Author: William Douthwaite

Posted in Moments of grace

I slept through another tornado last night

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Shane on Unsplash

My phone lit up about 6:30 this morning. It was a text from my daughter. “Hey, are you and mom okay? I saw that a tornado touched down just a couple streets from you. Hope you all are okay and safe.”

Okay, heard the rain last night. And at one point, I heard sirens off in the distance. I checked some news apps and sure enough, an F2 tornado touched down less than a mile from our house, blowing away fences, damaging roofs, and leaving a ton of debris in its wake.

My wife poked her head in where I was sitting and said, “I just got a text about a tornado in our neighborhood.” We opened the blinds and looked out the front window. Not one tree branch in our yard. Plenty of rain in the swale, though. We both breathed a sign of relief.

This is not the first tornado I’ve slept through. Ten years ago, another touched down about a mile away, damaging many more homes.

I don’t always sleep through the night, but the sounds of rain and wind can be so soothing and relaxing that I’ll miss all the excitement. That is, unless tree branches torn loose by storm winds are hitting my roof. Then I lie awake wondering what in the world is going on out there. I also wonder how much I’m going to have to clean up the next day.

While we know a hurricane is headed our way a week in advance, tornadoes drop in unexpectedly. One minute you’re sound asleep. The next, your roof is gone or there’s a tree in your bedroom. You don’t know when it’s going to hit.

Around lunch time, I took my dog for a walk and we headed in that direction to see what there was to see. The closer we got, the more debris we saw in yards. We saw the remains of fences. And we saw a whole bunch of traffic trying to drive through the affected neighborhood, so we walked back the way we came.

I read somewhere that “sometimes the most faithful thing you can do is crawl into bed, close your eyes, and sleep.” There’s not much I can do about the storm. I guess I’ll just have to trust the one who can.

Posted in dogs, Life, Stories

A double-dog dare

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Image by Yama Zsuzsanna Márkus from Pixabay

The sun was just peeking over the trees to the east as my dog and I walked along Bassett Lane. It’s quiet, earlier than most people leave for work or school. As we pass one of the most rundown houses in the neighborhood, two German shepherds come bounding down the street towards us.

The little guy on my leash is twenty pounds of curiosity and energy, ready to make friends with any person or beast. But I’m not so sure about these two, both about a hundred pounds. I’m rarely frightened by dogs, big or small, but this morning, I was worried.

I stopped to face them as Winston, my Westie, automatically sat. His tail wagged furiously as he anticipated meeting new buddies. I stood my ground and yelled, “Hey!” making the two shepherds pause. They only stopped for a moment before continuing their approach.

I figured they were in front of their house, so I repeated, “Hey!” and added, “Go home!” One of the shepherds turned and loped back towards the house. The other kept moving towards us.

I tried a different strategy. I commanded, “Sit!” And he (she?) sat. Relieved, I added, “Stay!” as we added a few steps of distance between us. I thought I was in the clear, but the dog got up and began to follow us down the street. If I stood still, he paused. If I began to walk, he wanted to come along.

This could take a while. Suddenly, I heard another voice saying, “Go home!” I had an ally, another dog walker thirty yards behind. Once the odds were on our side, the German shepherd trotted off towards the house. The other guy added, to no one in particular, “Keep your d*** dog on a leash!”

I waved as we turned to head home. I’ve never seen those two dogs again. But inside I’ll be at Defcon 5 whenever we’re walking on Bassett Lane.

Posted in Life

Be in the picture

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Kenny Eliason on Unsplash

Last night I went to my grandson’s baseball game at which another spectator captured most of the game on her phone. There were very few minutes when she wasn’t taking a picture or video of a player on the field.

I’ve begun intentionally limiting the number of pictures and videos I take with my iPhone. I realized that when I’m focused on a screen, I am missing the moment. When you’re focused on the tech, you’re missing out on the experience.

I’ve pondered this before in “Seeing with our eyes.” While my phone was in my pocket, here are a few things I observed at the game last night:

  • The gorgeous colors of an October sunset off in the distance. It’s only visible for a moment, and then it’s gone.
  • The catcher was busy making tiny sandcastles in the dirt behind home plate, not all that interested in the game. It’s a good thing he was well-padded, since most of the pitches from the machine hit him right in the chest protector and mask.
  • The other players on the team have really improved their hitting and fielding skills. The games become much more exciting as they move through the season.
  • An assortment of cute babies and toddlers come along to watch older siblings play the game. They are fun to watch as they eat snacks, climb fences, run around, and eat more snacks.
  • I saw a couple of herons soaring far overhead, making their way from one pond to the next. They fly in a perfectly straight line.
  • A number of people around me in the bleachers weren’t watching the game at all. They were shopping on their phones. I understand. After all, the holidays are approaching and the best deals don’t last long.

There’s a balance. Of course you want to take a few photos. Capture the moment. But be in the moment, too. Be in the picture. Experience the performance and the people. Listen and laugh. Enjoy.

Posted in Life

Not even close

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Readers will ask me, “How do you come up with ideas for your blog posts?” It’s not hard. I see them every day. Scenes and situations that make me wonder, “What in the world is going on here?”

