Lunch Counter Jack

In honor of Labor Day, I’d like to introduce you to someone:  Floyd Clarence Oppelt.  My grandpa.

All my memories of my grandpa growing up where fun and full of life.  His laugh was contagious. He used to sneak out the barn and on my promise of keeping a secret, would smoke a Pall Mall cigarette.  If we were at my house, he’d smoke while feeding other Pall Mall’s to our horses. His multi-colored suspenders where a constant source of joy for me, as it was a constant game to sneak up behind and pull on those suspenders.  He was wise, happy and never met a stranger.  I’m often reminded by relatives how much we are alike.  I consider that a huge compliment.

After he died, I started to occasionally hear people refer to him as “Lunch Counter Jack” or just as Jack, and I actually think it took me a bit to realized that the comments were being made about my Grandfather.

Since his death, my grandma has written his biography, and in it she tells the story of Lunch Counter Jack.  Since then several other articles from Rail Road Journals have supported the folklore of his life.  I’d like to share it with you now, in an abbreviated version.

Apparently on the Illinois Central, a typical workday for guys working the train yard was 6 or 6 ½ hours, and then they could “tie up” (go home.)  Almost never in this time did people “Pull Beans” (go to dinner), as they would just rather go home.

If you were actually on the trains though, you almost never got a typical 20 minute break to pull beans, and you just had to go without.  My grandpa however was the type of guy who wanted to eat after 6 hours, as was within the guidelines of their agreement with the railroad.  Road guys also didn’t really have a 20 minute limit – they were given a “sufficient amount of time would be allowed for the purpose of eating.”

the Illinois Central 2500

One day, when his train (the 2500, see above) was nearing Gilman, IL the dispatcher denied Grandpa’s request to stop and eat.  The dispatcher controlled all the power switches and at the time, Grandpa’s train was waiting for a thru signal as a passenger train went past.  When it was his time to go, Grandpa pulled only the power of the train onto the main track instead of the entire train as the signal required so he could ask again, and once again the dispatcher denied his request to eat.  For the following hour, the dispatcher gave the train a signal to pull forward, but it didn’t move, as Grandpa had walked down to a local diner and ate his lunch.  (I’m sure pie was included.)

Needless to say, the angry dispatcher called in a trainmaster, and pulled my Grandpa and his train out of service until they completed an investigation.  At the time, this was the most talked about and controversial investigation ever conducted on the Illinois Central line.

Grandpa set a precedent for labor rights on the railroad.  The IC line ruled in his favor and was reinstated and even given all his pay for the time he was off the line.  The “meal issue” was all because of him, and quickly his nickname went from just Jack to Lunch Counter Jack.   His story quickly spread the entire IC line, from Chicago to New Orleans.

As a kid, Grandpa had shot off his thumb in a hunting accident.  The hand signal for “going to beans” is a thumbs up signal.  After the whole Gillman incident, when a flagman would come on the train to signal to the crew that the train could stop for a break, they typically wouldn’t raise their thumb, as a jab to my grandpa not having a thumb.  This, of course, was an amazing source of amusement to my grandpa.  This fit perfectly with his sense of humor, and I’m sure the flagmen were well aware.

Lunch Counter Jack was my mother’s father.  My dad’s side of the family is filled with missionaries who came to the US before the Revolutionary War, and worked strongly for the causes of civil rights (and still do)… So to a few friends who make fun of me for being a bit of an activist – I can’t help it.  It’s literally in my heritage.

Happy Labor Day

Gardening 101

I’ve never been much of a gardener, but I enjoy believing that I, in fact, have that amazing gift where anything that I plant in the ground will grow into the most amazingly beautiful, large, colorful plant that anyone has seen.

This could be partially because I never have more than a window box or a few containers and brightly colored flower pots to make the horticulture attempt.  This year began with a few interesting looking flowers, some basil, sage and cilantro.  Much to my surprise, I learned that cilantro doesn’t particularly like the hot summers of Nashville, so that particular model died and fast, crispy death.

The sage followed suit, but I’m not sure what I was thinking planting sage in the summer, because I don’t really make anything during the summer that warrants sage as an ingredient.

(My dad is a teeny bit obsessed with cooking during the holidays, and he taught me how to make his age old, tried-and-true stuffing.  It starts the night before with the ceremonial drying of the bread, followed by a morning filled with chopping celery and onions, a heap of sage and lots and lots of butter.   Seriously, this sage stuffing can kick your stuffing’s ass…just being honest.)

