation.  There are a lot of reasons why I do this.  Without going on too long about it, I, a self-proclaimed hermit, admit that community and connection are important and this is my effort to meet in real life with people to have the kind of conversations humans used to have before the internet ruined our communication skills and gave everyone “social anxiety”.  Sometimes I pick guests on my own and sometimes I solicit requests from the general population (on IG).  I try to book a time and we have a conversation with no real plan or preconceived notions.  We also have coffee, but the coffee is just a prop, really.  An excuse to sit and talk.

I did a horrible job of scheduling these during the fall and when the spring semester began, I set a goal of doing it more regularly.  I solicited nominations for guests and I had an episode scheduled within a couple of days.  Three weeks passed and I had a new guest every week.  I loved doing each one and went away from each episode feeling better than I did going in.  That’s apparently what community and connection will do for a person.  Weird.  

Often, especially during the semesters, my guests are students.  We’re in the same zip code and there’s a coffee shop on campus.  Easy-peasy.  I have a theory that none of us ever really know how other people see us and this is especially true with students.  I know who I am.  But do my students know who I am?  Probably not.  Definitely not.  Part of my teaching persona is being loud and fun and trying to make sure everyone is having the best time possible while doing some really hard manual labor.  Students think I’m outgoing.  They think talking to people is easy for me.  I’m not and it’s not.

During the first episode of the semester, I was talking to Caroline and when the subject of inviting guests came up, I indicated that it was difficult for me to choose a guest and even more difficult to invite a guest.  Her face looked surprised.  She thought I was joking and had no idea why I would say something like that in a serious way.  I explained that I was shy and that I have all the insecurities that everyone else has.  I am honestly genuinely shocked that anyone wants to have coffee with me.  I didn’t have coffee with any of my professors while I was a student.  I’m not sure I wanted to.  How awkward would that have been?  

I’m still not sure Caroline believed me and even if she did, she probably didn’t fully get the level of introversion I was attempting to describe.  

As I said, it was three weeks and three perfectly wonderful coffee episodes with wonderful people who filled me with positive energy and left me better than they found me.  It was great.  But then there was week four.

Sometimes a former student or friend comes in from out of town and makes it very easy for me.  When they tell me they’re coming, I can assume they wouldn’t mind seeing me and it’s so easy for me to suggest getting coffee.  That happened on Monday and I was glad because I was having some hesitation about trying to schedule someone for this week.  Sadly, the travel plans fell through last minute and I was left with no guest for Tuesday.  Remember when I asked for nominations?  I have this long list of names of people who were nominated by other people.  It’s on my phone, so it’s literally with me at all times.  But that means texting or emailing someone and asking them if they want to have coffee.  It also means figuring out when I’ll be where so that I can suggest potential times.  I’m constantly moving so that’s tough on its own.  Still, these are good names.  People I know I will enjoy talking with.  


I didn’t message any of them.  I just didn’t.  But why?


Because as much as I know community and connection are good for me, 99% of me just wants to make art at home and never leave the property.  I don’t understand it.  I guess, if I’m honest, it’s just really hard to put myself out there and ask someone if they want to have coffee.  They could say no and that would suck.  But what would be worse is if they felt like they had to say yes but they really didn’t want to do it.  Because that’s the scenario that plays in my head.  And once that record is on repeat, it’s all I can think about.  Then the conversation is flavored with that bitter taste.  I have to second guess their facial expressions and their words.  Did that micro facial movement mean that they wanted to leave?  

Of course that’s ridiculous and something inside me sorta knows that it is.  But that won’t stop the brain from rolling on down that road.  

If I didn’t want to be that honest, I’d probably say that it was a busy week and I had a lot of other social commitments.  I did have a different visit from a former student and we got to have a nice long conversation over chips and dip on Wednesday.  Then I had to go to an art reception Thursday for another former student and there I engaged with a few other former students and a colleague.  That’s enough for an introvert in one week, right?  

Either way, it feels like I weaseled out of Coffee With McAbee this week because I didn’t want to do it and the hilarity is that’s the very thing I’m afraid someone else will want to do when I invite them.  


