Sit Down Comedy … June 14th, 2019

Jonathots Daily Blog

(4076)

I never planned on being a father

I just wanted to have sex

Sex was simple.

Sex was quick.

Sex was pleasurable.

Fatherhood, on the other hand, is neither simple, quick or necessarily pleasurable.

I was eighteen years old, attending my Junior-Senior Prom with my girlfriend, who had recently become my cohort in the exploration of the human body.

We were returning home from the festivities just before dawn, and arriving at her house, we pulled into her driveway. It was a long one. It ran alongside a pasture where her family boarded a horse.

Pulling inside the driveway and far enough from the road to not be seen but also far away enough from the house to be undetected, we got out of the car. I laid my rented tuxedo jacket on the grass. My girlfriend lay down on her back, disengaged herself from her gown and I from my pants, and we indulged in two-and-a-half minutes of sexual mischief, while the horse nearby observed.

After it was over, we restored our clothing, never realizing that the seed of our first son was planted while we were on that grass.

We had become travelers on a rocky journey.

From that night to the present, four sons have come into my life—one deceased. The three remaining boys that I fathered had to put up with a guy who really was more suited to be a vagabond gypsy musician than “Daddy reading books by the fireplace.”

I honestly don’t know whether I did a good job or not.

I know it could have been done better.

I know at times I was torn between my own desires and the needs of my family.

I know sometimes I over-disciplined and other times I slacked off and ignored situations because I was sleepy and wanted to go to bed.

When a friend of mine came out of a horrible marriage and divorce with three children of her own and was looking for a mission in her life, we joined efforts, including her three other children. Likewise, I don’t know if I was suited to be their godparent or not. It certainly seemed like I was better than their biological father, who was abusive.

But I cannot tell you, on this Father’s Day weekend, that I was well-suited for the job of nurturing children or being the guiding light to their galaxy of possibilities.

What I can tell you is that I did not run away.

I did not blame anyone else.

And I learned how to be wrong and apologize to them for messing up.

I know our Creator probably thought He was being very focused and concise by tying sexual intercourse to child conceiving.

Yet He was also intelligent enough to know that getting worked up over a woman’s sexuality has little to do with deciding to join her in a quest, as Mom and Dad, to rear young’uns.

I guess fatherhood demands three things:

1. Stay, don’t run.

2. Think, don’t assume.

3.  And be willing to be wrong without being angry that you are.

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Untotaled: Stepping 33 (March 12th, 1967) Charley … September 27, 2014

Jonathots Daily Blog

(2364)

(Transcript)

Charley loved to run.

Not me.

I had chubby legs that seemed to be made out of cotton candy, generating the gait of a circus elephant.

In one of the brief fits of verbosity that possessed his soul, Charley once shared with me that running faster and faster made him feel that his feet were leaving the ground and he was soaring into the heavens to dance with the angels.

Pretty articulate for a Midwest kid.

I decided to go out for track and field more or less because I didn’t have anything else to do. Since I could not run or jump, they asked me to try out on the shot put. I did.

I was unimpressed, so I fell back into my acquired nature of quitting. But even though I departed the team, I found myself during study hall sitting at the table with these athletes, and when the monitor left the room, Randy spoke up and gave us a juicy piece of gossip. (Randy was also a runner but never quite as fast as Charley.)

Randy explained that Charley was a “gypsy type.” Now, I do not know what the origin of that phrase was in our community, but I knew that “gypsy type” meant that Charley was–well, dangerous. The adults had other terms for Charley’s problem when they were alone and away from the children.

• “Effeminate.”
• “Queer.”
• “Sodomite.”

Although I had no personal experience with Charley demonstrating such bizarre behavior, in 1967 just the mention of the situation caused your skin to crawl, making you want to avoid any contact with such perverted beings.

Randy knew this. In other words, it didn’t have to be true–just spoken. The gossip mill and bigotry would do the rest.

No one drew close to Charley after that.