At some point during the summer, I was at the Home Depot and noticed a sale on a few plants.  One being some sort of a vine-like plant with purple flowers that appeared to have had a hard childhood.   My nurturing nature was in full gear and I bought the little plant for $3, bound and determined to bring it back to it’s glorious early self.  I wanted it to awaken its little plant soul and have it become confident enough to explode into a wave of color.

Well, it didn’t.

I need to give my little porchmate credit – I travel a lot.  I don’t really know how to do things like “pruning” and I’m a little bit sketchy on the “watering” part as well.

A few other plants have died and started over on their own, and often I think that I should replant them in a larger container – the obvious choice being the home of this purple plant.

However I just can’t bring myself to do it, for even in it’s dried out desert, there is still little glimmers of life.  Take today for example.  Amidst all of the branches that have been dormant all summer, consistently there are one or two beautiful, colorful blooms that adorn my porch.  And these little glimpses are just enough to make me want to cheer on that little plant just a week or two longer.

exhibit a.

Maybe I can just relate.  Maybe this plant is showing me that there is always hope, always life in the world around me.    No matter how dire the situation, there’s always the chance to see life start anew.

No matter how messed up someone’s life may seem, I am still required to look for the best, to cheer on the positive in their lives.

Maybe it’s a show that even a little bit of color can change your whole outlook.

Maybe this is a reminder to me of days past where I felt like my situation was broken and beyond the help of God, but in the end, his promises are always honest, and his mercy is great.

Maybe it’s a metaphor for the state of our world today, a reminder of the positive work that is happening when it comes to the world’s atrocities like genocide and trafficking.

Or maybe it’s just proof that I’m simply a really bad gardener and this makes me feel better about not fostering this poor plant out to some loving, green thumber at a local plant rescue.

No matter what, I’m still keeping the plant, and maybe giving it a little more attention, some plant food and some extra love.    Maybe over the next few days I’ll see a few people or situations that look a little like this plant as well, and I’ll take the time to give them a little nurturing as well.

Never Take Dating Personally

Tuesday August 4
For a few years, I’ve been a self-employed professional publicist. I spend the day either working in my pajamas at home – or at a coffeeshop (not in my pajamas). I spend a ridiculous amount of time chatting on the phone with media people (probably working in their pajamas) who quickly become friends and neighbors. I also send a ridiculous amount of emails, which I realize makes me appear to have the greatest slacker job ever.

There’s a method to the madness I assure you. And I work very hard at what I do. And it’s always fun to get the first glimpse of the latest and greatest, and to figure out what it takes to get people in the media, and in culture, excited about whatever amazing new product will change their lives.

One thing I learned very quickly when I set off into the freelance jungle is that you just can’t take anything personally. Just because someone doesn’t like whatever project, product or process that I’m so eloquently trying to pitch, it doesn’t reflect on me at all. They know their market, and if they pass, it’s just because it’s not for them. It’s not what their readers are looking for. And no matter how hard I try to convince them, they are always correct – they know their market better than I do.

Some publicists get all bent out of shape about this. Either they:
a) are so focused on their client they will walk all over editors
b) they don’t believe the person knows the market that they write for and live in or
c) they believe this is a reflection on them and thus all rejection equals a rejection of them personally.

Honestly, with some of my past clients, if I felt any of these scenarios, I would have curled up under a rock years ago and would potentially still be there to this very day.

But many a well-meaning publicity intern has taken this rejection to heart, and potentially needed a good dose of therapy where the well-paid psychologist simply ended the conversation with “You did the best you could. Just admit that you were working a crappy project. Thanks for the $165 an hour by the way”

Now-I’ve realized as I have gotten myself into this insane world of internet dating/blind dating/wishing I had friends that had normal friends who they would introduce me to dating time of my life, this scenario is the exact same thing.

Never take dating personally.

Dating sites, and well, dating in general when you’re over the age of 30, are groups polluted with broken people. Many are in transition. Many are lonely. Some have been completely burned and others have been the ones doing the burning. Everyone is looking for something, and hopefully something very specific.

I am a broken person, polluting the sites with a heart that is learning to trust again, a spirit that feels in transition and a ridiculous prejudice against musicians, large mustaches and southerners who talk too slowly about NASCAR.

I can’t expect every person on these sites to understand just where I’m coming from. Or what my life’s like. Or fit the recipe for just what I am looking for. Some people like opinionated redheads. Some don’t. That’s why there’s more than one thing on the menu.

Not that people need to be compared with consumables. That’s an entirely different blog!

So what has this whole thing taught me?

