Dear Reader,
I’m taking a Hot Takes pass this week on all things gun legislation, Supreme Court assassination threats, January 6 hearings (read: circus), primary elections, week two of so-called “Pride Month,” record gas prices and inflation, and Presidential/Congressional leadership egging on pro-abortion violence (“If Roe vs. Wade isn’t safe, neither are you.”). Heck, I’m not even linking news stories (you can subject yourself to that grief on your own).
I will, however, leave you with some biblical truth I found helpful and comforting this week:
“God is great.
Beer is good.
People are crazy.”
Pretty solid theological stuff there. Thanks for reading Second Drafts.
Craig
Programming Note
On the happy occasion of Mako’s World: A Memoir of Calculated Adventures officially releasing in print and Kindle format this past Tuesday, I’m making the June podcast free to all subscribers. This month’s guest? Peaches and I interview Mako himself, Mark Carroll!
So as not to give away too many book details, Peaches and I keep our discussion more general and a little shorter (about 35 minutes) than our normal hour-long podcasts. Still, you’ll learn the story behind the name “Mako,” a brief history of California surfing and Mark’s 1960s and 70s surfing heroes, how losing his secret agent father at the age of 10 was both devastating and shaping for him, and how surfing has taught him many life lessons across his 61 years.
Watch your email Saturday morning for the podcast, but between now and then, buy the book!
This Is (Still) My Father’s World
On Wednesday, we dropped off our two youngest daughters at the airport to catch a plane for an 8-day England trip with other graduated students, staff, and a few parents from Petra Academy. Before my time at the school as Headmaster was through, we had started talking in earnest about an international trip, so it’s gratifying to see it come to fruition. I’m grateful our younger two can experience the journey together.
As a 16-year-old kid with a Pike County twang, I first went to England (among other countries) 35 years ago with a mostly adult tour group. To illustrate how times have changed (or perhaps how old I am), I spent an entire day with a 12-year-old companion as my sidekick (we were the only boys on the trip), riding the Tube and seeing London with only a map and some travelers’ checks—no adult supervision, no debit cards, no cell phones, nada. The directive? See what you want to see and be back to the hotel by dinner. And so we did, and so we were...and it was a blast pretending no one noticed we were Americans (even though my prepubescent tag-along wore his Chicago Cubs jacket, which was unfortunate on a variety of levels).
While the girls’ itinerary and supervision will be a lot tighter with a much more directed educational focus than the trip I was on, I hope they get a few moments to themselves to experience some anonymity on the other side of the world. It’s a humbling feeling to have no one know your name or who or where you are, and while it can feel scary, I distinctly recall a sense of peace and calm that God was riding the rails with me all over London Town back in the day.
We’re Not in Pike County Anymore
We went everywhere on our trip, or so it seemed to a kid who grew up having spent the majority of his 16 years in small town west central Illinois. Unlike the Petra trip, which has Katie and Millie in London for the full week they’re in country, the Pike County trip was two weeks long and included multiple cities and countries: London, England; Paris, France; Lucerne, Switzerland; Salzburg, Vienna; Munich, Heidelberg, and Frankfurt, Germany. We didn’t spend more than two nights in any one place, and we a saw a whole lot of the countryside in between.
Our trip leaders were an interesting pair. Originally from the Netherlands, our bus driver’s name was Hank, a.k.a “the Flying Dutchman,” due to his ability to maneuver a 45 ft. long tour bus in places I wouldn’t have tried to take a minivan. Richard, a native Brit, was our tour guide and part of our daily entertainment; quick-witted, with a love for American baseball and the Blues (and with the harmonica and piano chops to do the latter justice), he had an affection for Americans returning to the Mother Country, welcoming us back from July 4th—or “when we let you go”—as he would say.
In addition to Hank and Richard was Annette, Richard’s glamorous girlfriend from Sweden, who was employed as a model at the time. With a few days off until her next shoot, she joined us for part of the trip, which did my 16-year-old heart good, as I had only a slight crush on her. Growing up on a farm, I’d never met a model before, let alone a Swedish one; the only models I knew had “John Deere” on them.
A Dutchman and a Brit Walk in (and Out) of a Bar
While Hank was a man of few words, Richard and I hit it off immediately; only 30 years old, he was a fun older brother, but because he worked for the tour company, he couldn’t beat me up in the name of brotherly love. It was a good arrangement.
However, the story of how God brought us closer than brothers is one I’ll let the late Ken Bradbury (another older brother-type in my life who happened to be our Pike County tour coordinator) tell. For the uninitiated, Ken used to write a clever weekly newspaper column called The Coonridge Digest under a pseudonym made up of his mother’s first and middle names. In his book, Around the World with Frieda Marie Crump, a compilation of columns based on his travels, he wrote:
“The two tall glasses of ale sat like golden sentinels guarding my Swiss hotel room door. I’d never seen that much booze outside a prayer meeting.
It was Sunday and we were in Lucerne, Switzerland. It’s always our custom when on tour to find a church service somewhere when the Sabbath rolls around. But on this particular Sunday, we had been traveling the entire day and had just rolled into this most charming of Swiss villages at nightfall. I’d announce to the group at supper that in lieu of finding a church open, I’d be holding a prayer service in my room at ten that night.
