At a glimpse....: Sometimes total coincidence might God's way of rem...

At a glimpse....: Sometimes total coincidence might God's way of rem...: "I heard someone say once that you should never regret any mistakes that you make in life. The reason is, because at that time, it was exactl..."

At a glimpse....: The Three Amigo's--A Kind Of Short Story (In Memor...

At a glimpse....: The Three Amigo's--A Kind Of Short Story (In Memor...: "Hoyt Knox, what a character. He would have had an absolute fit If he knew I would write a story about him one day and place it Facebook. Th..."

At a glimpse....: *#@* IRAN!

http://redneckscholar.blogspot.com/2010/08/iran.html?spref=bl: "Let me paint the picture for you. Image, if you will, a VERY large parade. I mean many thousands of people lining the streets near Times Squ..."

At a glimpse....: The Night I Faced One Of My Inner Demons...Literal...

At a glimpse....: The Night I Faced One Of My Inner Demons...Literal...: "As a child I was a very sweet and sensitive boy. I was very tenderhearted and very quiet at times. I always preferred to play alone in solit..."

At a glimpse....: Sometimes there is no closure and no happy ending....

At a glimpse....: Sometimes there is no closure and no happy ending....: "Warning: This one is kind of dark. So, if you are in a good mood, feeling optimistic and hopeful then, you may NOT want to read this. Howeve..."

The Three Amigo's--A Kind Of Short Story (In Memory Of Hoyt Lee Knox Jr-1969-2009)

Hoyt Knox, what a character. He would have had an absolute fit If he knew I would write a story about him one day and place it Facebook. The man completely forbade me to even take one simple picture of him because he claimed I would put it on my Facebook page. “Yeah, of course I will”. I simply and honestly told him.

I only have one picture of Hoyt Knox. I actually had to borrow it from a very large collage hanging on the wall of one of our favorite hangouts called Jenkins Deli in Cleveland, Tennessee. Jenkins Deli is located in a small strip mall at the corner of Keith street and Mouse Creek Rd. I guess it first opened around 1976 and the atmosphere kind of reminded me of a smaller version of Applebee's or Ruby Tuesday's. A lot of university kids worked and hung out here at the time and the environment was certainly “family friendly”.

Ironically, as shy as Hoyt was about being photographed, he was the one who pointed out this picture of himself to me on that large collage hanging on the wall in the deli lobby. It's a picture of Hoyt at Jenkins Deli around 1995 sitting with some pretty young lady he knew. He and I didn't know each other then but it was the only picture of Hoyt that I knew I could personally obtain a copy of after his death.

I had to physically go to Jenkins Deli to obtain the picture which I did not long ago. I literally removed the collage hanging from the wall and used my camera to take a copy of the picture itself. Normally I would have never dared to do something so conspicuous. However, it was for a friend.

Hoyt was from Etowah in Mcminn County, Tennessee. And he was definitely not one to dismiss as being average or even dull. The man certainly possessed a considerable degree of intelligence which was only matched by his brawny stature. One could be intimidated by just looking at him.

He, of course, standing around 6'2 and about 250lbs, was also an avid weight lifting enthusiast. The guy was just hard to miss in almost any social circumstance. Hoyt even told me that he was chosen by scouts from the UTK football team but turned down their offer because of his father's untimely passing.

Sometimes Hoyt could be seen around town driving in his blue BMW convertible sporting the latest fad in expensive name brand sunglasses. A few years later, not only would there be expensive sunglasses but the latest version of blue tooth could be seen sticking out of his ear. In my view, this new acquisition of technology simply made Hoyt appear more sophisticated; kind of like a preppy Secret Service agent.

However, it was far more difficult to communicate with him by cell phone because he never seemed to invest in a bluetooth/headset that worked well. He was always taking them back, replacing them because he broke them, or loosing them.

Usually when Hoyt left me a voice mail I automatically knew it was from him without having to check my caller identification. The voice mail would usually go like this: “New message, Saturday, July 6, at 9:25 pm. PPPFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTFFFFTTTTTT!!!!!” I would hear nothing but horrible static with what sounded like Hoyt's voice underneath telling me to call him.

Sometimes though, Hoyt was just downright difficult to get in touch with. He always seemed to be on the move and prone to flights of fancy. He would usually call and leave a message on my voicemail, “Hey man, it's me. Give me a call. Bye.”Then when I would return the call (many times within minutes of missing it) I would get his voicemail, leave a message, and not hear back from Hoyt for days. Sometimes weeks went by before I heard anything.

On one occasion Hoyt informed me that he and some other guys took a trip to Nigeria. “Well, that explains why I couldn't get in touch with you”. I said. Hoyt then went on to tell me that he had to constantly be on the move because there were roving bands of heavily armed bandits looking for Americans to capture and hold for ransom. It sounded a bit far fetched but within a week I saw a story on Fox News about how The State Department was warning Americans about traveling to Nigeria for that very same reason.

Of course, I never would have met Hoyt at all if it weren't for a mutual friend of ours by the name of David Hamrick from the Seattle, Washington area. Dave was another character indeed. I met Dave at a part time job around June of 2000. Dave knew Hoyt from their time at Lee University together. Hoyt was studying emergency medicine and he would eventually become an EMT and strive to be a physicians assistant. Dave, on the other hand, went to Lee University after being discharged from the Air Force.

Dave had spent time being deployed overseas. He had lived in the United Kingdom, Turkey, and Germany and he had been all over Europe and parts of the Middle East and Asia. Dave was also fluent in German and Spanish. During his time in the Air Force Dave was a devout Roman Catholic. However, that changed when he met some people from the Church of God in Germany. Soon he converted to Pentecostalism.

Dave was not at all the physically imposing figure that Hoyt was. In fact, just the opposite. Dave was probably around five feet five. However he completely made up for his size with the overwhelming amount of academic and theological knowledge that poured out of the many impromptu sermonettes or political speeches he happened to launch into at will...or by suggestion. It always amazed me how much knowledge was stored up in that small cranium of his.

I started attending church with Dave at Hopewell Church of God not long after I met him and, as became our custom, we would go out with the church folks to some well known eateries like the esteemed Gondolier Pizza or even Monterrey's Mexican Restaurant. (Both located off of Keith Street near Cleveland High School) Usually a bunch of students from Lee would accompany us and a large theology lesson would break out somewhere between the main course and dessert. Dave was ever the head of the impromptu class like a professor giving a lecture.

Sometimes these theology and philosophy lessons would continue at Dave's apartment (even my apartment sometimes) and last until the wee hours of the morning. I remember one time in particular we discussed the doctrine of sanctification being a second work of grace as taught by the Wesleyans. I soon looked at the clock and it was nearly five in the morning but there Dave stood, dictionary of theology open and in hand, delivering his lesson like he was standing before a class of a hundred students. I could barely keep my eyes open and I nearly thought I was dreaming.

Dave also had a lot of literature one would only find in a Christian bookstore. In fact his whole duplex resembled a stock room of all kinds of VHS video tapes, bible tracts, books on eschatology and comparative religions; whatever best selling books were sold at the time concerning such matters. Dave had stacks of Chic Publications tracks on his coffee table and many of the videos were by Perry Stone and Hal Lindsey. Many of our conversations also orbited around dispensationalism and matters of the “End Times”.

Other conversations we had would touch on the intricacies and history of the Roman Catholic faith which Dave shared from the point of view of being a former Roman Catholic. The occult and all kinds of religious cults would also come up occasionally. But most of the time we watched a lot of television together. Dave refused to buy cable. He said he couldn't afford it. I personally refused to go without it.

So, consequently, we would usually find ourselves at my place watching a fairly new cable news channel called Fox News while we chomped down to some Pizza Hut pizza and wings with extra extra blue cheese dressing. He and I would both watch Bill O'Reiley and Hannity and Colmes. We spent many many hours watching those shows and would be almost amused at the way some of the guests were shredded by O'reiley and how Hannity and Colmes could sharply disagree on almost everything but still be friends.

Then, every week, we would watch a show by Hal Lindsey on the Trinity Broadcasting Network. Oh, and let's not forget the show Jack Van Impe Presents took up some of our time too. Those were some good times. Dave was such a smart guy. Not a day went by without me learning something new from him. It was a true learning time for me in a lot of ways and Dave was certainly a mentor during that short time.

Of course I could not possibly agree with everything I heard Dave teach. Dave and I usually had our sharpest disagreements on what many theologians call the “pentecostal distinctives”. I used to ask Dave questions about such matters that would eventually have him spinning on his eyebrows. Sometimes Dave would get so exasperated that the bald spot on his head would begin to glow a reddish tint. It was downright amusing.

I will never forget the night Dave and I went to his apartment and Dave's room mate Carlos was there. “Dave, who in the world were you talking to on the phone the other night?” Carlos asked. “I have never heard you so fired up. I mean you were just 'raarrr raaarr raaarrr', just yelling and hollering like a fool.”