Maybe I’ll be back with some regularly scheduled programming next week?  Stay tuned.


Tuesday, February 13, 2024

the one where I make a whole religion mad


The modern Christian church has given Christianity a bad name.


Last Sunday I steered the family car into the church parking lot and parked in the last available “pull through” spot.  Trust me, you don’t want to be reversing in a church parking lot.  As we pulled into the vacant spot, all eyes moved to the big, red, raised 4x4, mud covered pick-up truck beside us.  This was what we all saw…


For clarity, that’s the church steeple rising above the sticker reading “F*CK JB”.

What would Jesus do, indeed.  


This was the experience that moved me to type but I want to be clear that I’m not judging the owner of the truck.  Some easy detective work would reveal this was the truck of a high school kid.  If they understood the irony of mixing Jesus and politics or just how far removed a sticker like this should be from a religion centered on love, they would probably remove it.  And if they simply didn’t know any better, I’m glad they were there and I hope they learn a lot about love.  So while this was the moment that inspired me to gather my thoughts, this is definitely not about that kid.

In fact, it’s much more about the steeple in the background.  I live in the Bible Belt and when I learned about that title in elementary school, they taught us that in the Bible Belt “there’s a church on every corner”.  Sometimes that’s literally true and when you are in a southern town, you can often see a couple of other churches from one church parking lot.  

I grew up here in the South and I regularly went to a Southern Baptist church where I was taught that God is love.  Oddly, I was also taught, from the pulpit, that I should vote Republican and that supporting certain issues was more important that loving others.  While I can’t see any version of my high school self putting a sticker like that on my car, I was definitely taught that some presidents were bad and some were good simply based on what they said about abortion or about gay people having rights.  Or worse, based on who was labeled a "conservative" or a "liberal".

Like most kids, I listened to what I was told and accepted it as truth.  Until I didn’t.


I do not like to be told what to do.  My dad was probably like that or you may have other theories about why I am the way I am, but regardless, it’s a fact about me.  If you tell me that I must do something, you’re going to need to provide reasoning for that command.  I need to know why it’s dangerous to not listen to you.  I need to know why it’s right to obey you.  “Because I said so” has never worked on me.  When I graduated college, I really began to sort things out for myself.  I guess the early 20s are a good time for most people to do this.  I’m also a very practical person and I just couldn’t see myself living by a set of rules just because someone said so.  I needed to know what I believed, not what someone else believed.  

At this point in my life, I asked some questions.  Some were very specific and some were more general.  I had been told the Bible was the source of all wisdom and that was the first place I looked.  When someone is using the Bible as a starting point for a sermon, it’s pretty easy to use it to make any point you want.  Want to teach someone that lying is wrong?  Easy, just read the Ten Commandments in Exodus 20 or Deuteronomy 5.  “Thou shalt not bear false witness”.  Want to teach someone that lying is sometimes ok?  Easy, just read the story of Rahab lying to save the Israelites in Joshua 2.*  (Seriously, the list goes on...scriptures talk about having slaves and setting slaves free, executing genocide and loving your neighbor, patriarchy and elevating women as leaders, vengance and grace, and on and on and on.)

I started to learn that the Bible was not the “instruction manual for life” as I had been taught.  What the Bible is instead, is a compilation of stories that tell us how we should live.  The difference between these two statements is greater than you can imagine.  

I started to see that many of the Baptist preachers and church leaders I had grown up seeing as wise, were simply lacking the proper understanding of the book they used every week.  They saw it as an encyclopedia and they could tell you all the do’s and don’ts contained inside.  What they lacked was the ability to “interpret” the Biblical stories, something that Jewish Rabbis had been doing beginning with Moses.  I mean, if everything was so cut and dry, why would Moses need to sit so long every day to decide meaningless arguments between grumpy Israelites?  And if you’re worth your seminary degree, you’d know that interpretation was exactly what Jesus was bringing to the religion game when he was walking around and pissing off the religious hierarchy in Jerusalem.  

Listen, if you’re not into the Bible and you’re not getting these references, just stick around a bit longer.  I promise this is going somewhere.

