The Holston is by far my favorite river to fish in the SouthEast, and I was excited to be there. I knew that all around me, there were trout. Large Trout. Thousands of them. Long ago, the wildlife engineers in this part of the country really did us a favor and placed large concrete pillars upriver that aerated the water, and when they did, the trout explosion began. The Holston now boasts more trout per foot than any other river in the state.

I was being careful…watching the water. Listening. Every now and then, a hungry trout broke the surface, chasing a tiny fly.

Working up and down the bank, I was certainly having a good time. The only problem was that I wasn’t catching any fish. I knew the fish were there, but try as I might, they eluded me.

Every once in a while, my leg would be bumped by a branch floating by underwater.

Bump.

Bump.

Bump.

Then I realized that the bumps were becoming more and more frequent, and that the bumps were on the wrong side of my leg. It would have meant that branches would have to go against the current, and surely that wasn’t happening. So I looked down.

All around my feet, there were trout. 20 at the very least. They were surrounding my feet, darting back and forth in a gorgeous ballet. When my feet kicked up rocks and loosed the tiny bugs underneath, they were feasting on them. Their mouths flashed white in the current, and I couldn’t believe that they were so close. Mesmerized, I slowly reached my hand beneath the water and cautiously stroked the back of one that came too close. He darted angrily away for a moment, but then thought better of it and returned to my feet with his friends.

I stood transfixed for what seemed like hours, watching them play and follow me. They weren’t afraid of me, even though I stood above them, fly rod in hand, and had been trying to catch them all morning.

Finally, I gave in and quit fishing altogether, opting to instead enjoy their beauty. I walked back and forth, kicking up rocks so they could eat, and in return they gave me a display of their charm and grace. They are, on all accounts, the most beautiful creatures ever placed by the Creator into our rivers. That’s why we chase them.

As I decided to go walk to the bank to eat some lunch, I reached my hand into the water one last time. My trout friends wouldn’t have any of it this time though, and darted away before I could touch them, and that’s when it occurred to me…

We search and search and search for something beautiful, when all along, we should have been paying attention to the tiny bumps at our feet. More often than not, the gorgeous things are closer than we think.

I hope you find the beautiful things, dear ones. I truly do.

R

Exodus 20:7 reads: “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.”

I’ve been thinking about this scripture recently because a friend asked some questions on her Facebook regarding God’s name and whether or not it was worse than using the F-word.

Now, I’m not here to discuss the F-word, though I’m sure that would be entertaining for some of us. I’m rather going to explain briefly (I hope) why this particular scripture is so misused and how if we understood it better, we would be WAY more interested in keeping that particular command.

You see, as so often happens, this scripture has been misread and abused in a way that belittles it’s main message. The scripture has nothing to do with saying things like, “God Damn” or “GODDDD!!!!” when you hit your thumb with a hammer, or “LORD HAVE MERCY!” when you see some hot chick walking down the street.

Sorry, race fans. It simply isn’t that easy.

To truly understand what is being said, we must put the scripture within it’s proper contextual paradigm and in this case it is similar to a marriage.

In most marriages, when a woman marries, she “takes” her husband’s name. Along with his name, she agrees that she is now a changed person, no longer alone, but one with him and subject to a new life under that reality. The things she was have changed and now she has placed herself under new leadership. (Sorry ladies, but we are looking at this historically, so please don’t get off on a “he’s not the boss of me” tangent. I promise you I already know he isn’t the boss of you.)

As always, the Church has been likened unto a bride. While we certainly see the language more prevalent in NT phraseology, it nonetheless applied even more so in the OT, where this scripture is used. At that time, the idea of “Taking an name” was VERY important. Wives took names. Slaves took names. Children born into a family were said to “Take the name of the father”.

This language used in Exodus would certainly not have been lost on a people group who were said to be “Taking the name of God.” They would have been quite aware of the language and it’s implications.