Of course, Dave was having a phone conversation with me about one of the things we disagreed on. I soon quit having these discussions with Dave however. It became apparent to me that Dave, indeed, was a true believer. I had to hand it to him; I had never met anyone in my life who defended what they believed with such tenacity and knowledge. I joked to Dave that he and I needed to start our own radio show kind of like Hannity and Colmes. But instead of politics we would talk about evangelicalism, cults, religion, and so on. We could even have guests on the show.

Hoyt Knox was also hanging out with Dave at this time although our paths didn't cross too much initially. Then one night, after a long afternoon and night at work, I met Dave at the local Steak and Shake for a post midnight full course meal. And, when I walked in I noticed Dave wasn't alone. There I was introduced to Hoyt for the first time.

I must admit that my first encounter with Mr. Knox was not at all what I had expected. By his initial appearance, I almost expected him to be a frat boy/ jock/sports fanatic who could be boorish at times. This was not the case. Hoyt was actually very soft spoken. He seemed very polite and his kind demeanor was very disarming. It seemed that he and Dave had quite a repertoire and, as in most group conversations, I just sat and listened as usual.

Hoyt talked about his decision to get into body building. He said he had always had a weight problem, especially as a kid, and that engaging in weight training was a a way to control that. He began to elaborate further as to the science of those concepts when I asked for more details. He seemed to know a whole lot about nutrition and how to eat properly to control Type 2 diabetes. In fact, when I think back on it, much of the knowledge I gained about weight training (concerning supplements, multivitamins, formula, etc) was from Hoyt..

Over the next few weeks I found myself meeting many times like this with Dave and Hoyt and it was usually after work. Sometimes we would choose Steak and Shake and others Dennys. However it was always after 2 a.m. Of course the friendship and camaraderie soon subsided because I decided it was time to leave Tennessee for far greener pastures in Atlanta.

I really hated to leave Dave and Hoyt behind. I was just getting to know Hoyt and I would certainly miss the times Dave and I spent with our theological and philosophical discussions. Ironically however, it wasn't until I left Tennessee that Hoyt Knox and I became really good friends.

You see, I was faced with the initial effect of culture shock when I arrived back in the Atlanta area. It seemed that much of the world had come here to live. I suppose it was because of the 1996 Olympics. I just know that when I left town, in my mind, I was leaving a redneck town that just couldn't seem to catch up to the rest of the world. However, when I got back I noticed that many things had changed and it seemed the world was right on our doorstep.

However, I always kept in touch with Dave and Hoyt by phone. As usual, I took a night job (2^nd shift) so when I got home I was usually wide awake for several hours. It was here that I called Hoyt for the first time and we pretty much picked up right where we left off. There was almost nothing we talked about that he couldn't comprehend and many times add to the discussion.

After a few initial phone calls I told him that I wouldn't mind driving up just to hang out and maybe get with Dave and some old friends. Later on, however, I would visit because I had family members eventually move to the area. Hoyt and I never did anything earth shattering. The first time we hung out we met at Jenkins Deli in Cleveland. Sometimes we would hang out in Chattanooga near the Hamilton Place Mall and theater. In a nutshell, we pretty much hung out at some of Hamilton and Bradley County's finest dining establishments.

The vast majority of the time Hoyt would buy my dinner. The reason was because I usually drove to Cleveland to pick him up because he was having car trouble. (I was more than happy to do this since I knew he would buy me a good meal). Then, we would drive back down to Hamilton Place.

Sometimes we would continue with the tradition of meeting at Jenkins Deli or even dine at Steak and Shake near Hamilton Place or even Bradley Square. Other times, when we really wanted to live larger than life, we would dine at the prestigious Logan's Roadhouse, Smokey Bones, O' Charley's, The Outback Steakhouse, or even IHOP if it was very late. Many times we tried to get in touch with Dave to come out with us but sometimes we just couldn't. But when we did, we had lots of fun.

Sometimes though, when the conversations were rather dull (or I was rather dull) Hoyt would easily pull the servers (usually pretty waitresses) into small talk at first. Then as things progressed, “Oh you go to Lee? I went there back in such and such! Did you know professor__________? Oh yeah he was awesome!” I would just sit there and wish I had that level of the gift of gab. Hoyt almost never seemed to meet a stranger...even when he met strangers.

Each time we sat down to break bread, such as the fresh hot rolls at Logan's Roadhouse, Hoyt became more outspoken about the menu items I was choosing. “You know Dave, you need to really cut back on all that white processed food and choose something more like whole wheat bread and a sweet potato. Brown wheat pasta is good too. But you might as well be eating a huge bowl of cherry licorice with all that white pasta you just ate. It's just going to get into your blood and turn into pure sugar.”

Sometimes, when I would order dessert Hoyt would just shake his head. It just seemed as if Hoyt had a natural inclination to want to care for people and look out for their best interests. Hoyt could indeed be a bit overbearing at times with his concern. Other times, however, it would come in very handy.

Case in point: Several years ago, when I still lived in Duluth, Georgia, I decided to go on a crash diet of just fruits and vegetables. The idea was sound and my intentions were for the best. It wasn't long however, before I started to feel in ways that I had never felt in my life. I slept a lot, I had chest pains, my hands and feet tingled in a strange way, and when Hoyt called to check on me that following Friday he said I sounded completely drunk.

We weren't into the conversation five minutes before he strongly encouraged me to go to a doctor ASAP. The following morning I went to Gwinnett Family clinic and was promptly diagnosed with diabetic ketoacidosis. I could have wound up in the hospital had I not taken Hoyt's advice. I'm glad I did because I was a type 2 diabetic and I didn't even know it.

It was because of this that I took Hoyt a lot more seriously when we talked about good nutrition at our dinner meetings. Most of the time, during these elaborate dinner meetings however, Hoyt and I would converse about anything from women, current events, politics, and Christian theology. It was interesting to hear a lot of his stories he told about attending Lee in the 1990's.

He had met so many people and consequently had many experiences both good and bad. Much of these experiences had to do with church folks. Some, from what he said, seemed to be quite painful for him. I most certainly could relate. After all, people are the same everywhere, it seems to me anyhow, and my parents were in the ministry in Hoyt's denomination for many, many years..

Many times the result of these discussions would lead into theological questions and comments that he would have. I did the best I could to listen, which was most of the time, and then answer his questions from a biblical point of view the best way I could. Of course, agreement could not be reached on everything. Some of our more spirited debates were over matters of pentecostal doctrine. We just had some disagreements on matters of speaking in tongues and whether divine healing was part of the atonement or not.

Sometimes David Hamrick would be present and add to the debate. I have no idea what our servers thought or what even the other guests who were trying to enjoy their meal thought. I mean we had some serious, albeit friendly, knock down drag outs. Some of these discussions were so intense that, had I not kept a constant relaxed and monotone predisposition throughout the discussion we probably would have wound up shouting at each other. Our friendship might have been strained because of the whole thing. Of course, we just had to agree to disagree. We could do that and still get along and respect each other. It was just the kind of friendship Hoyt and I had together..

Eventually Hoyt and I considered the possibility of being room mates and we had even traveled around town looking at houses and duplexes as future prospects. Things seemed to be somewhat promising as far as this was concerned. It would have been a great set up. I'd live close to family in a town that truly felt like home. For me, what could be better?

However, things would always fall through on my end. Either I couldn't get employment that paid enough to live comfortably or, as in the most disappointing case, someone else was picked instead of me when I applied for a good job with a competitor. Hoyt expressed disappointment too. Of course, I guess the Lord knew better...as I would find out soon enough.

One thing that was hard not to notice was the fact that Hoyt seemed to have a lot of health problems. Usually just minor problems. However, many of these difficulties seemed to be compounded on top of other ailments. “Gee whiz man go to the doctor”. I often told him. However Hoyt was trained in medicine, and continued to take medical classes so, using all his accumulated knowledge, he would try to take care of himself. I didn't know if this was to save money or what.

I have heard it said somewhere that the worst patients are usually doctors and while Hoyt was no doctor, from what he told me, he was well on his way to being a physician's assistant. So, needless to say, I became very accustomed to calling Hoyt and hearing about how sick he had felt lately...and always with a detailed medical explanation as a bonus. Many times his explanations were so detailed and sounded so textbook that I began to refer to Hoyt as “Dr. Knox”.

Well, it seemed that these bouts of illness became so frequent that they began to interfere with our ability to get in touch when I was usually in town. Our phone conversations continued however and usually on weekends. Usually they would be after midnight when we would watch, over the phone of course, Red Eye on Fox News and Sean Hannity reruns. I always knew we were watching the same shows because I could hear his television and it had an ever so slight delay. Other times, however, and as I have mentioned previously, I wouldn't hear from him.

One Friday night, however, I found myself browsing about in the Wal-Mart Supercenter near my home because I was completely bored out of my mind. I suddenly received a phone call on my cell and noticed it was Hoyt on the caller I. D. I hadn't heard from him in a few weeks so I quickly answered my phone.

