Queen Preacher

I thought it would be a good idea if I read a book on preaching, written by a great preacher. So I finished Barbara Brown Taylor's tome, The Preaching Life. It's a great read, and I enjoyed Taylor's brief essays regarding the place of Bible, Imagination, and Worship in sermon preparation.

Her essay on imagination, especially, hit a chord with me. Especially since there are so few imaginative people in the church today.

But as for preaching the good news, I wonder:

How about creating a rotating pulpit, so the pastor can preach Lazy Susan style?

How about creating a vibrating pew (sort of like a Disney ride) so the congregation can not only hear the message, but feel it, too? Rumbling, gyrations, vibrations at key moments in the sermon!

How about a 24 hour sermon line (a hot line to the pastor(s)) where people can tune into their pastor at work, in their cars, at home with the flip of a switch? (Hello, all you church members out there . . . glad to be with you tonight as you're brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed!)

How about having church on the streets, in soup kitchens, or in the subway, so the sermon has to come from the sights, sounds, and smells of the world around us?

Good old, Barb . . . she's got so many ideas for an Episcopalian!

Castaway

As I was reading my biography of Daniel Boone, I noted that, in 18th century America, the three most-read and influential books were (in order): The Bible, Pilgrim's Progress, and Robinson Crusoe. When I read a book, I have a tendency to be led to other titles so I can learn more about this first. In this case, I wanted to know why Daniel Boone would want to read Robinson Crusoe. So I decided to revisit that old novel myself.

Reading Crusoe, I was amazed at how much Steven Spielberg has swiped from the novel when he shot Castaway, starring Tom "Life is Like a Box of Chocolates" Hanks. But Crusoe is definitely an 18th century phenom. The literary devices and style that worked in the 1700s just don't work to capture a modern-day readers imaginations and interests. After thirty pages of plant description and observations about the geography and tides, I grew weary of the book. When does Crusoe meet Friday? I kept asking myself. Answer: Not until near the end of the novel. By then, I'd had enough interior dialogue and first-person observations about corn stalks to tide me over for a good long while.

And here's an interesting fact. Crusoe wasn't a castaway at all. Seems like he took up permanent residence on his island (sort of like Gilligan after his three hour tour and the five seasons he was on TV and all the reunion shows that came later!) and stayed for twenty-five years. Listen, you're not a castaway after that length of time, you're a native, and don't you forget it.

Well, one good thing though. I did complete "a classic". I've had two new copies of Crusoe on my shelf for twenty years (never opened, still in the wrapper) and I was glad to finally darken their pages with my filthy, donut and coffee stained fingertips.

CD Delivery

The first of my five audio CDs that I recorded in studio some weeks back has finally arrived. But I'm not going to listen to it. (Have you ever listened to your own voice on a recording? My voice is sickening and I'd rather listen to yowling hyena.)

Funny thing about a CD. By the time I come around to using the latest technology, it's no longer the latest technology. My son has informed me that no one listens to CDs anymore. Everything is iPod, MP3, digital download, etc.

Oh, well. One of these days I'm going to get hip and buy a few of the latest gadgets . . . a color TV, a gas stove, a telephone . . .

I'm still yelling at my neighbors out the window.

Writing Solo

When I was a young, aspiring writer, I recall reading a quote that read something like: "Writing is, by definition, a solitary action." As time has gone by, I've come to realize how accurate those words truly are. After all, very few people actually read what any writer produces.

Take Thanksgiving, for instance. At one point, my mother asked me, "Are you writing anything new these days?"

"Yes," I said, "In fact, I'll bring you some copies of a few things I've had published this past year. And I'll have three new books published in 2009."

"That's nice," she said. "How does Becky read all of the stuff you write?"

"Becky? She reads very little of what I write. She's tired. Worn out. She reads textbooks. Student essays. She could care less about reading what I write."

"You don't say! Well, I guess she does have a life!"

She has a life. That's an understatement. Recently Becky asked the kids if they had read a humorous essay I had written about the family a few months ago. "Why would I want to read something dad wrote?" was Logan's response. "I started to read it, "Chelsey said. "But I got busy." "That's all right," Becky chimed in, "I haven't had time to read it either."

Years ago, I used to write stories (and even publish a few) for my children and their entertainment. Sort of daddy's special gift. They would even ask me to read some of my stories as dinner entertainment. Now, the mere suggestion of reading one of my works-in-progress sends my son into agonizing spasms: "Dad, just bring me another pork chop! You gonna eat your hamburger helper? Here, let me take that sweet roll off your plate!"

"I have to listen to two hundred thirteen-year-olds tell me their stories all day long," Becky adds, "why on God's-green-earth would I want to sit here and listen to one of yours?"

"It's just a little something I've been working on for five hours today," I'll say. "Thought you might want to learn about Jell-O, or maybe hear a story about my old dog, or read some of the silly poems I'm churning out on my blog."

They just keep chewing.

Writing is certainly a solo pursuit. It's no wonder so many writers end up sticking their heads into glowing ovens!

Glazed America

A few weeks back, I noted a new book that was published by an IUPUI anthropology professor. The title: Glazed America: The History of the Donut, by Paul Mullins. I knew I had to buy and read the book. The day the book arrived, I read it in a single sitting . . . sort of like I would eat a donut. One bite! Whole! Right down the hatch!

I really enjoyed this book and learned a lot. For example, the donut was probably a Dutch invention, but donuts became popular in America on the front lines of WWI. They have been an American staple since, and, in fact, are deemed an American food . . . so much so that other nations often look to the donut as the source of America's health problems and other woes and some nations have even passed laws barring Krispy Kreme from setting up shop on their shores. Professor Mullins also devotes an entire section to the significance of the donut in faith communities (how about our coffee and donut hour at Calvary?) and the deep significance we continue to place on eating a donut with a friend.

Of course, I knew all of this . . . that's why I eat donuts! But I must apologize for my donut craze. It's gotten a bit out of control. I realized this as I was reading the book. As I was finishing off the final chapter, I realized I had subconsciously eaten the cover off the book! Wow! Let me tell you, the Glazed America book jacket was absolutely the tastiest paper I've ever enjoyed!

My Canadian Groupie

It happens about this time every year . . . I get a phone call, an email, or a letter from a woman named Claudia in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. She tells me how much she enjoys my books, tells me how many of my books she has purchased, or given away, and then wonders if she can buy more directly from me (with my autograph, of course). She especially loves Candles in the Dark, the one book, so far, that I have worked the longest and hardest on, but which went out of print the fastest of any of my titles. This book was translated into Chinese and Korean editions, and for all I know, I might be a best-selling author in Beijing or Seoul, but what good does that do me in Browntucky, Indiana?

Now, I'm not sure how people like Claudia find me, and I'm even more perplexed by my god-like status in Calgary, Alberta! (And why Calgary, of all places? Are there no bookstores there? Do Canadians read more out-of-print books by unknown and unsuccessful authors like me? Why form a Todd Outcalt book club and have my face tatooed on her forearms?)

Anyway, of course I wrote her back yesterday informing her that, yes, I would be most happy to send her a few of my books (as I do have the only remaining copies in existence) and I would even toss in free postage to Canada. Heck, that's the least I can do for my groupies. Gotta keep the fans happy.

Disney and Daniel Boone

Over the Thanksgiving weekend, I managed to finish a number of books, including the massive and comprehensive biography, Boone, by Robert Morgan. Though Morgan is best known as a poet, he certainly knows his stuff when it comes to Daniel Boone. I learned a great deal about this national figure, including the following:

Daniel Boone wasn't really a "big man", as the Disney theme song suggests (version with Fess Parker). Boone was a rather rail thin and scrawny five ten, one hundred-seventy-pound dude.

Boone didn't make much war on the Native Americans. Oh, sure he killed a few people when he had to, but by and large he tried to live peaceably with all of the Indian tribes, and this during a time (mid 1700s) when many of the tribes were being slaughtered.

Boone was a trapper, and spent whole months at a time by himself in the Kentucky wilderness. Brave dude, and smart--killed a lot of beaver!

It's also not true that Boone was "born on a mountain top in Tennessee" (again, the Disney theme song--shame on you Disney!) nor is it true that when Boone was born, the "land of the free" was already free. The colonies had not yet been liberated from England (Disney has no shame!). And here's the biggie: Daniel Boone absolutely, positively never wore a coon-skin cap! Wow! My entire childhood was a sham! My sense of history has been shattered. What Mrs. Gore taught me about America in the second grade was all a big fib!

Thank you, Mr. Morgan, for putting my life back in balance. I can sleep soundly now.