So, in light of this, when we look at a marriage, let’s say mine, and we say, “April, please don’t take the name of Alderman in vain.” What do we mean?

We certainly don’t mean that April shouldn’t yell “Alderman Damn!” or “ALDERMANNNNNNN!” or something like that, do we? Of course not. We are saying, “April, along with this name comes a certain set of expectations as to what an Alderman is and is not. To take this name and then spit on those expectations is to dirty the name of Alderman.”

Whoa.

Expectation?

God has….expectations?

EXPECTATIONS?!?!?!?!

Yes, my dear friends, he does. And when we take his name, he expects us to take the utmost care with the way we live our lives. It goes beyond saying something silly using the name “God” and into the way we live out our daily lives at all times.

I’m not saying it is good to say God’s name in a frivolous way. Like any word, it tends to loose it’s specialness when we cheapen it. But that doesn’t mean it is ok to devalue a scripture like this and think that if we just learn to use God’s name in prayerful ways that we are fine and dandy, because we aren’t. God has a clear expectation for those who take his name.

Let us not take it in vain.

I can say this – I was tired. Tired of being fat. Tired of having anxiety attacks because I knew I could have a heart attack at any moment. Tired of the way my clothes didn’t fit and my knees hurt all the time. Tired of not being able to run anymore, and tired of being so very tired.

I think that the biggest thing that people miss when trying to motivate an overweight person is that they are dealing with an addiction that is so powerful that it isn’t a simple matter of “cutting back” or “taking small steps towards a healthier you”.

That’s a load of crap.

I’ve never known anyone who lost weight that way. You have to get radical. Scary radical. You have to say to yourself, “I know this diet is insane, but it HAS to be a better idea than dying at 50 of a heart attack.” That’s why Jarrod ate all those Subway sandwiches. That’s why a co-worker of mine spent almost 15,000 dollars on bootcamp trainers. (she is my hero) That’s why people cut out all meat. That’s why people eat ONLY meat. You get the idea.

I first heard of HCG when I noticed that our television producer, Joe Palo must have gotten cancer. Now, Joe doesn’t have cancer. I just said that to recapture your attention for a moment. That fact is that he dropped weight so suddenly that one day I thought, “Joe must have cancer.”

I’m super glad Joe didn’t have cancer. (side note: cancer is awful and I hate it) What Joe DID have however, was a new diet. The kind of diet that had made him shrink up. Where “Big Jolly Joe Palo” had been, there was now “kind of weird looking because he’s so skinny Joe Palo”.

So I started the diet. I didn’t wait forever, but I did research it first. More importantly, I had my dear friend Ken Scott, who is also the corporate medical director for Life Care Centers of America research it for me. He said, “Let’s do it.” so I did.

If you haven’t heard of HCG, you will soon. It’s becoming one of those hot-button items like Atkins diet was years ago.

I’m not here to tell you that everyone out there criticizing the diet is wrong. I honestly don’t know if they are or not. I just know that my personal doctor here in town has been thankful that I did it.

The first few days were tough. I wasn’t sure I could do it. It wasn’t a physical thing. It was mental. After all, I’d been overeating for 37 years. That doesn’t change overnight. Still, my friends and family kept encouraging me, and I found myself sticking to the diet.

Then the weight started coming off. Lots of it.

By the end of week one, I’d lost 12 pounds. 12 pounds in a week. What? Yes.

Now, I’m 80 pounds lighter and 10 inches smaller. My kid tells his friends, “My dad is so skinny!” which isn’t true, but makes me feel absolutely awesome. The best part is that it isn’t coming back. I’ve kept it off.

One month ago, I gave away 90% of my wardrobe to a homeless man. I can’t tell you how good that feels.

So, are you sick of feeling horrible? Are you done being afraid that you’ll die of a heart attack? Want to know what it feels like to not hurt when you walk? Are you ready for something that isn’t easy, but works?

If so, email me at robalderman@gmail.com and tell me you want to and we will get started.

