Things I Learned from R. B. (June 28th, 2020)

Jonathots Daily Blog

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Episode 21

I was invited to have a cup of coffee at O’Charleys by Henry.

I only knew the name because R. B. had mentioned it several months earlier when he got a job and told me who his boss was.

Henry Clevenger. I don’t know why I remember that so well—but for your sake and his sake, I’m glad I do.

Yes, oh, yes—after two solid years of unemployment, R. B. found a job in downtown Nashville, with a company that was large enough that they actually still worked on old machines that were worthy of repair instead of scrapping

R. B. was thrilled. He came to our house and told us in person. You would have thought he had a hand in inventing the world.

We shared chicken wings and pizza that night, and hadn’t seen him since. That was about four months before the invitation from Henry.

I heard through the passing conversations that he was faring pretty well, even though he had returned to some of his Dallas drinking ways.

I also picked up that he’d gone to a local writer’s night, held in the basement of an inner-city church, and sang his songs in front of strangers. Well, worse than strangers. Songwriters. The rumor was, he didn’t fare very well and objected to the criticism.

(Once again, I classify that one as a storyline without a follow-up.)

So after several months of no contact and erroneous information, I was very surprised to get a phone call from Mr. Clevenger—and even more curious about how he got my telephone number.

Upon arriving at O’Charley’s I discovered that he had already procured a booth, not knowing that a man of my size has no affection for a booth (including John Wilkes).

But somehow, I squeezed in (as big fat boys have learned to do).

He was a small man, bespectacled, in his late forties, unassuming but certainly oozing the juices of prosperity.

I picked a profile. It’s one I should have used more in my life: Sit, wait and let somebody else get the ball rolling instead of running up to kick it yourself.

After Henry was sure the waitress had brought all the coffee and he discouraged her from further interruptions, he turned to me and stated the obvious: “I’m here to talk about R. B.”

And talk he did. For the next fifteen minutes, he delivered a testimonial about their initial meeting, the first day of employment and events that had followed.

He punctuated by assuring me that R. B. did know how to repair a computer—but it took an excessive amount of time, leaving Henry to explain to affluent customers why they were being delayed.

But at length, Henry arrived at the main subject—his purpose for coming.

R. B. was always late.

And not just late, but belligerent about being challenged to arrive at a definitive time. Henry explained that R. B. saw no difference between 9:00 A. M. and 9:52. R. B. insisted that as long as he got the work done, what difference did it make if he was a few minutes late?

Henry added that he probably wouldn’t even care—but the disagreements were spilling out in front of other employees, who had already decided they didn’t particularly favor the new computer fixer. They challenged Boss Henry to be more assertive.

So Henry had decided to talk to me, since R. B. had explained that I was a long-time friend.

After thoroughly covering the subject and presenting a case that would impress the Supreme Court, Henry paused and looked hopefully into my eyes. He posed a question. “What do you think I should do?”

The truth of the matter was, I actually was expert enough on the subject of R. B. that I could honestly attest to the fact that I had no idea what to offer.

I chose not to go into my history with our common acquaintance.

The conversation seemed to be stalled when a crazy idea popped into my mind. I said, “It’s obvious to me that you do not want to fire R. B. For that, I salute you for having a heart of gold. But if you’re gonna keep him on the job so that your conscience won’t gnaw at you about firing a man who possibly won’t be employable outside of your present circumstances…”

After I said this, I looked deeply into Henry’s eyes.

He knew.

Henry knew that the business was passing R. B. by, and that nobody else in Music City would find his resume tuneful for their needs.

So I continued, confident that we were on the same wavelength. “Let me ask you a question. Is there a back entrance to your company, near to R. B.’s station, where he wouldn’t have to pop in the front door and expose his tardiness to all your carefully observing employees?”

Henry nodded his head and smiled, realizing where I was going. He put it together himself. He would make an R. B. entrance which only R. B. used, which went only to R. B.’s station. So if R. B. was late, he was late—and as long as the work was done, Henry could leave him alone.

The other employees should keep their noses out of the situation, and if they didn’t, he could call them down for good reason.

Henry was elated.

He had an idea.

He was the kind of man who always wanted to be generous but knew that forsaking common sense steals that privilege from you.

He stood to his feet to leave, then turned and said in a whisper, “Can I help you out with some money? R. B. says you’re always struggling with finance.”

I was infuriated. We were fine. We were always fine. R. B. just felt the need to feel superior and had placed us in a garbage bag of poverty in his brain, which calmed his feelings of inadequacy.