Cutting to the chase, a proper context of scripture was often lost in sermons and in verse quoting.  Just think about all the people you know who have Jeremiah 29:11 tattooed on their arm or framed in their house.  (“For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”)  This quote from God in the Bible was absolutely not written to your friend, your grandmother or anyone else living here in America.  It was a very specific message to a very specific group of people undergoing a very specific punishment but it’s too much to go into here.  Don’t take my word for it, look it up and read the whole story.  (Or, i recommend the podcast "That Won't Preach", specifically the "Does God Plan for us to Suffer" released Jan 1, 2024.)

So imagine several volumes of sermons, many of which were built around a simple misunderstanding of the Bible, but still used to push an agenda or to urge church-goers to adopt a specific belief or behavior.  I know it sounds nefarious but I don’t believe it was.  Honestly.  I think these dudes were well intentioned.  

But it was still wrong.  


What happened, and this is where you can tune back in if you were drifting before, is that generations of people in Christian churches grew up believing things that were just not true.  The message of grace, mercy and love that resounds through every single act of violence, aggression and sin narrated by the Bible was lost in the telling.  Even when the story of Jesus was told to highlight and emphasize what so many were beginning to miss, modern churches turned that into political agendas, lists of who was eligible to do the work of God and lists of who was NOT going to heaven.  Church became a place where you were told who was in and who was out.  

Now, I’m not going to sit here and tell you that organized religion is evil and self-serving.  I will tell you this, though…overhearing someone saying that it costs $7 million for a few seconds of Super Bowl advertising, I couldn’t help but wonder how many hungry people could be fed if all of that money was diverted into one fund for soup kitchens.  Then, I immediately thought of the multimillion dollar mega-church buildings being built all over the country and couldn’t help but wonder if it was justifiable to spend $10 million on a building for people to meet and say they love others while hundreds or thousands of people suffer from hunger and homelessness within a 10 mile radius of that building.  Right, buildings are more important than people.  That’s Christian.

This brings me to the “America First” attitude you’ll find in the modern church, and in the parking space beside me.  All those Biblical promises, they weren’t for America.  Much to the dismay of a lot of politicians and pastors, America isn’t mentioned in the Bible.  Americans are not God’s chosen people and the very idea that America should secure its borders and keep the less fortunate out is quite contrary to the teachings of the Bible (Matthew 25:40).  Jesus did not run for office, nor did he attempt to take control of the government.  It’s worth noting that it was the religious leaders and the local government who led the push to condemn and execute Jesus.  Maybe read that line again slowly. 

These generations of misinformed and poorly educated church goers have had quite an impact on their world and not in the way the early church would have hoped.  Christianity has not been the “good news” that people in the Mediterranean coastal areas experienced in the early 100s AD.  Modern Christianity has been more closely associated with judgment, condemnation, repression and telling people they are going to hell.  Who wouldn’t want to be a part of that?  Well, a lot of people as it turns out.  

The number of Americans identifying as Christian has fallen increasingly over the last few decades.  Christian churches will tell you they are growing and this looks to be true when a single church in one area increases membership and attendance, but the untold story is that those new people are not new converts to Christianity, they’re simply church goers who were tired of their old church.  When there’s one on every corner, it’s easy to find another one and they will find another one again when they get bored with the pastor or the activities.

In my job, I interact with students when they leave high school and begin to make their own choices.  I see them leaving the faith systems of their childhood and looking for something they believe is actually true.  They have zero interest in the oppressive and judgmental culture of the modern church.  What they do have interest in is going where they feel loved and oddly, that’s often not anywhere near the local church.  Weird, huh?  

I know there are church people who would disagree.  Their church is different.  They love people.  They’re generous.  But let their actions speak.  You don’t know someone loves you because they say it.  You know they love you because of how they treat you ("you will know them by their fruit").  If you feel at all defensive about what I’m saying, I ask that you take a good, honest look around.  More importantly, I ask that you take a good, honest look at the Jesus of the Bible and New Testament church.  Do your actions match the one you say you follow?  Does your church look like the churches where all possessions were pooled together for the good of the local community and everyone took what they needed?  Or does that idea scare the heck out of you because it sounds like a Bernie Sanders speech?  

