Then My Daughter Said ...

Hi.

Hope you are well.

**

The Complaint Department

Been reflecting on my latest assignment at work.  Yup, The Complaint Department (TCD).  Hit me when I happened upon the blathering of the Laura Ingraham program.

She said something about how The American Dream has been shattered in the eyes of so many.  I think she said "I mean ... who wants to be 60 years old and wake up to find themselves working at Walmart?"


***

Radio Lesson #1

There are four aspects to communication:

1)  What you say.
2)  What you think you said.
3)  What listeners hear.
4)  What listeners think they heard.

***

Yes.  That hit me.  Softer than you might imagine, thanks to the lunch I had with my daughter a few days before.

**

High School Daze

Back in the late 60s, I attended a large high school in Rochester, NY.  (Mostly.  I did a two-year sentence at a private school, but that's a different story.)

I did alright in school.  No, not my grades; they sucked.  But I was pretty popular.  Largely because I worked weekends at one of the few rock radio stations in town.

Melinda and I were nominated "Class Couple."  I was also up for most popular, class flirt and I forget what else.

Life was OK, but it wasn't the kind of life that anybody would look at and say what my daughter said.

***

Bumped Around

Did my obligatory hippie pilgrimage to California ... to find myself.  Turns out I wasn't there.  So, I went to Alaska.  Built a log house with a friend.

Cool times.  But not worthy of what my daughter said.


***

Landed

Met a pretty blonde artist.  Moved in with her before our first date.  Got married a year or so later.  Got a job at a local radio station; weekends, then full-time.  Sex, drugs and rock 'n roll.

Sounds better than it was.  Unworthy of what my daughter said.

***

Crashed

Awful marriage got worse.  Wife got religion.  Divorced me. 

I asked God to forgive me.  Got a new life.  Sought out my ex ... to remarry her.

Nine months later we were remarried. 
Thought it was a miracle.
Maybe there are temporary miracles. 
Who knows?

***

Radio, Part Two

Went back into radio.

A religious station, owned by a guy who didn't pretend to be religious.  I respected that.  Especially after meeting others who did pretend to be close to god and lied.

Quit my job.  Unlike me.  I don't quit. 
Well, at least I don't give up.  But in a good way, I hope.

Offered to work out my differences with the folks at the religious station who welcomed programs denying the divinity of Christ.  I was the Program Director.  Didn't want to be portrayed as someone who directed that programming. 

My first daughter was two months old. 
Quitting meant no health insurance.

Quit.

God gave me a new job in Syracuse, where I ended up working for nine years.

The story of my "miraculous" marriage was a popular one.  Hit the pages of what was then Moody Monthly magazine.  The program that dramatized the lives of real c/Christians, Unshackled!, flew me to Chicago to portray myself for one of their half-hour episodes.

I stopped counting all the places where I either preached or spoke at banquets.  The longer the list, the more proud I got.  So, I stopped counting.

Did mornings at a small network of Christian stations. 
Became Operations Manager. 
Arbitron ratings for my shift were occasionally in the top 10 in the market.
Enjoyed it.

My kids grew up listening to me on the radio every morning and having me say hello and stuff.  Many of their friends and their families were listeners. 

Life was OK.  Except their mom and I *really* didn't get along.

No one said what my daughter recently told me.

***

Latter Daze

Moved South in 1989.

Got a great job with a great man who served a great God.
Traveled the country to keep in contact with the hundreds of stations that aired our radio programs.  Flew to Chicago to have lunch with the manager of a large network one day.  Watched the Super Bowl with friends on John Wayne's old yacht in California.  (Twice.)

Spent weeks in Washington, DC and at Opryland.  Good times with good people.

Except at home.

Was told it was "God's will" to divorce me again.

The guy I worked for knew that was screwy and didn't fire me, as so many others would/should have.

Life went on.  Didn't hear the words my daughter said.

***

Ups and Downs

Met a colleague in Christian broadcasting.

Fell in love and married her for a few tempestuous months.

Survived a stunningly cunning divorce.

My boss didn't fire me.  In spite of those who advised him to do so.  Offered to transfer myself to shipping or wherever.  He refused.

Not that he said what my daughter said.  Just that -- after working with me and traveling with me for years -- he didn't believe what was said about me in order to justify a divorce (or two).

When I didn't believe God loved me ... I knew my boss did.

Larry Burkett. 
Greatest man I've ever known.

***

The Hard Years

I'll spare you the blow-by-blow of The Hard Years.

Just think death, broken dreams and loss.

But don't be afraid.  Things work out. 
Even the crummy crap that you fear most.

Seriously.

Another love. 
Another divorce.

Larry died.  My career in c/Christian radio with him.

Unemployed.  Got a job.  Lost a job. 
Unemployed.  Got a job.  Still there.

***

Then My Daughter Said

Been three years at this job.

Haven't been on an airplane in years.
No Eggs Benedict at the Sheraton Washington.
No dinners by the falls or in the rain forest at Opryland.
No free parties at Dave & Busters or trips to Colorado, Dallas, etc.

Just work.

Different hours/days every week.  (Requests for time off must be submitted in writing three weeks in advance.)
More rules every day.
New managers every couple of months.
Fewer options every year.

No ladies.
Little money.
Fewer friends.
Farther from God.

But not without hope or the knowledge of His care, affection and love.

I
Have
Tried
to do well. 

To maintain some semblance of integrity and responsibility.

Pay my bills.
Mow my lawn.
Show up for work.
Go to church -- because I love to do so.

See my kids when I can.
Help them when I'm able.
Give them affirmation/direction.

At lunch the other day with my daughter who still speaks to me ... we were talking about work.

I think.
Maybe not.

But I remember what my daughter said.

In spite of my many failures -- in her eyes, God's and mine.
In spite of my supreme unbraggability.
In spite of not being able to ease her financial issues by writing a check.

In spite of ...
whatever.

She looked at me

then my daughter said,

"I'm proud of you, Dad.  I'm really proud of you."

[tears]