But I chose not to bark back at Henry, or even be catty. I reached up, shook his hand and said, “Doin’ fine, my friend.”

He legitimately seemed glad.

He headed for the door, only stopping to pay for the drinks, and was on his way.

I never saw Henry again.

About four months later, R. B. called, cursing the air about losing his job. I set up a time to talk with him.

As soon as I hung up the phone, it rang again. This time it was Henry. In the most gracious of terms, Henry explained to me, in less than one minute, that the idea to segregate R. B. with a private entrance worked for a month or so, until R. B. realized that nobody was watching—and began coming in after lunch.

Henry was so upset.

Henry was so disappointed.

Henry wanted to do the right thing.

R. B. wouldn’t let him.

Henry wept.

Things I Learned from R. B. (May 3rd, 2020)

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Episode 13

Not every door is an opening to happiness, but instead. can be a passageway to a cave with no exit—a darkened confinement.

After three-and-a-half years of traveling with the family, we found ourselves ricocheting from one miracle to another.

Although miracles have a glorious side, they also warn of an inconsistent living pattern, which requires grace to be poured out in barrels instead of cups.

Our journey became irresponsible.

Even though we tried to remain pure in heart, it was becoming difficult to see God. We were truly poor in spirit but bewildered by our insolvency.

We certainly set our goals to be merciful to others, but we were overly dependent on obtaining mercy for our lackings.

We were broke most of the time, and the rest of the time, nervous about how soon it would be before we had nothing again.

The fellowship, the family time and the intimacy was so enriching that we were nearly unable to make solid human decisions about our daily responsibilities.

Coming upon an opportunity to settle into a motel room in Santa Clara, California, where we would work our rent off by assisting on the premises and filling in front desk duties—was just too alluring.

I legitimately wanted my children to be confident. Although they were growing in their faith, their personal sense of talent and capability was diminished by persistent trial and tribulation.

At first the motel situation seemed ideal. My wife was even able to get a job, which for the first time in a long time, gave us money without having to wonder whether it would soon trickle away.

But to remain in the situation and do it righteously required that we abandon our music, our mission and that closeness that can only be achieved by pilgrims on a journey to the same holy place.

We drifted apart.

My sons became too familiar with HBO at young ages and had too much time on their hands. (We were uncomfortable placing them in a local school, lest the teachers or authorities ask too many questions.)

For a little over two years, we experienced an unhealthy prosperity.

One day, a traveler passed through and talked to me about my situation. He remarked, “If the owner here has been charging you tax for your room, he owes you that money. Because after the first month, no one has to pay tax on a motel room.”

I laughed. I didn’t know it was true. So I joked with the boss about it when he came into work that day.

I left, went out to lunch, and when I came back, he was standing in front of my door with a check for three thousand dollars in his hands—apparently frightened that I would make more out of the tax situation than I ever would have. He decided to cover his butt by paying back the money, so he wouldn’t have to worry about being accosted in court.

After he left me alone, I stared at the check.  I realized it was three thousand good reasons to leave “the cave” and start looking for a door again. I didn’t waste any time because I didn’t want to waste any of the money.

We packed up that night and the next morning we rolled off to Sacramento, California. Within two days, we rented a duplex with three bedrooms, a sunken living room, a fireplace, and a huge dining room—a heavenly haven to call our own.

We decided to try to start scheduling concerts again and live off our talent. The first three months were tremendously successful. Wanting to celebrate that Thanksgiving with friends, we invited two from San Diego, and I called R. B., who was living in Tacoma, Washington, to come and join us.

For the first time in his life, R. B. jumped at an opportunity. I was shocked. I was anticipating a rejection, or at least a request for three days of fasting and prayer to decide.

He arrived—and he looked terrible. After a few conversations I discovered that he had lost his job four months earlier and was living off of unemployment insurance. He was drinking, smoking more and was quickly running out of money. It was the most vulnerable I had ever seen him.

As the tenderness of Thanksgiving swept over him, he was in tears several times, grateful for the opportunity to escape his Washington surroundings and be with those who accepted him in the form he arrived.

On Monday, the San Diego couple left. R. B. decided to stay on a few more days.

During that time, we played music, sang songs and even devised a plan so he could come and live with us, join the band and be part of the tour.

Even though my sons were not particularly favorable to R. B., they still thought it would be inspirational to have another band mate.

We laughed and cried our way to a local department store, where we purchased a matching vest for him, to go with the ones my sons wore.

