For CHESLIE...KATHY GRIFFIN, MATTHEW SHEPARD, PROPOSITION 8...The PARABLE of The GOOD SAMARITAN Part 2

I found this post when I was searching for the Matthew Shepard video that Kathy had on her show. I must say that I am not a religious person. However, I am coming to realize the true message of Jesus.

My family never went to church so the only source of religious knowledge I got was from my (now ex-) boyfriend and some Christian friends of mine. They would constantly tell me that being gay was a choice and that it was a sin. Having a gay cousin and witnessing him growing up, I can say with certainty that being gay is no choice.

I think this is what initially turned me off to Christianity in general. The lack of acceptance and compassion was not appealing. This was in high school.

Now, I'm heading into my last year of college and I am starting to embrace Jesus. Not the "televangelist" version, but the Jesus that I know in my heart to be compassionate and understanding. Thank you for reaffirming that Christians can actually be Christ-like. I have to read the bible further to really understand Him, but He really does seem very different than what I understood Him to be.

With that being said, if he were to come back, I sincerely feel that we, as a society, would shun him. He would be standing up for equal rights and the homeless and hungry. The "Christians" that I know would call him a faggot and tell him to get a real job, if not worse.


Sorry for the long post, but you've really inspired me to educate myself further and it's so great to know that people like you are teaching their children the real lessons of the Bible. Thank you.
Cheslie

I get discouraged, just like anybody else. Frustrated. Angry. Bitter. As some of you know, I've had my work stolen over the years. Twice made into movies. Once more to add to a movie. No money. No credit. Nothing. I ask God why. He says nothing.

But, I have other discouragements. The work I do for Him. Not usually the best jobs. I get the Ezekiel jobs...after others have passed on them. Nobody likes Ezekiel jobs. Fewer people like Ezekiel. It's been hard on my family. Lonely for them. You rarely see positive results.

Sometimes I want to quit. Not just my writing. Working for God.

Then, I get a letter like Cheslie's.

A letter like that makes it all worthwhile.

I didn't teach her anything. Didn't tell her anything she didn't all ready know in her heart. God loves her. She loves Him. They have a relationship. It's personal. Private. Full of questions...and love. The way a relationship should be. Getting to know each other. All God had me do was reassure her. Let her know that what she was reading in the Bible was true...not what the "Christians" around her were telling her.

She's right.

They're wrong.

About a lot of things.

What would it be like if Jesus came today in the same ministry that He did two thousand years ago? Where would He go? Who would he see? What would He do?

He'd be at abortion clinics.

But not out front with placards of dead babies.

He'd be at the back door...with His arms open wide. Loving these young women. Comforting them. Accepting them.

He'd be active on Gay/Lesbian issues.

But not at rallies with signs saying, "God hates faggots"...and worse.

He'd be at Aids hospices...with his arms around the sick. He'd heal them. Every one of them.

And they would love Him.

He would encourage gay and lesbian couples to take in the children that others didn't want. So that those children could have a home. A home where they would be loved...valued...cared for...wanted. And they would love Him for it.

He would shame the churches, especially the mega-churches, into feeding the hungry and providing shelter for the homeless...instead of spending millions on fancier pews, private jets, and fancy clothes.

And then they would turn on Him...because He ate and drank with "sinners". The would mock and ridicule Him...and crucify Him.

And who would weep for Him then?

The women who had abortions that He comforted. Those with Aids that He healed. The Gays and Lesbians that he loved and accepted. The homeless and the hungry that He cared for.

The rejected of society...and the rejected of the Church.

People like Cheslie.

And people like me.

When I read Cheslie's letter, I cried. Not just because it touched the deepest parts of my soul. I cried because it made my heart break.

How sad is it, that God has to send Cheslie through this Rube Goldberg contraption of circumstances to find someone to reaffirm for her that what she believes about Him in her heart is right?

How much sadder that He has to send her to someone like me?

If you're a Christian, put your picket signs down.

Forget about politics.

Stop hating.

Start expressing the Love of Christ to those around you. Your life might be the only Bible they ever read. Your speech, your actions, might be the only examples of Christ that they ever see.

