since i've got tetris on the brain, i'll try and make this fit
(three weeks in now, and things still feel really weird at "home")


it's been a week again since i've been able to write. i hate when i do this, because i have too many things swirling around in my head to make this coherent. that's ok, i hope.

first of all, the wait is over and emma catherine has arrived. happiness has ensued, as well it should. congratulations to you, rebecca, for making it through. you are going to be wonderful at this. congratulations to you too, andres. you should try hard at being a dad. it will be worth it. i promise. you will need to work hard. that, too, i promise. i think everyone wants to give you the benefit of the doubt. every dad gets to start with a #1 dad ribbon. thanks to the gracious woman you've made cry more than your share of times, you have been allowed that privilege. that privilege. not right. good luck. i am rooting for you. for rebecca. for emma catherine...

...i look forward to meeting you, emma catherine.

"sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name." and then sometimes, you don't. there's still something very off with the idea of going back to huffman to worship, and i can't put my finger on it just yet. i am sure a lot of it is me and is in my head, but things are weird. don't get me wrong. pre-church, after-church, seeing the people that i have missed so much, getting hugs and handshakes and smiles from folks that have missed me, all of that makes it worth it. something is still off, though.

lebron moves on. next round, pistons. uh-oh. so long to you, kobe bryant. my admiration for you has come to an end after watching you give up on your team last night. i will now root against you every time i can in the same way i root against the mets anytime pedro's not pitching. you suck. raja bell should've taken your head off, smirk and all. enjoy the offseason.

i think i am going to like my job, but this much is true. i freakin' hate crickets. i thought i hated big people ordering too much ice cream, but dude, i freakin' hate crickets.

so if next sunday is mother's day, does that make every other day hannah's day? yes, yes it does.

man crush of the week? eddie vedder.

anthony vanslambrouck in fatigues? that makes me very sad. good luck, anthony.

to kimberly and jane-ann and gary and beth and anthony. congratulations. i missed you this morning. seniors? how?

last week means nothing if this week means dreamland. andy? kiker? word?

it's lebron's world. we're all just squirrels, tryin' to get a nut.


we all have things that we are inherently good at. at least one thing. maybe more than one, but we all have that one thing. could be sewing. could be eating. could be blowing smoke circles. could be writing. could be speaking without saying "uh" and "like". could be fixing cars. could be surgery. could be having babies. could be listening. i think that's mine. but that is beside my point tonight.

we all aren't lucky enough to have our one thing be some thing that society cares about. like sports. like basketball. like lebron james. lebron james is really, really good at basketball. too good. and he knows it. nike knows it. "we are all witnesses." what a great ad. it's spot on. teams that play lebron know it...

...and use it to their advantage.

what? to their advantage? that doesn't make sense. but it does. over the course of my sports-watching life, i've seen people that play their sport as well as lebron does his. take tonight for example. he scores 20 of his team's first 25 points. he's unstoppable. and he knows it. but so do the wizards. in the second half, they goad him and his teammates into playing one on five, and as good as lebron is, he is only as good as he can also make his teammates, and his teammates were all standing around watching him instead of playing. it was a train wreck.

i am feeling pulled toward talking about gifts and many parts, one body and things of that nature, but that's not where i want to go. where i want to go is to say that we are all more likely to have our one thing used against us more often than we are to use it to the advantage of our team. because like lebron, some times we are just too selfish not to.

dammit. if you are good at something, what the fuck good does it do if you keep it all for yourself? or use it to step on or over someone to get where you need to go. if you can sing, sing somewhere other than your car so it makes someone's day better. if you can write, type out a letter to someone that needs to hear from you. if you can talk, pray out loud for those that are too shy for their own good. if you can listen, shut the fuck up and listen. but if you find yourself double-teamed, pass the damn ball.

we are only as good in this short, short life as the person next to us. we may know that person next to us. we may not. who cares. it doesn't have to be lonely at the top. i swear it doesn't. but it can be if we let it.

trust.

every.

one.

hannah and me (part ten)
a matter of tract


i wrote a few months ago about how i wished that i had a place like sarah's grandfather's house to take hannah in order to engage in the same type of trip down memory lane that her family experiences everytime they travel to cartersville, ga. if i have a place close to that, it may be east lake park. my mother's father took my brother brian and i there every time we went to his and granny's house. either to walk around the track, to fish, to play on the the playground, to feed the ducks, to fly kites, to watch flag-football games, to football practice, to eat push-up pops, etc. it was a special place.

on a whim, we took hannah to east lake park today and it revved up my dysfunctional memory banks into as close to working order as they now get when i remember back when. the park and lake had changed since i last patronized them. the grass around the lake wasn't well kept. the gravel on the sidewalk wasn't as smooth. the concession stand wasn't open. no flag football. i don't fish.

but there were ducks. the main reason for our going didn't let us down. hannah had no idea what was in store for her when we asked if she wanted to go feed the ducks. but feed the ducks she did. big ducks, baby ducks, and every duck in between tickled her as we threw them bread.

a funny thing happened to us, though, on our way around the lake. about halfway around, we were encountered by an elderly man that stopped us and asked if we were going to heaven. we told him that we hoped so, and he used the moment as an excuse to pray for us. we held hands with him and repeated his simple prayer asking god to allow us into heaven after we died. the prayer was no more complex than "now i lay me down to sleep...", but the gesture strikes me as much more now that i sit here. i imagine the man, widowed (which may or may not be the case), going home at night and waking up tomorrow, if he's lucky, to suit up and make his way back to the park to do what he feels like he can for the lord for as long as he's here.

as we left the tract carrying, praying for strangers, nice as he could be old man, sarah said, "we probably didn't need that, but i bet we just made his day." she may be right. we may not have needed that prayer and that tract, but the more sweet people that are praying for my daughter, well, i will take.

i am so tired today. this day, very well, could have come and passed without me having anything to remember it by. how quickly i have already taken for granted being home with sarah and hannah full-time. but now i have my ducks, hannah's ducks, and the old man to remind me that every day has the potential to be a great day.

thank you, sir.

hannah and me (part nine)
dear diary


damn. tonight was kind of tough. as far as nights home with the family go, tonight was stressful. and who, pray tell, was pubic enemy number one? the baby girl. the apple of my eye. the light of my world. little miss, little miss, little miss can't be wrong (for all you spin doctors fans out there). the sweet, precious baby girl. the same baby girl that this time yesterday was still limping around on her tip-toes milking everything she could out of her freshly skinned knee.

the afternoon and evening were pleasant enough. picking her up from school is always a highlight. only parents can understand the joy that is seeing your child's eye explode with excitement when they see you peek your head into their room. we came home, watched pardon the interruption, went to the playground, and then welcomed mommy home.

then all went wrong.

not really, the bungee jump that was tonight left the bridge when we headed to the store. we were all on different pages, and chasing hannah in the parking lot wasn't the best capper for the outing. came home, dinner was fine. sweet even. then came the time-out. for hitting. the time-out, admittedly, was not executed "by the book", but my guess is that the author was not wrestling with a strong-like-bull two year old as she typed her sage advice. after time-out, bath went pretty good, but hannah's playful attitude as we tucked her in fell on the tense shoulders of her mommy and daddy.

the bounce back came with the nightly hug and kiss that has become bedtime tradition. with the two hugs and two kisses, the stress seemed silly and the tension seemed unwarranted. and thus is a night with you, baby girl. even the hardest night always ends with love i do not understand but cannot now live without. sleep good.

see you in the morning.

"the people's revolution is gonna be a podcast." - Nofx


i was encountered by a friend who is going through a difficult and disconcerting situation earlier this week. the situation calls into question their beliefs, morals, convictions, and integrity. standing behind their beliefs, morals, convictions, and integrity, if the worst case scenario were to play out, would not come cheap. the dilemma includes choices that could and would affect their family's financial comfort, home, and spiritual headquarters. i pray that the worst case scenario might not play out. i pray that ignorance, in this circumstance, is defeated at the hands of enlightenment. i pray that my friend is not put in a position that would ask them to take a measured and calculated leap away from their current comfort zone. i pray that all their hard work to reach this comfort is not lost on a group of people that do not understand the gospel as it is intended. i pray, and i wonder...

i don't wonder the cliche' "what would jesus do", because that answer is easy. of course jesus would do the right thing. stand up for what he believes. take the ignorant to task. but i am not jesus. a far cry from it am i. i fully believe that jesus, god himself, has had a significant hand in helping me build the house of cards that is my life, but i also know that i am significantly more likely to knock the tower down than He is. a shortsighted decision here. a temptation not resisted there. and there it goes. a beautiful structure that was built with the help of The Man comes crashing down in a pile of regret, "why's", and "how did this happen to me's".

there's will come a point in all of our lives, maybe more than one if we are unlucky, where we will face a crossroad. and the choice of which way to turn will always be simple, but it will never be easy. i fear for my friend that may be coming to one, and i fear for myself because i am not 100 percent certain i would be able to follow my own advice...

...so what does this mean? any time i start to question my own advice, it usually means i am heading for a crossroad of my own. another fucking crossroad. but wisdom always (not usually) comes with understanding, and i understand that things are different now.

Which way will you go, Kevin?

a) left
b) right
c) straight ahead
d) turn tail and run...

how about, e) i'll just sit down right here and think about it for a while. ?