He seemed to belong. More importantly, he felt needed.

Yet, two days later, as we were about to rehearse, he became very still. Something was amiss. After allowing him a space of time to come clean with his feelings, I finally confronted him.

He cried again—and these were not the tears of a grateful traveler. This weeping was coming from a place of fear.

He explained to the whole family that he wanted to travel with us and be a part of the band, but he was scared. All of his life, he had counted on a job to take care of his financial needs, and even though he wasn’t working now, he felt more comfortable occupation than he did launching out by faith, to see how far his abilities would take him.

I wanted to argue with him. But one thing I knew was that each human being sets his own time and place. If we try to find a place and establish a time, he will only rebel.

Two days later, he quietly packed his bag.

He silently ate a breakfast with us, and he walked out our door without saying another word.

I really did believe this would be the last time I ever saw him.

I felt mercy, because I, myself, just a few years earlier, had gone into a dark cave—because I was afraid of my circumstances.

“Be safe,” I spoke aloud.

The family looked at me. They didn’t know what I was thinking.

But they certainly understood what I felt.

Jesonian… May 27th, 2017

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While half of the organization of Christian saints clamor to preach a message of the fulfillment of Judaism, with the human sacrifice of Jesus Christ, and the other fifty percent portray the Nazarene as soft on sin and heavy on compassion, it occasionally might be a good idea to take the available reference material we possess to get a more thorough picture of how Jesus thought, felt and lived.

There were many broken people in his life–no doubt about it. Also, it’s irrefutable that he did die on the cross, and it has become our salvation.

But for the purpose of progressing the Christian message, we must claim the mind of Christ, not just the theology. It begins with understanding his approach: blind men, prostitutes, demon-possessed souls, lepers and probably a lot of manic-depressives came to Jesus and received a touch of healing.

Yet none of them ended up in his traveling troupe. Jesus did not turn his kingdom of God on Earth into a nursing home, mental hospital or rehab center. Although he brought great benefit to the lives of many souls, his practice was to send them back to their home towns–to assimilate and offer up the story of their transformation as evidence of the goodness of God.

Even though a demon-possessed man who had just been set free came to his boat and begged him to join the band, Jesus sent him away.

It sends a message to the church today. We spend too much time adjusting our programs, the temperature in the sanctuary and our vision to those who are needy, hurt and emotionally challenged, instead of encouraging working folks, entrepreneurs, artists and inventors to come into the body to leaven the lump.

A quick look at the twelve disciples will tell you that you had four working fishermen, one tax collector, two followers that came over from the ministry of John the Baptist, one zealot, a pair of brothers who were tradesmen, a Judean and Thomas, who most people believe bounced between the ministry of John and a little fishing himself.

But anyone who believes that Jesus was just a human sacrifice is errant. And anyone who contends that Jesus was all-forgiving, looking for the next loser to turn into a winner, would also be completely out of line with the narrative.

If you want to build a work, you teach healthy people how to help the unhealthy, not harbor unhealthy people, hoping they will draw in the healthy.

The Christian church today is possessed by either an overabundance of zeal towards charity, or a greed towards prosperity. So we minister to the fringes instead the heart of mankind.

To minister to the heart of mankind, you have to understand what a fisherman is really looking for.

 

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … November 5th, 2016

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The following conversation is a bit of stagecraft conceived in the mind and heart of this author. It was not an actual event, but rather, a speculation on a possibility based upon existing information, tendencies and personalities.

Man: I was surprised you took my call.

 

Woman: Why would you be surprised?

 

Man: I thought you might be a little afraid to talk with me.

 

Woman: Why would that be?

 

Man: Well, since we’ve been at each other’s throats for the past six months, I figured you might be a little terrified to have this private conversation.

 

Woman: You see, that’s your problem. You think I’m a woman and therefore incapable of mustering the courage to handle the everyday situations that come to all of us no matter what our gender may be.

 

Man: No, I don’t feel that. I just see weaknesses in your character, which I plan to exploit to get what I want.

 

Woman: Well, I guess I can say at least you’re honest about your dishonesty.

 

Man: Where am I dishonest?

 

Woman: I wouldn’t know where to start. Your portrayal other humans, your disrespect for women, your bombastic and arrogant approach and your loose handling of the facts.

 

Man: I just believe in winning. Because until you win, you don’t control anything. Losers don’t even get a vote. I see you as a danger to our country. I see the administration you had with your husband as bringing disgrace to the Presidency, and I’m fully aware that most people don’t like you and by the way–no one has hired me to be your public relations agent.