After exchanging a few trivial pleasantries, Hoyt informed me that he needed my help and asked if I wanted to accompany him to a gun show in Knoxville, Tennessee the following morning. Hoyt said it was to help him raise money for a certain operation he was going to have to have. It was around 8:30pm and on a VERY short notice. But I quickly said:

“Gun show? Sure, what the heck? I'll meet you at the Cracker Barrel in Athens, Tennessee tomorrow morning.”

Athens was a good three hours or so north but I still arrived early. Basically, Hoyt was late for our morning appointment in Athens. In fact, two hours late at least. It seemed he had difficulty loading all his stuff into a car when he suddenly noticed four flat tires on his vehicle. So, he had to unload and reload all his things into another vehicle. Or, something like that.

Anyway that put us way behind schedule and needless to say things weren't going as planned. By the time we got to the gun show we were quite late. The convention center was full and all the dealers had their merchandise on display. I mean, anything from small caliber hand guns to high powered rifles, shot guns, and assault weapons, were out in the open for all and God to see.

Hoyt and I were swarmed by potential customers as soon as we began to pull our overloaded cart though the center to our assigned sales area. I am not joking when I say overloaded. We had many pounds of ammunition on this cart as well as quite a few guns. In fact, Hoyt had so much stuff to sell that it took a while to get set up. Not only did he have guns and ammo but all kinds of hunting gear and equipment as well. There were certainly plenty of buyers.

And you know, I had no idea who these potential buyers were. They could have been KKK, under cover ATF agents, professional hunters, or all of the above for all I knew. But one thing is for certain, Hoyt was a bit out of his element. However, I had plenty of experience dealing with the public and I stepped up and said, “Gentlemen, please pardon the delay. We will be set up shortly and open for business”.

Well, it was business alright. I had never seen such wheeling and dealing in all my life. By the time the day was over Hoyt had made enough money to buy me a top notch drum kit, drum mics, and with top of the line cymbals and cases to boot. All of it was...in cash. Hoyt still had a few guns left over though. I just can't tell you how strange I felt when we began to drive down the road. I was driving a car with a bunch of hand guns, left over ammo, and a man with thousands in cash in my passengers seat.

I tell ya, I can't imagine what kind of explaining we would have had to do had we been pulled over by the local sheriff. They probably would have thought we were white supremacists or something. Fortunately we had made an acquaintance at the gun show and he led us to a nice part of town where Hoyt checked us into a really nice hotel. Afterward, we went out and had a great meal at the local Outback Steakhouse. And, as usual, had a very good conversation with our waitress whom I have not seen again since.

Despite the fact that the whole experience was totally exhausting; I really didn't mind. I was helping a friend and, my food, gas expenses, and lodging were all paid for per Hoyt so I really couldn't complain. That following Sunday (early the following Sunday morning) I had to drive from the Knoxville area back to Atlanta to play in a worship service I had committed myself too. It was an interesting, yet, exhausting weekend for sure......but it wasn't the end.

Hoyt had mentioned to me, before my return to Atlanta , that he would need my help once again the following weekend. I assured him that, as before, I would be as willing to help as I was in Knoxville. After all, this trip involved going to one of my favorite places of all; Nashville, Tennessee.

And, sticking true to character, Hoyt promised to compensate me for my expenses. He figured we would be finished around Saturday night. This would give me ample time to return to work the following Monday.

The basic mission on this Nashville trip was to exchange a lot of items Hoyt had purchased from a Bass Pro Shop store there at the Opryland Mall. Also, we would be arriving at my favorite time of the year to be in Nashville; Christmas time. I just personally found it to be a great time to visit that city. Unbeknownst to me, however, was that the Opryland Mall, especially during this time of the year, was an absolute cluster; a total jigsaw of tourists, traffic, and frantic shoppers all trying to finish up their Christmas shopping. The secondary mission of this trip was to run a bunch of side errands as well.

Seemed simple enough. And, as usual, I met Hoyt sometime that day and we headed up 1-24 west to the Music City. I was looking forward to this. I even called a singer/songwriter friend of mine, Mark Kelly Hall, and told him I would be in town with a friend and we would try to get with him. My motive was to see if we could crash at Mark's place for the night which I, of course, didn't reveal to Mark until later on.

Everything during the trip seemed to go without a hitch. Of course, we took a little longer to reach the city limits than I thought. There was a lot of traffic just south of Franklin and this held us up a bit. However, when we entered into the vicinity of the Opryland Mall area it became apparent to me that we had serious logistical problems with our plan. In fact, it appeared that we simply sat in a long line of traffic just trying to find a parking place.

I soon called my friend Mark and dropped the “can we crash at your place tonight” line. I could immediately hear the apprehension and hesitation in his voice so I immediately assumed the answer was going to be a resounding...”no”. Mark eventually confessed to me that he would have gladly let me stay there because he had done so several times before on some of my other many trips to Nashville. However, He just didn't know Hoyt.

I understood. Besides, later on Mark told me that I sounded somewhat annoyed over the phone and he could tell I was very frustrated with the way things were going. This was a true. I had one thing on my mind, other than helping a friend, and that was to get back in time for work Monday. The way we were going however was making it look improbable already.

By the time we found a parking place it was pretty late and Hoyt decided not to do what he had to get done until the following morning. We did, however, have plenty of time to get a really good meal. Though, not before Hoyt made a detour into a watch and jewelry shop, there at the mall, and began bargaining with two Pakistani's over a few watches he wanted to get rid of. That took a while as well.

In fact, while Hoyt was bargaining, I decided to take a stroll and look around myself. The Gibson Cafe was one place I did visit along with a bunch of other shops and clothing stores. Hoyt soon called me on my cell phone when he was through. I have no idea if he ever sold those watches or not.

Eventually we settled for a nice seafood dinner at a place called The Aquarium Restaurant. This entire place seemed to be bathed in an aqua blue almost fluorescent light of sorts and one whole wall was the side of a glass tank full of water which contained exotic sea life of various kinds. One could have a nice meal while imagining they were at the Chattanooga Aquarium or something.

Hoyt and I chowed down on calamari with a light butter sauce and later had our main course. Hoyt even had the cook come out from the back and instructed him to fix a gluten free meal because of his allergen towards wheat products. That poor cook looked exhausted. But, he took the directions and followed them to the letter.

Not long after our meal we crashed at some semi old and run down hotel within site of the Nashville skyline. It didn't take me long before I was out cold. I just remember Hoyt saying that he wanted to get up around seven and when I looked at the clock it was already three am.

The next morning started off with a real good breakfast at Jimmy Dean's next to the Opryland Mall. I had a big bowl of oatmeal and raisins with sausage. Hoyt and I sat and talked for at least an hour (which we always did) We finally left a tip for the server and paid our tab. However, that was the last thing that occurred that day which, to me, made any real sense at all.

Most of the next seven to nine hours were spent on me waiting. Usually I would sit in my car while Hoyt went into a store somewhere. I would turn the radio on low, lay back, and snooze. Suddenly, or so it seemed, I would be awakened by Hoyt getting back into the car.

Then, it was off to some other exotic location across town like Best Buy or TJ Max. I mean we drove all over Nashville and even up to parts of Hendersonville. Usually the same scenario would occur; Hoyt would get out, I would wait, fall asleep, he would wake me up getting back in the car, and off we were to another stop.

Despite the fact I was doing these things for a good cause and to help a dear friend; I still couldn't help but slowly become more and more annoyed. For the life of me I couldn't figure out what it was we were doing other than exchanging items at various stores for cash or for other things. To me, it began to seem more and more like a scavenger hunt gone horribly wrong.

My patience began to wear more and more thin. In my mind, the deadline was looming closer and closer and the window of opportunity of successfully achieving my personal goal, arriving at work on time Monday morning, was becoming more and more uncertain with each passing hour.

I kept reassuring myself however of several things; free food, free gas and quality time with a good friend I didn't see much. However, I couldn't help but notice the tone in my voice went from talking to a friend to like a parent talking to their teenage son. “Hoyt, come on! Get in the car...I know, I know, were going to. Just get in!”

Then it began to rain and by the time we arrived at the Opryland Mall for the second time; the sky opened up. I just sat there in the lobby of the Bass Pro Shop by a huge fireplace casually talking with strangers. I watched people walk in and out of the rain for a very long time. Hoyt was still standing up there at the customer service counter and I had no clue as to why. I had begun to resolve myself to the fact that I may not make it to work on Monday. I would have to call in but there still might be a chance...maybe.

However, Hoyt finally finished up whatever business it was he was conducting..finally! I can't tell you how relieved I felt as we got into my car and headed to I-24 east to Chattanooga. I never thought I would say it but I was honestly happy to leave Nashville, Tennessee. I absolutely couldn't wait to get back to Atlanta.