"i'd carve out my lungs, and it's all just to see you again..."
the last last
(note: quote doesn't really have anything to do with the blog. it's just a line from a saves the day song i can't get out of my head and don't want to at this point.)


barring one final trip to clean up a little and turn in my apartment keys, my time in huntsville is now over. i am still a little surprised at the range of emotions that i am currently going through. happy to be home. sad to not have a service to lead next week. happy for no more commute. sad for the loss of quality cd time back and forth on 65. happy that things are back to normal for my family. sad not to have an excuse to play and sing for the forseeable future. happy for easter. sad for the same.

it's a little misleading. easter. the celebrating doesn't last long. just an hour. a day if your lucky. the shine definitely wears off in a week when the sanctuary isn't nearly as full the following week. what happened to all the people? what happened to the happy? what happened was the same as any coat of wax. in time, the weather reveals the greasy, faded, scratched up surface underneath and things are back to normal. normal is what i am good at. what we are good at. right? the same cup of coffee. the same walk around the block. the same route to work. the same disgust for the co-worker that breathes too loud in the next cubicle. the same being pissed-off at the person next to you that "can't drive". the same tv shows. the same worry. the same bills. the same customers. second verse. same as the first. sing if you'd like. sit if you'd rather. don't rock the boat. don't make eye contact. don't say you're sorry. you're never wrong anyway.

so what?


character is revealed in "the same". the more your life doesn't change, the more it doesn't matter. the more it stays the same, the more you have to regret. the more you stay the same, the more boring you become.

and that's why i went to huntsville. that's why, even though it was only eight months, my life will never be the same.

easter is the same every year. the same service. the same message. and the comfort in knowing what to expect is exactly why everyone wakes up early and puts on the fancy clothes. next week, though, could be different.

if i let it.

i will.

will you?

a month full of "last's" slowly comes to an end
buried under satan's yardstick


the last couple of weeks have been filled with many "last's". my last schedule to be made. my last customer to serve. my last day at cold stone. my last night spent in huntsville. today marks the last day of my unofficial spring break. soon enough, this coming easter sunday actually, i will participate in my last service at common ground. shortly after that, i will drive up to and back from huntsville for the last time (thank god). that is, until hannah is old enough to enjoy the space and rocket center.

all of these "last's" beg the question, "what now"? i am thankful to say that with all of these things coming to an end, and inevitably being faced to deal with extra time on my hands, i do not have plans to immediately start something new just for the sake of it. just for the hell of it. hell being the operative word. there's a cheesy e-mail forward that makes it way into my inbox from time to time. it's message is that the devil intentionally puts things in our life to keep us busy therefore taking time away from our focusing on god. there's an acronym for B-U-S-Y in the e-mail like buried under satan's yardstick (or something like that) that i cannot remember. now, whether "a" or "the" devil puts busy-ness into our lives or we do it ourselves is for another theological post and the bottom line is it's just semantics anyway. to the point of the e-mail, though, today i say amen.

for a long, long time now, beginning the day i accepted a job at HUMC, i have been busy. there has never been enough time in my day to accomplish what i wanted or thought needed to be done. this path continued through my time in huntsville. forget my family. forget my friends. i have to stay busy. don't bother me. "i am doing god's work". well, maybe i was. but i don't think that god was signing off on all the things i was forgetting or lowering on my priority list. for the short term, i will co-manage a pet supplies plus. i will work and then i will come home. if, on my off days i find too much time on my hands, so be it. we'll go get ice cream. or krispy kreme. go see a movie. to a braves game. to the playground. i'll just sit around and blog. and i'll be better for it. a better man. a better husband. a better dad. a better servant.

what's the use in being driven by a career when that career, that job, that "doing god's work" asks you to relegate the important things in your life to "i'll try and fit you in to my schedule."? the answer is there is no use. none. nada.

the next time i am buried under satan's yardstick will be the day my cats start losing weight.

the older i get, the more i think the braves suck


not really. what i really have noticed, the last couple years in particular, is the older i get, the more into sports i have become. which is scary. i have always considered myself a sports guy. watch a lot of sports. go to see my share live and in person. live on espn.com, si.com, mlb.com, nfl.com, etc. so that i can have an educated conversation on whatever sport happens to be your favorite. but it's getting worse. i never used to pay attention to recruiting. i just didn't care about that part of college football. whoever ended up playing at alabama i would root for. now, i already dislike a high school senior named tim tebow because he spurned alabama and i want another high school senior (andre "the giant", anyone?...ridiculous) from huffman high school to be the second coming of chris samuels. it's absurd. recruiting. now i pay attention, though. i've always liked the braves. dale murphy's always been my favorite player and always will. i want jeff francouer to be the next dale murphy. i love when they win. the difference, recently, has been that if the braves are sucking it up, i am sick. i am an ogre to be around. it's horrible. so far this season, all six games, every braves starter has either been rocked or pulled a hammy. not good. and it's killing me. absolutely killing me. the same kind of examples could be culled from any sport that i pay attention to nowadays. god help sarah and hannah during the upcoming world cup. i should go ahead and reserve a hotel room for the first week so i don't break anything here when the us gives up a goal.

i don't know what to make of this, but i do like it. sports, religion, politics...none are any fun unless you feel like you have some sort of vested interest.

maybe that's what i was missing. maybe i was into all of these things, but maybe it wasn't fun. it is now. for all of them. sports, religion, politics.

what changed? a lot. a little. who knows. something did and some things will.

god help me.

god help you.

go braves.

hannah and me (part eight)
dateline: our house


i think history, as i now move forward, will tell me the most ridiculous part of my last eight months will have been rationalizing my time away from my two year-old. the part with sarah i can deal with. we missed each other more and more with each passing month, but we knew what i was taking on was for a larger purpose than us and knew that we would see each other even more than when i was at huffman. it turned out almost to be a blessing in many ways, to our future and the promise of our family's future. this part of my decision i can handle. the part of it that i never could make right in my head and still cannot was the hannah part. i have had so much support from my friends that it's made it easier to get through, and i also know that as smart as she is, in ten years she will have no true memories of this time in her life. but i will.

yesterday, as hannah and i were driving down to have lunch with mommy she told me that she wanted to go to daddy's house (the way she identified my apartment in huntsville). it was cute, of course, but it also stung in a way that i know she did not intend or will not understand for some time. for her, it was just a want for adventure. to see the "rocket" off the interstate or the "fountain" by my place. for me, it was a reminder of an incredibly unhappy time in my life where there was always a distinct and sometimes disturbing difference between mom and dad's house.

fortunately, although that period has obviously scarred me, it has passed. now, it only provides motivation. motivation for me to make sure that from this point forward, mommy's and daddy's house will be one and the same for our little girl.

andy and i spoke after lunch tuesday about fatherhood for a short amount of time. we agreed that we had failed at certain things in life and would inevitably fall short of certain goals in the future, but the exception to that rule would be how we rated as fathers. there are good fathers and there are bad. there are exceptional fathers, and there are the downright poor to non-existant. ultimately, hannah will be my judge in where within those categories i fall. and i am ok with that.

she will know that she is loved absolutely and unconditionally every day for the rest of my life. i have to believe that this plays in my favor.

in the land of humans


retired abc news anchor peter jennings once said that every time he picked up a coin he instinctually wanted to turn it over. i think this is just another way of saying the old cliche', the grass is always greener on the other side. was the eagle on the back of the quarter any more intriguing, any more beautiful than george washington's face? no, but the anticipation or want for it to be so was enough that he wanted to turn it over anyway. so i imagine, there he sat as i sit here now, able to see both sides of the quarter, sure now that there are, indeed, two sides to every coin, but also sure that it's still worth 25 cents in the end.

for eight months i succumbed to the same temptation. i saw one chapter of my life coming to an end, and looked for another field where the grass might be greener. a path that contained fewer footsteps. i told myself that the new adventure of helping to build a foundation from the ground up would contain fewer frustrations than the old, broken home i was leaving behind. it was a challenge. and at times it was fun. but i was missing the point. in the land of humans, you are building with bricks that have holes in them, flaws that people will bring to the party no matter if they are "church people" or not. and thus, after eight months, i return home today with a new lease on life. i am lucky to feel this way at 29. had i not followed my heart, who knows when i would have felt this alive. i thank chris for providing the means to this end and sarah and hannah for supporting me along the way.

i always "knew" the grass wasn't really greener on the other side, but now i know it. and i plan to use that knowledge as God would lead me to. who knows what that means. i am certain, though, that it will not always be comfortable. but it shouldn't be, right andy? again, i thank you for allowing me to feel that i am working for the right team even if "church people" won't always make eye contact with me or my family.

in the land of humans, by God's grace, we are all coins that have many different sides, opinions, experiences, traditions, and flaws, but in the end no life is worth more than the next.

let the games begin.

five days left working for the devil...


i've said this out loud to a few people, but during my time at coldstone, i've often felt like i've been working for the darkside. why? on a given day, if i pay attention, way more people who don't need ice cream (especially gotta have it's...almost one pound (!) of ice cream) come in the store than "healthy" folks looking for a small snack or dessert. what's worse, part of the whole franchise agreement includes trying to upsize a person's order, no matter where they start on the menu. "for only forty cents more, you can get a waffle...for only a dollar you can get this and this and this..." even if you start with the pounder, there are things that cold stone wants you to ask the customer. "have you ever tried a cold stone cake?" eat more. be happy. die younger. i know all of this is a little dramatic. the same things and complaints could be applied to any fast food restaurant or franchise where the idea is to sell something cheap at really high prices. it just makes me feel bad or wrong, and so i don't do it. the upselling that is. i'll do it when i am working with the high-school and college-age staff that i am leaving behind to set a good "example" as their boss for them, but not when i work by myself. this, in and of itself, probably makes me a poor employee and even poorer rationalizer, but it's how i've coped. only five more days 'til i don't have to worry about it anymore. what good news that is.

speaking of good news, in a beautifully ironic twist of fate, the same team in george mason that i thought ruined my bracket by taking out north carolina also ruined everyone else's favorite, uconn, and sealed my victory in my tournament pool this year. hooray for me. hooray for florida. and hooray for the sec that the "experts" proclaimed having a down year. idiots.

softball season opens tonight. this time next week, i'll be home for good. life, ladies and gentlemen, is good.

no offense, punkin', but i am glad our consecutive days streak has come to an end.