When times are so desperate in the Church that God has to send someone to me from thousands of miles away, just for simple love and acceptence, it's not just a shame.

It's a tradgedy.

Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful that God loves me enough to let me be involved.

But how many people...people close to Cheslie...must have passed on the job for it to get to me?

Cheslie thanked me.

But my thanks, and my prayers, go to her.

Thank you Cheslie. May God Bless you and keep you...and all of those that you care for. If I don't get to meet you here...I'll be looking for you in Heaven.

Your letter was like a cool drink of water on a long, dry journey. My wife and my children read your letter. It made them cry too.

And they thank you.

The Hubble Ultra Deep Field...Gravitational Lensing, Superluminal speeds...and the mind of God

My father-in-law is one of the smartest men I know. He is always studying...searching...learning...questioning. I try to do the same, so he sends me interesting links from time to time...like this one:

http://kottke.org/09/08/hubble-ultra-deep-field-in-3-d


Go and watch it...then come back.

Wow. Pretty incredible, isn't it?

I was drawn to astronomy, and then all of the quantum fields, at a very early age. I wrote a paper on gravitational lensing, and its implications on whether the universe was finite or infinite,expanding or static...and whether or not it might have started to contract already.

That was in 1970 when gravitational lensing was still just a theory. Actual proof didn't come until observation of so-called Twin QSO SBS 0957+561 in 1979 confirmed it. (You can find out about it here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twin_QSO



That led me to a second paper, one that I labeled "The rubber band effect". Basically, it had to do with the hypothetical outer limits of the universe causing a snap back of the mass towards its own center. This "snap back" could, in theory, cause the collapse to approach, and then pass, the speed of light. Our knowledge, or ability to prove such an occurrence, would depend on the point at which acceleration passed the speed of light. If it occurred late enough in the collapse, there might have been enough time for the light from the farthest galaxies that began to move inward to reach us before it was too late. If it occurred too early, we would never know it was coming.

Picture a train, speeding away from you, its tail lights fading in the distance. Now imagine that train going faster and faster, until it hit some unknown outer boundary that caused it to sling shot backwards. How would you know? First, you might see/sense that the distant train was slowing down. It might even appear to hang momentarily between going forward and heading back. Then you would see the lights on the train begin to get brighter and brighter as the train grew closer. But, what if, at some point, the train began to move faster than the lights? When would you know that the train was getting close?

Not until it ran you over.

Both papers were filled with the requisite formulas. Both were met with eye rolling and quiet derision by everyone in the department. By that time, at fourteen, I was laughing called "The rubber band boy"...except for one professor. He took me to lunch not long after.

His opinion mattered a great deal to me. He had told a story my first day in class that I never forgot.

I know most of you won't continue taking classes in astronomy. For most of you, it is elective class. You must take to graduate. I know how boring elective class can be. I go to small school back east...I don't know if you ever hear of it...it called MIT. I must take music appreciation class as elective. I do very bad in class. Only get B. Teacher teach only to those who know music. Not the rest of us. So, I try to do different. Make class fun for everyone. Not too deep. You have questions, you ask. I make time for all.

I looked up his CV later that day. Dual Doctorate from MIT. At Twenty something. His GPA was on file. 3.9999...you get the idea. That B in music appreciation was the only grade lower than an A he ever got. So smart he made me feel like amoeba slime. So personal and caring, he made me feel I belonged. We had become close in the years I had been there. So, I was flattered and happy that he wanted to take me to lunch. A little apprehensive as well. I needn't have been. He was as caring and kind as always.

He had, of course, read both of my papers. He felt that each had merit. That I had merit. But not the wisdom that comes form experience.

Your papers are very good. Make people think. Too much.

What's wrong with that?

You make them think about things they don't want to think about. They are mechanics, not philosophers.

Mechanics?

I will tell you story. My grandfather tell it to me many years ago, before I come to this country to study at MIT.