So this guy didn’t even try. He’s driving a very small SUV. He’s parked in an extra wide handicapped spot with extra room on the side, and he’s missed it by a mile. I don’t see a handicapped card hanging from his rearview mirror. I can’t really see the license plate clearly, but I’ll bet it’s not a handicapped plate. It’s just a guy or a gal who doesn’t quite understand how store parking lots work.

I’m pretty conscientious about how I park. If I get out and see that I’m not straight inside of the lines, I start the car up and straighten it out. That’s just me. If a car is a little bit off, no problem. Just try to get inside the lines.

In fact, I believe that’s one of the things required in the rest for a driver’s license. You have to get your vehicle in the spot without hitting any of the four cones on each corner.

Can you imagine if this guy or gal had to parallel park? Where I grew up, that skill was essential. Not so much where I live and drive now. But every once in a while, I’m glad my dad and driver’s ed teacher taught me how to do that with a big old late-60s Ford Fairlane station wagon.

I wonder if it’s acceptable to call someone out for this kind of behavior. We shy away from that, don’t we? When half the population has a concealed weapon, I don’t want to provoke anyone to anger.

Maybe I could come at this from a Good Samaritan perspective. How about I finish parking your car – inside the lines – while you mozy into the store for a sub, an energy drink and a few lottery tickets.

If you take another look at the picture, you’ll see that other parking-challenged customers were in the store that day. And this isn’t even down by the liquor store entrance.

I like to park far away from the entrance of the store, far away from folks whose driving skills match their parking abilities.

Posted in Life

Go ahead, take a swing at me

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I heard my dog’s low gutteral growl long before this guy startled me one morning. At first I thought it was a live person standing outside his home. Wait a minute. No arms, no legs. It’s a boxing mannequin. I’ve seen standing and hanging body bags, but never a punching dummy like this. Especially not in our neighborhood.

Of course, you can buy your own on Amazon. And he gets great reviews. Once you fill the base with a few hundred pounds of sand or water, he can take a lot of abuse. I wonder how many of these the delivery guy has dropped off at homes?

What do you think? Would you rather take out your aggression on a cylindrical heavy bag, or something that looks like a real person? I’ve never done any boxing or fighting. I’ll bet some find it very satisfying land punch after punch and work off the day’s stress.

I’ve got a few young grandchildren who are learning Tae Kwon Do. So far they’ve just practiced forms and broken a few boards. But as they move up in belt color, it won’t be long before they will have to spar. That’s got to be a whole different experience. Hitting someone or being hit by someone is where it gets real.

Thinking back through my career, I don’t remember ever really wanting to take a swing at someone. I am sure my professors at the seminary discouraged that kind of pastoral care. However, I imagine there were some who wanted to get “real” with me. The prophets always took it on the chin, right?

I prefer running to martial arts. I’m sure I could have outrun any overly-aggressive parishioners.

Posted in Life

That mailbox didn’t have a chance

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Red marker next to mailbox? Check.

Reflective sticker affixed to the post? Check.

Post firmly embedded in the ground? Check.

Obnoxious, clearly noticeable color? Check.

When I saw the remains of this mailbox on a walk around the neighborhood, I thought, “There’s got to be a great story here.” A little tap from a car backing out of a driveway didn’t do this. A hurried mail carrier didn’t slam the door too hard. I don’t think we’ve had any earthquakes in Florida lately. Someone nailed this mailbox. They showed no mercy. They took it out.

  • The lawn guy was late. For what, I don’t know. He slammed the gate shut on the trailer, jumped in the truck and floored it. The trailer began to fishtail back and forth, almost out of control, until it swung through the mailbox. “What the heck was that?” Glancing in the mirror, he saw it and skidded to a stop. Looking up and down the street and seeing no one, the lawn guy carefully stacked the pieces and took off, a little slower this time.
  • He was pissed. The neighbor’s dog had visited his yard one too many times. Enough is enough. “I knew that baseball bat would come in handy.” He didn’t take any warmup swings. It was like swinging at a fastball right down the middle. It was the most satisfying hit of his life.
  • “Watch out, you’re too close to the side of the road.” “I know mom, I know…oh my gosh, what was that?” “I’m going to let your father teach you how to drive.”
  • “A backup camera? I don’t need no d*** backup camera.”

Most of the mailboxes on our street look like junk. Anything that gets them replaced is a good thing.

Posted in dogs, Life

Neighborhood walks and aggressive dogs

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Delphine Beausoleil on Unsplash

I think I’m becoming less and less popular amongst the dog walkers in my neighborhood. I’ve finally gotten my dog – Winston the Westie – to behave when we pass other dogs. But the other dogs haven’t gotten the memo.

I felt horrible the other day as we approached an eighty-plus year old neighbor walking a tiny chihuahua named Queenie. She saw us forty-yards away and was beyond excited. She started for us as he lost control of the retractable leash. I moved to the other side of the street, but the owner had to wrap his arm around a utility pole to keep from being dragged through the water-filled swale. His persistent obscenity-punctuated cries of “Queenie! Queenie!” fell on deaf ears as she fought the leash and lunged ahead.