"in a one and out format, all it takes is the better team having a bad day, and the lesser team having a good one and your bracket is ruined."

see: bradley
see: george mason

is it pretentious to quote yourself? probably, but screw it. i haven't been able to write in over a week because i've been closing the store for over a week. counting today...eight days 'til i return home. the first weekend of the tournament (and last night) was ridiculous as it always is. close games. buzzer-beaters. upsets. ill-timed upsets that throw office/internet pools upside down on their heads. i'll admit it. one of the cinderella teams beat my national champion pick, north carolina. sure, they were likely underdogs if they hooked up with everyone's favorite, uconn, but what's the fun of picking chalk all the way through? what's worse is that the rest of my bracket has been stellar this year. i called wichita st. over tennessee. i called georgetown over ohio state. i called lsu over duke. as of this morning, i am winning my pool on espn.com and scoring higher than 99.7 percent of the brackets registered on espn. amazing. now all of this will change when uconn starts scoring and i don't have them, but i am resting high on my laurels through tonight. real high. and if u-dub can pull an upset? i am back in it. rock'n'roll.

here's my pet peave, though. over the last few days, i've had no less than four people tell me how great their bracket is. "what do you mean? i am kicking the crap out of you on espn." "no, my other bracket." "ohhh...you're other bracket." i don't get the whole filling out five different brackets thing. i mean, i guess if you're gambling, it makes sense. you make five different brackets to try and increase your chance of winning by playing out several different scenarios, but doesn't that take the fun out of it? be a man. or a woman. pick a bracket and go with it. if it's educated, then you have as good a chance as anyone else. if you're picking teams by how cute their mascot is, well, fill out one or fifty, if you win it's going to be pure luck anyway.

this is my call to arms. don't tell me how great you would have done with your "other" bracket, because you should only have one bracket.

go huskies. not uconn.

march madness...
nobody knows what they are talking about


the ncaa tournament is here. the men's tournament that is. god bless the women, but i just can't get fired up about them. alabama is in. uab is in. they both have good to very good chances of winning their first round games, so that will be a lot of fun. of course, until the first game tips tomorrow morning, no one really cares about the actual games. it's all about the brackets. i am the same. ever since the pairings were released, i have been a maniac. i can't get enough of the talking heads talking about the match-ups, the favorites, the underdogs, the cinderellas. i eat it up like hannah does a fudgepop. there are those that i favor their opinions, and there are those that i listen to just because i know i will disagree with them. over the last several years, there is one lesson i have learned when it comes to filling out your bracket. a lesson that anyone filling out a bracket hoping to win a pool would do well to learn from also...

don't listen to anyone.

not jay bilas. not dick vitale. definitely not digger phelps, or jim nantz or billy packer. not me. not your mom. not my mom. no one knows anything. jay bilas ripped uab all sunday afternoon calling them a "half-way decent team". never once did he complain about the alabama selection. now i watch more than my share of college basketball. way more than my share of alabama basketball. and all the uab that tv offers. in my heart of hearts, i know that uab would beat the crap out of alabama. in one game. in a best of seven. however you wanted to do it. i didn't necessarily disagree with jay bilas. uab is half-way decent. but so are between 45 and 55 teams in the tournament. the other 10-20 are either really crappy or all-the-way-decent. the nba and the temptation of the nba has lured away all of the quality star power from the college game. so, you may have teams with talent, but it'll be incredibly young talent. and you might have mid-major or major teams with experience, but it'll be all white guys with teammates not good enough to play in the nba. so, which way wins out? neither. both. who knows. no one knows anything.

in a one and out format, all it takes is the better team having a bad day, and the lesser team having a good one and your bracket is ruined. the "experts" should know this. but everyone and their mother is still picking a team in UConn that lost to the 9th(!!!) best team in their own conference just a week ago. go ahead. pick UConn. pick 3 out of 4 number one seeds to make it to your final four. it may in fact happen. but know this, if it does you will have only been lucky, not good.

here's to my wife beating me again this year.

not that i am bitter.

ribs: the cure for what ails you
(that and good friends)


in the huffman-centric part of my world, the last three days have been trying. a combination of emotions ranging from complete and utter shock, to confusion, to sadness, to anger, to frustration and back to sadness has enveloped my world. mine and countless others. how does one react? what should one do? why did all this happen?

it's frustrating to know, too, that had these three young men not included one that i held dear to me, my interest in the entire story would fade as soon as my intrigue and wonder about their motives had been satisfied. a lesson in perspective? not one that i asked for. but yes.

then comes the ribs. i have had several people tell me the last couple days that they cannot even fathom small talking or worrying about what now seems trivial in their lives compared to having a friend's future hanging in the balance. i understand that feeling. i have had it myself. what i have been able to convince myself of, though, is that the trivial is relative and abso-freakin'-lutely necessary in times of trial. if it weren't for my ribs, my softball, my baseball, my friends with boys that make me want one of my own talking about little league, my pardon the interruption, my march madness, my hope that alabama beats kentucky today, my hope that team usa beats the mess out of south africa...if it weren't for these things and others my head would explode.

three young men's lives have changed in a dramatic way this week. people's lives change everyday, though, oftentimes for worse. this time, i just happen to know one of them and hold him very close to my heart. it is the trivial that keeps me unaware and sane. it is my friends and family that remind me that that is ok. i am thankful for both.

ben, i am praying for you, your family, your friends. i love you.

"a human walgreens, a grotesque and insulting example of better baseball through chemistry."


this was one of the many descriptors for barry bonds used in an espn.com story this morning. yesterday, the story and excerpts from a book hitting shelves on march 27th called game of shadows found the internet and with it, the shit hit the fan. barry bonds, possibly the greatest baseball player of the the last fifty years and arguably ever has been one of my favorites for a while now. his superhuman efforts at the plate are well documented. passing mark mcgwire for the single season home run mark. approaching babe ruth and hank aaron on the all-time list. only member of the 500 home run and 500 steals club. multiple mvp trophies. the man. equal to all of these accomplishments, though, is the cloud that has followed him for over five years now that rains questions of steroid and performance enhancer use down upon him each and every day.

i didn't want to believe it. i still don't. never mind the visual evidence. si.com has a great picture gallery up right now that details the way his body has changed since college. i knew he looked different. different now compared to when his pirates tormented my braves. bigger. badder. stronger. forehead version 2.0. i saw it all, but i didn't want to hear any of the haters. i don't know why. i guess part of it was because he was so great before any of the steroids. he could do everything. run, hit for average, hit for power, play d. he was going to be a hall of famer anyway. he knew he was the man. everyone did. until everyone else started juicing up. the new book alleges that when all of mark mcgwire's and sammy sosa's and brady anderson's (??? red flag ???) homers started pushing him to the back page, barry got jealous. now, whether or not this is true we will never know. unless barry comes out and says it. and he won't. so instead of just being the best player, barry picked up needles, creams, clears, whatever he could get his hands on to pump up. get bigger. hit more home runs. and he did. a lot more. he was back on the front pages. he was the best ever. until today.

today he is called a cheater. a fraud. tainted. all of which are probably true. above all else, though, i think barry is just human. it's hard to see heroes broken down. i admit it. i liked my barry super-sized. i liked all the home runs. i liked pitchers being afraid of him. there's part of me that doesn't want to see him play if he can't still do all those things. and that's horrible of me. maybe i just picked the wrong hero. i know i do that a lot. i know we all do. i like my heroes capabable of doing things i can't. but i do want them to accomplish those things using the gifts God afforded them. not some drug cocktail that includes, among other things, stuff that makes women more fertile and gives cows stronger bones.

dang it, barry.

paging verbal kint
the best trick the devil ever pulled;
convinced the world he didn't exist - link 80


it's been too long since i've been able to write. too many things are going through my head at the moment. some sports. some serious. some not. too much. maybe i can get it out now. more likely is that this will come out a jumbled mess.

my life is about to change. again. what i thought was going to be a year-long experiment/venture/challenge/leap of faith has transformed into eight months. eight short months of unrealized expectations, disappointments, struggles and closure versus the excitement of meeting difficult expectations, finding the lessons is disappointments, working through the struggles and new beginnings. at this point, today, it feels like the former four have won the battle, although i am confident time will allow me to see otherwise.

silvers linings abound, though. in one very short month, i will see my wife and daughter every day again. i have learned in my eight months how i took them for granted, and i wonder how that knowledge will translate to the next chapter of our lives. i will get to see my friends again, much more than i did for eight months. i will start a new job. another job in retail (who knew?). i do love people. maybe retail will be the way to go for me. time will tell. a new softball season is on the horizon. it will take me 10 minutes to get to the field. not 105. that's good. i will get to have ribs with andy and kiker again. soon. i want ribs. lots of ribs. and we have to get 'nana pudding. even if we are full.

