Thursday, June 28, 2007

Paris, Pants and PlayStation 3

How many times a day must we endure reports of the latest perils of Paris Hilton? It seems you can’t turn on a television any more without hearing about the plight of America’s favorite poor little rich girl. Paris’ recent stint in jail has only served to increase her popularity, not diminish it. Is there anywhere on earth one can go to escape all the Parismania?

Several days ago, while Paris was still behind bars, one journalist appearing on a TV news show panel discussion noted that while the whole Paris drama was unfolding, a woman astronaut was making history in space. But, he asserted, nobody in America cared or even noticed, because we were all so caught up with all the Hilton hype. (In case you missed it—as I did—on June 16th, U.S. astronaut Sunita “Suni” Williams set the record for the longest single spaceflight by any woman. Williams, who has lived at the international space station since December 2006, surpassed the record of 188 days set by astronaut Shannon Lucid at the Mir space station back in 1996.) When the journalist made this remark—clearly blaming the American populace (rather than the media) for all the excessive focus on Paris—I wanted to yell back at the television screen: “The reason we don’t ‘care’ about the astronaut is because we don’t even know about the astronaut! You aren’t reporting on her! All you reporters want to talk about is Paris Hilton! You’re so enamored with her that you aren’t telling us about anything else!” But I decided that yelling at a television screen wasn’t going to solve anything. The guy on the screen wouldn’t be able to hear me anyway. But truly, many elements of our entertainment-driven news media seem much more obsessed with reporting on gossipy frivolities than helping to inform us about issues of real substance. By the way, had you thought about this? How much news coverage did the recent passing of Ruth Bell Graham receive in comparison with the coverage of Anna Nicole Smith’s death some weeks ago? Anna Nicole—like Paris—was really famous for no good reason. But Ruth Bell Graham—along with her husband Billy—spent a lifetime touching the lives of others in a positive way. Truly, a lot of things are upside down in this world.

Another example of misplaced values and priorities: The so-called Pants Suit. You know, the Washington area judge that decided to sue a local dry cleaning establishment for losing his pants. He wanted some $1000 for the loss of the actual pants, which were part of a suit (the kind you wear), but additionally he wanted some $54 million for court costs, legal fees (the plaintiff represented himself!) and mental anguish! Mmm, I’ve heard of “taking someone to the cleaners” but this is ridiculous. The vindictive plaintiff didn’t just want to recover the cost of his pants. He wanted the cleaners to “lose their shirts”! By the way, for me, mental anguish doesn’t occur when I lose a pair of pants. It occurs when my waistline expands and I have pants hanging in the closet that I can’t wear anymore! That’s anguish. So who do I sue over that? The restaurant or the grocery store that sold me the food that caused me to gain weight? Sounds about as reasonable as what the plaintiff in this pants suit was seeking to do.

Anyway, sanity ultimately prevailed. The court wisely found for the defendant. Let’s hope now that the poor, embattled dry cleaners can recover from the plaintiff all or part of the $100,000 in legal fees they have had to pay out over the past two years to defend themselves in this bizarre, costly and unnecessary law suit. (NOTE: They had offered on a number of occasions to pay an out-of-court settlement worth far more than the price of the pants, but the plaintiff repeatedly refused.) And let’s hope that the vengeful and greedy plaintiff—who was up for reappointment as a judge this year—never sits on the bench ever again.

By the way, I wonder what King Solomon would have done in that situation? Perhaps if the pants had been recovered, he would have had them cut in half!

Then, one more news items caught my eye recently. The American Medical Association recently toyed with the idea of classifying video game addiction as a mental disorder for which one potentially could receive health insurance benefits. After announcing that the matter would be presented for a vote this week, it was withdrawn from consideration at the last minute, the powers-that-be feeling that it still required additional study. But can you imagine the potential outcome of such an action? As if health insurance rates aren’t high enough already! If proponents of this new designation had their way, all of us soon would be paying through the nose to help little Timmy recover from his uncontrollable desire to play his Xbox non-stop. Numerous treatment centers and clinics would spring up, all to help gamers work through their withdrawal symptoms. The Betty Ford Center in California would probably open up a brand new video game rehab wing. Really! Rather than going down this treacherous road, how about mom and dad simply pulling the plug? Wow, what a novel idea! Think about it, video games actually have an “off” button. So, why not use it? And—hello!—video game usage can be monitored and limited. The last time I heard, establishing boundaries for your children is still part of healthy and responsible parenting. Maybe some parents should help their kids pursue a more balanced, well-rounded life, rather than relinquishing their parental responsibilities by letting video games serve as convenient 24/7 babysitters.