Since we got here because of a political statement, let’s leave on one.  I hear there’s an election this year.  Do you plan to vote your religious beliefs?  That’s cool.  What exactly did Jesus say about the stranger, the alien, the widow and the orphan?  What did he teach about who was your neighbor and how you should treat them?  Jesus vaporized racism and classism with the story of the Good Samaritan.  He put greed in its place with the story of the widow’s mite and the parable of the good steward.  He put religion in its place when he called the religious leaders a “brood of vipers”.  And not once, not even once, did he teach that you should create laws to force people to do what you believe is right.  Faith can’t be legislated.  Freedom to choose to do right or wrong has been a part of the God story literally since "the beginning”.


As I see it, the modern Christian Church is at a crossroads.  They can turn from the pursuit of financial gain (ridiculous pastoral salary packages, the latest building fund, donations to political agendas) and they can return to the idea that grace is for everyone and that the greatest commandment is to love God and to love your neighbor.  The other option is to continue to build social clubs and dream about taking over a political party.  The world will be waiting on your decision.


Monday, January 29, 2024

getting a few things off my chest

Several years ago, a person gave me a few guidelines for how to post on Instagram.  I adamantly rejected them and openly scoffed at the idea that anyone would tell me how to run my Instagram account.  I do what I want.


Having said that, there are IG trends that I don’t like.  I’m not telling you how to run your account, I’m just saying I don’t like it.  This whole thing of not posting anything for weeks and then doing a multi-slide “dump” is annoying.  Why deny us the regular update if you’re going to give us all the photos anyway?  I don’t want to binge your month in 5 seconds.  Let me enjoy your photos when they’re actually relevant.  


Comedy should be funny.  That shouldn’t be a hot take.  Imagine going to a concert and the singer comes out and decides they’re just going to tell stories and not sing this time.  Ridiculous right?  I watch a lot of stand-up comedy and I carefully avoided the ones a few years ago who used their comedy special to overshare and focus on heavier topics while forgetting their one job was to make people laugh.  Last week I put on two Netfilx comedy specials and turned them off within 5 minutes.  I’m ready for comedy to be funny again.


Why are there Instagram reels and Tiktok videos of people watching other Instagram reels and Tiktok videos?  You raising your eyebrows at a funny video is supposed to entertain me?  What’s wrong with people?  


Here’s a few things about Jesus that I think every Christian should know: 

1. Jesus was Jewish

2. Jesus wasn’t American

3. Jesus wasn’t a politician

If you’re the type of person who thinks that you should be voting your personal religious beliefs in elections, then I think you should have to pass a test about those religious beliefs.  A large group of Christians who are apparently unable to think for themselves are being taken advantage of by scheming politicians.  Sure, there’s a large group of political people running for office and trying to influence us while saying they’re Christian and that they are promoting Christian and Biblical values.  The trouble is, there’s literally zero evidence to support what they say they represent.  You don’t even have to look hard into their personal lives to see splintered families, vulgar behavior, coarse language and a general lack of loving-kindness.  Please stop blindly following every politician who says they love God.  Also, please stop giving the rest of us a bad name.  Y’all, I hate to break this to you, but America isn’t even in the Bible.  No, that thing in the book of Revelation isn't about you.  Context is important.


If you think we’re just dealing with inflation and not corporate greed, please don’t talk to me or my dogs ever again.  


The weather is ridiculous.  We haven’t had measurable snow here in several years and I’ve had my air conditioning on for three days and it’s still January.  We probably broke the Earth.  I'll admit that I may have burned some things I shouldn't have when I was a kid, but I'm blaming y'all for the rest of it.  


Saturday night, I bought my first pair of old-people glasses so I can see what I’m drawing.  This means that I need contacts to see past my elbow, but anything closer than my elbow also requires old-people glasses to be in focus.  Presumably there’s some distance where everything would be in focus without any corrective lenses but I have yet to find it.  Carrots are a lie.


