Shadow People

Shadow people, the ones that most of us turn the other way when we see out of fear of being asked for money, a favor or perhaps a ride… They are everywhere.

What would happen if you turned towards them instead of away? Maybe you could brighten their day? You could take them some lunch? You could listen to them tell you about their troubles for five minutes.

In this photo, a 38 year old man who lives with a family member in Middle Tennessee. 

“What men call the shadow of the body is not the shadow of the body, but is the body of the soul.” ― Oscar Wilde, A House of Pomegranates

Local Media is Important

LOCAL media has a lot of responsibility and that is not taken lightly.

I have noticed a growing trend in Middle Tennessee and far beyond. Quite often after a story is reported, published or broadcast, family members of the person arrested and named in an article, etc., will call the local media outlet demanding the story be removed.

Family will often state, "This story will cause too much harm to his/ her children, or mother or father, I insist you remove it - he/she is addicted to (name your drug)."

The fact is that he/she who committed the crime is the one causing damage to the family, not the media. The addiction is shaping their life in a horrible way. The crime is the aftermath of the addiction. The media has a job of making that addiction / crime known so others listening, watching or reading don't continue their narrow road and instead get help.

It could easily be argued that the majority of those arrested for serious crimes that are reported in the media have an addiction or a troubling and sad past. They need help, obviously.

Other times local media will receive a call or email suggesting that the family member arrested has a severe mental illness. While that maybe true, so do the majority of those arrested. The United States Department of Justice reports, “64 percent of local jail inmates, 56 percent of state prisoners and 45 percent of federal prisoners have symptoms of serious mental illnesses.” Again, a problem that needs to be reported so that change can happen.

If stories of such are NOT reported, then how will the public know of the issues we as a society need to work on?

For example, if someone is charged with DUI number 6, it should be reported by local media. If it is not reported, how would you realize that we have a problem with the way alcohol cases are treated by the laws we currently have in place? If it were not reported, how would you be reminded that many people in our society have extreme addiction and help is again needed.

Another example, when synthetic drugs were sold in gas stations as bath salts and persons on bath salts were arrested after getting high and randomly attacking and literally eating people, it was reported in local media. If things like that were not reported, then laws would not have been enacted to end the sale of bath salts in gas stations. Rehabilitation centers would not have known about some of the current drugs being used as swiftly had they not been reported in the local media first.

Local news is powerful and potentially life changing for the good, if used properly. It allows the residents of the community to help others like national media cannot do. It allows for big issues to be made known, laws to be changed and programs be developed to help the community as a whole as the result of the arrest of only a few.

One more thing... It allows those who are arrested for serious crimes to publicly choose to make a change for the good or to continue on their current road of destruction. Being publicly known means that the complaining family can fully address their loved one instead of hushing a hard conversation. Perhaps the problems have been kept behind closed doors for years and now it is out in the open. The story may create more pain in the present, but perhaps real recovery in the future - if properly addressed. It will also allow his/her children to know the true dangers of the addicted which means family can come along and fully support the children before that child makes life altering decisions for the negative.

As for how criminal names or stories are handled on social media with no heart whatsover, that is a problem of those commenting. Social media can be harsh because of people commenting without thinking.

I believe we should all take a step back before we comment and remember that we are about to comment on a real person who may have a very sad past of physical abuse, sexual abuse or an addiction. The person arrested could have a mental illness that has gone undiagnosed for years and years. Life is real and sometimes really hard.

I'll step down from my soap box now.

I took this photo in Nashville in 2015, I found it interesting how so many people are anxious to photograph what they believe to be newsworthy and comment about it on social media so quickly.

Psalms 96

She is a domestic violence survivor in Middle Tennessee and she is holding her Bible open to one of her favorite verses, Psalms 96:

1 Sing to the LORD a new song; sing to the LORD, all the earth.

2 Sing to the LORD, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day.

3 Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among all peoples.