Long ago, men realize they live in a house. House is very nice. Perfect for them. But they know they not build it. Where does house come from, they ask? At night, lights come on. Some of the people worship the lights. Then, the mechanics come. They study the lights. Watch how they work. Follow cord down to plug in wall. Lights are not Gods, they say. Power for lights come from wall. People ask how power gets in wall. They worship wall sockets, wall and lights. Mechanics study for long, long time. They take wall apart. Find wires. Follow wires to outside wall where two BIG wires come into house. Wall sockets, wall and lights not Gods, they tell people. Power comes from these two big wires. People worship big wires. The people believe that someone had to make the house...the wires, the lights. Mechanics get mad. They tell people that the house, wires and power have always been there. There is only the house.

Finally, after many years, the mechanics go outside. At night. All of the people talking about who made the house drives them crazy. They look around. There are many houses. Many lights. Hundreds of them. The people marvel. Who made so many houses, they ask? No one, say the mechanics. They just are.

More years go by. A group of mechanics walk out of the neighborhood. Up a hill. Look around. There is a whole city beneath them. Millions of lights. They are afraid if they tell the people, they will really believe someone must have made it all. But, a wise old mechanic calms them. He tells them to bring the people out to see the city. Once they see it, most of them will believe whatever the mechanics tell them.

He is right, of course. The people are overwhelmed. They can't even plug in a lamp, let alone understand where the light comes form. The mechanics are smarter. They say the city has always been there: it's always been there. They say their house is just a small, insignificant house in a big city: the people believe them. Oh, a few still believe that someone made the city...but most just want to enjoy the lights and warmth of the house. Not think.

You talk about God. They can't laugh at you. You know too much. So, they make small jokes. Rubber band boy...and they hope you go away. Study something else.

What do you think?

I do not believe in God the way you do. I don't know if I can. I would want to ask Him things...not about the house, or the city...about the people. If I were God, I would not make people that do what...bad things. Very bad things. But, I have seen too much to believe that everything just is. Big Bang, Big Crunch...Big Bang, Big Crunch...for always? No. I think maybe I believe in Einstein's God. Something is out there. Something made the city...the house...the people. Something. But what, or who? I don't know. I'm just a mechanic...

Not hardly. Is that why they hate my papers?

Some...not all. You don't understand what your last paper means...at least, what it means to them.

What does it mean to them?

If you are right, if snap back can go faster than light, when could rubber band have started snapping back?

Anytime, I guess.

So, when could it hit?

Anytime...

Yes...you see now? Your face says yes, you do see. If whole universe could blink out, anytime...without warning...what will make people in the house play nice with each other? The mechanics may love chaos as theory for universe...not for their own lives. Survival of fittest? Mechanics not very fit, and we know it...I think.

You think people everywhere would just go nuts? Riot, steal, kill...all of that?

Why not? If no one built the house, the city...who will make them clean up what they break? Especially if it's all going to break soon anyway. Now, you never tell me...do you really believe paper you wrote?

Yes.

Then why you not afraid it happen tomorrow? Or today?

The answer is in my Bible...I don't think it will happen for at least a thousand years or so...but we might see signs soon...I don't know.

I hope you are right. In the mean time...I will work on the lights, like a good mechanic...and keep my questions to myself. Your God has a strange sense of humor.

I left the department not long after that. I was already a heretic at church...didn't need to be one in physics as well. Besides, they never even talked about, let alone wanted to play, sports. And they never, ever talked about girls...God's most glorious creation.

If you live in a city, like I do, it's hard to really see the stars at night. But, I grew up part time on a reservation in Northwest New Mexico. The way you could see the stars there...I go back in my mind...and marvel...

People used to ask me, how I could believe in God, knowing what I knew...

My answer back then was the same as it is now...

How could I not?

Hebrews 11:1&2

II Peter 3:10-14

KATHY GRIFFIN, MATTHEW SHEPARD, PROPOSITION 8...The PARABLE of The GOOD SAMARITAN

You might think with titles like, crippled ex-cop and Scripture-based/pay-refusing minister, I might not be someone who would be a fan of Kathy Griffin...and you would be wrong. Her show, "My Life on the D-List", is one of my favorites...in fact, it's one of the few shows that we make a point of watching together as a family. Her combination of rapier like wit, pathos, and self-deprecating humor are intoxicating...a blend of Don Rickles, Rodney Dangerfield, and Mae West. Quite the combo, that lady.