I guess, I had almost lost my ability to hide my frustration by the time we hit Monteagle on I-24 east. After all, it was at night, raining heavily, I couldn't see the road ten feet in front of me hardly. I know Hoyt could sense my increasing agitation. It seemed the more he sensed it the more he continued to talk and laugh. I guess that was his way of trying to keep the peace and smooth everything over.

I had very little sleep that weekend, I hadn't eaten much, I was absolutely exhausted and by the time I reached Hoyt's grandmother's house it was around 2:30a.m....on Monday morning. Were were finally in Etowah, Tennessee and I had about 150 miles to drive before I got home. It would take around three hours to getr back home and I had to get up for work in three and a half. There would be no way I would be able to work because I drove about 300 miles a day with my job anyhow and...after all this?? No way! I'd probably fall asleep at the wheel...and that's with coffee.

I sat there in the drivers seat of my car with the overhead dome light blaring in my face. Hoyt had the hatch back open and he was removing all his things. It was so quiet out there in rural Mcminn County, Tennessee that the silence could almost be felt pressing in on your eardrums. I couldn't really talk much. I was totally spent.

Hoyt briefly sat back down in the passenger seat and thanked me sincerely for the help. He said he was sorry it took so long and then, without saying a word, he handed me $200 cash. “This is for missing work today”. Suddenly a lot of the frustration and anxiety I had about work just evaporated. I just breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him. Hoyt didn't have to do that but he did. “I love you man” Hoyt said. “I love you too buddy” I replied. “Now I have to get home. I just hope I don't fall asleep at the wheel on the way back”. Hoyt crawled out of the car and closed the door as I cranked the engine.

As I pulled out of the driveway and backed onto that dark country black top I saw Hoyt standing on his grandmother's porch. I waved goodbye as I slowly drove away and Hoyt did the same. I breathed a huge sigh of relief once again and resolved myself not to do anymore trips with Hoyt for quite a while. He was my friend, I did everything I could to help him and now I needed a little break. But you know, what I didn't realize, was that seeing Hoyt on the porch waving goodbye was the last time I would ever see him alive.

I made it home by 7:30 a.m. That morning. I was so tired I couldn't help but stop a few times on the way back and take a cat nap. I should have just gotten a room but I finally crashed in my bed...after I called in sick. I might has well have been.

I didn't hear from Hoyt for a very long time after that. The last time I spoke to him on the phone he was at a huge civic center downtown for a paramedics convention. He really wanted me to come down to see him but I had worked all day and it was at one of the worst times of Atlanta rush hour. He seemed disappointed but I couldn't help that.

We may have communicated a couple of more times but he pretty much went radio silent after that. During this time I lost a dear friend and former room mate in an auto accident. I was also playing and recording in sessions on the north side of the city. When we were done with one of the last sessions one night and suddenly I noticed Hoyt had called. He said in his voice mail that he wanted me to call him back that night. I seriously considered it but I was beat and it literally slipped my mind somewhere on the way back home. And, that was it.

This was not unusual. But he always managed to call back within a few hours, days, or even weeks. However, I didn't think much about it when he didn't call me back or when he didn't answer his phone when I called him. I just didn't think much of it. I wish I had.

Months went by and on one particular night I received a call very late which was, to say the least, unusual. I thought it might be Hoyt fially getting back in touch like he always did. However, I saw the name of David Hamrick on my caller ID. I quickly turned down the television and answered the phone.

Sure enough, there was the friendly voice of Dave Hamrick. Our conversation began talking about where he was now living, a brief summary of what I had been doing lately ...then...as is my custom...I began asking about all our friends and acquaintances one by one. “How is so and so? Have you heard from such and such,,blah blah.”

Down the list we went. Then, as always, I asked almost enthusiastically, “Dave, have you heard from Hoyt Knox lately? He hasn't called me in a while”.

Almost without hesitation, and sounding a bit alarmed, Dave replied, “Dave, Hoyt passed away four months ago. You didn't know?”

“Well, no. I guess that explains why he hasn't called me.” I quipped. I would have had to sit down had I not already been in the bed.

“Yeah”. Dave continued. “I didn't find out about it until a few days after the funeral when I saw some of my friends talking about it on Facebook. I also got a call from another friend saying Hoyt had “passed” just a few days before Thanksgiving. I thought he meant Hoyt had passed a medical exam or something.

Then I remembered I got a call a few days earlier from Hoyt's brother, which sounded so much like Hoyt, telling me about what had happened and about the viewing and service etc. But you know, Hoyt was always making prank phone calls so I thought it was probably him.”

I was stunned to say the least. I just remember the sad feeling that came over me. Dave went on to say that Hoyt had died at home which is where he was almost every time I called; or where he was when he had called me to talk. I also realized that I was in Chattanooga visiting family for Thanksgiving the weekend just days after his death. We had our Thanksgiving dinner and then headed to St. Louis for more family time. Had I known about Hoyt's death I could have gone to the funeral. I could have been there. No one told me.

“Hoyt, I'm so sorry man. I just didn't know”. I almost whispered out loud. “I just didn't know”.

I went straight to my computer and googled Hoyt's full name. Sure enough, I found a link basically telling me that Hoyt passed away on a Thursday night, at home, and upon further research, I found I found a website that gave information stating that Hoyt's body had been committed to Good Springs cemetery just outside his hometown of Etowah. (Mcminn County, Tennessee) . There was even a picture of a pile of dirt with a tiny marker that said “Hoyt Lee Knox Jr. 1969-2009) There wasn't even a headstone but those things are awfully expensive I guess. Maybe there just wasn't enough money.

I crawled back into bed a drifted off to sleep. Hoyt must have been heavy on my mind as I slept. When I woke up the next morning for work all I could think about was all the good times Hoyt and I had together and how hard it was to fathom that he was certainly gone. I just wish I had been at the funeral.

You know, for a man who was such a social butterfly and who could extemporaneously communicate with folks he pretty much died alone. Hoyt was all by himself when he died on a Thursday evening. Who knows what I was doing? I could have been recording a session, at the gym, or taking a nap. I just don't know.

However, there is one thing that I am almost certain of; Hoyt did not stay alone for long. I spoke with Hoyt, at length, on spiritual matters and that man knew the Truth and acknowledged it as being such. I know he believed in Christ's death and resurrection and not one time in any of our conversations did he ever doubt or question such things. I personally, am convinced that when he passed away in his room that night that his spirit went directly into the presence of God.

I can also say that I am very grateful that the Lord allowed me to spend that time with Hoyt Knox for the little time of his life that was left. I think that, for Born Again Christian Believer's anyway, that the Lord, through His sovereignty, will always bring people into our lives for purposes of ministry, evangelism, encouragement, and friendship.

And you know, there was a time when I thought that my move to Chattanooga was a terrible mistake; a detour that was a waste of my time. But if I hadn't made that move, as difficult as it was at times, I would have never met Hoyt Knox, Dave Hamrick, or all the others I met along the way. And sound relationships, strengthened by God's love and grace, are the only things that ultimately really matter in this life.

My first band and first major "tour" to....Florida? (Summer 1990)

During the summer of 1990 , just a couple of months after my dad began to pastor a new church, I met a guy named Tellis who was a youth minister from Florida. There was a decent sized parsonage behind the church, across a big field, that was vacant. This was because my parents already owned a home in nearbye Stockbridge. So, Tellis was allowed to move into the parsonage and eventually his family did too. I will never forget the first night I went over to the parsonage with some friends to meet Tellis for the first time.

At first, I didn't think much of Tellis. He seemed very enthusiastic and had a lot of ideas he wanted to try out. In fact, his extremely extroverted and zealous personality almost seemed to force me into introversion. However, the more he spoke of his past experiences the more optimistic I became about my future with this new youth group under his leadership. Then, as if to close the deal, Tellis took us into the den and played some recordings of him singing that he recorded in a friends studio in Florida.. This guy was actually a good singer and now he was talking my language. I asked Tellis where he recorded those tracks and he said in a studio in Tampa, Florida which belonged to guy named Paul Richardson. Paul was the son of Carl Richardson who worked with my dad years earlier in Cleveland, Tennessee. Tellis wanted to start a band there at the church and thought that renovating the garage, in the parsonage, would be a good idea. He had already started building a stage and setting up stage lights. To me, this was great news.


These days, churches with there own rock bands, or some kind of band, are very common place. Almost anyone can make a c.d. and record in a studio somewhere. And, almost anyone can pay to have copies made of the c.d. and distribute the c.d.s themselves. Advances in recording, multi media, and production technology have enabled, even the least talented artists, to be able to deliver a fairly good product to consumers. However, this was the cusp of the decade where rock music was either worldly, or demonic. A church having a rock band was a somewhat revolutionary concept. Especially considering the fact that my dad's church was a Church of God church out of Cleveland, TN. and most of those churches simply had a piano, organ, drums, and an all volunteer choir. But this seemed to be what I was hoping for.