4 For great is the LORD and most worthy of praise; he is to be feared above all gods.

5 For all the gods of the nations are idols, but the LORD made the heavens.

6 Splendor and majesty are before him; strength and glory are in his sanctuary.

7 Ascribe to the LORD, all you families of nations, ascribe to the LORD glory and strength.

8 Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name; bring an offering and come into his courts.

9 Worship the LORD in the splendor of his holiness; tremble before him, all the earth.

10 Say among the nations, “The LORD reigns.” The world is firmly established, it cannot be moved; he will judge the peoples with equity.

11 Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound, and all that is in it.

12 Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them; let all the trees of the forest sing for joy.

13 Let all creation rejoice before the LORD, for he comes, he comes to judge the earth. He will judge the world in righteousness and the peoples in his faithfulness.

Domestic Violence: My hands write

“I used to wake up some days and wished I’d have stayed asleep, because I went to bed on top of the world - Today, the world is on top of me,” she wrote after telling me that she has a story to tell. “I want to write a book,” she explained. She then said, “People wouldn’t believe what I have been through.”

She is quiet, yet strong. She is a domestic violence survivor who lives in Middle Tennessee.

The young lady, probably in her mid-twenties, then wrote, “These hands and I are headed for GREATNESS and touching everything I was told I would never see.”

Domestic violence is very real.

Domestic Violence

His hands helped to defend domestic violence. Today, he writes music and learns from the past.

Domestic Violence has a massive impact on society, all of which is negative. Did you realize, “Most cases of domestic violence are never reported to the police.” Source: Frieze, I.H., Browne, A. (1989) Violence in Marriage.

I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fumanchu

Tonight I met the man behind the curtain... The songwriter for the Tim McGraw song "Live Like You Were Dying." His name is Tim Nichols and that song holds some of my favorite lyrics within the notes:

"I was in my early forties
With a lot of life before me
And a moment came that stopped me on a dime
I spent most of the next days
Looking at the x-rays
Talkin' 'bout the options
And talkin' 'bout sweet time"
I asked him
"When it sank in
That this might really be the real end
How's it hit you
When you get that kind of news?
Man, what'd you do?"

He said
"I went skydiving
I went Rocky Mountain climbing
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fumanchu
And I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denying"
And he said
"Someday I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dying"

He said
"I was finally the husband
That most of the time I wasn't
And I became a friend a friend would like to have
And all of a sudden going fishin'
Wasn't such an imposition
And I went three times that year I lost my dad
I finally read the Good Book, and I
Took a good, long, hard look
At what I'd do if I could do it all again
And then

I went skydiving
I went Rocky Mountain climbing
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fumanchu
And I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denying"
And he said
"Someday I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dying
Like tomorrow was a gift
And you've got eternity
To think about
What you'd do with it
What could you do with it
What did I do with it?
What would I do with it?

Albert is Sober

On a cool May morning he quietly sat next to the sidewalk in front of a McDonalds in Nashville. As cars pulled away with their breakfast, he would smile and give a wave. But, I wanted to know more about him than his simple wave.

As we talked he would lean his head back as if that helped to recall old memories. “I started drinking when I was 2 years old,” he told me. Unable to believe him I had to ask if he meant 2, as in the number after 1. He smiled and reconfirmed, “2.”

“I’m from Mississippi and my parents were cotton farmers. When I was 2 (in 1955) they’d feed me a shot of whiskey and I’d fall asleep while they worked the fields,” he explained.

He gave me insight into his life and told me he eventually landed in Memphis, TN and got married. His wife died in the not so far away past. After she passed away he moved to Nashville in search of employment and sobriety. He went through a program in LaVergne, Tennessee where he got sober, but the employment didn’t last. But, he has been sober for 8 months now.

Albert is 64 years old and sober for one of the first times in his life, which is huge.

"The best way out is always through."- Robert Frost

Memorial Day

Memorial Day, a time to remember our fallen veterans.

Photo of headstone for US Army Vietnam Veteran James Albert Thornburg of Tennessee.  He served under the 1st Infantry Division, Battalion 8 in the 6/15th Artillery Company, Deadly Alpha from April of 1967 until April of 1968.

