School's in session

I learned a great deal last night at a bar in a small Ohio town. I learned that regardless of how charming and talented I seem to my friends, or even a comedy club crowd I don't get laughs in a bar unless I EARN them.

The room was cold to start out with and I never was able to get the crowd fully into it. Some of the other comics had some difficulty too though-but I was pretty lame aside from basically one moment. There was a table full of hecklers who were drunk at the start of the show. I called on them and asked them to be quiet-very courteously. It worked for about thirty seconds and then they started mumbling and grumbling back to me along the lines of "Hey who does this dum@$$ think he is?"

I worked to ignore them-my jokes were not going over-partly because it wasn't hilarious stuff-partly because my energy was divided between thinking "What's my next bit?" and "How the heck am I going to get these guys to shut up without cursing at them?"

So I did what preachers do when we're in a spot-and hopefully at other times too. I prayed. I didn't say a silent prayer. I asked the entire bar to join me in prayer. I closed my eyes and bowed my head and prayed (out loud) something like "Dear Jesus, would you please make these guys understand that they have to be quiet. Please for the love of God would you make them shut up? Please Jesus? In your precious name. Amen."

They got quiet. I don't know if they were more stunned, or the rest of the crowd, or me. I know I got the comics in the back of the room rolling on the floor so I loved it and it gave me a shot in the arm.

A couple guys at the bar laughed at about three of my jokes so it wasn't a total loss-but really my job as MC is to set the stage-get the scattered room unified as Jesse Nutt told me-and I knew already but had forgotten. So as an MC I'd give it a C overall-for a bar show. I would have fared better in a comedy club.

But my classes at being a comic have just begun. Nothing replaces stage time. Nothing. Only in the bars and on small stages with crowds that really aren't particularly interested that you have a mic can a person really learn how to be a funny stand-up comic. I'm not saying that if someone who's a comic doesn't perform in bars isn't funny. I'm saying that a comic who doesn't work in small unfriendly venues isn't as strong as one who can. I for now can't. But I'm going to prepare so that I can. Kudos to all the comics out there who have busted their hump for years working mean crowds and winning some of them over.

Another lesson learned from a comic who was there was that you can be successful with the crowd and still fail as a comic. He was hilarious, he commanded the room. He was vile, funny, worked the crowd like a pro-because he was one-though not a headliner. His behavior revealed why that is probably the case.

He wasn't the headliner and yet he took up the headliner's stage time. He performed for maybe 45 minutes when his time was to be 30. He insulted several of the comics and then afterward was more concerned with the adulation of the crowd than with his fellow comics. VERY talented dude. VERY funny dude. HORRIBLE colleague. He also did about five shots and drank a beer on top of it during only the time he was on stage. He was visibly drunk by the end of the set. Sooooooooo.....

We can be hilarious and fail at being a comic, we can be kind and fail by not commanding the room or having developed the ability to take over a stage in a bar. I think somewhere in between is a good balance. Dominate the stage not your fellow comics. Make the other comics look good-which is what I didn't do-but out of ignorance-and what this other comic didn't do out of pride. The real failure would be to not go back up on stage after a lukewarm or bad night.

Nearly all of the other comics were pretty great and offered insights and tips as well as feedback. I got to learn from some experienced folks and it was FUN. Had a great time. Still having to learn the thick skinned stuff-but I'm getting there. I think I made it to maybe first grade in comedy school-and I ate the paste. Tomorrow I hear we'll be making a macaroni art rendition of the Sistine Chapel and I have high hopes.

Be well and know God can quiet our inner anxieties, our self doubt, and even some rude drunks on a Friday night in a bar just past a cornfield. Thanks be to God.

Dwight

Unclean!

My wife Sarah has had the flu all week. H1N1 is the likely strain she has according to the doctor. She's been quarantined in our room all week and we've been sending food in, wearing masks, and bleaching every surface of the house-everything but the dog in fact. Our house smells clean now so it's nice. The dog still stinks-is it animal cruelty to douse your dog in Clorox every couple of weeks? Probably so-wouldn't be good for her eyes either I imagine.

Sarah's missed work five days in a row-well four. She went in to work Monday and left early because her body ached all over. We got her some Tamiflu and codeine cough syrup and hunkered down.

Her sickness makes me realize how much I rely on her. I can't imagine having to be a single parent. If you are one and happen to read this blog-YOU ROCK! Nuttin' but love for ya.