There was nothing I could do. Whether I turned back to walk home another way or scooted past them as quickly as I could, Queenie wouldn’t give up. Winston was interested, but on a short leash with a prong collar, reminding him to pay attention to me, not her. We made it past and the aggressive barking subsided, but I didn’t want to look back. Next time, we won’t take a chance. I’ll go back home the way I came.

Another neighbor owns two Labrador retrievers, one yellow, one black. I haven’t seen them out walking, but they were out the other evening as Winston and I headed up the street from my house. Once they spotted us, the barking started, followed by frantic pulling to come and check us out. It was all the owner could do to restrain the two eighty-pound bundles of muscle and energy. I would have turned back to go the other way around the block, but when I looked, there was another person walking a German Shepherd I didn’t recognize. Between a rock and a hard place, we walked around the corner to get out of sight.

As he heat of the summer subsides, more and more neighbors have their dogs out for walks. I’ve worked hard to leash train Winston. He’s not perfect, but attentive and manageable. The other dogs? I’ve met a few well-behaved Golden Retrievers and one chill Rottweiler. The rest are out of control. Either they don’t go for many walks or they haven’t been trained.

It’s annoying. I know I’m the one who needs to adjust my route because I’m the one who took the time to train my dog. But I want those dogs to get out and see the world. I don’t think they get out much, and there is so much to smell out there (at least Winston thinks so)!

So, come on, everyone. Train your dog and enjoy some walks!

Posted in Life

He drove past three just for iced tea

Posted on by William Douthwaite

So, you know everyone loves Chick-fil-A. I’ve met people who claim to eat there every day. Many who bemoan the fact that they are closed on Sundays. Plenty of folks love the chicken sandwich. Others really like the coffee. Some are fans of the sweet tea.

A few weeks ago, a friend shared with me that he drove past three Chick-fil-A’s to get to the one who had the best sweet iced tea. Hmm. I had no idea. I assumed that the menu, food and drinks were consistent from restaurant to restaurant. The few times I search for fast food, I go to the nearest one. Okay, one might like the fries at one place better than another. But come on, iced tea? How many variations could there be?

I’m just not that sophisticated. What kind of wine do you like? Red. What kind of coffee do you prefer? Black. Beer? Yes, please.

That’s the world we live in. I will got way out of my way to satisfy my personal taste. A family might drive past dozens of churches to attend one that they connect with. In Dallas, TX, where Tex-Mex food abounds, everyone has their favorite that is worth the drive. I can save a few bucks at that grocery store, even it it is farther away from my home.

For what else do we go far, far out of our way? I’ll go out of my way to eat at a restaurant I have a gift card for. I drive further to the airport where I get a lower priced flight. I’ve driven on back roads to avoid traffic or for a more scenic drive. I’ve taken longer routes to avoid toll roads.

As much as we enjoy convenience, we’ll go out of our way to get what we want, crave, or prefer, won’t we?

Posted in Life

Sold! The dopamine rush

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Sticker Mule on Unsplash

I picked up my phone, it came to life and greeted me with an eBay notification, “Your item has sold. Ship now.”

So I sold a book for a couple of bucks. No big deal, right? Who knew something so simple could produce such a dopamine rush?

It’s addictive. What else can I sell? We don’t have to throw stuff out to “minimalize” our home. We’ll just sell everything! Books, shoes, clothing, kitchen utensils, knick-knacks, jewelry, picture frames. It’s like having a garage sale that goes on for months rather than just a Saturday morning.

I’m not making a whole lot of money. A couple of bucks here and there. But I love packing up an item, labeling it and dropping it off at the post office or shipping store. I’ve started collecting boxes, padded envelopes, bubble wrap, and packing tape. I’m ready.

Most days, nothing happens. Sometimes nothing happens for a month or two. Just when I think, “Well, I guess that’s not going to sell,” a buyer pops up. I don’t know that person. I don’t know why they’re buying my merchandise. Who cares? A complete stranger triggers that rush that makes me look and think, “What else can I sell?” On trash collection day I see items on the curb and think, “I wonder what that would sell for?”

It’s easy to find out. I can “shop” for just about anything on eBay and find it for sale. We had an antique wooden butter churn that too up too much space amongst out farmhouse decor. I knew nothing about it. I searched eBay and found a dozen just like it for sale. I priced mine a few bucks cheaper and sold it in a week. I’ve sold a yucky looking five gallon lard can (another antique), a gently-used instant-read thermometer I didn’t need anymore, collections of toys the grandkids weren’t interested in anymore, costume jewelry, and cheaply made clothing not worth returning to somewhere in China.

I’m not the only one who’s into selling. There’s a special bin at the post office for pre-labeled boxes and it’s usually filled to the brim. Many of the items are in eBay envelopes and boxes.

I’ve bought a few things, too. Again, there’s that rush when you get a thirty-dollar book for a buck plus shipping. Or when you win an auction and get those once-worn hundred dollar shoes for $19.

It’s like a game with over a hundred million players. Whether buying or selling, I feel like I’m winning!