OK. I’m off my soapbox now. Just don’t get me started on Rosie O’Donnell or Don Imus.

Pastor Danny

Monday, June 25, 2007

Motorbikes, Convenience Stores & Fruitfulness

Vrrrooom! It was the most unexpected beginning to an 80th birthday party I had ever seen. (Not that I’ve been to a lot of 80th birthday parties.) While all the guests awaited the birthday girl’s arrival, Lena Stowe made the grandest of entrances, one I will never forget. Riding up on the back of a motorcycle piloted by her grandson, she looked as cool as a cucumber. The octogenarian motorcycle mama later told me that if former president George H.W. Bush could parachute out of an airplane on his 80th birthday, she could certainly ride on a motorbike on hers. I was impressed. I hope when I’m 80 I’m as spry and as “with it” as Miss Lena.

Senior saints like Lena Stowe are an inspiration to me. I love to be around them because they’re so full of joy and life.

Just prior to Miss Lena’s party, Sandy and I had made a quick trip to Florida to see our parents. We flew down to Orlando on Sunday night so I could wish my dad a happy Father’s Day.

My dad is my hero. When I was six years old I wanted to grow up and be like him someday. Interestingly, now that I’m fifty, I still want to grow up and be like him someday! My dad is one of the kindest and most selfless people I’ve ever met. He’s always been vitally interested in other people, no matter who they are. Dad only had one child (me) and one grandchild (my son), but he has numerous "adopted" children and grandchildren in both Kentucky and Florida. Although he's only lived in the Orlando bedroom community of Clermont for slightly less than three years now, he has a large established network of friends all over town.

For example, while Sandy and I were in Clermont the other day, we accompanied dad to one of his favorite local haunts. The BP Connect convenience store is a company chain store that more than rivals 7-11, offering hot soup and freshly-made sandwiches in their Wild Bean CafĂ©. Some people would think it odd to dine out at a gas station, but dad goes by there 2 or 3 times a week. He knows all the staff and they love him. Like the folks at the local Cracker Barrel restaurant and the nearby Washington Mutual Bank, they’re part of his extended family. He wanted me to go by and see the BP staff while I was in town. Cary, the store manager, a young lady from Puerto Rico, is a big fan of my dad’s. When the managerial position became available, Dad actually advised the district manager that they needed to promote from within and hire Cary. Next thing we knew, she had the job. Dad even was an honored guest at her wedding last year. In his home, he has a framed wedding portrait of Cary and her husband. Another young lady, Amy, works behind the food counter making sandwiches at BP. She formerly lived in Honduras. I had sent Dad some photos of my recent mission trip there and she loved seeing all those images of familiar places. Amy wanted me to come by the store when I came to town so we could talk about her former country. All of these people—and many, many more—love and adore my dad.

But they're simply giving back to him what he gives to them. He takes time to get to know them, to find out their backgrounds, their interests, etc. He knows their family members by name. He remembers their birthdays and anniversaries. He takes gifts to them. A former high school and elementary school principal, as well as a college professor, he encourages them in their educational and career pursuits. He also encourages them to go to church. He is vitally interested in them and cares about them…and they know it. My dad is so busy loving people, that he simply has no time to be negative or selfish. When I “grow up”, I definitely want to be like him.

Among the many things I’ve enjoyed in coming back to Danville is the delightful discovery that a lot of our senior adults here at Mount Hermon are just like that. They’re living vital, active lives. They have an interest in other people. They invest themselves in others. And, one thing I really like about our seniors is that they have the whole church at heart, not just their age group. They care about and are interested in our children, our teenagers, our young families—all segments of our church family. I think that’s great!

I love going to the monthly Keenagers meetings when I can. And not just for the great food! They shower such love and affection on me. I can’t get enough of it! It’s like I’m much more than their pastor. It’s as if I’m their adopted son, or their favorite nephew.

