I just got off an airplane, and I’m sitting in the Charlotte North Carolina Airport thinking about something I just saw.

It was a woman crying.

It’s hard to explain what it was like, but I feel like I need to try. She was leaning against the wall inside the terminal, all by herself, crying. She wasn’t trying to hide it exactly, but she wasn’t broadcasting it either. All around her, people walked by, not noticing because she was crying so quietly. She was older and gracefull looking, the way I picture my grandmother when she was in her 40’s. Her hair was blonde with just a touch of gray, and the bluest eyes, which I could see even though her eyes were full of tears. In one hand, she held a tissue. In the other, she clutched a cell phone.

I stood for a moment, watching her.

Just to her right, was an airline pilot, who was qiuetly watching her also. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

I wonder what happened to make such a beautiful creature so sad. What tragedy? What sorrow?

But for the grace of God, that could be me, or anyone of the beautiful creatures I hold dear. After all, sorrow plays no favorites.

I hope she’s ok. I hope it works out. I hope things become right soon, but for now, she can only cry.

I’m working on a few theme ideas, so there may be some technical problems for the next few days.

I hope this doesn’t bother you too much…

Thanks,

Rob

Well, it finally snowed here, so I’ll talk about that for a moment.

I live in Southeast Tennessee, but I grew up in Merrillville Indiana, just outside of Chicago. My entire childhood, I can only remember two snow days. I’m not saying there weren’t others, but I can only remember two. I guess my point is that snow days were few and far between, and it wasn’t for lack of snow. We had tons of the stuff. People shovel driveways there like hillbillies here decorate their front yards with old garbage that nobody else wants.

Anyway, here in Cleveland Tn, they use every available snow day, but rarely are they used on snow. In fact, typically, schools here typically close for something called “threat of snow” which really means “cold and overcast.”

So on Friday, when schools closed, I laughed as I usually do. Then, the snow came down hard, turning the streets into a treacherous maze. Cars were sliding off the road and colliding with one another all around me as I drove to get the boys from my Mother’s house. Once I got them loaded, the roads near her were particularly dangerous. At one point, we were heading up a hill and the truck just began sliding backwards. Even in first gear, we barely made it over.

Once we got home, I geared up to go outside and play with the boys. This gave me the chance to try out all of my Remington brand hunting camo that April got me for Christmas. We played outside for a long time, and I’m pleased to announce that I stayed super warm, despite the elements.

Now, on to the subject of Justice.

At the end of my street is an intersection. On one side of this intersection is a row of hedges. I suppose that the hedges are perfectly fine enough…Green. Well manicured. You know, very hedge-like. I have never been an enemy of hedges. In fact, hedges and I have, historically, gotten along famously. In my long 35 year run on this Earth, I’ve only had an issue with one row of hedges, and it’s this one.

At this point you may be asking what my beef with these hedges is, and I’m not afraid to tell you.

You see, these hedges are hell-bent on my destruction and the death of every person who dares approach this intersection. In case you haven’t guessed yet, the hedges are too tall and they make it impossible to see the oncoming traffic.

Now, people have been complaining about these hedges for years, but the owners simply don’t care. Apparently, these hedges have been in that very spot for a hundred years or so. At least that’s what they tell people.

I have even spoken to our city councilman (who happens to live directly across from the hedges and out of the danger zone) and he simply grins and says that he “knows they are difficult to see around, but what can you do?”

On several occaisions, I have thought that perhaps some enterprising students from the college or maybe an angry soccer-mom who had experienced a near miss at the intersection, might go after those hedges with a chainsaw. No such luck. It would seem that these hedges would remain forever on the corner, taunting us with certain death.

So, imagine my surprise as I finally pulled on to my street yesterday, after braving the crazy Cleveland blizzard, to see a red sedan sitting in their yard, precisely where the hedges had once been. Yep. In the terrible snow storm, someone had lost control and slid across the intersection and directly through their hedges. I came to a stop in front of their house and watched the owner staring at the damage. Finally, I spoke.

“Bummer. Sorry to see your hedges got hit.”

“Yeah.”

“Bad storm.”

“Yeah.”

“I guess on the bright side, you will never have to feel bad for causing a horrible wreck on this corner now.”

“…”

“Anyway, sorry about your hedges.”

I’m very pleased to announce officially that I am writing reviews as part of Thomas Nelson’s review program.

We’ll see how this goes, but so far, I think it’s a neat idea. I have had the pleasure of corresponding with Michael Hyatt twice now, which is amazing when you consider how busy the guy must be, and I have to say that he seems to be on the level. As the person leading the Social media charge at our company (Life Care Centers of America is my employer) I always get fascinated by CEO bloggers, and Hyatt is, without a doubt one of the most active. He keeps a blog, FB page and tweets interesting content all day while still running Thomas Nelson. Fantastic. Anyway, my first book came in the mail and I’m really excited about it. One of the nice things about the program is that you get to choose your books form lists that interest you. It isn’t the kind of situation where Thomas Nelson simply sends you a book and that’s that.

