I'll See You In My Dreams

From the start, let me make this clear. I have never seen Lady Gaga perform. I've not heard her sing. Nor do I want to. I wouldn't know her if I bumped into her on the sidewalk. Nor do I want to. Her reputation precedes her, and that's enough for me. It's kind of like geoduck... I don't have to try it to pretty much know that I'm not going to like it.

Nor do I want to.

So why in the world did I dream about her last night? Most times, I can trace my dreams back to something that happened during the course of the previous day. In this particular dream, I was a reporter again. Okay, nothing unusual. I was asked to write and produce an ad yesterday for the radio station I used to work for. Radio was on my mind, I was a radio reporter for many years, hence the dream. Got it. But Lady Gaga? Seriously?

I doubt she looks anything like she did in my dream. She was brunette, about 50 years old and trying to look 15, and slightly overweight. She was performing at some sort of an outdoor fair. It was raining, and only a handful of fans were anywhere near the stage. There was a group of about 20 dancing to her music afar off. Most of the people were wandering the fairgrounds in the rain, ignoring her performance. Then she came inside for an interview. I truly didn't know what to ask her, but I came up with a killer question... something about her childhood as I recall. I don't know exactly what it was, but I was pretty proud of pulling a good question out of thin air, when I really didn't want to be doing the interview at all. Her people only allowed a couple questions, then they escorted her away.

As she walked away I thought, "This is America's most popular female singer? Why?"

That might be the only part of my dream that made sense.

A Four Year Old Reporter

It's funny how math works sometimes. Glancing at the calendar today, I just realized that it was 25 years ago today that I covered my very first City Council meeting as part of a radio internship for WPHM Radio in Port Huron, Michigan. 25 years. That would mean I was a reporter at... wow! Just 4 years old!

Well, the first part is true, anyway. It was Marysville City Council. The Mayor was a man named Dave Wright. I interviewed him after the meeting, went back to the radio station and wrote the story, and then called the mayor to confirm my facts. Somehow, some way, I still managed to screw it up. I don't remember the details, but I didn't get the story right. But they still used me at the station, and I ended up staying there for 5 years. I was the station's News Director when I left.

About the only recurring dream I have (other than not being able to find my locker while I roam my High School hallways in my undies) is being back at the radio station again. I never dream about the other 3 stations I worked for... only WPHM. Today, I'm no longer in the radio business except for some commercials I produce in my own home studio. I'm still in journalism very part-time as a freelancer for a couple local papers. My full-time job and obsession is as a Pastor. And I'm loving it.

For someone who is determined to keep looking forward and not back, that dream is a mystery to me. Sometimes in the dream I'm relieved to be back again in familiar territory, but most times I regret coming back. In my dream, I'm wondering what it was in my life that failed and brought me "home" again. We live 160 miles away from my first real job. I have memories, but I don't want to go back again. Northern Michigan is my home now.

Maybe it's a fear of failing. That's logical. We all face that fear from time to time. Maybe those first few years in radio, part of 25 year stretch on on-air shenanigans are so ingrained that I keep re-visiting for old times sake. Who knows? But I'll say this... it is fun to be four again in that dream.

Okay, okay. Four and a half. With a beard.

Just Like Riding a Bike

Back in the year of our Lord, 19____, I vowed to my college journalism instructor that I would never EVER be a reporter. Journalism was just one of the required courses for my degree in broadcasting. After that course, I was convinced I would never make a good reporter.

Uh huh.

Of my 25 years in broadcasting, I spent 15 of them as a reporter. Note to self: Never prove to the boss that you can do a job you don't want to do. I guess I didn't mind. I enjoyed the competition with the other news stations, if not the long drawn out County Commission, School Board and City Council meetings that ran into the wee hours. But it wasn't hard to give up when management ran three radio stations in our company into the ground and closed the doors. And certainly, when I answered God's call on my life and became a Pastor, I didn't expect to pick up my reporter's pen again.

Uh huh.

So now I'm freelancing for the Roscommon Voice and the new Ogemaw Voice newspapers. And I have to admit, it's kind of cool seeing my work in print. Even though I've published four books, there's something nice about knowing that someone somewhere is reading your words while enjoying their morning coffee, or sitting at a local restaurant somewhere. It's also humbling knowing that my work may be lining a bird cage or two.

So last night, I covered my first City Council meeting in over ten years. It felt very natural, even though I didn't realize that somewhere during the past decade they moved the meeting time back by an hour. Old habits die hard... I was up at 4 a.m. writing the story, just as I used to do in radio. Hmmm... I wonder if K-LOVE is looking for freelance reporters.