i have decisions to make as it relates to my god. for the first time in over six years, i will not be on a church staff. what does that mean? how do i plug in? where do i plug in? back to huffman? do they want me? do i want them? it's my church, right? but i don't want to rock the boat. if i go back, it can't be like it was. time will tell.

my cake decorator at cold stone is the wife of a freewill baptist church pastor. incredibly nice lady. we were talking about teenagers the other day and she was waxing theological. she was telling me, in so many words, that their church would not allow their youth to fellowship with groups that were not like-minded in the way their church viewed the bible, the faith, the like. she started talking about how there were so many "bad kids" in this world, in huntsville. how their youth group, her children included, would benefit from being around the "bad ones" as little as possible. i felt sorry for her. i didn't have the heart or the time to disagree with her. she believed with every ounce of her what she was saying. she wasn't being malicious. she was just wrong. the devil resides in all of us. in huntville freewill baptist churches. in huffman united methodist churches. in every denomination's churches. we are all verbal kint's. limping around. hiding from the world. disguising who we really are.

not until we come to Church broken. open. real. honest. not until then can we make a difference again. not until then will we do anything other than tread water, occasionally picking up two, four, ten, four hundred other verbal kint's along the way that are treading water as well.

i am coming home broken. frustrated. excited. anxious. broken, but in the best way. what will it mean? will it make a difference? time will tell.

it will be scary. then again, most things are.

turning the page. on to chapter whatever.

i had this dream...


...actually, i have this dream a lot, relative to other dreams. i guess we all have reoccurring dreams. as reoccurring dreams go, i remember very little from this dream with the exception of the opening sequence. i am some sort of superhero (naturally), and i take off flying into the night headed toward a castle on the side of a mountain. there is a woman (girl?) on the ground as i leave, and as the camera in my head shifts it's focus to her perspective, i can tell she is crying. does she know something that i don't...yet? am i flying off to my peril? will i not let her come with me? is she just emotional? i don't know. maybe i have finished this dream. maybe all of these questions have been answered at some point in my life and i've just never been able to bring the answers with me after my brain pushes the "awake" button. it's always frustrating. i want to know. i want to know where my superhero self is going. what's in the castle. why my superhero costume is so kick-ass. at this point in my life, though, i am starting to understand that i may not get the answers to my questions. that this dream may go unrealized. some dreams do. go unrealized that is. some when we sleep. some when we are awake.

i am a superhero, during my waking hours, to only one person. she is small and sweet and doesn't know any better. soon enough, she will be old enough to know that there are some things that daddy just can't do. but for now, even without a kick-ass costume, i'll take the great responsibility that comes with my great power and protect her. and teach her. and help her. and serve her.

she won't remember any of this, but maybe, somehow, it'll come back to her in a dream. and she'll wonder what it means. in the same way that i've wondered about mine. that it may not be me in my dream but my dad that's hurrying off to save the world. that it's my mom that's crying because she knows that no matter how hard she tries, it will always be him that i see as the one with the superpowers.

she won't remember any of this. the laughing. the playing. the jumping on the bed. if it comes back to her in a dream, i do hope it's a good one.

hannah and me (part seven)
i am now the father of a real little human being


i know. i know what you are thinking. kevin, you've been a father for over two years now. that's true. but it hit me today that this baby girl isn't really a baby anymore. in fact, she's quite capable. hannah started, as all babies do, in what andy calls the furniture phase. she progressed quite nicely through that phase, became mobile, became more mobile and learned to walk, learned to run, to hop, learned words, and learned to string words together all the while retaining the cuteness quotient she displayed way back in the furniture phase.

today has been an old school daddy-daughter day. mommy was unavailable for lunch, so we got up, laid in bed and watched some little einsteins, moved to the living room for dora, watched some sesame street, folded clothes, brushed teeth, got ready, and went. we left for target looking for a couple things and played in target. actually played. we ran. we laughed. we were silly. then we went to go eat at lee garden.

this is when it hit me that i might not have a "baby" girl anymore. hannah sat next to me in her booster seat (obviously not for babies), shared hot and sour soup and crispy noodles with me. when her food came, daddy cut her chicken nuggets in half (although i think she could have done it herself if i would have let her) to let them cool and we shared some small talk while we sipped on our drinks and finished the soup. i put her chicken and rice in front of her and she picked up her spoon and got after it. i asked her if she needed help. she did not. "no, daddy. i'll do it." i ate. she ate. we talked a little. she dipped her nuggets very politely and neatly in sweet and sour sauce, and then we were finished. she picked up the ticket for me and carried it to the cash register. the sweet girl that works at lee garden commented on how big hannah had gotten.

she has. she isn't a baby anymore. i guess she's more of my "little" girl. not my baby girl.

hannah, you are so big. i love you. i hope it's ok if you are always my baby girl.

Sports Talk Entry Number Seven (Roundtable Edition)
winter sports, among other things...


* let me go ahead and throw this out there. shani davis is a dick. i know this comment will cause sarah to count me in the number that need culutural sensitivity training, but i tend to disagree. you can't escape the whole "icy relationship" story between speed skaters shani davis and chad hedrick even if you are just passing through the nbc telecasts, but seeing the 1,000 meters and the post-race interview with shani sealed it for me. shani davis is a dick. poor shani. people are talking about him being selfish. he came from the "mean streets" of chicago. his mom's the speed skating version of earl woods. big whoop. you just won a gold medal. be happy, dude. if you smile for the camera, are nice to melissa stark, and actually embrace the historic moment, sponsors would come calling and you and your crazy-ass mom would be set for life. too bad. i'll be rooting for chad hedrick in the 1,500. boo shani. boo.

* i've watched two almost-complete usa ice hockey games, and they've lost both 2-1. i like watching them, though. the guys playing are pro's, but you still get the feeling they are the scrappy underdogs. i'll watch again tomorrow and root that they don't have to sneak into the quarterfinals through the backdoor.

* ice dancing is stupid. sorry again, sarah...and hannah. and while i am on it, so is bobsled. what is up with the guy(s) who just push the sled to help get in going and then jump in and duck and then get no credit? that's stupid. just put a motor in the thing to get it up to speed and let the "driver" do the rest.

* lindsay jacobellis? i feel better about things now that you've come out and said you were showboating. the whole "i was stabilizing myself" just wasn't going to work. but damn. four years is a long time to have to wait to live something so silly down. i hope you do, though.

* bode miller? (insert boisterous stewie griffin laugh here)

* speaking of winter sports...nba all-star weekend came and went and my love for bron-bron only grew. i can't wait to watch him in the playoffs this year. mark it down on my calendar. lebron plus playoffs equals appointment television.

* speaking of can't wait...world cup isn't so far away. it's incredible that the usa are now good enough and deep enough that they can play their scrubs and still whip competition they are "supposed to beat". i love that. if claudio reyna is healthy, i am predicting quarterfinals.

"it's easy when you know how." - charlie chaplin


that's true, to an extent. limitations are a tricky thing to deal with. physical limitations. mental. it's tough to deal with, very humbling, when i am reminded that i am getting old. not old, old. just older. i was reminded of this thursday night, as i often am, when playing in a church league basketball game. you see, charlie, i know how to play basketball, but i don't know if it's easy. not anymore. not that basketball was ever my best sport, but i knew how to play and could usually overcome my "whiteness" because i knew how to play. for those of us that take sports seriously, we will all reach a point where the mind and body don't click as one anymore, and that is frustrating. i see a pass. i see a passing lane. most times i make it. but there are those times that it takes just a click too long for by body to respond to my brain and i screw up. the lane closes. i make the pass too late. limitations are a tricky thing to deal with. i do like the challenge, though. i always have. to be confident even though i am not the best athlete. to know that my team will win just because i think it. no matter the sport. no matter the game. softball season is just over a month away. we have a title to defend. i can't wait. and even though we haven't had the best basketball season this year, i bet we'll bounce back. why? because i know how.

a cool story that i haven't told anyone about yet...

...the kind of thing that doesn't usually happen to me. the kind of thing preachers usually make up in order to help out a sermon that hasn't filled it's "feel good" quotient...

i am in the store wednesday. it's close to lunchtime, but i've only had one customer so far. a lady. a regular. i knew what she wanted before she opened her mouth and she liked that. a few minutes later, a man comes in. judging a book by it's cover, he looked like your normal 40-ish year old guy. 'til he opened his mouth. it was like his mouth and brain were in a brutal fistfight. i had heard stuttering before, but nothing like this. the amount of physical energy it took him to get words out was absolutely astonishing. it took me aback, but patiently i waited on him, gave him the lowdown on how the store worked, took his order, talked as much as he wanted to, took his money, and said thanks. he walked over to the regular that had already been served and sat down. i was a little confused, but didn't think too much of it. as they were leaving, the lady asked for my attention and told me in so many words, "that is the most patience that i have seen anyone give my brother in a very long time. thank you very much. it made his day. i think you'll see him again soon." i told her no problem and that i would look forward to seeing them both soon, and they left. a definite feel good moment.

limitations are a tricky thing to deal with. compared to some, my limitations are very, very minimal. i hope, most days, that i can be the kind of person that makes other's limitations easier to deal with. to ease their burden. to lighten their load. whatever that might be. it may be a speech impediment. a bad back. a bad day. whatever.