Not long after, we had our first youth service. Dozens of teens were crammed into that garage and the stage lights bathed the room in a burgundy red glow. I was surprised to see my friend Mark's cousin Daryl show up with his guitar. Another guy whom I had never met before named Brian, showed up with his bass. Brian was a full time manager at a Radio Shack there in Fayetteville. I was very nervous because, although I had played in many gospel worship service settings, I had never played in a real rock setting before. To say I didn't know the music was an understatement. Let alone the basic tenants of rock and roll music theory. However, I would be getting my first crash course in Christian Rock 101 very soon.

Well, to put it plainly, Tellis started singing and we started playing. I know I messed up some times, I was about half a beat ahead of the groove other times. I wasn't near as good a drummer as I am now but we got through it. And I'll never forget the grand finale on our last tune. I mean, I was going crazy hitting all the cymbals and drums as fast as I could. Suddenly I heard a loud, "Yeeaaahhh"!! I looked to my right and behind the small curtain, off the side of the little stage, was Mark at the little soundboard, that I suppose was borrowed from the main sanctuary, giving the Ronnie James Dio heavy metal sign with his hand. Yeah, Mark was quite a charachter, He was also a great help when it came to moving gear at some of the gigs we did around town as well as buying all of us dinner at the Pizza Hut.

Also, not long afterwards, my dad threw this huge gospel music bash out on the front lawn of the church. It was some kind of talent show or something and, since our new band was there, we got to play. Well, this was my first chance to actually play rock and roll in front of a crowd. We still didn't have a name so Tellis quickly came up with the name Malachi. Anyway, when I sat behind that drum set, Tellis told all of us what we were going to play. It was a song called "Feel the Fire". The tempo was like this: One......two......three......four. The song began with this line, "I need to feel His touch in the morning and late at night".

Boy, I was so nervous though. Well, Tellis called me, "Way Cool" because, at the time, I never smiled when I played. He said I would look much better wearing some kind of shades. Anyway, he looked back at me and said, "Kick it off Way Cool".

Well, he asked for it. So I clicked it off like this. Onetwothreefour!! I just knew, before we completed the first bar in the intro, that I had clicked off the song WAY TOO FAST! Well, not to be deterred, Tellis tried to sing the lyrics anyway and we all just rocked on! So, when Tellis started singing it sounded like this, "Ineedtufelhstuchinthamorninglatenight"! I mean he was singing so fast his tongue was literally out of his mouth just a flapping away.

Those people, out in the crowd, over six hundred of them and all die hard Southern Gospel music fans, just stared at us and seemed to know about as much as what was going on as we did . I'll never forget that blunder. After we left the stage, Tellis came up to me laughing and said, "Man I had to sing that song so fast I sounded like I was speaking in tongues"!

The embarrassment was short lived however. I was more than excited when Tellis began to talk about going to Florida to do a "tour" and record a demo for our church band that me and a few guys formed for the youth group. We would record down there in the studio owned by Tellis' associates in Tampa and play a couple of bookings at some local churches he knew of.

One thing we were missing however, in fact two things. We needed a sound man and a keyboard player. Well, we got our soundman. He was a guy named Jerry that Brian, our bass player, had known from school. He would always wear these real tight spandex pants to practice. Hence, he earned the nickname...tater. Yep, that's what we called him. And when he would get to laughing he made this funny sound when he gasped for breath that sounded kind of like, "Heeeee".Well, anyhow, Jerry also played keyboard so that took care of that. Our sound guy became our keyboard player.

I guess it was around the end of August and I met the guys, as well as Tellis, at the church out in the front parking lot. There was Daryl, our guitar player. Brian, our bass player. And Jerry, our keyboardist/sound tech. Also, out of the blue, Daryl's dad decided to allow us to borrow his entire P.A. system to take to Florida. That was a major help. Of course, the funniest thing about that sound system was that when we unplugged it from the wall, after a night of gigging, it made a loud whistling sound followed by a sound closely resembling human flatulence. So, emulating that sound became an inside joke for the entire group on that trip. In fact, during the rough cut of the demo we recorded one can here Jerry, the keyboardist, make that same sound with his lips in his microphone. So, we made sure everything was loaded into Tellis' trailor, climbed into Tellis' station wagon, and headed south.

Boy, I loved road trips with a passion. It was as if the Lord had made me to be on the road. Even as a young boy the thought of hitting the road on a long journey nearly sent chills down my little spine. Seeing all the sights was so exciting and I especially loved stopping at restaurants and motels for the night. Especially if they had a nice swimming pool. Now, I was embarking on the first real road trip since my short stay in Sacramento, California with my grandparents back in the summer of 1986.

I'll never forget crossing the Florida/Georgia line. Everything seemed to drastically change. I began to see palm tree's and even the weather was much more humid than I expected. Well, we eventually stopped at a Sonny's Bar B Que in Lake City, Florida. I really wasn't in the mood for a Bar B Que buffet but I was outnumbered. It can be said that you never truly know someone until you live with them for a while. Well, I guess that goes for going on the road with them as well. Tellis, Brian, and Jerry were some of the loudest, most obnoxious guys I had ever had dinner with. I don't know what it was. They were fine every other time but when they sat down to eat together they behaved like a bunch of Vikings. Or worse, like Klingons!

Screaming, yelling, laughing really loud, and talking very loudly with their mouths full of coleslaw mixed with Brunswick stew with small clumps falling down to the floor or on the table. I think I got hit in the eye with a small chunk of coleslaw that was spat across the table. Daryl later confessed to me that he was so embarrassed that he felt like walking back outside to the car. I couldn't blame him. I mean, people kept looking in our direction from all the way in the other dining room and even a cook or two had to step outside the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about. I just sat there very quiet, with of course, an occasional belly laugh because I just couldn't help it.

Well, we hopped back in the car after dinner and headed for Orlando for the night. Apparently Brian's grandmother had offered to put us up for the night at her apartment. As we arrived in Orlando, I noticed a city with buildings that seemed to be covered in neon lights. We also listed to a lot of music on the way down, and as we were passing through a section of downtown Orlando, a song by Tom Petty called, "Running Down A Dream" began to play and Tellis was like, "Ok, guys. Listen to this song. Were in school now." Yeah, ok Tellis. The way the trip eventually turned out was anything but running down a dream. Perhaps we should have been listening to Bon Jovi's "Living On A Prayer". Good thing my dad gave me 250 dollars cash for my birthday.

Well, when we finally got to Brian's grandmother's we were exhausted. We walked into the living room for a brief meet and greet. We began to talk about sleeping arrangements and the like. Then, I noticed the nightly news on television. I always found news reporting from other states and cities interesting because it is so different from what I am accustomed too.

Anyway, the big story in Florida that night, other than the continuous military build up in the Persian Gulf, was the horrible murder of five college students in Gainesville, Florida. Eventually it would be discovered to be the work of a drifter and career bank robber/thief turned psycho slasher named Danny Rollings from Shreveport, Louisianna. He would eventually be tried and convicted of those crimes and be given lethal injection in October 2006. Some veteran Florida Law enforcement officials would claim that the Gainsville murders were the worst they had seen since Ted Bundy. So, everyone was encouraged to stay indoors with the doors locked. Well, Tellis had already said he was not going to leave the gear in his trailer unattended. So, we really held him to his promise." Get out there Tellis. Good luck and hopefully the serial killer won't get you too. Ha ha ha ha".

Other than the fact that we drove around the state an awful lot I must admit that very little of what we did had anything to do with a "tour". We did play at a large church in West Palm Beach. They seemed rather surprised to find out a band was playing for their youth group that night. I'm not sure Tellis cleared it with the people in charge. However, we played anyway. But, after the little show that we did, and as I was breaking down my gear, and putting them back into their cases, I heard Tellis tell the other guys to get out and mingle with the people in the group to find us a place to stay that night. Whaaaat??

Well, sure enough he was serious. So, some poor guy was kind enough to take us to his house, where we all piled into the living room and he literally said, "Mom, Dad, this is the band that played at church tonight and I told them they could stay with us". Unbelievable. Well, I slept on the floor. And, other than the full moon which hung high in the Florida sky, and a distant thunderstorm that rumbled for hours, that's all I remember until the next night.

I really enjoyed the weather in Florida. It was just so different than what I was accustomed too. I had always found thunderstorms to be fascinating but the ones in Florida were just strange. The sun could be shining and the birds singing then suddenly a torrential rain would follow a loud clap of thunder. Then, as almost as soon as it began, the sun would come out again and the humidity was even more sweltering. One time in particular I remember we were crossing a very long bridge over the ocean (which in Florida seemed to be a common occurrence) and I could literally see a deluge just a couple of hundred feet away. I mean, this was the kind of weather where it could literally rain on just one side of the street. Fascinating!