My first church was like that, too. Melville Avenue Baptist, here in Danville. It was virtually an all-senior adult church when Sandy, Jordan and I first arrived. I was all of 28 years old, ready to take on the world. Jordan was just about to turn four. Sandy was a teenager, I think! And they just loved us and encouraged us and lifted us up constantly. Jordan had tons of surrogate grandparents and we never were found wanting for a babysitter. It seems that there’s just something special about the senior adult Christians in Danville. They’re a unique breed. But here’s something I’ve discovered over the years. People don’t just turn out to be joyful and positive and productive by accident. I’m sad to say that some people, the older they get, become increasingly cynical, bitter, isolated, selfish and inwardly-focused. What makes the difference? It has to do with the seeds we sow throughout the course of our lives. It has to do with how we invest ourselves along the way.

Philippians 2:4 says “Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.” Every commandment of God is given for our welfare. This one is no exception. We should realize that when we fail to heed this command, we become less than God intended for us to be.

Psalm 92:12-15 tells us that “The righteous will flourish like a palm tree; they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon; planted in the house of the Lord, they will flourish in the courts of our God. They will still bear fruit in old age; they will stay fresh and green, proclaiming, ‘The Lord is upright; He is my Rock, and there is no wickedness in Him.’” In other words, if we live a righteous life by keeping our focus on Christ (rather than ourselves) then we'll be well rooted and grounded. And we can stay fresh and vital, bearing fruit as long as we live.

What kinds of seeds are you sowing? What kinds of fruit are you bearing? Is it sweet, fragrant and attractive to others? Or it is something less than that?

A lot of our folks at Mount Hermon have definitely learned the secret of staying “fresh and green.” When I “grow up” I want to be just like them.

Pastor Danny

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Thoughts on the 2007 Southern Baptist Convention

Some 8,600 messengers elected by their local churches converged on the City of San Antonio, Texas this past week for the annual meeting of the Southern Baptist Convention. In my 22 years as a pastor, Sandy & I have been to 8 SBC meetings. This was the first one we had attended in a few years.

When we arrived in San Antonio late Sunday night, the hometown NBA Spurs were handily winning game 2 of their best-of-7 championship series against the Cleveland Cavaliers. (They ultimately would sweep the Cavs, 4 games to zip.) On the taxi ride in from the airport, we listened along with the cabbie to the game’s 4th quarter on radio. As we stepped into the lobby of our downtown hotel, the desk clerks, bellhops and guests were all cheering their team’s victory, just played out on the hotel’s big screen TV. Moments later, from our 14th floor room, we could see an adjacent high-rise hotel with its exterior balcony lights illuminating the night sky with the message “Go Spurs”. Then, on into the late hours, while we tried to sleep, car horns celebrating the Spurs’ win could be heard continuously from the busy streets below. San Antonio definitely loves its Spurs, and during the NBA Finals, it seems the whole town had gone hoops crazy. But there’s a lot more to this Southwestern city than Tim Duncan, Tony Parker and company.

All my previous trips to Texas have been confined largely to the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex. I’ve told that to a few native Texans and they’ve typically responded, “Oh, then you haven’t really been to Texas.” With this trip I started to realize a bit more of what they were talking about. San Antonio is a large city—(at 1.2 million residents, it’s the 7th largest in the USA)—but it has worked hard to maintain a more relaxed, smaller town flavor. In contrast to the seemingly more urban Dallas (which is actually slightly smaller), San Antonio has a greater number of residents that have lived in the region all their lives, and their families have been there for generations. This was certainly true of many of the cab drivers, food servers, and sales clerks with whom we spoke. Without a doubt, most were extremely friendly, helpful and courteous. The city itself is also very beautiful, with its rich Mexican cultural heritage (which includes great Mexican cuisine, by the way) and lots of trees, shade, and appealing green space in the downtown area, especially along the popular River Walk area. Historically, San Antonio is perhaps best known as the site of the Alamo. No, not the car rental agency, but the famous battle. You remember the Alamo, don’t you? That’s where John Wayne…er…I mean, Davy Crockett—and 188 other brave heroes—died fighting for freedom rather then surrender to Mexican General Santa Anna. In my opinion, San Antonio was a great host city for our convention. I’ve been to a number of convention cities that were not near as friendly or as easy to navigate. The residents of San Antonio truly went out of their way to make us feel welcome.