"it's easy when you know how."

true.

i couldn't be any less patriotic
(and marie was right about rick and bubba)


i don't mind watching the olympics. football's over 'til august. baseball won't be here for another month. so, i'll let the olympics distract me if there isn't anything else on. the crappy part is that espn gives me real time results, so the drama isn't there when the telecast comes on however-many hours later. i am not swept up by the olympic spirit. i am the worst patriot there is i have to believe.

on my early morning drives up to huntsville, i have started listening to a little rick and bubba. i lose sportstalk just outside of downtown. it's just too early to bring the rock when the sun still has an hour before it rises. npr makes me sleepy. so, one morning i stumbled across rick and bubba. one of their producers and some of their crew were on a mission to bring a woman (allegedly going blind) from georgia to the rick and bubba studio in birmingham so that she could see bubba in person before losing her sight. the hilarity that ensued made me laugh and has kept me coming back for a few weeks now. when i was telling sarah and my mother-in-law, marie, about this, marie said that she couldn't listen to them because she disagreed with everything they said. i am finding, the more i listen, the more i understand her reasoning.

rick and bubba are very conservative southern baptists, admittedly. they will poke fun at typical southern baptist stereotypes but they will also further them. they casually throw barbs at the "libs" at least once a day. and they have also made light of the recent church arsons by judging the arsonists to the "hell express". granted, some may not see this as making light as much as it seems point on. i, too, think the way the arsonists are voicing their unhappiness towards the church, god, whoever, whatever is absolutely disgusting and shortsighted, but if members of the victim churches have already found forgiveness in their hearts, maybe others could too. in the midst of exploiting almost-blind women and their lifestyles, drawing humor from killing "wild game", being disgusted at the "libs", sucking up to shaun alexander, judging criminals to hell, being comfortable with laughing off the fact that they are eating themselves into an early grave (which i suppose is fine if you are comfortable with your eternity), poking ironic fun at other "celebrities", among other things, they lead off their second hour with the national anthem of all things.

please pardon me if this makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little bit each morning. i am a horrible patriot. maybe finding discomfort in the country and the christianity that rick and bubba and others promote makes me a horrible christian. i would no more want to fight for "my" country, the one i was lucky enough to be born into while others were born into something far worse, than i would jump off a tall building into a pool of concrete. i respect the bravery of those that have. of those that do. of those that will. but that doesn't mean i get it. i don't want to get it. i want to believe that war is bad. that killing is bad. and wrong. and forgiveness is divine. what sets us apart. what i want to set me apart.

i am preaching to my own personal choir. i could just as well not listen. if there was a better option, maybe i wouldn't. if i can find a less rockin' cd in my collection, maybe i'll do that. then again, if i listen, i'll find more inside of me to write about. and i do like to write.

i am a horrible patriot. and i am a hypocrite. i do not root for shaun white because he's american. i root for him because he has cool hair and looks cool doing what he's so good at. but i will root for team usa in the upcoming world baseball classic. and the world cup. because those are my boys. lucky enough to be born in the same country i was. that's our bond. that, in a glass half-empty kind of way, is our curse.

i just wish it didn't have to be our religion.

true love is wiping someone else's butt
(and i don't mean your baby's)


chances are, if you go to church this sunday, you are going to hear one of two sermons or some variation on one of two sermons. the first possibility could very well be titled, "go for the gold". some preacher that thinks himself relevant will seize the opportunity of the olympics beginning this weekend to urge we christians to "be all that we can be", "never accept second place in the game of life", or that, through years of hard work and dedication, insert church name here can change the world (and end up on a wheaties box). the second one is just as obvious but no less annoying. what's tuesday, people? that's right...valentine's day. this same preacher could very well point out to us that this commercialized, made-up, unrealistic day of romance is nothing when compared to God's love for us. hell, i've even used that one. hopefully, whichever of these two sermons you hear will motivate you to leave your sanctuary pumping your fists ready to knock the world out with some Jesus.

what is true love? what is the best example that i could think of? well, i thought of my brother brian again. he's been on my mind a lot lately. mainly because i hope he's still doing well. mainly because it would be nice to see him again. mainly, because i hope he doesn't get sad on valentine's day because most of his "loved" ones have hung him out to dry. he will never read this, but keep proving them wrong, brian. they want you to fail, so they can feel better about themselves. so that their rationale seems ok. keep proving them wrong. you are a man now. make them regret you. make them stay up at night wondering what on earth ever went through their head to convince themself that their life was better off without you.

dateline...huffman. going elementary school. 1987. brian is in second grade. on the playground swingset. somehow, someway, while swinging, brian falls backwards out of the swing and breaks both of his wrists. it's a pathetic sight, my brother in casts up to his shoulders for four weeks. now, brian and i were close, but the event led to a month that i will never forget. why? because for that month, when brian had to go to the bathroom and my mom wasn't home, i took him. he was able to figure out a way to make "number one" work on his own through some body contortioning. "number two", though? well, the casts just didn't allow for the cleaning process to happen without some assistance. so, i played his orderly for a month. was it gross? yes, it was. we didn't speak of it. ever. we didn't make eye contact. i helped him. we left the bathroom. after the casts came off, we didn't bring it up or joke about it. i didn't want to embarrass him. i don't think he wanted me to remember it. i didn't like it. but i didn't mind. he would've done the same for me. love most of the time is bullshit. but that shit (literally and figuratively) was real. nitty gritty. down and dirty. something that made us both, even though we were young, take a different look at how the world works.

i hope you leave church sunday pumping your fist and ready to inject some Jesus into somebody. but don't fake it. you can't do it half-way. you've got to be willing to get dirt under your nails. to break a sweat. and when the going gets tough? well, that's when you have to suck it up and wipe the world's butt.

p.s. - the last four episodes (potentially) of the best show on television during my 29 years air tonight. arrested development (7-9 on fox)...rest in peace.

"God's a kid with an ant farm. He doesn't have any "plans."" - constantine


kind of a cynical way to look at it, but it's food for thought anyway, huh? i watched constantine last night. last week, the president. this week, keanu reeves. "whoa", indeed. i was really geeked about seeing constantine in the theater when it came out last year, but it got drilled by the critics, so i let that take away my excitement. last night, kickin' it in huntsville again, i took a chance. it's too bad that i let the critics push me away from seeing it, because i ended up really enjoying the movie. i don't care what anyone says, but with this movie and the matrix trilogy, keanu can be my superhero anyday. i won't bore you with the plot of the movie, but it's an interesting take on the idea that heaven and hell are at odds (of course), satan's son is trying to make his way to earth and take over, keanu wants to stop this from happening to get in favor with God, yada yada yada, keanu saves us all and gets the girl to boot. now, the theology in play over the course of the movie may not have been right up my alley, but it made me wonder for a little bit about what kind of light the downtrodden may see God in.

the downtrodden. down on their luck. just plain pissed. my brother, brian, fits (or used to) all three of these descriptors. he and i used to talk about why he wouldn't give God or church a chance. he said on more than one occasion that it was because God never took a chance on him. i tend to disagree with him to a point. there were points in brian's life that, were it not for The Big Guy, i don't know if brian would be with us today. but geez, i can certainly see where his cynicism comes from. his real father gave up on him pretty early. the father-figures he inherited through our mother's marriages were not, how do i say this, stellar. what in the world would lead him to count on an invisible Father that must have felt more and more invisible each passing day.

brian laughs nowadays when he pictures me "leading worship" only because neither of us got the point of praise songs growing up. there are days that i still don't, but there are days now that i do. i am glad that brian knows me. i hope that somehow, someday, he'll give God a chance again because he knows what i've been through too and that I love God very much. i hope he sees that being a dick and being a churchgoer don't always go hand in hand.

but what about the downtrodden, the down on their luck, the just plain pissed that don't have that example. what of those that life sucks so much that when they give their day a moment to think about God, they see him as a spoiled kid with an ant farm joyfully watching the ants running into each other without any discernible direction. there are more of them, i am afraid, than there are of us.

in His name, we have a lot of work to do.

OK, then. You go be president.


i watched the state of the union address in it's entirety tuesday night for the first time in, i guess, three years. it wasn't stirring by any means. i don't know if anything new or revolutionary came out of president bush's mouth. it was well delivered, which at times is a difficulty for our commander-in-chief. as speeches go, it was way better than the crappy "there is a better way" democratic response. holy crap, though. did the governor from virginia have creepy eyebrows, or what? i digress. i don't know why exactly i watched the speech. espn didn't offer much. the speech did preempt scrubs. i was alone in huntsville, so i gave it a whirl. 51 minutes. extended over and over again with sustained applause. it's always weird to me to see my democrats sit on their hands when bush delivers his talking points that they don't agree with. is this the image we want the world to see? that we can't put aside our political differences for 51 minutes and show the world we are united? i mean, i get it and all. i didn't want to clap for everything he said. i just wished they could send around a memo and say, "ok. no standing ovations. everyone clap when you feel led. let's hear the speech and disagree about it afterwards."

now, bush doesn't need any more apologists. he has an entire news network full of them. but, damn, am i tired of the whole bush is stupid stuff. listen, it's out in the public domain that he scored a 1206 on his sat. i've read a couple different places that this projects, roughly, to between a 125 & 129 iq. so, he's not stupid. if you are going to argue against him, please come with something stronger than, "liar, liar. pants on fire." do i agree with his policies? rarely. did i vote for the man? not in a million years. but, hell, i do trust his motives now in his second term when he's not working for re-election. at least now he's working on his legacy and the stamp he wants to leave in history books. that's gotta be more genuine than his first term, right? i hope so at least.