I'll never forget one memorable experience I had late one night near West Palm Beach. Me, Brian, and Jerry decided to leave our motel room and take a walk around. Nearby there was a marina and the water was very dark and still. I had never in my life seen so many houseboats. These were all real high dollar too as well as personifying the word. The moon was large and hung high in the sky like a lone fluorescent snowball on asphalt.

However, off in the distance, I could see a massive storm cloud that was moving very fast. There was a lot of activity in this cloud because the lightning near the top was very frequent. And the light from the moon, as well as all the flashes of lightning, illumined this monster in shades of blue, green and even red. It was moving so fast I couldn't help but think of the 1977 movie, Close Encounters of The Third Kind. Slowly the wind began to pick up and the rumble of a distant thunder became louder and louder. Now, every time I hear the song, "Fade into you" by Mazzy Star I think about the time I stood beside that marina and watched one of the most awesome storms approach that I had ever seen.

Well, the following night, I will never forget we were on some back Florida country two lane black top, listening to the radio as usual, and the news came on and said that legendary blues guitarist Stevie Ray Vaughn was killed in a helicopter crash. I wasn't much into blues then but even I knew that was a major loss to the entertainment Industry as well as his fans worldwide. The broadcast included interviews with blues artists who knew Stevie Ray Vaughn personally and who were at his last concert that night.as well as past live performances.

The next destination we had in mind was Tampa, Florida. Of course we also visited Sarasota and went to the famous Thoroughbread's Music Store. I bought a new snare drum stand with some of the money my dad had given me. We got to Tampa, again, under the premise of playing for a youth group. This time, however, they apparently knew we were coming. We got to set up on a big stage in a gym, which to me at the time, was big stuff. In fact, most of what we were doing was big stuff to me anyway. Of course, had I known then what I  know now I would have clearly seen that the band was already in danger of a split.

Tellis, because he was the lead singer, had the philosophy that he was the head honcho and spoke to other members of the band, during practice, in a very bossy kind of way that Brian, also a strong personality, found very offensive and galling. In fact, after the show that Sunday night, we decided to have a practice. Brian and Tellis got into it and Brian just dropped his Bass on the stage and walked off. Of course Tellis followed him the whole time stating (according to Brian) his case that since he was the lead singer that gave him "supreme authority". The truth is, when your on the road with people, in any situation, there is very little privacy and personal space. So, some personalities, who normally get along, will eventually grain on each other's nerves. In fact, by the near end of this trip, everybody was getting on my nerves. And believe me, that can be a hard thing to do.....unless one has a serious personality problem.

I seemed like the most easygoing person of the bunch, except for Daryl. However, even Daryl had a particular habit that I found quite mystifying. The first time we stopped to eat on our road trip Daryl saved his extra large drinking cup, and occasionally, used it as a spit cup for his Skoal habit. However, after a few days, what was once a small amount of Skoal juice, now filled over half the cup. And I tell you, it reeked. It smelled like rotten spearmint. Still, Daryl kept that cup with him at all times. It seemed to be an inextricable appendage of his body.

Well, one night the breaking point finally came. I was sitting in the back seat next to Daryl and the other guys were sitting up near the front laughing, and talking very loud, as usual. Up ahead I noticed we were about to cross some railroad tracks but I also noticed Tellis had no intention of slowing down. Well, I will never forget when the front and rear tires hit those tracks. Whuhwham! Whuhwham! I will certainly never forget what happened next. Daryl's knee was knocked up a few inches into the air right into the bottom of that disgusting spit cup. Next thing I knew I was covered in gooey Skoal juice. Gag! Gag! Ugh! I might have well been spit on by some camel with intestinal cancer. It was horrible! I had to go to a public restroom to change clothes and everything.

Despite the fact we went to the beach, swimming in this public pool and that, it seemed the amount of leisure time could barely keep the guys from arguing about something. Whether it be political or theological. However, especially, theological. You see most of the guys in the band were Baptists. However Tellis was a Pentecostal and he was very zealous for the Pentecostal doctrine of speaking with other tongues as the Spirit gives utterance. So, needless to say, this made for some very lively debate and, too my surprise, the Baptists in the argument held their ground pretty well. In fact, Brian especially, delivered such a convincing counter to some of Tellis' arguments (about mandatory Spirit Baptism etc) that I actually began to wonder if Baptists were more sound in the scriptures than I was led to believe.


So, that night at the church, after the total meltdown between Brian and Tellis, we all walked into a tiny little library of sorts to go to sleep. It seemed like the most logical place because the carpet was very lush and soft and it was well air conditioned. I didn't take long to get relaxed on that floor because I was utterly exhausted. The next thing I knew was that I was suddenly awakened by the bright fluorescent lights turning on. I heard Brian groan and the other guys begin to move around. Then, I heard a small gasp. It was a woman. Apparently the building we were staying in was a private Christian Academy and we had all sacked out in their library overnight. I tell ya, the last thing that poor elementary school teacher expected to see when she opened that little library door was a bunch of big hairy guys in sleeping bags in their undies. And who knows what the long term effects that sight had on those poor children who were all standing in a line just outside the door like little angels. It was most, uh, awkward. It must have been so traumatic, in fact, that I really can't recall what happened next. I just remember that we were, once again, out on the road.

So, when Tellis mentioned driving to Tampa to record in a real, genuine recording studio, it seemed to recharge everyone's enthusiasm. Of course, the best thing about the trip, I suppose, was the fact that I finally got to work in a recording studio. When we arrived at the place I honestly didn't think much of it. It looked like a little shack beside a large house. However, when we went inside I was shocked. The place looked run down on the outside but inside it had new carpet and very high dollar recording gear.
　
The sound engineer named Paul worked with us very well and made sure we got the best recording for the money. Which, if I recall correctly, was zilch. However, the recording did turn out pretty decent. In fact, I still have that demo tape remastered on c.d. in my c.d. case. Sometimes, just for nostalgia's sake, I will pull it out and listen. I kept it unedited so I could hear all the outtakes as well, which, were many. And, that night, Paul was nice enough to let us spend the night on the studio floor so we wouldn't have to pay for a motel room.
Honestly, that's about all I can recall about that trip to Florida. I know we got up the next morning and hit the road again. This time, however, I do think we headed north because we had to get back in time for some of the guys to go back to work. Especially me.

Tellis, however, was ecstatic. All he would talk about was how people were going to love this new demo we recorded and that, pretty much, we were going to continue on in some kind of ministry. I honestly hoped he was right. I know that, when I got home, I kept listening to that demo over and over again. It was my first ever and I was quite proud of it. But, unfortunately, that was it.

The following Wednesday, when I showed up for practice, Tellis told me that Brian wasn't coming back and neither was Jerry. I guess they had had enough. The band Malachi, as almost as soon as it started, was gone forever. I learned a hard lesson about being in a band that summer. I also learned why and how they can form and be gone in a puff of smoke overnight. I guess that's why the music industry has contracts. However, despite the serious let down, I continued on and it wasn't long until I found yet another group to begin the cycle all over again. Fortunately, the next project lasted much longer, as well as the many which preceded it.

*#@* IRAN!

Let me paint the picture for you. Image, if you will, a VERY large parade. I mean many thousands of people lining the streets near Times Square. And, despite the fact that the sky was ice blue and the sun was out; it seemed to be snowing very hard anyway. As a small child, standing there shivering in my little cowboy boots, I was very puzzled. Where is all the snow coming from? I later learned that it was paper falling out of sky scrapers to make the parade a more festive occasion. Something about tradition.

Well, in this case, the special occasion was the hostages being freed from Iran. All the former hostages and their families were packed like sardines in these convertible limousines that endlessly rolled by. NYPD mounted on horseback rode up and down the throngs of people for security reasons. I personally thought the parade would never end and I honestly thought my little toes were icicles. I would have enjoyed the parade much more had the arctic blast not been so overwhelming.

However, all good things must come to and end (yes even parades). The mob eventually began to disperse and my mom grabbed my frozen little hand. We headed straight for the subway system underground. It was always cool to ride the subway. You walk down there in that tunnel and stand there in the quiet and wait. Silence. Then, you can hear the low rumble off in the distance. It gets louder and louder until it reaches a near deafening pitch. (At least for me as a kid)

Then the entire subway seemed to come flying out of one of the tunnels and suddenly made a rapid stop. There was a loud hissing and high pitched screeching when that happened. Then the doors flew open and all the people came pouring out while we tried to pile in. I held my mom's hand tightly as all kinds of people crowded into that small subway car.

My dad grabbed a pole above his head and my mom held onto my dad. The doors suddenly slammed shut and there was a sudden jerk and a feeling of movement. I stood up on my frozen little tippy toes and looked out the window where I could see we were moving. As the subway accelerated into the darkness of the tunnel I sat down on the bench next to where my mom was standing but she still held onto me very tight.