 

Woman: That’s fascinating. Because I see you as dangerous. I see you as having a mouth minus the intuition to know how dangerous words can become–especially when you’re crossing international borders and dealing with grouchy cultures. I have made my mistakes, but at least I’ve been somewhere–where I was able to make the mistakes and learn from them.

 

Man: I don’t like mistakes. I don’t like making them and I certainly don’t like admitting them. But it’s not because I’m prideful–it’s because in the business world–or let us say, the real world–showing weakness is opening the door to disaster. I believe you to be weak. I believe your ideas weaken our nation. And I’m not so certain that you can stand on your own and separate yourself from the crowd, and make quality decisions without being influenced by people who have already proven themselves to be anemic.

 

Woman: Why do you hate women?

 

Man: I don’t hate women. I love women. I just don’t think they’re magical. I don’t want to lift them up, but instead, would love to see them fight back. If they’re equal, then they should have to prove they are. It shouldn’t be a gift. We shouldn’t try to bring down the standards just so women can pretend they can compete. So what I do is I make things strong enough for a man. Then if a woman can measure up, great. If she can’t, she–or in this case, you–need to be exposed for having willingness with no power.

 

Woman: But there is a danger of having the assumption of power without having the willingness to be merciful, kind and tender.

 

Man: We’ve got preachers and nuns to do that. It’s not up to the President of the United States to become a missionary. Your desire to reach out to people may be interesting but if there isn’t a climate of peace, prosperity and strength, it will never be accomplished, because all the bad guys will be whipping your ass.

 

Woman: We just don’t agree on this.

 

Man: No, you just don’t want to accept the way things are. You see, you’ve lied. I lie, too. But what I lie about doesn’t matter that much. When you lied, because you had a position of authority, people got hurt. People got frustrated. And now they’re mad as hell and they’re just not going to take it anymore.

 

Woman: So you think you’re going to win this?

 

Man: No. I think you’re going to lose it. I think you’re going to cling to all your loyalties, to your husband and the President and be swept away because you don’t have one goddamn fresh idea of your own.

 

Woman: You see, ideas are meaningless if they don’t make things better. And those ideas take us back to a time when the status of your bank account and the color of your skin thrust you to the front of the line.

 

Man: There wouldn’t be a front of the line unless we needed a front of the line. Somebody has to lead. If you think there’s racism in this country, you won’t solve the problem simply by putting black people in charge of things. People need to get used to things instead of having them forced on them. Maybe gay people should marry, but you didn’t leave that up to the folks. You would never let them vote on it. You just decided for them. And they will get even with you.

 

Woman: There you go. Threatening. You don’t have a campaign. You have a series of ultimatums and doomsday proclamations. Even if I didn’t want to be President, I’d have to run just to stop you.

 

Man: You can’t stop me because the people don’t want you. They don’t want four more years of the same stuff–where they have no say and are made to feel ignorant because they disagree with a bunch of liberals hanging out in country clubs.

 

Woman: So was this the purpose for your call? Are you trying to get me to give up?

 

Man: No. This is my way of apologizing. It isn’t standard. I’m apologizing because I have to destroy you to do what’s right for this country.

 

Woman: And I suppose that means you expect me to destroy you to win the title.

 

Man: You saw Rocky, didn’t you? That’s the way it’s done.

 

Woman: You see, Donald, that’s your problem. You think all of this is a Hollywood movie instead of the life and death of our future.

 

Man: And you, Hillary, think anyone would really care about any of this stuff if it isn’t entertainment.

 

Woman: Shall I say thanks for the call?

 

Man: You’re welcome. And may the best man win.

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G-Poppers … May 27th, 2016

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The most important thing is to win.

No, the most important thing is to try.

G-Pop watches closely as these two conflicting attitudes struggle for dominance in our society.

There are those who will not be satisfied unless they are continually prospering, or at least appear to be.

There is certainly a contingency which thinks that maturity, and even spirituality, is best expressed by merely having a sense of willingness.

Yet G-Pop wants his children to be aware that both of these approaches fail to promote winners, and generally speaking, produce whiners.

After all, we don’t always win. And if we don’t win, we have two choices: we can make a ton of lame excuses or we can lie.

And likewise, it’s not always good enough to just try. We end up wondering if we could have done better, or attempt to capsulize the failure into “a learning experience.”