so, to my left-wing brethren on television hawking their own agenda rather than answering a simple, direct question. chill the fuck out. you are the one that looks stupid. and bitter. and misguided away from making the world a better place vs. getting your name in the paper. he's the president for three more years. go home. hug your wife that you've forgotten about. write your kid that you sent off to prep school a note and tell them you love them. stop working on your own re-election, and start working on making the world a better place.

oh, and democrats? please find me someone other than hillary to vote for. pretty please.

hannah and me (part six)
time flies when the baby is taking a nap


i am at home again today. an unplanned third day off. it's nice. unexpected, but nice. work will suck tomorrow. big time. but i don't have to hurry back for anything 'til thursday, so i am just going to try and pace myself. we'll see how it goes.

sarah, hannah, marie and i made a daytrip to sarah's grandfather's yesterday. it was very nice. to be able to go to tiny oak grove united methodist church. to spend some time with her grandfather and aunt and uncle and rebecca that didn't inlude thanksgiving dinner. there was a home-video viewing session for a couple of hours that sent their family down memory lane, and i could tell it made them very happy. it made me happy hearing everyone laugh, hearing them recall the where and what-nots of the situation. seeing little sarah. young marie. baby joseph being tormented by a well-meaning rebecca. of course, it didn't carry the same weight with me. but it meant a lot to be a part of it. in the middle of the session, i took hannah outside and we walked around her great-grandfather's yard. part of the day made me sad. part of me wished that i had a place that i could take her and sarah and remember and have fun.

that's just not the case, though. and that's ok. my mother's parents have passed. there were good memories there. i was never able to make it to many of the o'kelley family get-togethers. part of that is the fault of having a fractured family. part of that is my fault that i have kept my distance since becoming an adult. it's just been easier that way.

one day, hannah will ask me about when i grew up. i will be able to tell her about brian and mom and some good times. i will be able to tell her things that make me smile. and i will leave out the things that hurt. sometimes, it's better to leave the past as romantic and imaginary as possible. it's the present and the future that matters. it's making a place that hannah will want to come back to when she is her mother's age and marie's age and be proud of. it's that place that i will work on.

we can do that.

there's no "i" in team, but there is in justin...


this news item is a few days old and of little consequence to anyone's daily lives, but i haven't been able to shake my frustration with it. justin jonus, a sophmore guard at alabama, chose to leave his team on monday of this week. jonus has played in all but three of alabama's games, was averaging about 20 minutes a game, and was scoring about 6 a game (undoubtedly two three's a game, since this is all he's good for). now, i have poked fun at him here before, with little affection, as the "white boy" on the team. he is white. he plays white. he sucks, plain and simple. and it's not the fact that his loss, in my opinion, will hurt the team. granted, the starters may have to carry their own bags now that jonus isn't around, but that's beside the point. my point is this. justin and his dad cited his "lack of recent playing time" as their reason for leaving the team. justin's dad told reporters that he imparted this wisdom on his son. "if they aren't going to use you now that chuck davis is out, they are never going to use you." in other words, if you aren't going to benefit from this guy fucking up his knee, then screw your teammates and screw alabama. i guess it's not enough that alabama was paying for his education. i guess it didn't matter that his leaving means that alabama will play the season out with 7 (!!!) scholarship players when their competition in the sec are usually playing with 10-12.

now, talk radio is placing most of the blame for this at the dad's feet, claiming that jonus is "still a kid". i don't really consider 20 year-old's children, but whatever. but what is the dad's problem? this is the example you wanna set? for your son? to ingrain into your son for him to pass along to your grandchildren? i don't know about you, dude, but that is pretty weak. whatever happened to loyalty? whatever happened to locking arms with the group you've been fighting with and saying, "come hell or high water, we are going down together."

but that's not usally how it goes down. justin jonus is just like the rest of us. so is his dad. we are always looking for the next best thing. what is best for us. for me. me. me. me.

go ahead, justin. go find another church...er, team. just remember, the grass over there only seems greener because there's shit on that side too.

have fun playing in division 2 with the rest of the white guys.

to whom it may concern


i've been looking around for a couple of weeks for one of those e-mail surveys that comes across one's inbox from time to time. i thought it might be a fun idea to post one here...now and maybe in the future. now for me and those that come across it in the now, and in the future with the thought that hannah (if i am stubborn enough to keep this up for a while) might read it sometime in the way-out-there future and know where her daddy's head and heart were on a particular day. so, thanks to joseph (hopefully pillaging his journal for the questions is ok) for the survey.

a broad view of daddy's head and heart, january 25, 2006:

1.Spell your last name backward? yelleko
2. Story behind your first name: i don't believe there is one. just a name mom and dad agreed on. after that, or maybe shortly after that, they quit agreeing.
3. When's your birthday: October 30, 1976
4. Where do you live: four days out of the seven in birmingham. the other three in huntsville.

DESCRIBE YOUR:
5. Wallet: old, black, washed twice and fossil
6. Eyes: brownish
7. Toothbrush: birmingham - blue and white huntsville - mostly white
8. Jewelry worn daily: one wedding ring
9. Mobile Phone: small blue samsung with wonderful hannah wallpaper
10. Pillow cover right now: birmingham - light blue huntsville - orange
11. Car: black 2005 mazda tribute. my first real car that feels like me. i love it.
12. Bedroom: birmingham - your standard bedroom. bed, a couple chests of drawers and a tv. huntsville - the same plus a weight bench
15. Cologne/Perfume: none. god no.
16. CD in stereo right now: yellowcard - lights and sounds. first pick-up of 2006.
17. Piercing: zero
18. What you are wearing now: coldstone gear. black polo, khakis, adidas kicks and an apron folded at the waist.
19. Wishing: for a helicopter or no construction on i-65
20. Wanting: 8:00 to get here and a brand new episode of lost to be here with it
21. What are you doing after this? opening the store
22. If you could get away with it and murder anyone who would it be: charlie's character on lost. the monster should eat him and his heroine.
23. Person you wish you could see right now: hmm. sarah or hannah. hannah or sarah. it's a toss-up. the package would be good.
24. Some of your favorite movies: trainspotting, shawshank, cool hand luke, la confidential, batman begins
25. Something you're looking forward to in the coming week: a saturday and sunday off in succession. working out a couple times. a couple basketball games.
26. Something you just ate: a reese's peanut butter cup.
27. Something you are deathly afraid of: death
28. Do you like candles: sometimes, if they are the only light in the room.
30. Do you like the taste of blood: kinda. in the same way i kind of like the smell of gas.
31. Do you believe in love: yes, of course.
32. Do you believe in love at first sight: there is lust at first sight, not love.
34. Do you believe in Heaven: an eternal life with God? yes. what that means, i have no idea, but i do believe in it.
35. Do you believe in God: with everything in me
39. Can you eat with chopsticks: nope.
40. What's your favorite coin: any that are not in my pocket
41. What are some of your favorite candies: i am not a big candy person, but i do like reese's peanut butter cups and three musketeers.
43. What's something you wish you could understand better: people's want to make things harder than they really are.
47. Are you shy around your crush: i will change this to my wife, and no. she probably wishes i was more shy.
49. Do you know what it feels like to be in love: i do
50. Would you sacrifice your favorite possession for your best friend? let's see. my black mazda tribute for kiker or andy. gosh that would be tough, but yeah, i suppose i would. damn you both.

that was fun. the numbers are off, as they always are with surveys. someone who forwarded it to someone else screwed up the whole cut and paste thing or was uncomfortable with a question and cut it. that's ok, though.

thanks again, joseph.

believe it or not, i'm walking on air...
"how are you doing"
"shitty."
"..."
"wait a second. where are you going? let me explain."


i sang the cheers theme song yesterday in church as our "call to worship". great, great song. easily, it would rank as one of the top five tv theme songs of my lifetime. i think, off the top of my head, my list would go: 5) sesame street, 4) charles in charge, 3) the wonder years (granted, not an original written for the show itself, but for my generation, directly identified as the theme song for this awesome show.), 2) cheers, 1) the greatest american hero. god, i love that theme song. i could still sing it at the top of my lungs at the drop of a hat. the urge to sing it just hits me sometimes. i remember singing at the top of my lungs with chris hicks in the outfield during our first humc softball practice at huffman ballpark. good times. god, i love that song.

it's a good song for today. my baby girl is healing and becoming more and more herself after her long day on friday. a day that started with an innocent enough trip to the pediatrician, and a day that ended with her going under the knife for one day surgery on a staph infection at children's hospital. she came through the procedure like a champ, but she has a serious hole in her backside that is pretty unnerving for both mommy and daddy. but she's ok, and she'll go back to school this week.

chris preached a great sermon on community yesterday and challenged us to think about how often we really care about those that we greet with, "how are you doing?" i say it between 25 and 50 times a day at my job, and the challenge hit home with some sting. most times i ask, i cringe if anyone offers more than, "fine, thanks." that's all i want. it's just a little more elaborate than saying, "hello.", but i don't really want to know. do i? maybe sometimes. but most likely, not very many times. i have my own shit. my own family. my own sick baby girl. my own friends to care about and worry about. why should i worry about yours? well, idiot, because Jesus asks me to. i realize this fully on an intellectual level and want to act it out, but i have the hardest freakin' time with it.

i, oftentimes, put myself in the precarious position of wanting more of an intellectual relationship with my God rather than an emotional one. people that raise their hands and "amen" all the time freak me out. give me content. i don't want any more mindless praise and worship. but it's not the intellectual that sends me into these reflections usually, but some sort of emotional trigger that reminds me that the next person that walks into coldstone isn't going to give a shit if i greet them with some deep philosophical bullshit that keeps me up at night. but if i smile, geniunely smile and then listen if they actually answer my question with more than a "fine, thanks.", i'll leave a better impression than they may get all day.