Love you,

Rob

DECEMBER 25 2005 -If you must know, I spent some time tonight in the Shack that sits in my backyard. I smoked two cigars and drank EggNog and Bourbon with a very dear friend. The two of us just sat for a long time, sharing dreams and hopes. Speaking of the things, which I believe we all want to speak of but sometimes never get the chance to say. The feeling I have at this moment is wonderful…I wish I could bottle it up and send some of it to each of you.

You know, the feelings that I get at Christmastime simply refuse to be denied…they come bounding into my heart in waves with such force that at times I am almost positive that any more happiness will make me simply explode. Watching my son today as he opened presents was amazing. Rusty was filled with the pure joy of a little boy who isn’t quite sure why everyone is being so nice to him, but isn’t going to let a little uncertainty stop him from enjoying himself to the fullest. We had a wonderful time with the tree, the presents, the Christmas story, family, and turkey… all of it. But that wasn’t my favorite part.

My favorite moment came around 4 am Christmas Eve, when my wife and I had finally finished preparing everything for Christmas morning. I sat in the dark living room, watching the fire in the fireplace and the lights on the tree, while our new kitten, Coal purred in my ear like a Mustang GT that has lost its muffler. I was tired, sure…but how could I possibly sleep when I knew that in a few hours, my beloved son was going to wake up and start the happiest morning of his life. No, sleep was not an option. So instead of sleeping, I allowed myself to doze quietly on the couch and take it all in. Wow…

Though I had not asked for any presents this year, my wife was still able to exceed all of my hopes. She surprised me with the first volume of the St. Johns Bible, which contains the Synoptic Gospels and the Book of Acts. Some of you may have heard about it this year in the news or on NPR. It’s the first illuminated, hand-scribed Bible to be made in over 500 years. A man studied in the arts of the ancient Celtic Monks who transcribed the Book of Kells, is transcribing it at St. Johns University, and it is truly something to behold. I determined that the very first passage that I would read from it would be the book of Luke, Chapter 2, which is the story of the birth of the Christ. As I held the book in front of me, I let my eyes drift slowly down the page, savoring every word. I let my fingers graze each letter, being careful not to miss any nuance. The opposite page had a beautiful impressionist painting of the nativity, and I took a moment to let it all sink in…. “Be Ye not afraid…for unto You this day, a child is born.”

You know, I am not sure what kind of Christmas you have all had. I am sure that the Christmas experienced had by all of you Roblog readers has been as varied as you readers yourselves. I can only pray that you have each had at least one moment when everything was right in your universe. One moment when time stopped and there was no pain. One second during which your soul was at rest.

I know that many of you do not believe in the Christ child. Many of you in fact, may have very legitimate reasons for not subscribing to this whole Christian thing. It’s amazing how much damage people can do in the name of Jesus. As a result, I’ve never been the type to beat anyone over the head with my big Bible (and given the size of the St. John Bible that I now own, you should consider yourselves very lucky for that fact.) But here’s the beauty of the birth of Christ – Its importance is not dependent upon your belief.

That sounds crazy, but I assure you, it’s true. You see, the Shepherds who were out on the hills that night had never seen or experienced Jesus before. They were just some guys out doing their jobs. It was cold. It was dark. They were probably pretty uncomfortable. Some of them were more than likely cursing themselves for taking this job in the first place…I mean, nothing new ever happened around these parts, and let’s face it, watching sheep gets pretty boring after the first few weeks. And yet…something happened that night that would forever change them, and had they not been in that job at that time, they might have missed it entirely. These shepherds didn’t know Jesus from a hole in the ground, but suddenly they found themselves in the midst of the single most important moment in the history of mankind up until that point. (And, I might add, quite possibly the most important moment ever since…) And that’s how it works, you see. You don’t have to believe in Jesus right now for his birth to be the most important thing that has ever happened to you. The fact that you don’t believe doesn’t change the miracle one little bit.