So...we were watching her last show a couple of days ago. It had to do with Gay marriage, Proposition 8, and personal activism, for those of you who may not have seen it. Powerful, moving, and still funny. It enabled my beautiful wife Cherish and I, at its conclusion, to reaffirm some very important lessons to our 13 year old son: Compassion, tolerance, and equality under the law. Fortunately, he, like his older sisters, take after my wife. You notice I said "reaffirm", not teach. All of these traits are things that he already possesses...still, it never hurts to remind your children of the right way to handle things in this hate filled world.

The images from the show left such a strong impression on me that it became the topic of our weekly Bible Study group last night. I had prepared a number of Scriptures, but it was my wife, of course, who supplied the best one during our discussions. LUKE chapter 10:25-37...The Parable of the Good Samaritan, which we'll get to shortly. The images that I remember most vividly...that made the strongest impression on me, were...the tears streaming down the faces of the homeless young people she was mentoring as they watched the special on Matthew Shepard...and the pain and agony etched on the faces of the couple in Sacramento who weren't able to have health care for both because of their inability to get married. One of course, did have health care through his work. His partner(just typing that feels wrong...it should be husband) was denied benefits in the face of a crippling disease. Their love for each other...sorry. Words are inadequate. Watch the show. Watch it, and tell me those two men don't truly love each other. I shudder to think what would happen if my wife were denied for those same reasons...my grasp on Christianity can be extremely tenuous at times.

This is, first and foremost, a Constitutional issue. The Framers of our Constitution were very emphatic in their wording.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
You'll notice it doesn't say, unless...like, unless your a woman...unless you're a person of color...unless you practice a different religion...or, unless you're Gay. Now, I know a lot of people think it should. A lot of people, over the history of this country, have acted like it said some, if not all of those things. Some, unfortunately, still do. Those clauses, however, are not there. Never have been...and I pray to God, never will be. Remember these haunting words by Martin Niemoeller:
First the Nazis came…
First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out —because I was not a communist
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out —because I was not a socialist
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out —because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out —because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me —and there was no one left to speak out for me.

Simply as a Patriotic Americans...as those who have learned the lessons of history, we should be against this denial of basic civil rights...and more importantly, denial of basic human dignity. They may come for your group next.

Which brings me to point number two.
Shouldn't we, as Christians, oppose Gay marriage?

No.

See how simple that was. Should be the end of the discussion. It's not, however. All across this country, Christian Churches are doing the greatest disservice to their Savior possible through their hate filled speech and actions. Now, if that speech, and those actions, were directed against the majority of well known televangelists who prostitute Jesus like He was a $20 hooker, I wouldn't mind. I have always believed that Dante was wrong. There are ten circles of Hell, not nine...the tenth being reserved for pedophiles and most televangelists.

Why then, is there such hate speech directed at gays, people who've had abortions, etc. from the Church? Some of it is Fear...but mostly ignorance. Not ignorance of the world. Ignorance of the Scriptures.

Wow, Chris...hold on just a second. Who are you to say that other Christians are ignorant? Who do you think you are?

Nobody. Just a dirt bag...saved by Grace. But a dirt bag who reads his Bible...not commentaries. A dirt bag who taught himself Greek and Hebrew, because he had trust issues about what he was taught. A dirt bag who has never allowed himself to get paid for doing God's work...so that I can have the freedom to say, and write, what the Bible actually teaches without fear. Fear of losing my job. Fear of being ostracized. Fear of being disliked. I am fortunate enough to answer to only two people: God, and my wife. That freedom allows me to remind my fellow Christians of the following few items:

The Hebrew and Greek words translated "sin" are the terms archers used for "missing the mark", IE, not hitting the bulls eye dead center. God's shooting requirements? Every shot has to go through the same hole in the middle of the target, without even touching any of the paper. Every shot. That means, every word, deed, thought...so, for those of you Christians out there who have a real nice grouping around the bulls eye, and think you're God's gift to Himself, and humanity...screw off. It's a pass/fail test...and you failed, just as miserably as me...and I've shot more than targets.

