An Outcalt By Any Other Name

Photo: Some guy named John Outcalt and his band, GOD FORBID

Two weeks ago I received a phone call from a gentleman who identified himself as "Norman Outcalt". He told me he was calling from Ohio, and had seen my name attached to an Upper Room devotion, done a search, and discovered that I had written many books. He wondered how we might be related.

We talked for awhile and I learned that he is a retired United Methodist pastor now living in Tennessee, and that most of his relatives had been pastors or missionaries also. I told him that there are some twenty to thirty pastors in my family, too. When we have our family reunions, we draw straws to determine who will say the blessing before the meal.

Following the phone conversation, I did a Google image search and found more Outcalts than I thought existed. This guy (see photo above) is John Outcalt, and he obviously has a heavy metal band called GOD FORBID. I also found several images of Outcalt tombstones and learned that Indianapolis has an Outcalt Road. A few of my photos popped up, too, and I had to wonder: doesn't the little man at Google have anything better to do?

Norman Outcalt asked me a lot of questions like: "What is your wife's name?", "How would you describe her?", "Does she freckle easily?", "Do you hope to have more children?" I answered all of these, and more, like a true Outcalt, describing my life in tedious detail so he would have a clear picture of just how boring my existence is. I did not sugar-coat my life (like the Joneses or the Smiths or the Browns might). No, I made it clear that we Outcalts don't go for caviar. We are a meat and potatoes and black licorice people. We don't go to movies; we rent five year old DVDs. We don't drink to excess or smoke pipes or attempt to look suave or debonair; we walk around the house in our underwear and make snide remarks to each other about cleaning the kitchen. We don't drive BMWs or Lexuses; we drive crap that could (and frequently does) fall apart on the highway. No, Outcalts don't put on airs. The name "Outcalt" (German) means, literally, "I have no Gold". We are a hard working people, an honest troupe, a weird gala of ugly men and even uglier women who, when asked to describe out lives, respond, "Great!"

Norman Outcalt is kin. He knows all about me. That's why I don't have to meet him to know him. God Forbid!