Now, on to some of the highlights of the convention itself: SBC President Frank Page has served with distinction since his surprise election one year ago in Greensboro. Presiding over this year’s proceedings, Page’s warmth, humor, humility, sincerity, and inclusive spirit set a wonderful tone for week. The theologically-conservative, mission-minded pastor of a large (but not mega-) church—First Baptist of Taylors, South Carolina—Frank Page well represents grass-roots Southern Baptists and his leadership style has been absolutely refreshing. I particularly like (and identify with) his line: “I believe the Bible, I’m just not angry about it.” May his tribe increase! I was delighted when he was re-elected without opposition to a customary second term.

The messengers also passed a motion reaffirming the 2000 Baptist Faith and Message, identifying it as the denomination’s “only consensus statement of doctrinal beliefs”, noting that it’s not a creed but a guide. As such, SBC boards and agencies were reminded that the BF & M provides the basic parameters for the hiring of all seminary professors and the appointment of all missionaries.

The messengers also received reports from our various SBC entities. It was great to hear that Cooperative Program giving reached record levels in 2006. So did giving to Lottie Moon and Annie Armstrong (our seasonal international and national mission offerings). Praise the Lord! (Mount Hermon also had a record year in 2006.) Furthermore, International Mission Board President Jerry Rankin reported that more than 475,000 new believers were baptized and more than 23,000 new churches planted last year through the work of IMB missionaries. Rankin encouraged SBC churches to partner with overseas missionaries through short-term mission trips and prayer and financial support. (That’s exactly what we’re seeking to do at Mount Hermon.)

Unfortunately, while missions giving is up and overseas baptisms are climbing, baptisms here at home have continued to decline. It was reported that of our 44,000 SBC churches, 17% baptized no one in 2006! And 68% of SBC churches baptized 10 or less. Furthermore, concerns were expressed in regard to the large numbers of inactive members on our church rolls. Southern Baptists, with 16 million members, are the 2nd largest religious denomination in the USA (after the Catholic Church). But, as one speaker reminded us, the exact whereabouts of many of our church members are unknown even to the FBI and CIA!

While it was noted that our conservative resurgence during the 1980s & 1990s returned us to a high view of scripture—which was needful—we still have a great and desperate need for repentance and revival. It seems we’ve been focusing on trying to raise our baptism levels as a denomination, when we really need to be taking a hard look at ourselves, particularly in regard to our attitudes, our treatment of one another, and the pursuit of personal holiness in all areas of our lives. This was a recurring theme in the sermons preached at this year’s convention as well as the pastors’ conference that preceded it. To this I add a hearty “Amen!” Church health must always precede church growth. Furthermore, I think it’s always important to remember that one can be as straight as a gun barrel theologically while also being as cold as a gun barrel spiritually.

As he has in years past, President George W. Bush addressed this year’s meeting live via satellite. He thanked Southern Baptists for their prayers, adding that "God has blessed our nation with prosperity and great abundance, and I firmly believe, like you, that we should use our resources to help those at need here at home and help those in need abroad. And this is a central part of the work of the Southern Baptist Convention. … You're living out the call to spread the Gospel and proclaim the Kingdom of God."

And here's some really good news you may not have heard. Nearly 1,000 people—959 to be exact—made first-time decisions for Christ during the “Crossover” evangelistic outreach! Praise the Lord! “Crossover” is an annual event preceding the SBC meeting whereby volunteers witness through block parties, cultural celebrations, free medical clinics, door-to-door visits, etc.

One of the personal highlights of the week for me was meeting former Arkansas governor and current presidential candidate Mike Huckabee. He was doing a book signing at the LifeWay booth. You may or may not know that Mike Huckabee is an ordained Baptist minister and pastored SBC churches prior to first running for political office in the early 1990s. If you have seen any of the recent presidential debates, you will realize that Huckabee—while thus far relegated to the second tier of candidates—is articulate, intelligent and stands firmly on his Christian convictions. Do an Internet search of his recent comments regarding creation. Read the transcript or watch the video footage. You will be impressed. Huckabee hit a home run in responding to the question of a secular news reporter on the subject. It was a pleasure for me to meet Governor Huckabee and chat with him for a few minutes. I bought two of his books. He personalized one each for me and my son. I assured him of my prayers as he continues his quest for the White House.