He ate alone, he ran alone, he walked alone, he talked alone.

When he asked me why I was not sharing with him anymore, I clumsily replied, “I’ve been busy.”

One day we came to school and he was gone. No one even asked where he was or if he was coming back. Charley was soon forgotten, and the quest for other “gypsy types” was set in motion with renewed scrutiny.

It was many years later that Randy, the accuser of his running friend, came out of the closet, admitting that he was gay. (“Gypsy type” was no longer acceptable terminology.) Randy was lauded for his courage. He was embraced by his friends. Matter of fact, he was set apart as an example of someone who had endured a silent persecution and now was set free.

Mustering some boldness, I asked Randy about Charley. He said he didn’t remember much about Charley.

He paused and then added, “Oh, wasn’t Charley that good-looking kid that was really fast?”

I just smiled, and said, “Yeah. That’s him.”

I walked away from that encounter realizing that there is no such thing as a “righteous” judgment.

It’s all just crapping on people.

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G-Pop’s Coming … November 24, 2013

Jonathots Daily Blog

(2077)

Three hundred and thirty-three days ago, I checked out of a Red Carpet Inn in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, climbed into my big, black conversion van and set out on my fourteenth crossing of the United States to share my life and heart.

I had just finished a three-week stay with family and friends for Christmas and had completed recording my latest album. The process of being with these lovely folks was exhilarating, enlightening and challenging.

Exhilarating because it’s always a welcome reminder to my soul that I was miraculously a patron and contributor to the formation of what has turned out to be a glorious gathering of geniuses and goofballs.

Enlightening because they continue to surprise me with both their achievements and progress in maturity, which varies in speed from the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars to the common inchworm.

And challenging. Even though I made a promise to all my friends, children and all the folks they have introduced into our conclave, granting them autonomy and individuality, I am a human being and occasionally I will see them take on attitudes or ideas which I find obtuse.

But when you blend exhilarating, enlightening and challenging all together, you get more “yea” than “nay.”

And I have to admit, as I drove across I-75–Alligator Alley–to begin “Tour 2013,” I was a bit wistful and maybe a little melancholy about leaving, to ship off to projects and people quite unknown.

I know my family loves me. I know my friends feel the same. But it isn’t quite like it was when they relied on me for their sustenance and needed my approval to gain permission to use the car keys on Saturday night.

Honestly, it’s much better the way it is now than when our relationship could quickly be tainted by a dust-up or a festering fussiness.

But as I prepare to join my kin in the Nashville, Tennessee, area for Thanksgiving, I know they will want to ask the normal questions:

• How are you feeling, G-Pop?
• Do your knees still hurt?
• How much do you have to use the wheelchair?
• Tell us a story about your trip this year.
• Are you going to go out again?
• Do you ever get tired of it?
• Do you miss us?
• Did you lose any weight?
• Are you getting exercise?

You see, some of the questions are natural and others are based on the fact that as they become more adult, they also view me as getting older and decrepit. So sometimes it’s difficult for me to understand why they anticipate my taking a sharp left turn into “geriatric,” when they know I’m still writing, sharing, singing and performing all across this great country.

But after all, they’re just people. They really need me to be a grandpa–and I’m more suited to be the aging Grand Poobah of a gypsy band.

What will I tell them?  What will I say when they ask me, “G-Pop, what have you learned?”

Well, you see, I learned …

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Abe-bull … August 2, 2012

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Of the forty-four men who have held the position of the highest office in our land, Abraham Lincoln may be one of the few who actually understood the job.

Being President of the United States demands that you comprehend the magnitude of the mission while having a mind for the messiness. You must deal with the threat of your time, keep the nation at peace in its heart, while finding a way to disregard the many voices in Congress which would steer the ship toward the rocks. Of course, being the best at something does mean you’re going to be the most criticized. For after all, everybody has an opinion on everything, which they will gladly share with everyone, and it always ends up being a little wrong every time.