Hey 20 year old kid giving advice on social media…how about don’t.  You’re telling me the best way to keep my house clear of clutter and the best way I can fuel my long run?  Dude.  I’ve got underwear with more life experience than you.  Shut it.  Go live a little and get back to me.  You wanna know why you can keep your apartment clutter free?  Because you don’t have kids, three dogs, four jobs, a leaky basement and a crazy schedule.  Your "life hacks" are stupid, you just don't have the experience to realize it yet.  You want to provide a real service?  Go fetch my old-people glasses so I can tell Instagram not to show me your nonsense anymore.  


There.  I feel better getting all that out.  


Wednesday, December 27, 2023

trying to remember the year

It hardly seems like it's been 12 months since the last time I tried to remember the last 12 months, yet here we are, taking a look back before we start looking forward.  2023 was a really good year on a lot of different fronts.  Since this is my blog, I get to be the main character here, so what follows is a brief, very self-centered look at what I can remember about my year.  If you're interested, here we go.  None of this is in any particular order, which seems to match the jumbled up memories I have of the year.


I looked up this year and Blue was an adult.  He was driving, he had a job, he had a life outside of the house and he went to prom.  He will graduate high school in May.  Dang.


I got to see Tom and Kathe Stanley a few times this year.  Tom had an exhibit at Lander last January and I got to spend a little time with them when he delivered work, did an artist talk and when he picked up work.  I even got to have a coffee with them.  Even cooler than that, they surprised me in August by showing up to a reception in Chapel Hill and hanging out with me so I wouldn't be completely awkward and alone.  Very cool.


Violet and I got to meet our Instagram friend Kasha Speas in real life!  Kasha has a 7+ year runstreak going, and back in February? she ran the Greenville Half Marathon.  Violet and I drove up to cheer her on.  Nice photo by her husband, Adam.


Violet and I also got to go see Beetlejuice at the Peace Center.  Very entertaining and a fun day.


I don't get to go to many track and field meets because of my class schedule but I did get to go to a couple last year and see Blue throw heavy things and see Violet sprint.  It's super cool to see how much they've both improved in such a short time.


Violet was in the school production of The Wizard of Oz and she did great.


We took an alternate vacation at the end of July and turned it into an adventure.  These two are always up for my ridiculous suggestions of things to do.  This was a quiet evening when we had no plans.  We just walked out the door and started exploring the island while chasing the sunset.  It doesn't need to be a big event to be memorable.


This was probably the same trip.  We had some fun walking around Charleston in search of food and coffee.


I wrote about the significance of running with Blue and Violet as a summer highlight because it was a very cool thing.  When the Cross Country season started officially in August, they both did so great.  This was Blue's final season of Cross Country and I'm so proud of him for running.  I may not get him to run with me again, but it was cool sharing a season of running with them both.  It was also noteworthy that Violet worked really hard all season to improve her time and her hard work paid off when she qualified to run State.  Very proud of them both.


Violet and I got to go to Creighton Barrett's solo show in Charleston back in January.  It was great to talk to him for a while and then we got to have dinner with Jana and Dan.


We didn't get to go to a lot of concerts this year, but the ones we did go to were really good ones.  We scored tickets to Highwater from Anne and Kevin, so Violet and I spent a couple of days in Charleston hanging out and listening to music we may not have otherwise saw live.  We accidentally saw one of the guys from Needtobreathe and also accidentally saw Big Boi without realizing who he was.  We saw Bleachers on purpose and got the surprise of them bringing out Lana Del Rey.  The Wilco set was perfect and Shovels and Rope never disappoint.  We also accidentally saw Kevin, Ali (pictured) Smoak and a few other friends.  I wasn't a fan of the $11 waters, but we'll focus on the positives.


Nothing could be more positive than Mrs. Emmette beating cancer this year.  Everyone's favorite Starbucks barrista got a bad test result last winter and spent the year doing chemotherapy and radiation.  We were thrilled to get the news this fall that she was cancer free and finished with all her treatments.  She is such a bright light and we are grateful. Thanks to everyone who contributed to her gift.


Concert 2 of 2 this year:  Taylor Freaking Swift.  I'm sure I blogged about it so you can read it there.  It was, of course, as awesome as everyone said it was, but the part that made it even more awesome for me is that the tickets were given to me by a student.  What an act of kindness.  So grateful for that!


