The Preacher Man

I know I’ve been remiss in blogging. My fans, both of you, have sent me e-mails letting me know what a dirt bag I am. Well I will try, once again to be more consistent.

Today’s blog takes a page from Casey Casem and features a long distance dedication. Recently I received encouragement from an old friend of mine who enjoyed the blog. As you will read he lives over seas now, and is diligently trying to spread the good word of the blog to unwashed masses. At least that’s what I understood him to be doing, maybe he meant “spread the Good Word” and I just got confused. Either way, this blog is dedicated to you my friend, The Preacher.

The Preacher befriended my way back in high school. He and I were kindred spirits, with a keen eye for lazy times, slacking off, underage booze and easy dates. But The Preacher had every high schooler’s dream situation. You see his best friend (a fella who would eventually become one of my college roommates) was a year older than us. In high school one year makes a big difference, especially when we were seniors and our buddy was a freshman in college. This older guy’s parents moved away from Baton Rouge our senior year and left their son a house to live in while he attended LSU. This meant that for all practical purposes, we had our own party pad for our last year of high school. The Preacher grew up spitting distance from this house, so about half way through our senior year, he moved in.

Fast times ensued. We threw party after party in that place. I remember one night, inspired by Belushi and the gang’s antics, we threw our own toga party. A house full of high school kids with kegs and bed sheets. Yours truly had an exceptional arrangement with Budweiser sheets and a full crown of laurel (I think the foliage was a classy touch). Sometime during the night we were inspired to carry on the Roman theme and hold our own Roman Marathon. Yep. Roman Marathon. High school kids obviously don’t study the Classics so one ignorant kid’s Greek is another ignorant kid’s Roman. Anyway The Preacher lead the throng of two dozen drunk high school kids in bad imitation 1200 BC garb in a drunken stumble around the block of his neighborhood. I do not remember who won the race, but I do have vague memories of dogs, someone running into a parked car, a couple getting “lost”, and a casualty or two. It’s foggy and I’m not sure if that’s because of Time or Natural Light. I do remember it was nights like this that helped make The Preacher and I close friends.

We remained friends throughout most of college (a six year event for your friendly blogger). But somewhere along the way The Preacher started to lose his way. While most of us could handle the usual college party scene, there are always a few who take their freedoms in the wrong direction. It’s the same old cliché that has probably touched most of us at some point in our lives. Once close friends fall in with “the wrong bunch” of people. Soon they grow distant, and when you do see one another it’s uncomfortable and awkward. Before you know it you’re being asked for money, “not much, just enough”. Next thing you know you’re also being asked if you want to buy a little here, or make a small “purchase” there, then you’re even recruited to help with larger deals or asked to get friends of friends involved. It doesn’t take long before the wedge is too much and you have to break the friendship off completely. Luckily it never got to that point between me and The Preacher, but it could have if he had stayed on that dark path. I tell you I’m always saddened when I hear that good people have turned to Amway. Swimming in a sea of detergent, paper towels, and “household goods you would have bought anyway” is no way to live. Like so many Coronado’s searching for the Seven Cities of Residual Income, you see them shuffling to meetings and striking out at any pyramid shaped form they happen apon. Shameful and saddening when it happens to someone you care about.

Somewhere in the depths of that direct selling hell, The Preacher found God and turned his life around. How it all happened is shrouded in mystery to me. Maybe he was riding a horse and was struck blind, maybe he was taking a little siesta under a bodhi tree, or maybe he just remembered all of his good Catholic upbringing, but whatever it was my hedonistic running buddy was gone, and The Preacher took his place. Before I knew it The Preacher had graduated from Jr. Preacher to Sr. Preacher and was ready to take on his own flock. I left Baton Rouge for the Army and while I was gone I received word that The Preacher had gotten himself hitched to, by all accounts, a wonderful woman. At last count The Preacher and Ms. Preacher had something like seventeen kids (or four whichever comes first).

But that’s not the end of the story. It seems when God taps you to do something He rarely makes it something as simple as taking out the garbage. Sometimes He asks you to build a big ole boat. Sometimes He asks you to build triangle mausoleums that last hundreds of thousands of years. In this case He asked The Preacher to pack up, move his family to the other side of the world and convert the heathen masses. He calls people to do this a lot but there’s a wrinkle, there’s always a wrinkle with Him isn’t there? The Preacher was sent to preach to peasant Chinese people without the benefit of government sanctions, the ability to speak a lick of Chinese, little formal experience with local culture, or anything other faith in Him. And away The Preacher went just like that. I don’t go to the grocery store without more information than he had, I guess that’s the power of faith for you.

The Preacher has been over there for a number of years now. His Chinese is better, and it appears that he had some success thwarting their godless commie ways. I’ve never told The Preacher this, but I respect him greatly. I can’t imagine moving my family to a foreign land on faith alone. The Preacher has a strength of belief that I envy and a courage of conviction that I aspire towards. You were a good friend Preacher and you are a model for spiritual strength. For that reason you are the subject of my first blog dedication.

If you would like to learn more about The Preacher, or you’re just curious and/or bored, check out his page http://www.chinesegumbo.com/.