Then, I saw something that I have never forgotten. I saw a man wearing a baseball cap with a green button and yellow words pinned on it. There were only two words on that button. I knew for certain the last word said "IRAN". I had seen news and newspapers about Iran for over a year. But I had never seen the first word on that man's button before or ever heard it. I know it started with the letter "F" and had as many letters as Iran.

I can actually remember sitting there completely puzzled at the meaning of that word. It didn't make sense to me. So, I actually sat there, in the bustling crowded atmosphere of that subway car, and quietly began to mutter that phrase. Hmmm. That sounded silly. I began to contemplate harder and kick my little legs that were dangling off the side of the bench, cowboy boots and all. I said it again. I must have looked cross and in deep thought. I said it one more time. Whack!! "Stop kicking your legs"! said my mom.

Well, I don't remember much else. However, I was shocked when I went to school that following Monday because it seemed that all those little kids knew that word and they used it for almost anything. They used it for words like, "That, you, him, school, and even Billy Joel." I remember one kid using that word with Ozzy Osbourn and a big fight almost started. Oh well, I apparently was in the process of being educated. :)

The Night I Faced One Of My Inner Demons...Literally

As a child I was a very sweet and sensitive boy. I was very tenderhearted and very quiet at times. I always preferred to play alone in solitude rather than in a group and I preferred artistic pursuits over the rough and tumble ways of athletics. Consequently, I was very imaginative and very creative. I was drawn to things that personified my creativity.


Sometimes, this interest manifested itself in very dark ways. Halloween was one of my most favorite times of the year. I loved going to the stores and seeing all the masks that were on display. I could only dream of owning one of those hideous rubber monstrosities because, even then, they were quite expensive. I loved the whole concept of dressing up for Halloween. Later, when I was in Chattanooga, I would participate in two really large haunted houses that drew people for miles around. It was such fun!

Years earlier I would watch Movie Macabre with Elvira Mistress of the Dark. I always loved those bizarre European vampire and werewolf movies Elvira had on that show. Of course I will never forget the Steven King thriller Salem's Lot where the vampires were your friends, family, and neighbors who all knew your name. One could even call my interest in the darker side of pop culture as unhealthy and even morbid.
Not surprisingly I used to have this recurring dream which lasted for quite a few years. I would be running down a hallway of a giant castle or even a school because I just knew I was being chased by a terrible monster. It was a creature that I dared not look at lest I be utterly paralyzed with sheer terror. I could hear it getting closer and closer and no matter how fast I ran the sound of it's low, hollow, groaning howl grew even closer and closer. Finally, when it was almost upon me I would turn and look. Then, I would bolt awake. Ahhhahaah!! My room would be quiet as a tomb with only the soft sound of the clock on my wall. Tick, tick, tickety, tock.

Sometimes, in my dream, I would look and actually catch a glimpse of this hideous creature. It was very human in form but almost like a three dimensional shadow and I could barely make out two beady eyes where it's head should have been. The sound of it's awful howl was almost deafening as it walked slowly towards me with it's form jiggling inconsistently with every step. As it's heavily pixilated shape lumbered even closer I could almost see what looked like static electricity pulsating throughout it's abominable shady silhouette. Then, that terrifying howl, "Whhoooooooowwooooooooooohoooooowwwww"!!

One time in particular I jolted awake as I normally did. However, this time I could still hear a loud roaring sound. I slapped my hands over my ears so hard I hurt my ears. When I naturally let go of my ears because of the pain I realized the loud sound was actually that of a train engine not far away. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I eventually drifted back to sleep to the faint sound of tick, tick, tickety, tock.

But as the years went by the nightmares I had of this hideous demon from the netherworld became more and more infrequent. And one day they were gone forever. Call it age, maturity, or some really good antidepressants. For whatever reason the dreams ceased. Then came that fateful night when I would once again meet up with the tormentor and invader of many childhood dreams. This time, I would be wide awake!

Typical scenario right? I just got off of a long day at work and just got home from another part time job at night. I was exhausted and sitting in my huge chair just chilling and feeling fresh and clean from a recent shower. Ahhh, the smell of dial soap, aftershave, and the feeling of the air conditioner on full blast.

Well, a night like this  isn't complete without a huge glass of icy Diet Coke and a large bowl of ice cream. Any kind will do. Oh yes, and the remote controller. So, I am flipping through all the channels so I can try to find something worth watching. I finally come to the Sci-Fi channel which so happened to be playing some old black and white reruns of the show The Outer Limits. I always loved this show as a kid. I loved Classic Star Trek as well.

Something suddenly grabbed my attention however. I noticed that I quickly recognized one of the leading actors. I had seen him in Star Trek in one of my favorite episodes there too. I had always heard that the writers of Star Trek also wrote for The Outer Limits so it took me no time at all to assume there was a connection. The actor was Michael Forest. He played the role of the Greek god Apollo in the 1967 Star Trek Episode, "Who mourns for Adonais". I still think these kind of connections are really cool so I thought I would enjoy my ice cream and be entertained.

Anyway, I keep watching and this particular episode is about a scientific institute with a small nuclear reactor that is used to try to harness the electromagnetic currents in the atmosphere. Well, a cleaning lady somehow gets vacuum cleaner dust in the chamber of this reactor and it creates this dangerous intelligence that wreaks havoc throughout the show even killing off some of the actors. Yes, even the charachter played by the illustrious Michael Forest died a horrible death.

Anyway, back to the main point. When this monster was first created it made a hollow low howling noise that nearly sent chills down my spine. THAT is the same noise I used to hear in my dreams as a child and now, that I got a good look at this electromagnetic diablo from atomic hell, I realized that THAT was the monster I saw in my dreams! UNBELIEVABLE! I literally glared at the screen in utter shock. It was like I had almost seen a ghost but on television.

For years I thought that the dreams I had as a kid were part of my own disturbed psyche playing tricks on my subconscious mind while I slept. No, not at all. Apparently the source of all those terrible dreams were right out of the fertile imagination of a Hollywood screenwriter! That creature didn't come from hell! It came from a typewriter!! I just sat there laughing quietly to myself. Apparently I had seen this episode when I was very small and it traumatized me so bad it gave me nightmares for years! Maybe I should sue? I'm sure I could find some parasite trial lawyer who could use the money. Well, I doubt I could afford the retainer.

The day Ronald Reagan wrote a letter to my dad.

.Seriously, no joke. This happened in New York when dad was pastoring and had his own radio show. Anyway he received a letter (don't know why) from the government addressed: "Dear Mr. God". He pastored a Church of God so I guess the computer made a mistake of some kind. Dad was even interviewed on the nightly news at the New York NBC affiliate and the reporters came to the church etc. His 15 minutes so to speak.


So dad, apparently wrote Reagan about it and Reagan , being one of the most prolific correspondents since Thomas Jefferson, actually replied. It is mentioned in this book mentioned below. Also, the link I have provided goes to the exact pages. Thanks to Linda Trott Dickman for this bit of info.

Reagan: a life in letters - Page 682

by Ronald Reagan, Kiron K. Skinner, Annelise Graebner Anderson, Martin Anderson - Biography & Autobiography - 2003 - 934 pages

Reverend Doyle Daugherty Commack, New York March 11, 1982 28 Dear Reverend

Daugherty: I've just received a news clipping regarding the campaign

solicitation ...

Limited preview - About this book - Add to my shared library - More editions

http://books.google.com/books?id=sIQzbBBcsgcC&pg=PA682&lpg=PA682&dq=Rev.+Doyle+Daugherty&source=bl&ots=9LOQTEUIq6&sig=f8vUpRcAz3fg3EbuptY1-1fD7L8&hl=en&ei=QKzISaKHJ4mMtgfpnoWgAw&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=2&ct=result#PPA683,M1

Sometimes there is no closure and no happy ending...

Warning: This one is kind of dark. So, if you are in a good mood, feeling optimistic and hopeful then, you may NOT want to read this. However, this story is indeed true......


Many years ago, and towards the end of my fathers tenure as a pastor, a young married couple began attending Sunday morning services. Their names were Tommy and Janet Castillo. Tommy was a rather rugged looking guy. It seemed he worked outside in the sun a lot because his skin was an almost ruddy complexion. He usually had his hair slicked back and he was a rather stocky man of an average height.

He had a particular suit that he wore almost every other Sunday that I saw him. It was a bluish grey color with a burgundy shirt and was always accompanied with the same paisley tie. Tommy looked kind of Guido in this suit. However, I liked the suit because it seemed to have a distinctive flare of originality. That is, unlike the plain slacks and white button down shirt I usually wore.

Janet was a brunette with a slim build and a bit shorter than Tommy as well as a bit younger. I was to learn later that she was only a year older than myself. She and Tommy had both met in high school and were high school sweet hearts. Tommy's father had a very lucrative business and he was about to retire and entrust it all to Tommy. Tommy had obviously, at least to some degree, proven that he was very motivated and a hard worker capable of such a task. So needless to say Tommy and Janet had a bright future ahead of them. As of that time they had no children.