Thornburg received the National Defense Medal, Vietnam Service Medal, Vietnam Campaign Medal, Bronze Star with V Device and Two Oak Leaf Clusters, Army Commendation Medal, Good Conduct Medal, Unit Citation, and the Presidential Citation.

He died at age 56 in year 2002. 

MUSA

Slowly we sunk into the depth of the deep aqua colored sea descending about 28 feet for the first sculpture which appeared to be an explosive mind ready to detonate. As I swam north towards Isla Mujeres I came upon what looked to be a group of people frozen in time.

I noticed a small child sitting on an overturned bucket, a woman with her arms above her head as if she had just ran a race and was tired, unable to catch her breath. As I swam closer and deeper towards the silent crowd I witnessed what appeared to be a young man looking upwards in pain.

My scuba tank supplied my air and as I exhaled it almost gave life to some of the statues as bubbles of oxygen swarmed around the heads of the sculptures before me.

English sculptor Jason deCaires Taylor constructed over 500 life sized statues that were lowered into the Caribbean to demonstrate the interaction between art and environment. Each statue is attached to the seabed with material that promotes coral life allowing for the underworld of the sea to inhabit every square inch.

The exhibit is between the coast of Cancun and Isla Mujeres in Mexico. 

The exhibit is called MUSA or Museo Subacuático de Arte. It was founded by Roberto Díaz Abraham, former President of the Cancun Nautical Association and Jaime González Cano, Director of the National Marine Park.

It's a family business

He is holding up a silver chain explaining the difference of his jewelry verses the jewelry many tourist buy on the streets. “This is real, see the weight difference,” he said as he weighed the chain offered in his store and then weighed a chain that is sold on the street.  

Visiting the small shops is always a pleasure in cities throughout Mexico as you can see the definition of family. In this case, he works with both his mother and father at the family run business. His daughter watched TV as he waited on customers in the store. This is true for many of the businesses there.

Cemeteries in Mexico

Like many cemeteries in other countries, the handmade casket is in a vault above ground. Families often add their own taste of elaborate decorations and tiles to make each marker stand out and look unique.

Many of the cemeteries in the larger cities of Mexico are out of space. Therefore, when what are called burial rights expire, the remains will be dug up about 5 to 7 years after the original burial. At that time, the remains will be given to a family member in a black plastic bag. The family will then cremate the remains.

Sad, but true in the much more populated areas of Mexico.

Selling Braids

She was walking up and down the beach located on Isla Mujeres, which is a 20 minute boat ride from Cancun, while holding the head of a white female in her right hand. At first glance, it may appear to be a bit odd. But, on closer inspection the head was simply modeling the braids that she aims to put on long haired tourist for a small fee. The money that she makes helps to feed her family.

A large pizza

This fella was selling handmade jewelry by the roadside in Mexico. It appeared as if he had been there all day when I saw him at about 4pm. So, I gave him a large pizza. He chowed down instantly. Love doing little unexpected stuff like that.

Isla Mujeres

While the population is fairly small, so is the island. 

The area is called Isla Mujeres, which is Spanish for “Island of Women.” Evidently, the island was sacred to the Maya goddess of childbirth and medicine. 

The exact measurement of the small island in the Caribbean Sea is 4.3 miles long and 2,130 feet wide. It is home to about 12,600 residents. The Island of Women is 8.1 miles off the Yucatan Peninsula coast. 

For Cubans trying to get into the United States, this small island is one of their first stopping points to rest. If they make it to the island, they only have to take a ferry to the Mexican mainland. From there, Cubans travel through Mexico in hopes of reaching the US border and then crossing. 

This is one of the 12,000+ residents on the island.

Larry the Hitchhiker

I don't always have my camera with me, but the days I don't are the days that interesting things occur. That's why I at least have my phone. 

