Tag Archives: sacrifice

Faith

Interview With MOM

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MY INTERVIEW WITH MOM

This is Mother’s Weekend. I’m pausing my new series on addiction to write for Mother’s Day.  I have gone to The Source . . .  Mom. I called my parents phone number in Apache, a very familiar number; it’s been their number for 50 years.

Saturday morning, 7:30am.

Me:  Hi Mom, how are you this morning?

That's My Mom

Mom: Oh, just getting around to help with a funeral dinner.   (followed by a discussion of the community of Apache, friends, and small talk)

Me: Mom, I’m writing my Red Dirt Chronicles article for the weekend and I want to interview you, is that okay?

Mom: Um, well alright, if you need to.

Me: How long have you been a mom?

Mom:  How old are you?

Me: 56

Mom: There ya go, I’ve been a mom for 56 years and 10 days.

Me: How many kids do you have?

Mom: Three.

Me: So, what’s the big deal about being a mom, I mean, what is the blessing?

Mom: Oh wow, there are so many. (pause) You know, I think the best part is just being ‘Momma’. When the kids are little they need you and depend on you. Getting to be Momma and take care of all the little things, that’s a blessing.  Then, when your kids get older there’s just a lot of pride.

Me:  Do you have some special memories? Continue reading Interview With MOM →

Barbershop Theology

Barbershop Theology – a lesson from a hot check

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Barbershop Theology

I have attended college. I have attended four of them. I learned a lot at college. I have degrees that suggest, “Hey, this guy learned.” But I can never replace the lessons I learned as the shoe-shine boy in my dad’s barbershop.

Hundreds of people came through Caldwell’s Barber Shop over the years.  Between public school and the barber shop I received an education in Apache, Oklahoma. Here’s another story that has helped me understand a little more about the world, myself, and the truth to live by.

Salesmen and “Simpletons”

A unique sub-set of folks that came through Apache viewed us locals as rubes or hayseeds. I was always entertained when some of the locals would oblige the stereotype. They did it purposefully. Most of the people that visited our fair small town were gracious, winsome, and very kind. A few of them were condescending (a few salesmen) they “shore was high themselves.”

As a boy, I was maybe ten or eleven years old, I could be easily impressed by a smooth presentation and a new gizmo with an interesting name. The old timers who loitered in Dad’s barbershop weren’t so easily moved. My job was to observe from the sideline as the pitchman worked the crowd and then watch as one of the locals morphed into Gomer Pyle. Continue reading Barbershop Theology – a lesson from a hot check →

Man Cave

You Can’t Put A Price On Dreams

by Rob Loeber

What would you do for a dream?  How far would you go to achieve a lifelong goal?

Those are the questions thousands of athletes ask themselves every single day.  From Alaska to Maine and all points in between, minor league and semi-pro players are making enormous sacrifices to stay on the field, rink, or court.

It must be love for $400 a week. (courtesy urbantulsa.com)

This recession has hit America hard over the last few years, but economic struggles are nothing new for the players who toil in obscurity and put their bodies on the line for very little reward.

The Tulsa Talons play in the Arena Football League and the average Talons’ player takes home $400 per week.  That adds up to $7200 for a complete 18-game season.  These are men with college degrees.  Most of them have families but most of them don’t have second jobs because of the time required for practice, travel, and games.

What would you do for a dream?  Would you walk away from the cushy desk job and the 401k package to throw yourself full-speed at another human being for 400 bucks?

I asked one Talons player why he does it.  “I love football,” he told me.  “I can’t imagine giving this up.”

The Talons players have almost no chance of ever making an NFL roster, but out there on the practice field they were smiling and laughing throughout every drill and after every play.  They looked joyful.  They looked like kids.  How many of us can say our jobs make us feel like kids again?

Continue reading You Can’t Put A Price On Dreams →