My first book is “The Selfless Gene” by Charles Foster , and it deals with the idea of science and religion getting along…imagine that! Well, I can’t wait to read it, and as soon as I’m done, you can expect a full review here on The Rob Blog.

This of course brings me to my next order of business… I’ve been thinking a lot about my consulting jobs. For years, I have been a PR/Marketing consultant. I love the work, and it keeps my creative juices flowing. Life Care has a policy that permits us to work a second job as long as it is approved and doesn’t interfere with my dayjob. This, of course, means that I take care of consulting work mostly at night and on lunch breaks.

Now, I know that some of you out there might have an area of expertise that you think you can monetize by consulting, so as someone who has been doing this a while, I’d like to offer a word or two of advice…

#1. Never consult on a project that you wouldn’t be willing to do for free.

What?!?!?!?! Alderman, you gotta be kidding me!

No, dear reader, I swear it’s true. You see, if you are going to go into consulting, you’d better absolutely love everything about the subject matter. The fact is that I would give away marketing advice all day long if I wasn’t careful, and that’s a good thing. It means I love it and am not as likely to get burned out. You want to lose your mind? Go ahead and consult just for the money.

#2. Never consult for free.

Yep, I said it. In seemingly complete contradiction to my first statement. But here’s the thing- I never told you to do it for free. I told you to do it because you would be willing to do it for free. Instead, ask people to pay for it. When I play music, I rarely play for free. Sure, the occasional benefit concert will come up and I’ll play for a good cause, but a normal show? Never. Why? I’m not a popular touring musician anymore. No one knows who I am. But…I am providing a night of entertainment, and even though I’d be willing to do it for free, it’s much nicer to get paid for it.

OK…there you go.

In closing, I looked at our budget for the year this past week and it almost made me pass out. It was, at first, very discouraging. I couldn’t believe that we work so hard and still have so little savings. I’ve been working hard for many years now, and to be honest, when I saw the budget it made me feel like a failure. Once the shock wore off however, I was very glad that I had spent the time to plan the year out.

Here are a few budget observations…

#1. My wife, who has been paying our bills for years, is a saint.

#2. While the situation isn’t wonderful, at least I know what it all looks like and now, I have a plan to get free from debt once and for all.

Alright, Robloggers, it’s time for me to get back to work. I have a client who needs some marketing!!!

Pleasant dreams,

Rob

So, last night, I was goofing around with the theme possibilities for The Rob Blog, and I received a message that my computer needed to update. I went ahead and let it do its thing and reboot. This morning, when I got up, the links to many of the pictures here don’t work. This does not make me happy.

Nope.

Not at all.

Sigh.

Dear Cupcake,

It’s no secret that I love food. If I didn’t love food, I wouldn’t be on this diet. But what you may not know is that I truly love local food.

You’ve all read about my love for Earls (r.i.p.) and Jenkins restaurants. I like local food for the same reason that I love almost any local business. I simply believe that in most cases, though you may pay a little more, the product is better. I love the unique things that make Cleveland (and anywhere) special.

Now, here’s another secret. I don’t like candy. It’s true. I did not get overweight from eating chocolate or hard candies. Nope, it was the baked goods that did me in. I love them. Cookies, brownies and cakes…

The Cupcake Divas are a couple of gals that have opened up shop right here in Cleveland, Tennessee and to quote one of the owners, “We use a lot of butter here.”

Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!

I’d driven by their shop a few times, but never stopped. Then, The Slinky told me that he’d become a believer. Well, as you know, I never let The Slinky stay ahead of me for long, so I determined to try it out.

Today, after Slinky told me that he’d been by there on his break, I determined that I couldn’t wait any longer.

I stopped by the shop and ordered their special of the day, “Italian Cream” and darned if it wasn’t the best cupcake I’ve ever tasted. I never would have believed it, but there really is something to this cupcake thing.

For one, the taste and texture were awesome. It was a dense, rich almond cake with a heavy, decadent butter cream frosting on top. The outside of the cake was made by fusing coconut and almonds into a fine crust. Each forkful brought me sweet nirvana, and here’s the most important element- the cupcakes aren’t too big, so right when you start feeling like it’s too rich, you’re finished. (Slinky had sworn to this, but I didn’t believe him. Turns out he doesn’t ALWAYS lie about stuff…)

So, for those of you out there in Rob Blog land who enjoy a sweet treat every now and again, I full endorse The Cupcake Divas… you can check out their daily specials and menu by friending them on Facebook, and then stop in and have a cupcake. You won’t be sorry.

(Note: I was in no way paid to do this review. My findings are based solely on my love of good food.)