First I learned that on dating sites, they keep your profile up years after you stop being a part of the site, so there’s more than a fighting chance that said persona who captured your screen could by now be married, living in another state, or decided to just get a dog and forget that whole internet world.

I’ve also learned that a staggering amount of men don’t have good pictures of themselves. In a world of camera phones, I find this difficult to grasp.

But most of all, it’s taught me to treat everyone with respect, no matter how hard I may be laughing about a profile. The person is still a person. I, also, shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. I can never ever expect anyone to call when they say the will. In internet speak, average build means 40 pounds over weight. Many people don’t know how to maneuver spell check…

Thursday August 6
I started writing this blog before I heard about the lonely single man who killed three women in the health club in Pennsylvania, and my heart goes out to him. To go day after day looking at the lists and lists of women on the web, and to constantly feel rejected could wear on anyone. But for someone as unstable as he, it just equaled torment.

I watched one of his videos, and it broke my heart. He wanted to share better relationships. “My object is to be able to emotionally connect with people,” he said.

But isn’t that the problem? Society has changed from emotional – face to face communication and relationship – to one that has become anonymous and all built on your given dating site name, twitter, or skype handle. You can go through life having communication with someone, without ever having actually met. Without ever looking into someone’s face. You may never know how tall they are, what type of shoes they wear, or if they are allergic to peanuts. You know them as an avitar, and never actually touch their skin.

So these dating sites, in reality, are mostly about the non-committal, non-personal, non-emotional interactions. Even blogging isn’t much different. You can put your words and videos out into a sea of bloggers and blogspots and wordpresses, however, if you haven’t made an actual interaction with a person, your words are in the wind. Not to be stumbled upon. Not to be shared. It’s just words taking up property.

Now, however, today I read this lonely man’s blog, too late. We now know to experience his words after his last face to face, or gun to person, encounter. And children are missing their mothers. And husbands are missing their wives. And people are reading words from a person they cannot help.

So maybe it’s time to rethink the whole internet dating world. Maybe it’s time to think about how we actually communicate in general. It’s time to actually come out from behind our computer screens and have a conversation. Get out of our pajamas and actually interact. The anonymous chat is a lot easier, but I bet the in person version is a lot more fulfilling.

I know that this man in Pennsylvania wasn’t healthy, and probably a lot of women picked up on that before they would ever agree to get a coffee…but maybe a few more just good conversations outside of the basement might have given this poor lonely soul the community he so desperately needed. And maybe he might have taken a new non-returned emails on his dating site a lot less personally.

How the Day Sounds

Today in Nashville is perfect – 76 degrees, sunny, breezy – I’ve spent the day with my coffee and my laptop on my porch, enjoying breathing in air that feels more like fall than mid July.  Days like this are precious, and I’m too often un-appreciative of their ability to recharge something in my spirit…

And my all knowing iTunes picked out a song:  How the Day Sounds by Greg Laswell….

Thank you for opening the window
The sky is clear as my mind is now
I was a long, long way off

Join me in welcoming the sun in
It’s much brighter than the night I hid in
I was a long, long way off

And I think I like how the day sounds
Like how the day sounds through this new song

Sort of a cheesy video….but I like how the day sounds…..so won’t you sing along?

John Reuben – Town Folk

Now on iTunes…new John Reuben “Town Folk” video…hee hee.

2 Kings 2:23-24 – Kids make fun of Elisha’s bald head. Bears maul kids.

Muse – Endlessly

Today I was going some writing, which has been my therapy of choice lately. Hopefully it can eventually be my profession of choice! I digress, the magic iTunes shuffle came up with this song, which has nothing to do with what I was writing. But it made me want to keep writing, and change the course of the story…so, I thought I would share it with you. Muse. Endlessly. Live at Wembley. A lovely song for a Sunday.

Why Slaves Don’t Leave

One of our Faceless team just posted a great blog on Why Slaves Don’t Leave. It’s really good….

kaylynlorraine.wordpress.com

the list

I’ve had a really amazing soul searching journey after my little blog about dating. More people read my blog than I thought! Some comments have been very positive. Some have seemed flat out confused. It hasn’t helped my dating life, not really surprised by that.

I want to first thank Josh Kidney for his great blog on the subject (read it here! It’s good stuff – http://joshkidney.blogspot.com), and Dave for his letter, posted yesterday…

First off, Josh, I do want you to know that I don’t think bad of all men, just a few that have inspired these blogs….it’s really just a few… In fact, I would like to thank you for striving to live your life well. It’s apparent in all you do, and I’m really excited to get to meet your wife soon. Dave’s email deserves it’s own blog.

So I’ve had many conversations over the past 2 weeks about dating, good guys vs bad guys, girl’s expectations, why girls are so complicated, etc., and it’s really caused me quite a bit of soul searching. (I’m thinking that either a job as a dating counselor or a book deal must be a next step….).

Josh – never underestimate the power of a guitar to woo girls. Also, I think you are right on with the adventure statement. I think honestly all women want the man who, without wavering, will slay the dragon for the good of the world – and more importantly – who will slay the dragon, just to protect, us.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I still have much soul searching to do.

A friend of mine has a knack for bringing Freedom to the table. She made a comment about individually giving up things to God – situations, people, feelings – so they can be completely off your plate. Considering just what things in your life still need to be redeemed.

I’m guessing part of my past blog might have stemmed from residual marks from past relationships still lingering in the back of my mind.

So I made a list. A list of men that I dated or hung out with or just flat out shouldn’t have even finished the first conversation with. For a few of you, I’d like to note this is not necessarily about sex. Lets keep it clean kids.

While driving late last Tuesday evening, I made a list mentally. I was honestly surprised by the number of names. Granted, I’m pushing 40, but subtract that I was married for several years. So figure, this is really based on 12 years of dating.

And then I made the list physically, via Sharpie on printer paper. In the kitchen, where all smart ideas happen.

While lying in bed several hours later, I remembered one more name…so the list migrated back to my room and I left it, with the sharpie, on the bed. For 4 days. A few more names were added to the list over that time. A few more memories and laughs about awkward dates, a few more scenerios for a future script.

One morning, the summer sun was blaring through my window and I rolled over to escape its rays…only to open my eyes to a list of names. It was a strange pause to realize that I had welcomed them all briefly back into my life, and into my bed, for a few days.

Following this moment, I was on a quest. I needed to know where each person was. Granted, I couldn’t remember some of the last names, and I am unsure of 2 of the first names. But the majority I could find. I added to the initial list a detail or two that seems to be defining their existence. Family. Work. Whatever little blerb I could discovered from 2 lines on a google search.

This whole thing has been amazingly refreshing. Many of these guys have had huge life changes. 2 have dabbled in mixed martial arts. Several have kids. Some seem lost, others –found. A few are believers. Most are not. One made a film. Many seem to be in the very same place I left them.

And I prayed for them. Each and every name. Specifically. For their lives, their families lives, their past and their future.

My heart is full. I hope their lives are full.

So along the drive through the vast breadbasket of Illinois, I found a substantial creek that was crossing inbetween an unidentifiable cornfield, and I put the list of names in the river. There’s potential symbolism here – Moses going down the water, redemption, baptism. I’ll vote for baptism. An acquaintance asked why I didn’t burn the list or rip it to pieces, but I told him that was an obvious guy violent statement. I don’t mean any harm. This is about redemption. Renewal. Revival.

So now, in my pact with the ladies to only date nice boys – no, men – from here on out…perhaps now I’m a nice girl too.

A letter from Dave…more dating talk….

My friends completely amaze me, daily. This is a letter I received from my friend Dave, re: my dating blog. I will respond in the next blog. It’s fantastic. I am humbled. Ladies – we need to start paying more attention. Dave – we just wrote you in a script…hope you don’t mind

So I give you my letter from Dave. (yes, he knows I’m putting it up on here)

I planned to send this a few nights ago, but felt that it might be too much of a rant. After reading your blog post, I was trying to figure out whether to sum it up in six words or six hundred. Guess which one you got.
So here we go…

Nice guys? We don’t exist.

We’re told that a woman wants a man who’s Wild at Heart, but who’s fluent in the Five Love Languages. If we have somehow come to any semblance of mastery of the two and have allowed God to do some selective surgery, we often become that guy who’s “just a friend, one of my dearest friends.” No guy wants to be that.

You’re right. The jerkier we are, the more women are drawn to us. It doesn’t make sense. Isn’t saving the bad boy God’s job anyway?

Return a call, say thank you, really pay attention – and then show it by doing something nice? You’re screwed. Actually, you’re not even close to getting that far, but that’s another story. Splurge on a world-class date just a little too early? She gets the idea that she has the upper hand and the fun is over, even if she only thinks that she has it. Don’t try to kiss her on the first date; she wonders why you didn’t want to or if you’re gay. Try to kiss her; she “isn’t that type of girl.” We can’t win, can we?

Some of us are already chairmen, doctors, lawyers – conservative, traditional, thought-of-as-heartless, life-loving Republicans many of us – who own our houses, and who pay more than idealistic lip service to the issues of community, justice, equality, and economic opportunity. We think that the church has abdicated its responsibility to the government in too many areas and are working to change that.

We develop community athletic programs, fund educational opportunities for missionaries, build churches, help buy buildings for youth centers, mentor students, and make significant relationships with other men for the purpose of growth, friendship and encouragement.

We love our families and our friends, and we show it. We visit our friends in jail, hire people who need work, and sometimes pay their bills when they get in a bind. We play hard. We pray hard – for our country, for our pastors, and to be in God’s flow – not just in His way.

We look for chances to say a word, to offer a smile or to buy someone’s groceries at just the right time. We enjoy the ‘hood where we’ve chosen to become a part of life. We look at people not as evangelism projects, but as humans. We’re beginning to “get” grace and in so doing, we understand that God works on us individually and in his time, and have become more forgiving and more patient, despite some accusing us of “losing our spiritual edge” when we’re slow to condemn others.

We’re misunderstood when we complain about the abuses of the welfare system, but would give another person anything he needed at the expense of something for ourselves. Many nights when things quiet down, we wonder if we’re trying to fit a round peg into a square hole because life doesn’t always turn out the way we expected.

We want a woman who will come along side, revel in being better together and still somehow let us be the man to whom she was attracted in the first place.

Oddly, despite what we think a woman should recognize as God’s work in our lives, we can’t shake her suspicion that time will reveal us to be “too good to be true.” We’re not overly quirky or just plain weird.

But nice guys can’t exist. Most women won’t believe that when God removes the asshole, He doesn’t take the testicles, too.

When you pray, ask God to show you who we are. We hide in plain sight and we’d ask you out in a minute, except that many of you are waiting for someone to show up at places we don’t go when we’re looking for you. Our bar-time isn’t for meeting women. It’s for whatever it is that guys do as guys. Even we’re not sure what that is.

We assume that God will deliver you to our doorstep since after all, if there is a perfect girl for us, God certainly wouldn’t have us not be introduced.

Friday June 26

So, I’m being a bit introspective, probably because I’m self-employed and so it’s not too difficult to work and have the TV on all day. Granted this doesn’t happen very often, but on days like today where there’s big news….yeah, I’ll sometimes move from the office to the living room.

All morning, the news shows just glanced over the more traditional news – that clerics in Iran are saying protestors should be executed, women are freed from trafficking at the Red Roof Inn off Harding Road, crazy guy in North Korea wants to take out Hawaii – and instead had a 3 hour memorial of Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson and a brief mention of Ed McMahon. Very brief.

Now the tone has changed to questions about Michael’s death, and MTV is playing videos for the first time in years. I’m remembering just how much the King of Pop truly did change the face of pop (keep it clean, avoid the MJ joke here). I’m reminiscing about driving for hours, singing along to Thriller or Bad or Off the Wall. I laugh about conversations I had about just how crazy MJ was. Sure he was controversial, but wow, boy could write a hook.

And Farrah Fawcett – beautiful in life, and graceful in death. Her strength, poise, haircut and that red swimsuit set the pace of the 70s. Ed McMahon, the ultimate sidekick with his everyman style and trademark voice.

While Ed was in his 80s, and Jacko was just 50, I still come to the same conclusions:

1 – My mom was right when she said deaths always come in 3’s. She’s a wise woman.

2 – One person can make a huge influence on the world. Too often, I think I might step back a bit and not act because the world may seem like too big of a place. But I dare say virtually every American was influenced by these three lives in one way or another. And, if the news is being reported correctly, every person in the industrialized world at least knew who Michael Jackson was. Lets not forget, MJ and Lionel Richie penned “We are the World.”

3 – Life is short. There is a lot to do. I need to let those I hold close know just how much I love – appreciate – need – want – adore – respect – etc. them. Life is fragile. “Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” – James 4:14

It’s no secret that I’m a poplife junkie. Part of the reason I am, is because I’m fascinated by people who can command a culture. I’m amazed when people defy the odds and do something that gains the attention of the world. I love creativity and drive, and how people can listen to a song and feel like they just got a big hug.

I’m not sure where this is going. I guess I’m just reminded that anyone – a kid from Gary, Indiana, a girl from Corpus Christi, a war-vet from Detroit – can change the course of history. They can get people to wear 1 glove and start buying magazines in order to win the Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes.

So I’ll end on that. We’ve lost 3 icons in the past few days. They changed pop culture in their own way. Life is short. And we too can change culture, in our own way. Starting with the (wo)Man in the Mirror – “if you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make that change.”