Me and David Letterman

Maybe it was 5th grade. I was 10-11 years old. Our local affiliate was NBC and maybe it was during the annual telethon but I got a grey “Late Night with David Letterman” T-shirt that I loved. I wish I still had it. I was with my mom and maybe we bought two.

I remember a girl picking on me in 6th grade, while in lunchroom for my Letterman t-shirt. By the next year, when we were all in middle school, she and everyone else thought it was cool.

I had, let’s call it an “unusual” childhood. What I mean is that I watched Late Night with David Letterman when I was in elementary school. It was probably mostly in Summer time, but it wouldn’t surprise me if we also watched it during the school year, and more than Friday nights. Staying up late watching TV and/or movies with my mom was common.

I remember the dancing waters, the grumpy clown smoking his cigar, the Top 10 lists. Dave’s goofy grin, the way he played with his suit coat, Chris Elliot, Larry “Bud” Melman, dropping watermelons and TVs and whatever else off of the top of a building. It was always fun and funny.

I, too, wanted to be David Letterman.

Admittedly the last few times I watched was because of insomnia and I was also trying to make it all the way to hear at least Craig Ferguson’s monologue, but he’s still good. And that’s been a few years.

I am a nostalgic kind of guy. I listen to Nirvana’s Unplugged every year on the anniversary of Cobain’s death. I remember Reggie Lewis, Nintendo, and MTV fondly.

I am nostalgic about this (totally non-important) pop culture milestone.


My wife reads good stuff, too

My wife wanted me to read this chapter because it made her think of me because it’s about a preacher who decides to be a counselor.

One significant quote that most preachers can relate to:

“How many religious leaders go into ministry with the idea that they’re going to be really great administrators?” -Rick Rittmaster

He had gone through depression and burnout as a preacher.

After getting his Masters in Counseling, he became a chaplain the US Army. He says, “There’s great sadness in the world, and being a chaplain, my role, my journey, is no to deny it or to resist it, but to accept it and to mourn with those who mourn.”

I like that statement.


Taken from Your Life Calling: Reimagining the Rest of your Life by Jane Pauley



Ferguson Tweeters

One of the reason I have been sharing info about Ferguson is that I started following some residents on twitter soon after the shooting and have learned about things that MSM haven’t covered, such as police raiding a church that was set up as a safe place for protesters to relax. That one incident would have been at the forefront of Christian blogs and media if it were any other situation. In another place there would have been an uproar. But white Christian America could only see the two nights of looting/violence and nothing else. And first hand accounts of how the police handled the protest from people who were not looting, rioting, or tossing molotav cocktails give a different perspective than CNN. Some were even standing up to the looters.

I know it can be confusing when I share these things. Some don’t understand that I just want their voice to be heard, without agreeing with everything said. I am trying to encourage empathy. But I can’t help how you take it. I realize some don’t want to hear a different side of the story. Hope it is interesting and enlightening for someone.

These people are why my heart has been touched by the situation.


Here are some thoughts (tweets) from Netta

My age, the fact that I am a woman with a vision and a voice that people choose to listen to… That bothers some. But I will defend that.

Never had an immediate problem w/the police til my friend was shot & killed this summer. Slandered by police, his death swept under the rug.

On days when I’m disgusted by the police or by the trolls who defend the trolls, when the news portrays protesters as animals …I think of how Mike Brown’s parents must feel. How it feels to have your child be killed and placed on trial by America to defend his killer

I am black. And I am not a savage. Or an animal. Or violent. I am nothing the mainstream media depicts us to be. I am me.

I want the right to express every human emotion just like every other person of any kind of race without judgement. We all deserve that.

I want the guys from the hood to feel comfortable raising their young princes the same way the middle class man is w/his young dignitaries.

I want the right to live freely and not have someone police my emotions or thoughts or feelings or how I choose to express myself.

Hard making yourself realize the place you grew up loving is the same place here tragedy on a mass level potentially is going to take place.

I grew up loving Saint Louis. Taking proud of my city. We grew up here. And now ppl who look like me are being shot & killed like prey.

We have to discuss safe spaces where the police can not come with their guns or intimidation tactics but the news Sho

I don’t want to see or find out about someone I’ve grown close to in 81 days dying in the streets for protesting, after a no indictment.ws it vice versa.

I want to try to conserve all human life. I want to be able to offer solutions to our immediate problems. That’s realistic.

It takes a LOT of restraint to be next to the man who ordered protesters to be tear gassed. Shot with rubber bullets. That is me.

Hard to hear the man who ordered for us to be shot with rubber bullets to now say trust him.

How do we protect even sacred spaces like churches from police invasion. That is a real life issue. In middle America.

I wish I could wake up tomorrow and the world see value in black life across the board. No matter how uncomfortable some of us make you feel


National Mental Health Awareness Week

Well, even though I am in school to be a Mental Health Professional some day, I am also in grad school and busy, so I neglected the calendar.

And as someone who is occasionally mental, well, that would also explain why I forgot….

I have written about my personal experiences and shared some resources on this blog over the last few years, here are some if you are interested or need them. Let’s not wait for a family member or a celebrity death to make us aware of this problem.

My Depression

My Depression, part 2

Last Time About my Depression

Afraid of Bad News

State of the Brian Address

Book Recommendations:

Unholy Ghost

Lincoln’s Melancholy

What I been Reading




I saw Mommy kissing Santa Clause..

…then mom and dad were divorced within 4 months.

Santa was an okay Step-Dad. He did lay around the house alot drinking egg nogg the 363 or so days he didn’t work but I always got good presents for Christmas.

The worst part was that he kept custody of all the elves, all the step-siblings were annoying.

The other worst part was the time Dad and Ms. Claus spent a weekend together in Vegas, pretty much for revenge.