Romans 3:23 says everybody missed the mark...and failed. That's right...even you.
Romans 5:8 says that God had Christ die for us while we were missing...the operative word being US...not me, and you maybe, unless you're a_____fill in the blank of the group you love to hate. US.
The Scriptures teach that, "...nothing can separate us from His love."
They also teach that, "...He will never leave us, or forsake us."...although I know sometimes, at least to me, it feels like He does.

The Scriptures teach us to "...love each other." To, "...love our enemies." I'm still working on that one. Not doing too well, but I'm working on it. Still have the urge to shoot mine. Always feel like I did a good job when the body count is it zero at the end of the day.
The Scriptures say that we should, "...love our neighbor as our self."

For those of you about to rationalize your way out of, or through this, it's time for The Dumbass' handy-dandy Bible lesson of the day.(I should trade mark that...and start printing buttons saying, "Proud to be a Dumbass"...but I'd be the only one wearing them.)

Let's go back to LUKE chapter 10:25-37, shall we? If you've never been part of one of my Studies before, be warned: They aren't for the squeamish...my vernacular tends to slip when I'm passionate or in pain...and I spend all of my waking(and most of my non-waking) hours in both...So, here we go...

The Televangelists of Jesus' day were always screwing with Him. Trying to make Him look bad in the eyes of the common people because He was eroding their support...especially their financial support. All of that, "Give unto Cesar" crap...what was He thinking? Idiot. They would all get together and try and come up with questions that He either couldn't answer, or would look bad no matter how He answered. The smartest minds of their day against a lowly carpenter. How hard could it be? Yet, if you read the Book, He serves them...every time. Must have been frustrating for them. Wish I could have seen it.

Anyway, they've already come at him on this issue at least twice. (Mark 12:28-34 and Matthew 34-40) Nailed them both times. Now in Luke, they've got the right answer...His answer. So, when He asks the question, a lawyer feeds Him back His own response. "Love God the best you can...and love your neighbor as yourself." Jesus tells the guy good job...but that's not enough for the lawyer...so, he asks the question, "Who is my neighbor?"

If you want to read those passages before I get going, go ahead...I'll wait. Done? Good. Now it's time for the Dumbass' handy-dandy parable updater(available for your love gift of only $99.95 at http://www.ifleecetheflock.com/)

First of all, let's change all of the Jewish characters in the story to Christians. So, the guy going down the road who gets jumped, beat up, robbed, and thrown in a ditch and left for dead is a well known, local Pastor who supports Proposition 8. He preaches about the evils of "those gays", leads demonstrations, etc.

Now, the first guy that comes by is a world famous Televangelist. You know the type. He's preached that AIDS is God's punishment on those Queers...prophesied(without much luck)that God would wipe out the homosexuals by fire in 1999, etc. He sees his brother protester in the ditch and thinks," Hey, what an opportunity. I can blame this on the fags, get more money...and it will be even better if he dies. Better get my sorry ass out of here before those robbers come back." He scurries away, sphincter as tight as a three year old's grip on a lollipop.

Guy number two comes along. He's a Deacon in a mega church. Helps set up the rallies for prop 8, even hand prints some of those lovely signs, like...GOD HATES FAGS...QUEERS GO TO HELL...DYKES ARE DAMNED, you know, all of those clever, catchy slogans of Christian love. He sees the guy down in the ditch and thinks, "He must have some secret sin in his life, or God wouldn't have let that happen to him. Probably a fag sympathizer...no, I'll bet he's a closet queen himself. If I try and help him, I'll probably get AIDS as a punishment from God. Better run." And, he takes off down the road.

Finally, someone else comes up the road. It's Matthew Shepard. He sees the man in the ditch. Recognizes him. This man spit on him at a rally and called him horrible names. It would be easy to just turn and go...but Matthew can't. It's just not in him. He goes down into the ditch. Bandages the man up using his finest clothes. Takes him to an emergency room. Gets him treated. Takes him to a hotel. Pays for his room, his food, and his treatment...and leaves his credit card. Tells the hotel manager to put any other charges for whatever the man needs on his card.

Now, Jesus asks who the real neighbor is...not to hard to tell. Then He tells the lawyer to act the same as Matthew acted.