During the course of the tour, I’d learned that Hank, our Dutch bus driver, was a rather avid atheist and Richard, our British tour guide, was at best agnostic. I don’t usually travel the world carrying a cross on my back, but I’d grown to love these two fellas and wouldn’t have it but that they should share a taste of my love for the Lord.
The ten o’clock hour approached, so I hitched up my courage and went lookin’ for the two men. They’d left the dining room, they weren’t in their hotel rooms, and I even went out to the bus. No driver, no guide. With the prayer time nearing, I took a short cut through the hotel’s bar, where the party was in full swing. There they were, both nuzzled up to the bar with two of the tallest glasses—a ‘yard of ale’ they called it—that I had ever seen.
Well, I thought to myself, no need now, and I toddled up to my room where the crowd was beginning to gather. Twenty people were crammed into this makeshift Swiss chapel and I was just about to begin when I noticed that Craig was missing.
Craig was the next-to-youngest member of our group, and I’d told his parents that I’d keep a close eye on him. I’d especially wanted him to attend tonight’s service, and here he was missing. I told the group, ‘Hang on just a minute while I try to find the kid.’
I searched everywhere for that little scoundrel. His room was empty and there was simply no place else for a youngster to go in our small hotel. A bit discouraged, I gave up and went back to my room. That’s when I saw the glasses of ale. When I climbed the stairs to my room, I saw a tall, golden scepter respectfully placed on each side of the door. I stepped inside to see a Dutchman and a Brit sitting beside Craig, ready for the prayers to begin.
I had been too courteous to overstep my bounds and intrude upon someone’s personal beliefs. It wouldn’t have been tasteful to impose my faith upon someone else when they were obviously following their own desires. Craig was so reckless and immature in the ways of the world that he’d walked right into the bar and asked them to join us.
I don’t know where Hank is today. I do know that as a result of that night and many nights to follow, Richard is madly in love with the Lord.
‘And a child shall lead them…’”
I don’t share this story to brag; if anything, Ken got it right: I had no idea what I was doing, other than acting on the fact that I was two years a new believer, was trying to learn to love and trust God, and (like everyone else on the trip) really liked Hank and Richard. I remember thinking it would be a shame for them to miss the prayer meeting when everyone who was going to be there was such a big fan of theirs.
Oh, and sure, maybe they’d meet God, too.
The Taylors
In God’s sovereignty (and as Ken alluded in his “many nights to follow” observation), several of us from Illinois kept in touch with Richard over the years and decades to follow; Ken, especially, was a true big brother for him spiritually. Richard and Annette got married (an increasingly counter-cultural thing to do in England, as in America), had kids, stayed married (again, counter-cultural), and even came over to Pike County a few times (way counter-cultural!) to see how we Revolutionaries were getting along. (Unfortunately, Richard’s favorite American day of the year is Black Friday due to the sheer ridiculousness of it, so by that metric, we’re not doing so hot.)
Several of us have visited the Taylors and their family in Hove, which is right next to the seaside resort of Brighton, 50 miles due south of London; in between visits, we’ve kept up with each other via social media and an occasional message now and then.
Back in the spring of 2001, I flew into Gatwick Airport (which is between London and Hove) and the Taylors hosted me for a too-short 12-hour layover before getting back on a plane on my way to speak at a conference in Kampala, Uganda. Their kids were much smaller then, but like mine, they have grown up into fun, functioning adults.
God Still on the Throne
So now, in case you were wondering, yes, there’s one picture missing from this week’s newsletter that I hope to receive on Sunday. Katie and Millie have some free time that afternoon, and Richard and Annette are providentially going to be in the city that day. If things go according to plan, they’re all going to meet up (the Taylors have never met any of my kids), and I only wish I could be there to personally give them a hug, make introductions, and take a picture or two.
Despite the brokenness of the world, this 35-year-old friendship coming full circle reassures me that God is still on the throne. He still cares for the birds of the air, the lilies of the field, and people from different parts of the world whom He saw fit to form separately, draw together, and bring joy to one another for His good pleasure (trust me, getting Richard and Katie together will be a hoot and a half). Indeed, as the hymn says, “This Is My Father’s World,” and I can’t wait for its final restoration, so as to be with beloved people like Richard and Annette for all eternity.
“This is my father’s world
The birds their carols raise
The morning light, the lily white
Declare their Maker’s praiseThis is my Father’s world
Oh, let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong
God is the ruler yet”
Amen (and cheerio).
Post(erity) Post: “Baggage”
Each week, I choose a post from the past apropos of something in the newsletter.
On the heels of the travel post above, this week’s Post(erity) post, “Baggage,” is from September 2006, and is “a short, existential crisis skit” I wrote for kicks. Here’s an excerpt (though I’d encourage you to read the whole thing as I think it’s pretty funny):
Attendant (trying to move things along): Has your baggage been with you from the time you packed it?
Mr. Jones (shaking his head): Ma’am, I haven’t known a time when I haven’t had my baggage with me.
Fresh & Random Linkage
“Alec John Such Dies: Bassist And Founding Member In Bon Jovi Was 70” - I missed this earlier in the week. Apparently, he was more than halfway there.
“The History of the Web” - This doesn’t go back to DARPA and the ARPANET, but for all you youngsters out there, here’s how we came by “the Internets.”
“Taco Bell Redefines the Drive-Thru with ‘Defy’ Restaurant” - I’ll “defy” anyone who tries to take me to one of these (cool or not, it’s still Taco Bell).
Until next time.