I know many of you are sitting in your day job hell, working every day with nothing to show for it other than a paycheck that barely pays the bills. Your dreams and hopes were railroaded a very long time ago by a variety of things…people… circumstances… possibly even yourself.

That’s a scary place to be. I know. I’m there. In fact, if we are all a bunch of scared shepherds, then I am the most incompetent shepherd among us. My sheep are always getting lost. I never remember to feed them on time, and I suck at using that staff thing that is supposed to keep them in line. In fact, most days, I’m either sitting around afraid that the Head Shepherd is going to fire me, or wishing with my whole heart that he would. I am a sad sack of a shepherd indeed.

But if you don’t mind, since we are here on our hill all alone for the moment, allow me to play the role of the angel when I say… “Hey shepherds… I know you didn’t intend for this to be the way that your life has turned out. I know that it’s cold out and that you are uncomfortable. I know that 10 bucks an hour doesn’t pay the bills. I know that you are scared…but don’t be afraid, because tonight, in the city of David, a child was born…and guess what, he’s like nothing you’ve ever seen. You may not believe in him yet, but he believes in you.”

Peace and Grace to you this night, dear readers…Godspeed and faith.

Rob

Still, I thought it might be fun to muse for a moment on some things I’d simply rather not live without. I’m not putting a lot of thought into it, but instead just naming a few things that come to mind.

1. iPhone- My iPhone is the key to it all. I mean, seriously. Everything. My calendar, contacts, emails, news. It all filters through my iPhone. For the record, mine is white with a minimal bumper on it. I didn’t choose an elegant piece of tech to wrap it in an otter case. Ugh.

2. Wolverine 1000 Mile Boots- This may be premature since I’ve only had them two weeks, but I can say with relative confidence that they will be worn until the day I die. Comfortable, rugged and stylish, they have replaced my old brown British Doc Martins. Let’s face it, once Martins stopped being made in England, they weren’t worth a damn. The 1000 mile boot is by far the best show I’ve ever owned.

3. Saddleback Leather Briefcase- No matter where I’m going, the SB case goes with me. 100 year warranty, minimal moving parts, heavy leather. If Indiana Jones were a real person, this is what he’d carry.

4. iPad- the iPad replaced my laptop a long time ago as the computing device that goes with me everywhere. For the majority of what I do, the iPad is the easiest, quickest, most efficient way to work. Plus, clients love it.

5. Ford 150- My truck is a full size 2000 F 150. I love sports cars and motorcycles to be sure, but neither of those things would have been of much use when the Tornadoes blew through our county last April. This truck is tough in an understated, get it done, sort of way that I really appreciate. Now that she has heat again, it’s even better.

6. Old Navy Boot Cut Jeans- I have some super expensive jeans. They don’t have the comfort and fit level my old navy’s do. I wish I could argue otherwise, but I just cant.

7. Colt Defender .45- I’m from the school that we have certain freedoms in this Country that we shouldn’t ignore. Carrying a gun is one of them. I’m no gun-toting crazed hillbilly, but I do like being able to know that if push came to shove, I can shove pretty darn hard.

8. Blue- As I write this, my Great Dane/German Shepard Blue, is sitting in my lap. He enormous. He eats too much. He poops too much. But he is my constant amigo, and when I’m driving around town, he is always happy to ride along. He is sweet to the kids, but growls at folks who approach our front door. He doesn’t bite, but if he did, you’d lose an arm.

9. St. Croix 4 weight Ultra Legend Fly Rod- Fly fishing is really the only true hobby I have, and the proper gear is essential. For the southeastern rivers I fish, the ultra legend is the perfect rod, balancing power, precision and delicate presentation. I have landed huge trout on this rod and had just as much fun landing tiny trout. If I could have only one fly rod, this would be it.