I never knew Matthew...but I've read a lot about him. Everything I've read...everything I've heard about him tells me that being the "Good Samaritan", even to someone that hated him, was exactly what he would have done. You can find out more about Matthew, and find out how you can help at The Matthew Shepard Foundation: http://www.matthewshepard.org/site/PageServer

There is another name I could have easily used as the Good Samaritan, although I'm sure she would try and deny it...and that's Kathy Griffin. If you would like to show your support for Kathy...for all of the things that she does for others, go to: http://kathygriffin.net/bio.php

Buy some of her stuff...go to a concert. Watch her show on BRAVO. You can write to the folks at BRAVO here:http://www.bravotv.com/ Tell them you love her show and want it to stay on...forever.

Lastly, this is to my Christian brothers and sisters. It's time for us to start taking the stands we're supposed to be taking. Time for us to start showing, and sharing, the love of Christ the way we have been commanded. Time to stop the hate.

Try, each day, to find a way to be a Good Samaritan. Try and be like Maggie...we need more people like her in the world...God damn it!

MICHAEL JACKSON, KOBE BRYANT, AND ME: DOES THE MEDIA REPORT THE NEWS...OR CREATE IT?

I was greatly saddened, as were millions of others, when I heard of Michael Jackson's death. We watched, as a family, the early coverage. It soon became apparent that the media was going to do what it usually does, so we turned off the coverage. My oldest daughter, Crystal, has a couple of Michael's DVDs(she's a big fan). We put one on and watched...amazed again at the genius of the man.

Kobe Bryant has also been in the news lately, due to the Lakers winning the NBA championship...and Kobe winning the Championship series MVP.

I am a crippled ex-cop...a minister who refuses to be paid for his work for God...and a writer.

What could I possibly have in common with these two Legends...one living...one now tragically dead too soon?

I like to tell stories to illustrate a point...true ones, if possible. It may not seem like the story I'm going to tell has anything to do with the topic, but trust me...I'll tie it together at the end.

My oldest daughter, Crystal, was born in 1977. The doctors' knew something was wrong right from the start, but they wouldn't say what. I overheard two nurses talking late in the afternoon about what a "shame it was for that poor baby". They tried to deny they were talking about Crystal when I confronted them, but she was the only baby there. They referred me to a doctor. He told me that they suspected Crystal had a "minor" heart problem, but it would be easily fixed with surgery. They were going to transfer her to Children's Hospital of Orange County(CHOC) that evening.

I couldn't ride in the ambulance with her, so I tried to follow in my car. It was an unusually foggy night, and I lost them. I finally found my way to the hospital, and, after many wrong turns, found her. She was in Pediatric ICU. I was allowed to go in and feed her every two hours. I stayed up all night.

I had just finished feeding her around nine the next morning when I was told her new doctor wanted to meet me and discuss her condition. The nurse sat me down in the ICU, just a few feet from Crystal. The Dr. came over and sat next to me. He asked what I new about my daughter's condition. I told him what I had been told: minor heart problem, but easy to fix. The following was the rest of our conversation.



Shit! Stupid God Damn idiots...


What's wrong?



I don't know why they...OK, here's the deal. Your daughter has a condition called Tetralogy of Fallot. Basically, four different things wrong with her heart. There are two basic courses to follow. One is immediate surgery. Her odds with that are 50-50 at best. The other is to wait...give her an opportunity to get stronger...but her odds that way are 75-25 against.



What would you do?



We have the best in the world here...her surgeon helped to pioneer the surgery...



But?



We just did the same surgery yesterday on a little boy. A little older than your daughter...bigger...stronger...better chance to survive. The surgery was a complete success...couldn't have gone any better...but the little boy died on the table. Just too weak.



Fuck...



The only thing keeping her alive right now is the ductus...it usually closes right after birth. If hers closes, by the time we know it's closed...it takes a couple of hours to set up an OR for this type of surgery. She'd be dead before we could start. You're the only one who can make the decision before that happens...and you have thirty minutes to decide.