Uh Oh.

May I Just Say... Yum?

Someone, somewhere, on some blog I recently read had a very interesting essay on the identities we create online. I'm not talking about some idiot stalker who pretends to be someone he or she is not, but rather how we can mold or shape our own identities into who we would like to be; who we would like others to think we are. Are we truly honest with others, and to a larger extent, with ourselves now that social networking has shrunk the world even smaller?

Years ago I worked for an "oldies" radio station where I created my own on-air persona just for fun. I had our listeners absolutely convinced that I was the world's biggest fan of Bobby Darin. We played it up, too. We raised money for charity by urging listeners to have me sing "Mack the Knife" on the air. I would always introduce Bobby as the "Undisputed King of Rock n' Roll." Bobby's official web site dubbed me, "The Most Dedicated Darin Fan Ever." We even built a Bobby Darin shrine in the studio lobby. A pregnant listener swore she was going to give birth to her baby there. I don't know why. She didn't.

A few years later, I moved on to a country station, where I supposedly fell in love with Sara Evans. I made it an on-air quest to meet her, which I finally did when I bought myself backstage into a meet and greet that lasted all of 30 seconds. I got front row tickets to another concert where I wore a t-shirt that read, "Yes, My World Really Does Revolve Around Sara Evans." And to our listeners, it probably seemed that way.

As a Youth Pastor, it was Mark Schultz. Don't even get me started on that one. My youth group must have known human videos to nearly every song he recorded.

But here's the thing. Those "identities" really did creep into my personal life. I have more Bobby Darin, Mark Schultz, and Sara Evans CD's, photos, autographs and assorted stuff than I know what to do with. I still listen to Bobby and Sara regularly. It's hard to let go of the fun of it all, even though I'm officially retired from radio.

So is it any wonder that now, in this vast world of social networking, there's a whole new identity? Really, I didn't expect the pancake thing to take off like it did. A certain someone we'll call "The Drama Queen Who Shall Not Be Named" tacked the nickname "Pancake Head" on me. Not very original I know, but it's the best she could do. I suppose it was easier to spell that "Pancake Connoisseur." At any rate, the identity stuck, and here I am. Problem is, like Bobby and Sara, I've adopted the identity. I've come up with more odd ways to cook a pancake than Bobby Flay has to barbeque a hot dog. And you know what? That's okay. It really is. You see, when I die I hope people gather around my ashes before my wife sprinkles them off the top of the White River Lighthouse and say, "You know, Pastor Tim was a hoot. He sure enjoyed a good pancake, didn't he?" And then they'll laugh. I hope they laugh heartily.

That, my friends, would be an awesome legacy.

Back in My Day, Sonny...

I've become an "Old Fogey" before my time.

Admittedly, I've often joked that I was born in the wrong generation, even though I know that God has purposed me to be here "for such a time as this." In many ways, it's an exciting time to be alive. But I find myself increasingly frustrated as I try to live out my values in a postmodern society where anything goes. Stand up for values that are clearly based on scripture, and you're called intolerant, or worse yet - you're unfairly labeled a hater. I can tell a teen or a 20-something that the sky is blue, and they'll argue that it's red, because red makes them happier. Truth can be whatever makes them content... truth can be whatever they want it to be. Two plus two can equal five, as long as that's what you want. Wouldn't want to offend you by insisting that the answer is really four.

I long to escape to a simpler time. My man-cave is my sanctuary, filled with old radios, a Victrola, Edison Amberola, and reminders of a bygone day when values meant something. I long for an era that passed by before I was born! The raciest thing on the air was Jack Benny. It was the time when Lucy couldn't say "pregnant" on her television show. Not only can you now say it on TV, they'll show you the steps it takes to get that way.

But I know I can't escape permanently. Nor should I. James 1:2 says, "Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy." (NLT). What a strange way of thinking. But the Bible always has turned conventional wisdom of the 21st Century upside down while giving it a good shake. If Christ suffered for his faith and for standing up for what's right, then I can give 1/1000,000th of what he did. The fact is, Christians have a job to do, and we can't run or back down from truth. In our "can't we all get along?" world we have to own up to the fact that no, we're not all going to get along. Not as long as there is sin and deception running rampant. But we can respond to a deceived and broken world as Christ did... with the truth, and in love.

As long as I have my man cave to run home to, I'll be fine.