A few months later my father transferred his pastorate to another church about twenty miles away in another county. However, a few loyal members followed my parents to their new church despite the distance. Two of them were Tommy and Janet Castillo. Although they attended my parents previous church, for a few months, it wasn't until the transfer of this pastorate that I became rather acquainted with the Castillo's. I liked them immediately. I guess it was because I was at the age where I was now an adult and I found myself getting along better with the adults than many in the singles class at times.

Because my parents were new to this church they needed to immediately organize people together to help them. Tommy and Janet were immediately chosen to help with the young singles and teens. They happily accepted the task.

My dad had always pastored very small churches that ran around seventy or eighty every Sunday. Sometimes dad would hold events that would draw a much bigger crowd (like gospel music events) but the actual weekly attendance was always rather small. As a young teenager I was always frustrated with this because there seldom was ever a solid youth group to hang out with. However, when my parents went to this church, that all changed. Tommy and Janet Castillo really helped out tremendously with that change.

Looking back on the whole situation I have to almost admit that the first few months at that church were some of the best I have ever experienced in any church my dad pastored. And, I must admit, he pastored quite a few churches in my lifetime. We finally had a large group of teens and young adults and even a spot for me as the drummer for a Christian rock band, which back in 1990 was somewhat cutting edge for a church; especially a Church of God church where the red book hymnal reigned supreme.

That summer was a great one. Not only was my family on somewhat of a "honeymoon" with their new church but I was in my first Christian rock band with the youth pastyor and other church members. Also an elder of the church helped me purchase my first vehicle that I was so proud of. I was making new friends with the youth and young singles and we went out every Sunday and Wednesday night to Pizza Hut or Shoney's. Woo hooo!

I know that's not much now but it really was twenty years ago. It was especially a big deal for me because I remember when there were so many other times when parents pastored other churches and the only ones to go out anywhere were my immediate family and a few elders of the church.  I would always see these large church groups come in and wish that ours was like that. Now, however, I could rightfully make that claim; especially with Tommy and Janet helping as much as they did.

Anyway, Tommy and Janet Castillo took to everyone very well. I clicked with them almost immediately. We had some really good times together after church too. The entire youth group, with Tommy and Janet in tow, would always go to the Pizza Hut there in town. We usually reserved a table for at least thirty and always managed to tip well. Me, Dayron, and a guy named Mark would take turns playing an arcade game called, "Attack of The Robot Monsters".

It was such a cool game because it had such a vintage generic 50's horror movie title, not to mention feel, and was easy to play too. Mark, being the huge Metal fan that he was, would also throw down a bunch of quarters into the jukebox. Next thing we knew songs by Faith No More and the metal band Slaughter (Up All Night Sleep All Day!!) would be blasting out of the speakers. Let's also not forget Tesla as well. " Little Susie's growing up"! Hey, it was the summer of 1990 and Metal wasn't dead yet.

I was also pleasantly surprised to find out that Tommy and Janet lived just a few miles down the road from where I lived in Stockbridge. So, they gladly invited me over a time or two for some grilled steaks and all the diet coke I could handle. They had a cool house. The evening I went over Tommy was already out back with the grille fired up. Those flames were just broiling those steaks to sizzling perfection. We had a great dinner together and I left that house that night glad I had friends like them. That was truly a tremendous summer for me. However.....like all good things......it came to an end.

One of the things that the youth group did was attend teen conferences held by Precept Ministries International in Chattanooga, Tennessee. (My mother saw to it) It was always a great experience. We would get up there Friday night, go to classes, and then head back to the hotel and hang out all night. Then, with just a few hours sleep we would all pile in the vans and head back over for some good breakfast and morning classes. I always had so much fun with this group because there was never a dull moment.

I will never forget the time we had come back from a Teen Conference late one Sunday evening in the spring of 1991. I can remember being glad we got back so late because I didn't have to play drums in church and I could finally take a break for once.

 I unloaded my luggage from the van and walked into the fellowship hall. I was ravenous so I made a b line straight for the table with all the junk food. I happily grabbed a small paper plate and piled it up with cookies, cake, corn chips, and other finger food. I just sat there and stuffed my face. I mean I was really hungry!

Then, I noticed my sister Sherdonna slowly walking in my direction. She stopped in front of me and simply asked, " Did you hear about Tommy Castillo"?

"No, I didn't. What about him?" I simply replied.

Sherdonna just looked at me and quietly said, "He hung himself".

Tommy hung himself? I just sat there stone faced. I didn't know what to say or even how to act. I just felt emotionally blunted, without feelings really. However, had my reaction been more reasonable, I probably would have dropped my entire paper plate full of goodies right in the floor. It was truly horrible news and it took us all by surprise.

Everyone liked Tommy and he seemed to have a lot of friends. I didn't even realize how quiet the place was and how everyone was talking in low voices when I walked in. I was so focused on the fact that I didn't have to play in church that evening and I could sit and enjoy some cake and cookies. I didn't even notice everyone was in a somber mood. Then, I thought of Janet. I felt so bad for her. Shortly afterward I heard someone say she wasn't handling it very well. But who would have?


I must say that I have known more than my share of people who have decided to take their own life for one reason or another. However, when Tommy took his it affected me differently than most. He was just a few years older than me and was just about to inherit his father's business. And, he honestly was the kind of guy that one would have never suspected to do such a thing.

What a senseless waste. That was the thought that kept ruminating over and over in my mind shortly after Tommy's death. I believe I spent the next day or two in a daze. I just couldn't believe Tommy was gone. I also felt really bad for Janet.

I never will forget the funeral either. There literally must have been hundreds of people there. I was stunned. I mean family, friends, business associates, neighbors, and acquaintances all came to show their respects. There were even a couple of guys I saw at the gym often who showed up. I used to see these guys alot and never had any clue they and Tommy were friends. I couldn't help but wonder what Tommy would have thought if he had seen all that. He died, by his own choosing...alone. However, in reality, all one could do is witness the large turnout to his funeral and know he was anything but alone.

Sadly though, the one who was left to pick up the pieces was Janet. I had always heard, and believed, suicide was wrong but that reality never really hit me until I walked into that room at the funeral home and saw what I did. There was Tommy lying in that coffin. He was dressed in his favorite blueish suit with the burgundy shirt and paisley tie per Janet's wishes. He almost looked like he was asleep with the exception of the fact that his neck was still very swollen. I didn't stare very long. I couldn't. I just looked over at Janet sitting on that small couch opposite the coffin and she was absolutely hysterical.. And, it can be truthfully said, it was all Tommy's fault. He abandoned her in one of the worst ways possible.

Dad preached the eulogy at the funeral service. He didn't speak long because what could he say? I remember I felt completely numb that entire ceremony. After it was over the funeral procession made it's way to a large cemetery in Jonesboro. The procession itself literally stalled traffic it was so long. I just remember the small burial plaque that had Tommy's name on it was near a tall tree. That is where he was buried.

It just seemed such a senseless end to a life that could have offered so much to friends and family. Such a thing usually leaves people without any closure whatsoever and those who are left have no choice but to pick up the pieces and move on. Janet, however, did just that. At least that is what I heard even though I haven't seen her since. She, according to my knowledge, even got remarried and had children.

However, It wasn't long after that horrible incident that I had an interesting dream. I dreamed that I was in heaven and I had just finished partaking of my share of the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. Of course this was just a dream. I remember getting up from the table and walking in the direction of huge stacks of dishes up against a wall. I guess that's where I was supposed to put my dishes or something. I remember laying my dirty dishes on the tall stack of other dishes and suddenly two double doors nearby swung wide open.

They caught my attention and when I looked in their direction I was shocked at who I saw. It was Tommy Castillo! I couldn't believe it! He was wearing a hair net and an apron. His sleeves were rolled up and he was also carrying a bus pan. I stood in utter disbelief as I watched him race over to a large table and quickly clean the dishes off into the tray. He seemed to be working as fast as he could. I just know I was happy to see him. I ran up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

Tommy turned around and immediately recognized me. His face lit up and turned into that usual toothy dimpled grin. I said, "Tommy! What are you doing here? I honestly didn't expect to see you here. I thought that...."

"I know Dave." Tommy said calmly. "Your surprised to see me here because of what I did. Well, the Lord is merciful and His grace was sufficient to cover even what I did. And, even though I am a busboy and a dishwasher in heaven I can be eternally grateful I made it home anyway".

That's all I remember about that dream. I know it was just a dream and maybe it was my minds way of playing out a scenario that I could deal with. Or, perhaps there is some truth to that story as well and I was just visualizing it in a way I could comprehend. I honestly don't know if Tommy Castillo is in heaven or not. I do know, however, that if he truly believed in the resurrection of Christ, despite the fact he obviously had a crisis of faith, I don't see why he wouldn't be. Ultimately though; only the Lord knows for sure.

John 3:16-17, John 11:25-26, 1 Corinthians 3:11-15, 1 John 2:1-2