10. Citizen Eco-Drive Blue Angel Chronograph- When I was young, my dad took us to the Sears Tower in Chicago to watch the air show. The highlight of the entire event was watching the Blue Angels fly beneath us through the city of Chicago. I’ll never forget it. Years ago, my wife bought me the Blue Angel Citizen watch and I never take it off. It looks good, sure. Even banged up and scratched, the watch oozes cool. But more importantly, it keeps time. One a day, the watch syncs up to the main time station in New York, ensuring that it is never more than .5 seconds off actual time. Pretty neat.

11. Case Pocket Knife – My Great-grandfather, Grandfather and father all carried Case knives in their pockets. I have all of their knives in my collection now, and a pocket worn Case Trapper is my every day use knife. I know there are many knife choices out there, and lots of knives that are “tougher”, but for me, the knife is a tool, and keeping it simple is the key to using it properly. I open boxes, cut rope and even use it occasionally for a steak knife when I eat.

Well, that’s it for now. Hope you enjoyed this list. I could pick many more things, but 10 seemed like a decent place to stop. What are some things you wouldn’t live without?

I believe in things you have to touch to enjoy. I’m tactile and there is nothing better than something that forces me to work on it. I just finished dressing my boots with Montana Pitch Blend. You have to use your hands and rub it into the leather. It smells and feels wonderful as the leather begins to glow and become more pliable. These are the simple things I look for. Things that bring me quiet joys.

I could tell you it was horrible and that I never liked it anyway. I could tell you it was a dungeon and that no one should ever have to be subjected to it. I could tell you it was a poor fit and that I never really felt like it was home. I could tell you that I was never really good at it.

I could tell you all of those things, but that would be a lie.

I loved every minute and wouldn’t trade the experience for the world. I was darn good at it and made better every day by the fantastic people around me who pushed me to better myself. It wasn’t a dungeon. It wasn’t unfair or ridiculous.

I could lie to you.

I could tell you I’m terrified. I could tell you I pace the floors wondering what to do. I could tell you that I’m not excited and that gloom hides around every corner, haunting each moment like a ghost on a mission. I could tell you we don’t know what to do and that I’ve lost faith.

I could tell you all of those things, but that would be a lie.

I am not afraid. I pace the floors, listening to great music and coming up with new creative things to do and say for people who want to pay me for it. It is not gloomy here, the music plays loudly, the laughs come easily and the future looks as bright as ever. My faith has not been shaken, but has rather been strengthened by the provision of hands and a plan much bigger than mine.

Yes, I could lie to you. But at this point, it is simply much easier to tell you the truth.

As a creative type human, nothing is more important to me than listening to the right music at the right time. This is especially important this weekend as I head to St. Louis to see Matthew Sweet on his special 20-year anniversary Girlfriend tour. This tour is going to blow the minds of those of us who remember Sweet’s battle against grunge music and how he ultimately won that battle. A boy from Nebraska invented power-pop, and boy are we all thankful.

To be honest, Sweet thinks of himself as some sort of Beach Boys/Neil Young hybrid, and while that may be true, to those of us who have been in love with his music, he certainly superseded both of them. not in album sales of course, but in making music that remains melancholy and beautiful.

I first heard Matthew Sweet when I was living in Indiana as a high school senior. The Girlfriend album had just hit, and “I’ve been waiting” was making the indie rounds in the Chicagoland area. I went to Lollapalooza with my two best friends, and we ended up sitting near Matthew, who wasn’t a star, and to be honest didn’t even seem like a star in the making. He was cool, fun, liked comic books and hot girls, just like we did. I remember being shocked when the local tv station who did a late night music show, pulled him aside in the row to the side of us and began interviewing him. Who was this dude?

Well, “that dude” ended up being the most influential musical influence on my entire life.

Now, while critics properly hail Girlfriend as a remarkable achievement in music history (the first proper, and still the best, power-pop album of all time), it was really the follow up to this record that impacted me most.

I’m talking about Altered Beast.