I got to spend time with people in surprising ways this year.  As a hermit, this is hard to process, but I admit it was cool.  I got the opportunity to do a sand sculpture workshop with Fort Dorchester High and some of my students who had traveled on Sand Sculpture trips in the past, decided to plan to go with me.  The plans turned into a wonderful opportunity to stay with Chick Inn on Main in Summerville where Hannah got to hold that chicken.  


The next day I got to lead the workshop on Kiawah Island with this cool group of people.  


One of our goofy adventures on our real vacation was tracking down the tunnel underneath Ocean Boulevard.  Thanks to Blue and Violet using the internet and TikTok, we jumped out of the car, walked under and then got picked back up by G when we emerged.


And another goofy adventure was staying up until midnight to have our own listening party for one of the TSwift albums that dropped this year.  Here we are showing off my Father's Day haul of gifts and torturing the dogs.


Another cool thing that was gifted to me was this opportunity to show work at a special event at the Greenville County Museum of Art.  This was one of the cool opportunities that came to me this year by the Universe just smiling on me.  
This was one of many great art things that happened to me this year.  I got into 12 shows I applied for, including getting public sculptures into the North Charleston Outdoor Sculpture Exhibit and the new Uproar! exhibit in Chapel Hill.  I made a few new sculptures despite some really irritating welder problems and I made over 30 new drawings.  So grateful for these kinds of things.


My girl-gang.  This hardcore group of friends was forged during Brinana and Katherine's senior year of the BFA and Emily's first year of the MFA.  They were my 3D people during that year and our classes and studio times overlapped.  Because of that, our times for goofing off also overlapped.  We've tried to keep the group together as Emily graduated and the other two started pursuing their own graduate degrees.  They were all kind enough to come to my community lecture in the fall and we took the opportunity to get dinner afterwards.  They're so cool and I'm lucky to be in their group.


Another year of knowing Jana and Dan makes me very happy.  I'm so fortunate to know them and call them friends.  I got to see them a few times this year in person and we also had some laughs by text.  They're so great and these two groups of friends are just a sampling of so many wonderful people I got to spend time with this year.  I have too many photos to feature everyone here but I'll mention a few that come to mind.  I saw Jocelyn a few times, both on purpose and by accident.  I went out of my way to see Kennedy in Charleston and she came to Summerville to hang out with a bunch of us.  Just on that one trip to Summerville, I spent time with Hannah, Ashley, Katherine, Abigail, Victor, Jana, Dan, and Tien.  Or maybe that was two trips?  Who knows.  I got to have lunch with Cessquatch, coffee with Katertot, and got to have dinner with the whole Superfriends gang.  There's also a crazy-awesome group of students that I get to see on a weekly basis.  Most of them provide me with laughter and joy and they have no idea.  I wouldn't dare try to list them all but I do try to make sure they know I appreciate them from time to time.  If you're a student and you're reading this, I'm talking about you.  It really pains me to say this, but I really love being around people sometimes.  


This was the year we discovered Pineapple Whip.  I think that's what it's called.  Whatever it is that we're all holding is amazing.  We found it on Folly Island and also in Charleston and it's almost worth the 2.5 hour drive just for that.  No, the stuff you can buy in the freezer section at home is not the same at all.  Just know that if you go get some while in Charleston without the whole family, the absent ones will be pissed.  I haven't made that mistake yet, but I'm sure it will happen.


I got to be the guest artist at the Blackwater Boogie again this year.  Dan invited me back after last year and I felt a little more prepared this time.  I had to go on my own for the first day because Violet had to run the State Cross Country meet in Columbia, but she joined me for the second day.  Knowing what I was getting into this time made it a little less panicky and it was so cool being able to share my process with the crowd of people behind me.  All four drawings were auctioned off to raise money for Givhans Ferry State Park accessibility upgrades.

So that's what I can remember from scrolling through my photos for the year.  I've edited out some really cool and fun things and I've probably forgotten about a lot more.  If you were a part of my year, I appreciate you.