Well, that’s my report on this year’s SBC. Other than our flight home being two hours late (because of bad weather), our luggage getting lost in Dallas (but recovered the next day), and our alarm system accidentally going off (and getting stuck in the on position) when we arrived home at 2:30 AM, everything else was uneventful!

Pastor Danny

Thursday, June 07, 2007

The Goat is on the Eyebrow!

Do you ever get into conservations with people that—like the Energizer bunny—just seem to go on and on and on? It seems that some people are just gifted with verbal abundance. Do you know I mean? You ask them for the time of day and they wind up telling you how to build a clock! And what about those people who continually jump from subject to subject, with no seeming line of logic or coherence? Do you know anyone like that?

The other day, Sandy and I sat down at Short Sugar's Barbecue for a quick bite to eat. It had been a rather busy day, we hadn’t seen each other at all, and we wanted to have a quiet moment to converse and catch up the day’s activities before heading off for a meeting at church. There weren’t very many patrons at Short Sugar's that evening, so it looked like a safe bet. We had just gotten our food, and prayed over it, when some unfamiliar elderly gentleman came up to our table and started talking. I thought, is this person someone I know or should know? Is he possibly a member of our church? After a few minutes I realized he was neither. And I have no idea why he singled us out. But he stood at our table for a good 15-20 minutes and talked non-stop, beginning with the flavor of the barbecue, the price of gasoline, the way Danville used to be, his belief that Yanceyville had better restaurants, his former career working for Dan River, his wife’s ailments, how he once had a side job mowing lawns for several people, the church he attended, a famous evangelist he heard speak once or twice, a song he had written, his many trips to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, and so on and so on and so on. He had tremendous breath control, because we couldn’t get a word in edgewise. And I’m not sure he wanted us to. He just wanted an audience. And we definitely were a captive one, with our uneaten meals growing cold before us. Our waitress tried to rescue us more than once, but to no avail. After a few minutes of trying to be courteous, we decided that we just needed to eat while he stood there and talked on. About the time we finished our rushed meal, he all of a sudden said goodbye. He never told us his name or asked ours. We gave time for him to pay his check and exit before we followed suit. After it was all said and done I said to Sandy, “Who in the world was that guy?” She said, “He’s just lonely.” And, of course she was right. But this whole experience reminded me of other instances when I’ve been involved in conversations with people (dialogues of course, not monologues like at Short Sugar’s) that bounce from topic to topic that have no apparent connection or relevance.

Most people refer to those meandering conversations as “chasing rabbits” or “getting sidetracked.” When it happens in our church staff meetings—seemingly with greater frequency since my arrival—our associate pastor Ryan Riley often notes that “we seem to have digressed.” A lot of times, admittedly, I am the perpetrator of said digressions, telling some colorful story from my vast pastoral experience that I know will simply enthrall as well as educate my staff. (Hey, wait a minute, did someone yawn?)

A few years ago when I was on a mission trip with my former church, there were a couple of people on the trip that were extremely verbose and, between the two of them, a conversation could take a number of dramatic and unexpected twists and turns, winding up far, far away from whence it had begun. One time they were talking about a goat that had climbed a rock wall around our place of lodging, marveling at its agility. (Strange subject, I know. But you had to be there.) Then, all of a sudden, one of the guys very excitedly said, “You know, once I saw an old photo of a mountain goat standing on the eyebrow of a president on Mount Rushmore!” Instantly, I did a double take, catching the eye of my youth pastor, who was thinking the same thing I was—“What in the world does that have to do with anything?” From that time on, the youth pastor—also named Ryan—and I shared this private, inside joke. Whenever we were in a meeting, and the discussions were getting far away from their original purpose, we would look at one another and one of us invariably would say, “The goat is on the eyebrow!” That was our code language for “Wow! This conversation has really gotten way off base.” Soon, the phrase became known by the whole church staff and it became a not too infrequent expression uttered in staff meetings.

Interestingly, in recent years, I have searched high and low for that alleged vintage photograph of a goat on the eyebrow of a president. I have never been able to find it. I’ve seen goats NEAR Mount Rushmore, but not actually ON Mount Rushmore. So, I’ve begun to wonder if it really exists or if it was just the figment of someone’s imagination. If you ever happen to come across this image, please let me know. I’ve got some folks I’d love to send it to. I might even print out a copy and take it with me the next time I go to Short Sugar’s…just in case my loquacious friend shows up there again. I think I’ll give him a copy of it with no explanation and see if he can figure it out on his own.