Abraham Lincoln, Republican candidate for the presidency, 1860 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So if the name of Abraham Lincoln is brought up, you just might hear:

• a tyrant (for after all, he did suspend many personal rights in the pursuit of keeping the country together)
• a racist (the point being that he never really wanted to free the slaves, just scare away the English and French from assisting the South)
• a hick (certainly reaching for his napkin instead of using his sleeve was not Abe’s first instinct)
• a lousy husband (there are those who felt the problems with Mary Todd were due to Lincoln’s insensitivity)
• an abused husband (in contrast, some felt that Mary Todd’s insanity held Lincoln back from even greater conclusions)
• a Yankee (anyone south of the Mason Dixon line certainly had no problem voicing this thought)
• stubborn (well, if you consider that he stood against almost everybody at some time or another)
• honest (that was his campaign slogan, you know–Honest Abe)
• a lawyer (he was licensed to do so, though didn’t spend a tremendous amount of time in that pursuit)
• had a girl’s voice (he was known for his whiney tone and high pitch)
• a failure (by the way, if you’re keeping score, he actually lost that Lincoln-Douglas debate)
• awkward (what’s the old saying? He was too tall for his feet)
• an abolitionist (the average plantation owner didn’t see any reason for sticking up for black people unless they were trying to woo one late at night in the slave quarters)
• a gay man (yes, there is some sort of report that he shared his bed on cold nights with a male traveling companion) and most recently…
• a vampire hunter (no idea on that one)

There you go. Obviously, all of these things can’t be true and what is true is probably lost in antiquity. So most of the opinions of people nowadays would just be what I call Abe-bull.

Here’s what we do know–of the two most important questions posed to Abraham Lincoln, he answered them in such a way that it brought dignity to his memory. And those two questions are simple: what is the best of my understanding of the present situation? So therefore, looking at myself and my abilities, what can I do?

There were many people who lived in Abraham Lincoln’s day who had a grasp of the problem but were frightened of the solution. To Lincoln, it was easy. His understanding of the situation was that the United States was a union of people who believed that all men are created equal. So therefore, he decided to maintain the integrity of that union at all cost, and in the process, set in motion a mission to make us equal.

Now, Richard Nixon came along at a time when the country was embroiled in a never-ending war, social upheaval and confusion, with our sons being returned in body bags every single day. His response to that was to elongate the war, increase the bombing and lie to the American people about his actions, culminating in a cover-up that nearly emotionally destroyed this country.

Judas Iscariot lived in a day when his nation was being occupied by the Roman Empire, and he believed there was a need for a leader to come along and save them, allowing them the freedom to be themselves in worship. But when he met a man who had a message of love for the entire world, he opted to reject him and betray him because the solution was not totally on point with his own thinking.

Franklin Roosevelt came along at a time when the country was in a depression and eventually involved in a war, and rather than following previously policy or even reasonable thinking, he created jobs (often made up) and generated a pathway which eventually led us out of the financial ruin, mainly due to our involvement in a war to destroy fascism.

Jesus of Nazareth came to the earth when some of the worst domination and violence that ever existed was in full swing, and instead of feeding the frenzy of revenge, he asked men to seek out their own talents to make the world a better place. And because they decided to remain vicious, he was willing to become their savior instead of just their teacher.

Can I tell you folks, I have been called fat, generous, stubborn, liberal, conservative, a heretic, a preacher, a singer, a squawker, a musician, a hack, a husband, a meanie, a saint, a sinner, a lover, a fumbler, a Yankee, a Rebel, and most recently, a gypsy troubadour (I assume similar to being a vampire hunter).

I ignore all of these assertions. I follow the philosophy of Abraham Lincoln, so I take a look at the world around me and I come up with this: to the best of my understanding, God loves people and wants them to expand and succeed. So therefore, I think I should let them know of this great opportunity in as many ways as possible.

There are two ways to live in this world. You can listen to all the news reports or you can go out and make some good news.

It’s up to you.

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