...i'm flying away on a wing and a prayer. who could it be? believe it or not, it's just me.

perception vs. reality...
when sweet babies don't feel good


have you ever had a band that you really liked? got a cd from that band and it just kicked your ass (with sweetness, or rage, or harmony, or catchiness, etc.) from here 'til tuesday and you just couldn't get enough of it. eventually, you get into the cd and band so much that you start trying to find out anything that you can about them. when they were born. who their influences were/are. who does their hair? but most importantly, when are they coming to your town or somewhere close enough to drive. you find the date, you mark your calendar, you count down the days, and then you go. you sit through opening bands that you may or may not have heard of, that may or may not suck, all the while just waiting for the band that you've come to see take the stage. that band sets up, your anticipation rises like mad, and then they start...

...and they suck. what the crap? what's wrong with you guys? this doesn't sound like the cd you heard. this guy can't sing worth shit and his range on stage is nothing like the angelic voice you hear coming through your speakers. the band isn't tight. the frontman keeps trying to work the crowd, telling them to "get the fuck up", but you don't want to move, because you already know you've wasted your money. you leave mad. you don't buy the t-shirt, and all of a sudden the cd doesn't sound that good anymore. it's too bad, but perception just met reality and the collision was bloody. i had this scenario play out in between the ages of, say, 15-20, four or five times and every time it blew. hard. i was reminded of it when i saw death cab for cutie on snl this week and ben gibbard couldn't hit all the high notes and he had his keyboardist singing them in falsetto behind him. now, saturday night live is notorious for making good bands sound bad, and they weren't bad, but they weren't like the cd i had fallen in love with, and all of a sudden the cd doesn't sound so good anymore. sometimes, reality isn't as much fun as perception.

sarah and hannah are on their way to children's hosptital as i type this. it's a disconcerting feeling, being in huntsville, two hours away, and feeling helpless. the baby girl has an infection that they are going to have to drain. how nasty does that sound? i would do anything to make her better without being scared in a hospital and likely sedated so they can stick her with a big needle to find out how to make her better. the perception in my head is that i can take care of her, my little girl, no matter what comes up. the reality is i need a lot of help from her mom, grandmother, granddaddy and nana, the church daycare, kaykay, amy, and so many others just so she can have normal days and nights and her parents be able to work to support her or maybe have a night out once a month. reality, in this case, is bad for hannah this morning, but good in the long run. the doctors will take care of her, her family will give her as many kisses as she needs, and the good ship baby girl will be back in the water in no time flat.

in most cases, reality isn't as daunting as we make it for ourselves. we spend so much time on perception, though, that reality seems like the monster under our bed at nights, waiting to scare the hell out of us at any moment. why is that, i wonder? i wish i knew. good people fall at the swords of perception all the time. i've felt it coming at me, and i've dished it out.

maybe part of my new year's resolution means living in reality more. i am not sure what that will mean, but maybe i'll give it a shot.

and maybe i'll cut death cab for cutie some slack.

get well, baby girl. daddy's storing up as many kisses as you need.

Dang you, Peyton Manning
(Sports Talk Entry Number Six, Roundtable Edition)

* making my own schedule is nice, and i used this perk to my advantage to ensure i'd be home to watch the nfc and afc championship games next week. games i wanted to see? indy vs. new england & seattle vs. who-cares-as-long-as-seattle wins. games i am stuck with? denver (who i hear is good, but i haven't seen a live snap of all season) vs. pittsburgh (fat running back, underrated quarterback, coolest looking dude in the game troy polamalu). i guess i'll root for pittsburgh. i really won't know, though, 'til the game starts. note to seattle: cover steve smith and i'll get to root for you on sarah's birthday. i am still miffed that peyton sucked it up yesterday. that indy thought they could just turn it on whenever. that they rested their team for a month and paid for it by losing the game in the first 10 minutes. dang you, peyton manning. your team is so pretty to watch. i would have loved to root for you and shaun in the super bowl. oh well. go shaun.

* after attending my first nhl game last night i must say, i have underrated hockey as a spectator sport. not a tv sport. i had heard tv didn't do the game justice, and i had heard right. it's fun to watch world class athletes do their thing in person in any sport, but it was very cool to see top-flight hockey players do their thing. lots of speed. lots of hitting. lots of strategy. lots of action. it's a good thing i live four hours away from nashville or i could waste a bunch of money on the predators. good times.

* don't do this to me, alabama. don't tease me by beating kentucky at rupp. don't make me pay attention again just after i had given up all hope the second after chuck davis' acl popped. dang it. i know what's going to happen. you're going to lose to crappy state or the university of south of your momma and crush me again like you crushed me for the first two months of the season. "i wish i knew how to quit you." (note: i have not seen the gay cowboy movie, but i can't get away from it. everyone loves it. i hear it's "beautiful". "moving". "all that and a bag of chips". if you know me, you know i am not a bigot. i don't believe being gay is a choice, nor a sin. i'll fight for your rights to party and do everything that i get to do because i favor females. but the part of me that rearranges my work schedule around football and hockey will not allow me to climb aboard the gay cowboy bandwagon. call me a caveman. call me a little cynical because i wonder how "moving" the movie would be portrayed as if it were, say, billy crystal and jack palance that were making cowboy love and not two "hot" young studs. call me during brokeback mountain. my phone will not be on silent. i will not be in the theater.)

sorry.

if you didn't see gremlins in the theater, please don't wear the t-shirt...
(is there any room left on the bandwagon?)


i get it. i am the same way. i like my pop-culture and it's phenomenons just as much as the next guy. i would wager that 25% (maybe more...maybe a lot more. hell, i don't know.) of the stuff that i get into, entertainment-wise, comes from someone else's suggestion or hype. lost falls into that number. i didn't get into it from the word go. hell, i probably avoided it last year because my stubborn side wasn't going to let anyone tell me what "the next big thing" was. not again. i had fallen for that before. of course, i was wrong. i have spent my last week and a half or so watching 24 episodes of lost, then watched a synopsis show and a new episode wednesday. last night was the first night in two weeks that i didn't have it to look forward to and i was, well, lost. it's hard to not feel like kind of a heel when you jump on someone else's bandwagon. like you don't belong. like you're late to a party that you weren't invited to. but that's ok. i'll take my licks and just ask if i can sit on the back of the lost bus. i am hooked now.

now, i have "my" shows, as i've talked about before. i think you can count yourself a bandwagon founder if you were there for something's "birth". the first episode. the first record. the first night the movie comes out. no matter the reviews. no matter how you got there. you were there first. arrested development, the office, my name is earl, twin peaks, x-files, trainspotting, bleach (nirvana), ten, princess bride, espn 2, and yes, gremlins. i was eight. eight years old when gremlins hit the theater. i went with my mom. yesterday, a kid came into the store with a gremlins t-shirt on. the kid might have been 13, maybe 14. it made me laugh and sick to my stomach at the same time.

shows like i love the 80's, 90's, 70's are cool and a cancer at the same time. why did i love the 80's? because i grew up in the freakin' 80's!!! if you were born in 1988, that doesn't count. why was this kid wearing that shirt? because it was in the retro store at the mall? because his way older brother wanted to buy him something cool? i don't know, but i don't remember him asking my permission to get on the gremlins bus with me. i am only being silly...

kind of...

"i guess this is kind of an immature prayer for people trying to find their own way." -pain...that sounds about right. we are all trying to find our own way. you are going to drive bandwagons and you are going to ride on them. i hope for your sake, that you drive more often than not. at least then you're trying. at least then you aren't waiting for someone to tell you what's what. at least then you are thinking for yourself. and if you're jumping on a bandwagon, great. just own up to it. don't tell me that gremlins is your favorite movie because there was a special gremlins-thon on tnt this weekend.

"hannah, daddy's being silly."