These two concepts run rampant across our culture, especially infesting politics and religion.

For instance, some politicians will do anything to win, and others insist they are the champions of the less fortunate–those who are really “trying hard to make ends meet.”

In the case of religion, it is a misguided juxtaposition of “God will meet your every need” and “all you will ever need is God.”

Deception.

These two ideas are not only insufficient, but flirt with evil.

The winners always deceive, and the “tryers” always blame someone for the deficit.

G-Pop wants to tell his children that the most important thing is to know.

Know what?

1. Know you listened.

It is highly unlikely that any one of us presently posses the wisdom and understanding to solve all of our own problems. It is in listening that we discover new insights from better-traveled souls–ideas which enable us to take a fresher approach.

2. Know you have good cheer.

G-Pop is not certain he’s ever seen grumping, complaining or lamenting lead to success. A certain amount of worry-free humor is necessary to find our best.

And most importantly:

3. Know you are honest.

Looking over your shoulder to see if you’re going to get caught is not a good way to be forward thinking. We may hope we get away with lying, but eventually, at an hour we least expect it, our lack of candor will be brought to the forefront. There is real power in knowing that no matter what the result may be, you were completely truthful about your situation.

As the political furor continues in our country, and winning and trying are lifted onto the shoulders of the cheering masses, it is enriching for the children of common sense to honor the importance of knowing.

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Ask Jonathots … April 14th, 2016

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My son, a sophomore in high school, has a part-time job at a fast food restaurant. He came home talking about making fifteen dollars an hour when the minimum wage is raised. I’m not against raising the minimum wage, but at the same time, I don’t really think my high schooler really needs that wage. What do you think?

Paying people based on what they require is un-American.

It may sound good–it may seem generous. It may even temporarily appease the aching need of some folks who are living on the cliff of poverty. But it is un-American.

I will go as far as to tell you that it is also un-Christian.

At no time in the ministry of Jesus did he suggest that the best way to handle the poor was to drop everything you were doing, sell everything you had, change all your policies, reject your own desire for financial prosperity, and divvy up the money more evenly, so that “those who have a frown can turn it upside down.”

The most important thing any government program should encourage is initiative.

If you’re going to do the same work you did before, but make twice the amount of money doing it, you’re not stimulating productivity.

No, you have just purchased yourself a baby alligator. At first the little amphibian sitting in his bowl appears harmless and kind of cute. But it will not remain a small alligator. It will grow until it eats you.

Likewise, giving people more money for what they’re already doing without demanding additional increase in effort is the formula for disaster. It is not an issue of being a conservative or a liberal, but rather, taking a more intelligent political stance: practical.

If I allow myself to be concerned about the wages my employees are receiving based on their monthly needs, I will soon lose sight of the goal of my company, which is to make money and thrive so I can hire more people.

What we need is a compromise with a caveat.

• The compromise is a dollar amount which is more representative of the work and the financial climate.
• And the caveat is that this extra money will require additional training and pursuit of excellence.

Hand-outs take people off their feet.

And our economy runs on foot power, not charity.

So even though it may seem noble and may get the vote of tens of thousands of hourly wage Americans, to suggest that they should double their intake for the same amount of output…well, it is completely unnecessary and certainly un-human.

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Ask Jonathots … March 10th, 2016

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You hear it all the time: “She got that talent from her mother…” Is talent actually inherited?

No.

I suppose I could just stop there, but maybe you would like some clarification.

Let’s start off with a definition for talent: Talent is a capacity for success.

Simply having talent does not guarantee us prosperity.

• It is a capacity.
• It is a potential.
• It is an opportunity.

It is an even playing field for those who are willing to work hard, allowing them to use some natural inclinations.

There can be physical attributes that are passed along through the DNA system. Maybe these specific “pluses” make it easier to pursue certain directions in life.

But talent is and always will be the realization of a dream through the pursuit of focused labor.

Therefore, people who have no history of music in their families can become dynamic examples in the art form.

All things being fair, our Creator never intended that privilege and preference would be infused into anyone. The gifts that God gives to human beings lie in the discovery of our inner strengths, our weaknesses, and learning how to balance these to our advantage.

Of course, if you surround a child with hammers and nails from the time he is five years old, the chance that he will grow up to be a carpenter is heightened. But he also might grow up to be an itinerant preacher who changes the world.

Be grateful for the fact that talent cannot be attributed to anything but your own faith, the desires of your hope and a really well-put-together and disciplined work schedule.

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