LIST OF WILL NOTS FOR 2008

This is a picture of me fulfilling a resolution from a previous year. It is the absolute most horrendous picture of me ever. I was freezing to death (check out red nose) and because my wife was asleep in our rental car (long story), I had to take the picture myself with the Eiffel Tower in the background. But I was there, by golly.

2007 is drawing its final breaths and once again, I am a year older and wiser. Armed with the lessons of the past year, I now present to you my resolutions for 2008, which is in reality a list of avoidances as opposed to intentions. In no particular order,

1. I will try as hard as possible not to use the word “knowed” in a conversational sentence. I will avoid saying something like “Now I remember, we used to go to school together. I knowed I knowed him from somewhere.”

2. I will not continue to watch a news channel for more than ten seconds once they pop up some breaking story about Britney Spears’ latest hairdo and/or her pregnant younger sister.

3. I will not use anabolic steroids or human growth hormones to enhance my baseball coaching and writing abilities. Yes I would be able to wave my arm faster while I was coaching third base and sending a runner home, but it would neither be fair nor legal to gain such an advantage. And maybe I could write a 2000 page novel while under the influence, but it wouldn’t be prudent and there are parts of my body that wouldn’t appreciate the sacrifices they would be asked to make.

4. I will not be a selfish water hog by allowing the faucet to run while I brush my teeth, especially during a prolonged drought. I will, however, continue to shower daily, sometimes twice.

5. I will not forget to put sunscreen on when I plunge into a sun-baked afternoon. First of all, I couldn’t get a tan even if I tried, and second, I’ve been warned by doctors that if I intend to continue to venture out in the daytime unprotected, I better have my life insurance policy up to date. (Slight exaggeration but not far off).

6. I will not utter the words “Don’t tase me, Bro,” even if Yale names it the top quote of the year like it did in 2007.

7. If the Lord is willing, I will not miss a game of the Legion Baseball Regionals and World Series this summer in Shelby. And my bosses shouldn’t mind- it’s a coach’s job to recruit. Only this time I don’t have to travel all over the world to do it. The world is coming to me. I can taste the homemade banana ice cream already.

8. No matter which amusement park I visit, I will not venture onto a ride that could potentially make me barf. Attractions such as the spinning Mad Tea Cups at Disney World and the Ring of Fire at the Fair will have to survive without me.

9. Having lost a former classmate this past year, I will not neglect to say “I love you” often and as the Spirit moves me, even if it’s another male and he threatens to punch me. And I will not lose touch with the rest of my classmates from high school, who have bonded again after all these years.

10. I will not forget to give praise to God, from Whom all blessings flow. And if I lose perspective of that fact, feel free to smack me around a little and set me straight again.

In The Christmas Spirit thanks to Charlie the Tree

It has taken me a little longer than usual to get in the Christmas spirit this year. Unexpected events have distracted me. I’m still highly blessed, mind you, and I’m certainly not complaining. But the Yuletide season has snuck up on me this year. I won’t fall into the trap of spouting out the same clichés I hear every year. Things like “Can you believe it’s only (insert your favorite number here) days until Christmas? Comes quicker every year. We’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to get a thing ready.” Actually that one isn’t really fair for me to mention. It usually is uttered by a female and everyone knows we males do very little to help our wives prepare for the holidays. In the Stroupe scheme, my wife does almost all the work, while I concentrate on making sure my heart and mind are prepared to grasp the spiritual significance of Christmas. And I have to admit, sometimes it takes me awhile to become undistracted by all the distractions. But there’s good news. I have now pronounced myself ready. Not because my wife has picked out her Christmas present from me to her and has probably already wrapped it, too. I’m ready because my heart is now prepared. So what clicked? First, the Christmas tree my middle son and I picked out has finally been decorated. We nabbed it on the side of the road at an ice cream stand for $13. It is the most pathetic looking thing ever to grace our home during the Yuletide season. We call it Charlie because it resembles the tree Charlie Brown picked out in his famous Christmas special. And the Christmas music has been unbelievably encouraging to me lately. The majesticism (I know that’s not a word but I like it) of the music transcends the depths of human emotion when the chords are struck just right. If you don’t believe me, toss a Michael W. Smith Christmas CD in the player and click the play button. Church cantatas. Smiles on kids’ faces. Charlie Brown’s best friend Linus reading the Christmas story from the gospel of Luke. Our families’ annual viewing of the classic “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” Knowing I will be attending the church service at my home church on Christmas Eve. All these aided my readiness. But the clincher was our tree Charlie. The night the Stroupes decorated him I did my usual sitting and watching while my wife carefully removed the ornaments from their normal resting places and the boys hung each precious gem on poor Charlie. He tips and droops in places from the weight but he is destined to shine. I love Charlie. He represents everything I think is sacred about Christmas. The little child born in Bethlehem was a major underdog. Not even worthy of a hotel room. Hanging out with animals. That sorta thing. I don’t have anything against towering trees decorated with extravagant ornaments, but this year, you won’t find that in the Stroupe house. What you will find is a family who hopefully appreciates the child who came all those years ago to live in our hearts and provide us peace, comfort, and joy. And you’ll find Charlie, reminding us that hope exists, even when it comes in small and seemingly insignificant packages.