I stumbled out of the ICU. Down in the elevator...outside. I was crying. The only people I trusted, that I could depend on, were my parents. They were 1100 miles away at the Mission in New Mexico. I didn't know what to do. I collapsed on a bench. Prayed. My gut instinct was to have them do the surgery.

I didn't hear Orson Wells voice...or John Houston's. Just a small, still voice.

If I want her to come Home, there's nothing they can do...if I want her to stay with you, she'll stay...give her the time.


I had never gone against my gut feeling at that point in my life, without it blowing up in my face. But I went with that voice. I made a vow to God: I wouldn't leave the hospital until Crystal did...one way or the other.



I stayed at the hospital for the next eight days. I was afraid to go to sleep, because her blood oxygen and other counts could change at any time. I didn't sleep for the first five days...went in and fed her every two hours. Talked to her...sang to her...and cried.

The morning of the sixth day, I finally stretched out on the couch in the parents' lounge after her four AM feeding. The next thing I knew, I was awakened by a vacuum cleaner at about 6:10. I rushed to the scrub room, upset with myself that I had fallen asleep. I could see her little incubator through the small window in the scrub room as I washed with betadine. Her incubator was empty. I rushed into my gown and into the room.

There was a note attached to the incubator...but no Crystal. None of the nurses knew where she was. The note said, "Call social worker." I used a phone in the ICU. The social worker asked me for my religious preference for Crystal. I cried.

"When did she die?"

"Die? I just need the information to complete her insurance forms..."

I slammed down the phone and went through the room like a madman. I finally found Crystal around a corner in the far end of the room. The late shift had moved her so they could clean her incubator. Someone forgot to tell the day shift nurses.

I can guarantee you that never happened again...to anyone.

Three days later, I took Crystal home. There were numerous mad rushes to CHOC's emergency room over the next two years...I almost lost her a few of those times. She had the corrective surgery right after she turned two. Her condition was far worse than they originally thought. They told me they would only call me away from the waiting room if she...

I got called away two hours into the surgery. I shuffled slowly to the phone at the desk. Picked it up.

"Hello?"

A slow, southern drawl on the other end.

"Hi...Crystal's dead..."

I dropped the phone and slid to the floor. The phone swung slowly back and forth inches from my head. The woman on the other end was still talking, but I was numb. Finally, I took the phone back to my ear.

"What happened? Was she just too small still, or...?"

"What do you mean? Nothings happened. I just wanted to know if you wanted someone to bring you some coffee or..."

I won't repeat what I said to that poor woman from Georgia, but suffice it to say, she never called anyone "dad" in that drawl of hers again...only "father".

The operation took twice as long, and they couldn't fix everything.

They told me she would never live to see thirteen.

Crystal is thirty one now. Every day with her is a blessing.

That was, at that point in my life, the worst set of experiences I had ever faced.

I have faced far worse ones since.

Some of you who read this blog know me. Some of you may feel that you have come to know me through my writing. If you're new to this blog, read TWO DOGS over on the side bar. It will give you an idea of my temperament.

Now, I want you to picture me going through those times with Crystal...and having the press following me...hounding me...filming everything I did...everything I said...sticking cameras and microphones in my face.

Trying to take pictures of Crystal.

By the time I was done, the paparazzi would have thought that Sean Penn was Mother Theresa.

Someone would have been hurt bad...or dead.

Picture the worst moment of your life...go ahead, get it firmly in your mind.

Now, picture have the press covering you, as you go through it...covering you the way that Michael Jackson has been covered his entire life...or Kobe.

Every mistake, real or imagined. Magnified a million times. Every private moment, every agony...

My work has been good enough to be stolen...more than once. One of the movies made from my stolen work did over $200 million. Another resurrected an actor's career. But...there's a reason why my work has never sold. Only God knows the reason why.

But, if I had to guess...

I'd say the He wanted to keep the body count down.

Kobe may be an arrogant prick...or, he may be a saint. I don't know. But, cut the guy a little slack for his mistakes.

As for Michael Jackson...

I hope he has finally found the peace that eluded him his entire life. I hope that the vultures leave his children alone. They've suffered enough.

And I hope that God allows Michael's version of Heaven to be...

The second star to the right...and straight on till morning.