SIMPLE

Somewhere in the spring of 1980 me and Ronnie Trojanowski hopped in his what had to be an 1870's  Datsun B210, Japans answer to the atomic bomb, and headed for the river. It was tan (or maybe that was rust), had four wheels and more duct tape than bolts holding it together. Come to think of it, it was probably far  more dangerous than the lightning that would be crashing down around us as we tubed down the river an hour later. That's the great thing about being 17 and a guy. You're mentally retarded and you're ok with that as long as you got someone along to be retarded with  you. Mostly I  was the one who came along with everyone else. We all have a place.

Florida is full of springs. All cold. All 72 degrees. Well, cold to Floridians. I only knew about the beach and it's warm 85 degree gulf stream waters as a child. The first real spring I ever went to was with the church group in high school during one of their many "summer outings" designed to keep us wee little cretins from smoking pot and setting off firecrackers at the nursing home. Usually on these trips half the kids were saved and half were degenerates sent by their parents to get that way and I think it was one of that  group who pushed me in. No warning. No dipping my toes in. No getting used to the water. I was airborne and then I couldn't breath.

Cold . So cold .. When you're not ready for it, cold water is a killer. It was Gods second choice of punishment for those cast into eternal damnation. It only helps a little to dip your feet in before the plunge but there's some psychological boost you get if you do it first. I get chills just walking up to the springs now. I'm getting a chill just talking about. One of my most favorite things is tubing down the Ichetucknee springs river but I almost can't do it. I don't like to be cold. Brrrr...72 degrees...

I got a chill the other day that had nothing to do with water. It was a song. You ever get that? It was Simple Man by Leonard Skynard (only the best southern band ever). It's about a mother telling her son about how to live life. Don't live fast. Find a woman. Not a fast one I suppose. Don't lust for rich mans gold. Be a simple kind of man. I got chills. And I cried because that's what I've always wanted. To be a simple man. To get up in the morning and love God to the best of my understanding. And my wife. And care for my neighbor. I didn't want to have a complicated life with business issues. Marital issues. Car issues. Money issues. Getting fat and growing old issues. I wanted it simple. I wanted it black and white not this nuanced colorful world I'm stuck with. That sounds stupid doesn't it?  Probably I shoulda told my wife this before we got married....

For a while now I have struggled with questions about my faith. Scripture. And God. Why He does  or doesn't do the things He does. I feel small when I say something like that. How I'm really supposed to live and does it even matter if I do or don't live a particular way. Sometimes it appears to not matter. What's that old saying? Evil wins when good men do nothing? I am a good man and  I'm tired of doing nothing. Uncertainty will make you that way. Very lukewarm. In not pursuing answers to my questions and doubts I've become something I never wanted. A simpleton, not the simple man I long to be.  I've become the Gilligan of my world. Loveable, funny, nice and about as deep as a puddle. I want to change that. I want to live up to the worth and value God bestowed on me. And I will. How can I not? I have been touched by the One who loved us all and I can't not follow. Because he loves me. And that, feels really good to this simple man. Real good.

SCREWED

I thought I'd never drive . I didn't get my license until I was 18 . I knew if I ever did  learn I'd have to learn in a light blue 1978 Chevrolet Impala . Station wagon . When you're 15 isn't a station wagon just a brightly painted hearse ? In fact , when you're 15 wouldn't it be way cooler to drive an actual  hearse ? What say's street cred more than a 15 year old in a hearse ? It would be a chick magnet right , even for this 15 year old ? What's really behind those dark tinted windows with those swag curtains they'd want to know. If the hearse is a rockin'. . . .  .

I drive like my dad . Slow and steady wins the race . Maybe he was hell on wheels before I knew him but all I remember is getting honked at by passing cyclists . Possibly because he drove a Volkswagon Rabbit and a Datsun B210 before that . Not familiar with those ? On the historical time line they're sandwiched somewhere between the invention of the wheel and the wheel barrow . Not the fastest of rides but it seemed to suit him . My mom on the other hand drive like a woman running moonshine in a dry county . pssshh . Earnhardt . He never drove against my  mother . Well , all in all I think I turned out ok in the driving department . I mean I can at least .

Another thing I can do is fix cars . Well , in a gorilla can fix a stuck door sorta way . I have my wife to thank for that . When we were first married she asked me to fix a stuck glove box or something and I gave my litany of excuses of why it couldn't be done except the true one about how I was mentally retarded when it came to fixing cars . ''It's ok snookems (she doesn't call me that anymore) . My brothers have been fixing cars for years . Mike is coming . He can fix anything I need ''. I didn't know at the time what a gauntlet was but it was thrown down so off I went to Sears for a set of Craftsman tools so I could rescue my fair maiden in her time of despair . And have been doing so in the many years since .

I don't remember what I fixed then but I'm sure I had parts left over . I always seem to . A few extra screws , a nut or bolt or bracket . Something . I have a jar filled with all the left overs , thinking that some day , with all the cars we've had over the years between my wife and kids and me , I'll have enough to make a whole new one . I mentioned one time I took the dash off to fix the A/C and had 19 screws left over . 19 ! I keep thinking they must not be necessary , hoping really . I fear the day when I hit a speed bump doing 35 and end up with the dash in my lap and the air bag flapping out the window . But until then they'll just decorate my shop in the jar for the unnecessary .

In church this morning someone said something that made me think of those parts . Those screws . The screws that no one sees . The screws that are so insignificant that they aren't even noticed when they're gone . Do you ever feel like that ? Like your role in life is so small you don't really matter and in fact the world seems to operate just fine even when you've checked out . It's a bummer of a feeling going around knowing  you're not really  necessary . I feel like that at times . Like this blog . I read other peoples stuff and I'm like 'why even try? Everybody else is so much better'. I have to tell myself ''So what?''. Of course there are people better . Doesn't mean I take my ball and go home . Well, I guess I have the last 6 months but never mind that . I'm back .

Somewhere at General Motors there's a bespectacled engineer with high water pants, a pocket protector and a salary somewhere north of 80 grand who drew the spot where the screw held the thing a ma jig to the manifold . He though it was important and he should know . He designed it . He knows it works without it but better with it . And somewhere out there , is the Engineer of the universe who is way smart and knows what works best . Who best to be a screw and who to be a wheel . A trunk . A horn . I'm sort of a screw , or one of the minor parts that no one sees . I wanted to be a paint job . Flashy . Attention grabbing . I like to have people polish me . But I'm a screw who's been in a jar for a while . Maybe I should get back in my place and do my job . How 'bout you? Anonymity anyone ?