I could rant and whine a bit about the difficulty of getting the kids ready on my own-bathing them nightly, brushing teeth, feeding them, picking them up from school-watching them in the evening even having to take them to work a couple of nights. But like Chris Rock says "People are stupid when they try to get credit for things they're SUPPOSED to do". His examples were someone saying "I take CARE of MY kids." "You're SUPPOSED to take care of your kids." "I ain't NEVER been to jail". "You're not SUPPOSED to go to jail."

So I've done nothing particularly spectacular other than gain the perspective that I need my wife and miss her. That and being a single parent is probably deserving of some form of award or coupon or something.

The hardest part isn't help with the kids-it's not being able to hug Sarah,or kiss her, or even touch her. Lousy to have the person you love nearby without being able to show them the affection you feel. The girls have done something cool-they said "Mommy I'm giving you a mental hug" and then Chloe closed her eyes and thought about hugging her mom. Sarah returned the action. Phoebe is throwing kisses-not blowing throwing. She grabs at her mouth as she kisses and throws it to mommy through the doorway and Sarah returns the favor. It's cute to me and makes me smile.

As difficult as this has seemed to be-we're not in a country divided by war, we're not having to struggle to survive, and any other number of things I could list. This sickness will pass and many people have illnesses that don't. So we're good-a few days of adjustment that's all.

So a big thank you to Jesus for helping us through the week (he folded some laundry and did some dishes on top of the whole all loving, knowing, and seeing thing). Thanks to anyone who's been praying in response to my sort of desperate Facebook status updates. Interesting that Google and Yahoo have not put the word "Facebook" in their spell check engines.

Anyway-hope you're household has avoided the flu, and if you get it I hope it goes away quickly and that you don't have to overuse bleach and give mental hugs....unless of course you just want to.

Grace and peace to you and yours,
Dwight

frazzled

I wondered if I didn't set my alarm what time I would wake up naturally on a typical school and work day. Turns out it's 7:42AM. That's not extremely late in the day-but it's ten minutes past when we typically leave for school, and it's an hour and ten minutes past the time we typically get moving and awake to get ready for the day.

I hit the ground running as did the entire family flailing through piles of clean laundry to find socks. Socks are the Holy Grail in my household. Clean ones anyway. If you find a pair it is an awe filled discovery that many have given their lives for through the ages.

We clothed the children, brushed their hair and teeth, and I threw on clothes to drive them to school and daycare respectively. In an attempt to beat the tardy bell at Chloe's school I left the house clothed but without having brushed my hair. I sported a white t-shirt wrinkled from its night on the floor, a pair of khakis also worse for wear, some brown dress shoes, and a pile of a naturally curly haired persons hair having slept on it all night hairdo. Imagine the satisfaction I felt when Chloe told me I'd have to walk her in to get a tardy pass.

I did so begrudgingly having tried in vain to use my hands to settle the mess up top-I even used some spit to no avail. We walked in with me towing Phoebe by the hand. Chloe went into her classroom while I went to the tardy pass table down the hall. The woman looked at me and her face read "This man has just returned from a hard night of drinking and I'm not even sure he has a child in school here perhaps I need to call security." I kid you not she denied handing me a tardy pass for Chloe and said that they would send her to the office to get one-all while standing up and moving away from me.

Sometimes I forget that I'm a big man-a bit overweight but also very thick and possibly a bit intimidating-especially when I look as though I fell out of a dryer after a few spins. I walked to the car a 240lb linebacker with my hand attached to a 40lb 2.5 foot tall fairy princess (Phoebe) and hoped I wouldn't have to see anyone else.

As I piled into the car a woman in a Dodge mini-van parked her van near where I parked. Her hair and makeup were immaculate and she looked at me with a look that said "I'm here to pick up my child and I hope you didn't just abduct her." I waved and grimaced. I was tempted to jump out of the car and scamper towards her in an ape like gallop but then my daughter has to go to school there every day, and the headline "Local pastor intimidates parent and school children with a gorilla like rampage" didn't seem like something I'd like to have in the Springfield News Sun. That headline would be too long anyway. She could have been packing a gun and it would read "Local pastor shot and killed" which would be even less amusing.

The moral of the story? I'm overly concerned with my personal appearance, but not so much that I remember to always set my alarm.

OR is it: How much then can I forgive myself and others when we fall short of the ideal? About as much as it would take for me to walk through the hallway of a public school looking frazzled with my daughter so she wouldn't have to walk down it alone. I'd gladly stand before an auditorium full of people in the state I was in this morning if she needed that to know I love her.

Take care everyone-I hope to write more often. If you haven't abandoned the posts here entirely I thank you for your patience.

Peace to you and yours. You are dearly loved by God-always. We all are.
Dwight