Welcome

The responses to my column that appears just below this blurb have been more numerous than usual. A number of folks have requested to be added to my weekly column recipient list since last week. This is a good thing, but obviously I wish it would not have had to occur as a result of the loss of a friend. But anyway, for those of you who wish to be added to the column recipient list, just send me an email. By the way, if you look down the list on the right side of the webpage under Previous Posts, there are more columns than the ones that appear below. Thanks to all, Rusty

SUPERMAN'S DEATH BRINGS MANY TOGETHER

(Photo at right is that of my childhood friend and college roommate and teammate, Kent Alexander, aka Superman) We had a class reunion of sorts this past week. But unfortunately it was for all the wrong reasons. We lost one of our best last Saturday. He was Mr. CHS (Cherryville High School) of 1982. The star quarterback in football, leading scorer in basketball, and all-state pitcher in baseball. But more importantly to me, Kent Alexander was my closest childhood friend. Living only a few houses apart, we spent nearly every afternoon together after school. We watched Batman and Robin every day we could. Then we would run through the woods from my house to his and fight, punch, and destroy all the bad guys disguised as trees that we encountered. He was always Batman and I was Robin. And that was okay with me. During high school, Kent became a legend. He pitched two complete games in two straight days our senior year to lead us to victory in the state championship. It was then that I knew my friend had not grown up to be Batman. He had become Superman. But even Superman is not immortal. And this past Wednesday I was handed the enormous task of delivering the eulogy at my friend’s funeral. I felt the weight of everyone’s emotions on me. His family, our classmates, and teammates. The community who loved him. It was an honor to represent all of them. And I think it turned out well. His family was pleased. My ninth grade English teacher said she had never been prouder. She even asked for a copy of my book. I told her if she reads the book that she won’t be so proud of my grammar. One of the effects of my friend’s death is the impact it has had on our schoolmates. I can’t say we’ve been all that close since we left high school, but all of sudden, this past week we couldn’t get enough of each other. The classes of 1982 and 1983 bonded like we never have before. Nobody wanted to leave after the graveside service. We hugged a little tighter and the words “I love you” flowed naturally and easily as we realized how much we have appreciated each other all along. It was so intense at one point that I even told our second baseman that I loved him. And he didn’t even punch me afterwards. How, you may ask, after more than twenty-five years of virtual separation, can such deep and meaningful bonding occur? I think it’s because the friends who we shared the wide-eyed dreams of our youth with will always have a special place in our hearts. Those childhood dreams ignited the passion that has guided us in our lives ever since. In my senior yearbook, Kent Alexander quoted a Bible verse in his comments to me. It was a passage from Isaiah that says “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles.” If they allow baseball in Heaven, I hope a time comes when there’s a game and all our classmates are there in the stands. I’ll be at shortstop and the starting pitcher on the mound will be my friend, Superman. And Superman will soar on wings like an eagle, and all will be right with the world once more.