This afternoon Marty Luffman and I headed to Nashville to hand out about 10 or 15 tents to those who lost theirs in the recent flooding. While passing through LaVergne we saw a man hitchhiking down Murfreesboro Road. So of course we stopped to offer him a ride. 

Larry couldn't get into my truck because it too high for his frail 68 year old body. So, I did what anyone would do. I literally picked up Larry the hitchhiker and put him in the back seat. 

As we started to drive towards Nashville I noticed the tears running down his sun weathered face. I asked what was wrong and he quietly whispered, "Everything." 

Marty and I took Larry with us to multiple homeless encampments so that he could have the pleasure of being a part of the positiveness. At each stop he would roll down his window never saying a word. Homeless persons receiving a tent would then thank Larry, which was awesome to see a slight smile as his words were few and far in between.

Later, we took Larry to McDonalds in the area of Gallatin Pike where he needed to be... With a BigMac in hand he pointed at an apartment complex behind McDonalds and uttered the words, "That's where I have to be." 

#mcdonalds, #nashville, #bigmac, #android, #Galaxys7

She can now run free

Hands of a Domestic Violence survivor. She wrote:

“My children saw them first. "How did you get those bruises, Mom?" I looked in the mirror and saw the ring of dark splotches around my upper arms, fingerprints from where he'd grabbed and shaken me the night before. But, he didn't hit me.

My head was often tender from being banged against a wall.

My hip sported a large bruise and it hurt to walk after he shoved me hard to the ground.

My back bled from a cut I received during a struggle. But, I told myself, it was just a small cut.

During sex, he choked me and made me do things I was ashamed of. I was scared; I fought him; it did not matter; he did not stop.

But he wasn't violent, right? He didn't hit me.

My husband's rages occurred multiple times a week, sometimes during the day, usually at night, and lasted for hours. His nose would touch mine as he screamed profanities in my face. He threw things, punched walls, and spit on me. These were his favorite things to say: I was worthless garbage, a whore, a waste, a piece of trash, so terrible in bed that no man would ever want to touch me, a c-nt. My husband told me that I was such a nightmare he'd have to kill himself to get away from me. Then, as I began to grow depressed, he worked on convincing me I needed to kill my own self. I will never forget the first time he looked me straight in the eye and very calmly and matter-of-factly stated, "Why are you still breathing? You're nothing but trash. You should be dead. You need to go kill yourself." As this went on, I began to believe him until it became absolute truth in my mind. I should be dead.

In a 2-3 year period, I went from being happy and healthy to suicidal and extremely ill. I rarely slept, vomited up most of my meals, lost weight, and had no strength. I was forced into a medical leave from work, and my doctor banned me from any form of exercise as my body needed every bit of energy to keep alive. I had been a runner, a dancer, an outdoor enthusiast. I was now a shell, someone God never intended me to be.

I don't know that I ever would have left him on my own. I did not recognize the violence for what it was, and I was too ashamed to tell anyone what was going on. It took a gun-related incident to finally end it. I had no idea how physically and emotionally sick I had gotten until he was out of my life. The suicidal thoughts vanished. I am now sleeping, eating, and not throwing up. I've gained weight. My health is slowly coming back. Recently I was able to lace up my shoes and go running again. My kids and I have peace. I laugh, and I laugh, and I laugh. I am filled with the joy of the Lord, for I am now free!”

Before I left she told me that she spent many nights sleeping or hiding in the bushes next to the entrance of her middle class neighborhood. Other nights, she would sleep in her car while parked in a well-lit parking lot.

Never Again

Hands of a domestic violence survivor - Middle Tennessee. 

"Just tell the nurse you slipped and fell
It starts to sting as it starts to swell
She looks at you, she wants the truth
It's right out there in the waiting room with those hands
Lookin' just as sweet as he can, never again"
-Nickelback, Never Again

Jesus Freaks

“I was ordained a minister the year after I graduated from high school by the Church of God Jesus Freaks,” he told me. “That was in 1971,” he said with a smile.

The big red chair

The things you find where you don't expect to find them.

“The things one seeks are not the things one finds.” ― