Ten years ago I was a few hours away from becoming a twenty year old. I was a kid, but not like the others. I took very seriously, reading my bible, while simultaneously listening to Tupac Shakur (unedited). I had no idea how to articulate any philosophy, theology, ideology behind it - because there really wasn't any, yet. However, there was a strong feeling within me, that things were not right in the world (pre September 11th) - and I was so uncomfortable with the church camp college culture of MVNC, that the only way I could speak prophetically into it - was to turn up my boom box, so that we might have the ears to hear stories of oppression and injustice. This was my identity for those four years - and to look back on it, seems awkward now, but it tells a great deal about the man I would become in the years called "twenty-something". The feeling would never change, but the music would.

Once we finally graduated from church camp university, we got married, and moved into Columbus (Grandview). These two years allowed me the space to tear down the walls that my parents, education, and church had built up to protect me. It was a vulnerable time - September 11th, Gandhi, Craig Himes, Lauryn Hill, Cycletech. Dots began to connect in my mind about who I had been, and who I possibly needed to be. This is when "Travis Bickle" began to manifest himself within me. I connected deeply with this isolated and lonely character, who wanted nothing more in this world, to have a purpose, to have meaning, to have discipline, but at the same time, have absolutely no direction - because anyone offering direction, did so with agenda.

So I stopped locking my doors, and started opening shades and windows. Kelsie and I already knew then, that our shared responsibility to the world, was to be hospitable, overtly. We were extremely disappointed each time this idea was met with resistance - usually with the idea that it is safer to keep the shades drawn, the doors locked, because you never know...

Shakespeare began to creep into our lives then, as did Bob Dylan, and Bob Marley - but Bruce Springsteen was the songwriter I continued to turn to - to simply try my damnest to understand people, and their struggle to not fuck up, again. I became consumed with this perspective, until I finally tattooed the last stanza of "The Ghost of Tom Joad" on my heart...

Now Tom said "Mom, wherever there's a cop beatin' a guy
Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries
Where there's a fight 'gainst the blood and hatred in the air
Look for me Mom I'll be there
Wherever there's somebody fightin' for a place to stand
Or decent job or a helpin' hand
Wherever somebody's strugglin' to be free
Look in their eyes Mom you'll see me."

That is the essence of my theology and philosophy, to this day - the last day of 29. just a few days ago, I stood before Bruce as he performed it acoustically at the Columbus Obama Rally. Most people were there for Obama, but I noticed a few of us were there because Springsteen defined us.

Tears in my eyes and my fist in the air...



I wonder what the world would look like if we all decided to see through that lens, with open windows, and open doors. That is what drives me, every fuckin' day.

However, when I turned twenty-five years old, a son of ours entered into this world, and then a daughter, and then another son. Plenty has been said on that subject, and I only mention it, really, because it is the first time I awoke to something I cared for more than myself - which, of course, challenges everything you have known, up until then - but didn't change our essence - but certainly added to it.

So came Boston and Bonnaroo and a Big Beard - then a Jayber Crow kind-of migration back home to Ohio.

Home Birth.

Community.

Communion.

Dead Man Walking.