So, for future reference, in case you & I ever happen to be involved in a big group discussion & all of a sudden you hear me say, “The goat is on the eyebrow”, you’ll know exactly what I’m thinking.

Pastor Danny

Monday, June 04, 2007

Aches, Pains and Canals

Last week, while I was still recovering from my infamous bee sting--wouldn't you know it?--I started having some other problems. Over a period of several days, I had this nagging pain in my head. And honestly, at first, I couldn't tell if it was coming from my Rocky Balboa eyelid or from some other sore spot on my cranium. I mean it was one of those traveling, vagabond sort of pains that sometimes felt like it was in my jaw, then in my neck, then in my forehead, then in my eye, then in my chest… It moved faster than a deadbeat dad trying to escape child support payments. You get the picture.

(Wow, I’ve got to pause here and say that I never really thought I would live to see this. I mean, here I am giving people exhaustive anatomical tours of my various aches and pains, just like I used to hear elderly people do when I was a little boy!)

Anyway, my floating mystery pain finally zeroed in on one of my teeth. And, although I tried to ignore it for a while, it kept increasing both in intensity and frequency until I just couldn’t stand it any more. So I made an emergency trip to the dentist who immediately told me that I was in desperate need of a root canal.

Well, I once sailed the canals of the city of Amsterdam in the Netherlands. And I’ve always thought it would be kind of neat to see the historic Panama Canal. But a root canal has never been on my Top Hundred List of things I want to do before I die. Somehow, I had survived all these years without one, and I was really hoping to keep my record intact. After all, I’d always heard horror stories about root canals. But I have to admit, when it was all said and done, phase one of my root canal went rather smoothly. (I’ve still got two more phases to go, however.) And, having just completed all the meds for my eye problem, I'm now on a new round of prescription drugs for my tooth. So, the pain is in check now.

But, it seems like I’ve just been falling apart lately. (Maybe it’s that psychological thing of turning the big “5-0”.) Anyway, all of this led me to recall Solomon’s reflections on physical aging, as recorded in the book of Ecclesiastes, Chapter 12. At one time this poetic description of old age seemed so foreign and far removed from me. But now it’s getting closer every day. Note my explanatory comments regarding the Biblical imagery in boldface type:

“Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you find no pleasure in them, before the sun and the light of the moon and the stars grow dark and the clouds return after the rain; When the keepers of the house tremble (i.e., your hands are shaky & your knees are weak. Kind of sounds like an old Elvis song, doesn't it?) and the strong men stoop (i.e., the shoulders become bowed over), when the grinders cease because they are few (i.e., yep, that’s the one about losing teeth!), and those looking through the window grow dim (i.e., failing eyesight, often expedited by bee stings); when the doors to the street are closed and the sound of grinding fades; (i.e., your sense of hearing falters); when men rise up at the sound of birds (i.e., restlessness, inability to sleep, easily disturbed), but all their songs grow faint (i.e., your voice grows thin and weak); when men are afraid of heights and dangers in the streets (i.e., unsteady, less adventurous); when the almond tree blossoms (i.e., your hair turns white); and the grasshopper drags himself along (i.e., little things become burdensome) and desire no longer is stirred. Then man goes to his eternal home and mourners go about the streets (i.e., death).

Wow, that's an interesting take on aging. Well, two weeks ago a demon-possessed bee flew into one my “windows” and this past week, one of my “grinders” failed me. What’s next?

One final thought. In the midst of all this, for my leisure reading of late I’ve been working through an excellent new biography on the late Roberto Clemente, one of my heroes as a kid and one of the first truly great Latin American baseball stars. (I saw him play in person back in 1972. He was killed following that season in a tragic plane crash. He was on his way to Nicaragua on a New Year's Eve mission of mercy to deliver humanitarian aid to earthquake victims.)

As I’ve been reading the book, I’ve been reminded of the fact that Clemente not only was a phenomenal athlete, he also was a quirky guy. He continually complained of so many physical ailments that many regarded him as a hypochondriac. Ouch! I really think Clemente is starting to rub off on me. I need to finish this book and pronto. And, when I do, I promise not to write any more about my health or about any of my roving anatomical pains. Not even if a bull gores me next week!

Dr. (not the kind that can help you medically) Danny