I spent some time on the phone today with an old friend. He doesn’t get on the internet much, so I have no fear of him reading this, and to be honest, I’d still write even if I knew he would read it.

It was in some ways, a very nice call. This is a dear old friend of mine, and we love each other like brothers, even though we don’t keep in touch like we should. We know how to make each other laugh and we dig music in the same ways. (He’s a very talented musician) In other ways though, it was a very sad call. I listened as he nonchalantly told me how he was divorcing his wife. he simply “didn’t love her as much as she loved him” and “if they’d lived together first, they never would have gotten married.”

I knew that they had been having some trouble, but I had no idea things were so bad. To make things worse, I could tell that his mind was made up and no amount of argument would change it. To make matters worse, he began telling me about another old friend and how he had gone off the deep end, cheating on his wife multiple times and then getting fired for looking at pornography on a school computer where he was a teacher. (There were other things too, far worse.) Now, he apparently was back with his wife, but wasn’t being faithful, hitting on girls 20 years younger than himself.

It hurt listening to the stories, and I simply had to shake my head and fight back the anger.

It wasn’t the cheating or the divorce that angered me. That may surprise you, so I want to make myself clear. I don’t think that divorce or cheating on your spouse are acceptable. But here’s the thing… people in this life make mistakes. They sin. They fall. We all do in some way. So, I was sad, but not angered by those things. No, what angered me was the way that they seemed devoid of shame. Somehow, cheating and debauchery were completely acceptable.

I wonder sometimes where shame has gone.

It’s tough to imagine pride without shame, but somehow, we have that in spades around here…

The Writer

Gavin had never intended to be a writer in the first place.

Perhaps this is why he felt as though the well was dry. Perhaps there had never been any well of creativity to begin with. In fact, Gavin was beginning to wonder if there was any purpose to any of it.

How could he write from the bottom of his heart if he wasn’t even sure there was anything in his heart at all? Most days, he simply felt dead inside. It had been this way ever since the crash.

Everyone knew about the crash. It had happened years ago. Something inside Gavin had snapped and gone horribly wrong. To this day, even close friends and family wondered why it had happened, though he often heard them speaking among one another about his “overloaded schedule” or “Silly dramatic tendencies”. He had no doubt that they meant well, though he also knew they couldn’t possibly understand. Since the crash he had come to understand that unless you had gone insane for a while, there was no real way to understand those who had. It was kind of like trying to understand someone who claimed to have been “born again”, except  instead of hanging out with Jesus and being insanely happy, you hung out with Jesus and were insanely miserable. Either way, Jesus and you hung out by yourselves.

No one else is invited to the crazy party…only crazy people.

Whatever the reason, one thing was certain. A part of Gavin had died, and no amount of begging, pleading or praying had been able to bring it back.

Gone was the playful and loving man who had enjoyed spending time with friends. The faithful trusting man of God had disappeared too, leaving behind a disillusioned, frightened, angry person that even he could hardly recognize.

When had he stopped praying? Tough to tell. Was it the millionth time he had cried out to God with no answer, or the Millionth and one?

Perhaps it wasn’t fair to say that he didn’t “pray”. After all, he spoke to God every day. The difference these days was that he wasn’t expecting any answers.

Most days, the conversation between Gavin and God played itself out in clinical fashion. During the crash Gavin had finally turned off the voice in his head that he had once believed to be his Creator. It was too confusing hearing that voice alongside all the others. Now, even though the voices were gone (or at least in the background) he felt no trust.

Trust.

How could he ever trust again? After all, a lifetime of service to God hadn’t saved him from the agony of the crash. Worse than the agony during the ordeal was the lingering residue…a smoky crater that sat in the middle of his chest, directly where his heart had once been.

The crash had affected everything.

Even his marriage was damaged from the crash. (or was it from the fallout? Or perhaps the cold realization that this was his new life?)

She had hoped for better in life. Surely, she thought, she deserved more than a house and kids and a husband who sometimes thought of ending his own life. Her job was nothing more than 8 hours of frustration a day, and she arrived home in no mood for fun, even when the kids needed it.

‘They take”, she thought. “They all just take…and I’m dying.”

Gavin didn’t have the strength to help her anymore. He couldn’t. There was nothing left. So instead, he watched helplessly as it all fell slowly apart.

That was part of it. The speed.

Gavin had never been one for slow burn. He had been a firebrand of a person before the crash. He had loved explosions. A nice big fight had never bothered him. But there was no passion anymore. The crash had taken it from him.

She would try to argue with him sometimes. Anything to feel something. But instead of fighting, he would just look at her and sigh.

She hated him. He was certain of it. Inside he wished there was some way to tell her that he still cared, but she was far too angry to hear him, even if he could.

No, Gavin had never wanted to be a writer at all. It wasn’t his plan. But here he sat, staring at the blank screen. The cursor blinked on and off, mocking him.

No words came out. After all, how could they?

There were no words left.