"silly daddy."

when does a church become a country club?
hannah and me (part five)


this one's going to be a little touchy, because i am sticking my nose in someone else's business, but i am hoping that getting it off my chest might relieve me of thinking about it constantly. we'll see.

i started this blog several months back when i had some pent up frustrations with my church, huffman united methodist, and that probably wasn't completely fair to huffman. why? because i've chosen to vent here (as it relates to the halloween carnival, i felt justified only in that if i had still been on staff, i would have been even more vocal in my displeasure and with my thoughts), but i haven't given the church props as often as i probably should have. for instance, with huffman's facilities, our youth center (boy scouts, girl scouts, youth, kids, blood drives etc.), education building (all sorts of community meetings, boy scouts and girl scouts again, interfaith, etc.) and our run down ivy league gym, huffman has always been more than accommodating and gracious when allowing people outside of our membership roles to use (and abuse) the campus. i am reminded of that graciousness currently because its example shines out loud compared to a church that employs my brother from another mother, andy rickles.

hopewell baptist church, in the last several months, has cut andy off at the knees when it comes to his own recreation ministry. no longer can hopewell have youth basketball teams. no longer can hopewell host the northeast birmingham church basketball league. no longer can hopewell field a men's basketball team. no longer can any team that isn't constituted by church members or their families practice in the hopewell gym. why? because some "higher-ups" don't feel comfortable with the thought of people patronizing a gym that was constructed with their hard-earned money. now, i get that. i get that feeling of selfishness. we all have it. but you're a freaking church. remember, the gospel asks us to rise above that inner selfishness and use whatever means that are at our disposal to reach those that may not be aware yet of how glorious and peaceful a life with God in Jesus can be. to have this wonderful tool, this beautiful gym, and to blatantly forbid others outside your walls to come inside is a most egregious act of hypocrisy.

during my several year stint at huffman and as commissioner of the nebcl, several churches (hopewell, clearbranch, imani, fellowship baptist, hueytown) used huffman's gym to practice and i was always proud that we could offer them a place. when i asked andy to take over as head of the league that i held so dear to me, never did i imagine that his own church, one that had been kind to the nebcl for two years, would be the one to get in the way of that. never did i imagine that his own church and it's country club stance on who can use their gym and who can't would make him wonder if hopewell was where he was supposed to be.

there are good people at hopewell. andy, april, josh, blake, matt and countless other names that don't immediately come to me but that i've had the pleasure of knowing the last few years. but there are also misguided people there, as there are everywhere at every church i suppose. people that infect the lifeblood of what church is supposed to be about. people that don't know how silly it sounds to pray "Thy will be done" and then turn their back on that prayer with their actions.

hannah, whatever is at your disposal, that it what your mother and i will teach you to use and give back. it's only right. it's only fair.

i'm not a businessman. i'm a business, man.
what's important to you?


i am not a rap guy. i like real music. i like my guitars loud and frenzied. i like my vocals stretched and sometimes off key. i like my rhythm section to sound like they've played together before. synthesizers, beat machines, recycled motown, loops...all of this stuff starts to sound the same to me. boasting. about what you have. about what you didn't have. about what you will have. it all sounds so petty and unoriginal. now, this isn't all rap. i don't guess. it's a lot of it. even the "brilliance" of kanye west contains stereotype on top of stereotype. but you know what i do like? putting some kanye on and watching my two year-old shake that two year-old booty. what's important to you?

listen. stop it. you are not this unhappy. you are not this unique. your problems are not so new and complicated that you couldn't just talk to someone about it. that might make you feel better. you know. talking. not typing. i type because it's fun, but it doesn't make anything better. the only thing that does is a conversation. hearing someone's voice. seeing their face react to the words that are coming out of your mouth. give me a fucking break with all your sob stories and lost love and all your other shit that you are too scared to say out loud. for that matter, you're even afraid to type it. why? what's important to you?

a day wasted is a sad day. you might be tired. you might be sad. you have that right. you have to be sad sometimes. but why stay sad when there is so much to be happy about. what's important to you?

the end of common ground reared it's head this week. phase one is over. phase two is in the balance. i can't say that we didn't try. i can say that it's a shame. when something you've invested in doesn't take off, do you cut your losses or do you pour more into it with the risk that you'll lose that too? i am not a gambler, but i will take a risk. as it relates to common ground, every risk has paid off. i have tried something new. my family has gotten stronger. i have a new job that i can't stand the thought of leaving. i have a new disrespect for people that can't be honest with the ones they allegedly care about. all good things. really good things. this is how we grow. not by gambling. but by taking risks. what's important to you?

i am not a business man anymore.

i am a business, man. the ceo of kevin michael o'kelley. i know what's important to me.

what's important to you? do you know? are you pretending?

are you looking in the right places? or are you defined each day by the quote on your calendar?

i guess we'll see.

That Kid


vince young may not be God, but he sure as hell gave us a good look at what He might look like if He strapped on a helmet, shoulderpads, and donned Texas' glorious all white uni's. A few days removed, anything that i might say here would just be retread of what has already been said about vince young. but in this age of hyperbole and "instant classics", it was hard not to feel like you were witnessing a little piece of something that no one had ever seen before. driving up to work yesterday morning, i heard a perfect analogy (and one that had entered my mind wednesday night) as it related to vince's exploits in the rose bowl. the talking head said something along the lines of, "you remember that kid in the neighborhood that nobody could stop when you were playing backyard football? well, vince young was that kid last night on the biggest stage that there is in college football." the guy was right. like i said, it had crossed my mind too. vince young was just better than everyone he was playing against. i never was that kid when i was growing up. i was good. sometimes even close to the best, but never the kid that no one could stop. i don't guess i had that kid on my street when i was growing up. but i played against that kid in rec parks growing up. it just wasn't fair, but it was fun to watch.

i am sure usc felt that way wednesday night. or will soon. yeah, it sucked that they lost. but someday they will get to tell their wives, their kids, and their grandkids that they went toe to toe with that kid, with vince young, and almost came out on top.

but isn't that the funny part? almost doesn't count. no, "i am going to be gino torretta in the pros" leinart. your team wasn't the better team. almost doesn't count in football. in sports.

reggie bush has "it". the wow factor. he's going to be awesome. but on wednesday night, he wasn't that kid.

vince young was.

what i wouldn't give to be that kid.

"This is Alabama Football"
Sports Talk Entry Number Five


holy crap. if this is alabama football, i hope that someone will shoot it soon (old yeller style, 'cuz this thing is sick) and put it out of it's misery. i want a reincarnation. something new. something that's not painful to watch. thus ends the era of my generation's most over-hyped and overrated quarterback, one brodie croyle. i have said it before, but good riddance to him and welcome to whosoever might take the reins of this very vanilla offense. my gut wants to see what jimmy johns could bring to the table. my head tells me that shula will make the safe choice in underwhelming local boy, john parker wilson. i am going to need my program to recognize all the new starters on D game one next year. 10-2??? ten wins. how did that happen? boy, that defense must've been really, really good. they were today. even anthony madison. so long, demeco...and charlie, and roman, and freddie. ten wins??? no way that should've been the case. good job, D. good job, indeed.

the falcons are not playing in the post-season. what's worse...knowing the braves will lose in the playoffs, or not making the playoffs at all. that's tough. i am so disappointed in the falcons. in michael vick. so disappointed that i would want terrell owens to come play with mike? gosh, that's scary. i would take it.

this excerpt taken from mark gottfried's office the day after signing day..."well, coach, we did good this year."... gottfried: "yeah, i think we did. we kept richie hendrix from the nba. that alonzo gee really can jump. with the frontline we've got coming back, there's gonna be no stopping us this year. no stopping us."..."uh...coach? i think we may have forgotten something."...gottfried: "what are you talking about?"..."we didn't recruit any guards. ronald steele is the only guy on our team that can dribble or shoot."...gottfried: "what are you talking about? we've got shelton and kennedy winston both coming back. we are going to be lights out!"..."coach, kennedy left and shelton graduated."...gottfried: "are you shittin' me?"..."no, coach." gottfried: "oh, well, don't worry about it. i can coach us out of this. i can coach us out of anything. when i take my coat off, it's like the incredible hulk. i get stronger and crazy and i'll be the best coach in the sec."..."uh, coach, david banner loses most of his intelligence when he turns into the hulk. he gets really stupid."...gottfried: "yeah? well, i'll just keep my coat on, then, and play the white boy a lot. that'll work."..."right, coach."

mark freakin' gottfried...worst...game coach....ever.

when does football season start?

"take the map and tear it up. we'll find our way anyway.
we'd never gotten this far had we followed the road." - pain


good ole pain. another one of my bands that has long since passed. midgets with guns remains a classic to this day and derision one of it's most underrated songs. just throwing that out there.

yesterday was a good and fitting end to a good and fitting year. there wasn't anything stressful to get ready for. nothing to be anxious about. just several episodes of lost, a fun(ny) trip to the playground, a long overdue (and enlightening) trip to my grandmother's house, and a very surreal trip to costa's bbq in huffman.

the conversation with my grandmother and the drive-thru experience at costa's told me a lot about myself. where i have been. where i am now. where i will go from here. it wasn't long ago that the brothers o'kelley would have taught the lady in the drive-thru an unsolicited lesson in patience and never thought ourselves the worse for it. it wasn't long ago that the early afternooon conversation would have surprised me or hurt me a lot more than it did yesterday.

"i grow older and wiser", i said in an earlier post. most of us do. some of us don't. "kevin's going to ruin this afternoon."? really? how. by bringing fruitcake? by making a scene? oh, silly, that's not my bag. it's yours, don't you know?

"him or me."? you chose wrong.

january the first, 2006. i will turn thirty this year. a very young thirty. goodness. i have made a pledge to live this year and the rest that i am allowed like i have something to prove. that means spending a lot less time on the people and things that make me sad and a lot more on the people and things that make me happy. my wife and child and their families. my friends. my paying job. my non-paying jobs. my brother that i may not see for a while but my brother that i feel has finally become a man. don't listen to what you may hear. he's doing better. he's clean. he's all cut up. he could always kick your ass, just now he'll remember it. he's got a tan. he's got a girl. someone that makes him want to be better. not someone (like i used to be) that thinks he should be better because it would reflect better on them. i'll pray for him now. not just for me.

it's a funny thing that happens when you find yourself and buy into it. things seem easier. time doesn't go by quite as fast. you don't need a map anymore. or quotes. or memories to erase or make right.

this is a new year. this is a new me.

thank You for the help. i needed it.

this is going to be a good year. a slow, good year.