If Girlfriend was the album that endeared Sweet to the world, it was Altered Beast that showed the world that rockstar darlings are not to be trusted. you see, just when you think they are going to hand you more of the same old crap, the best of them do something completely different. Altered Beast was like some sort of candy-coated haunted house, with dark imagery playing just beneath the jangly guitars and vocal harmonies. While Girlfriend had documented Sweet’s divorce, Altered Beast seemed to tackle the issue of the evil side of humanity in general, which is much more ominous than one man’s failed love life.

Needless to say, I loved the album immediately.

To this day, it remains one of my favorite albums of all time, and alongside Rich Mullins’ A Liturgy, A Legacy and A Ragamuffin Band, my favorite Fall album.

Like Altered Beast, Fall is a candy-coated haunted house, you see. While the leaves turn gold and red and fall beautifully from the trees, we can’t help but feel a bit awkward since we know that in their beauty, the leaves are also in the throes of death itself. As each track plays, you tap your foot and hum along, pleased with the gorgeous layered guitars and harmonies, but what is that twinge of horror you feel? Oh yeah, it’s the fact that Sweet isn’t letting you forget that underneath it all, he’s dying.

And so are you.

Did you know that I used to be an adventurer? It’s true. I once traveled to Europe with nothing more than $100, my guitar and a small backpack of clothes. I played music on the streets of Salzburg, Lucern, Berlin and Venice to buy my food.

With Typical Sloan, I traveled the country for years, playing music and living on “love offerings” from churches. We slept in our van, on the floors of people we’d just met, back rooms in bars and in church basements.

These days, road trips are in short supply. They can no longer be spontaneous, and instead require the approval of many different entities. Want to go to Montana?  Better be sure that you have the time, money and spouse approval. (and trust me, getting those three things to line up takes an act of God himself)

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m 37 years old, and I accept the fact that my life is no longer my own. Raising my kids and supporting my family is priority, and it isn’t hard to love doing it or anything like that. The fact is that I have a very charmed life. I live in a home in a nice neighborhood, I have a good job, great kids and a loving wife.

I guess that I’m just beginning to understand what it means to have a “mid life crisis”. I am longing for fast cars, rock and roll and adventure in foreign lands.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go pick my kid up from school…

Well, this trait alone separates the great ones from me, though there are certainly other qualities those great writers posses that I do not.

Still, this little corner of the internet is mine to keep as I see fit, and keep it I will, in shambles if I must.

Is it horrible of me to admit that I’ve been far too busy to write to you, my dear readers?

Perhaps you would believe me if I said that the amount of energy it has taken to work towards rebuilding Bradley County in the wake of the April tornadoes has left me completely empty of artistic feeling. The fact is that it is true, regardless of whether you or I believe it. I’ve wanted nothing more than to talk to you, but night after night I find myself incapable. It is for this reason that I’ve decided to write on my afternoon breaks, and this my friends, is the first attempt.

What if I told you that the people I care about most, rarely read my musings? What if I told you that they often believe that they know me so well that reading what I write here would merely be redundancy? That is also true. I can write almost anything here without fear, because the internet masses are far removed from my inner circle. This has often proven to be wonderful and terrible as you can imagine.

I find myself on the brink of many things lately- pulled in many directions, most of them good, but all of them time consuming. I’m quietly looking…watching…waiting… For what, you ask? I’m not exactly sure, but believe you me, I’m going to pounce when the moment is right.

And what about you? How have you been? The kids seem to be growing like weeds. Why yes, I did hear that your daughter won the spelling bee. How wonderful! Little Tommy was runner up in his swimming competition? Lovely! You got a promotion at work? I always knew you had it in you. The stress may be more, but at least you are climbing that ladder, man. That’s how we do it here in the land of the free.

Well, I’m glad we had this time. I feel so much closer to you again. Let’s talk again soon, ok? Nothing too deep. Let’s keep it surface and talk about stuff that doesn’t really matter. After all, there is no need in pretending that we are real people with real problems. It’s much nicer to sit and stare and smile and look at our kids photos on facebook.

Bigger fences, ya’ll. Bigger fences. That’s how we do it here in the land of the free.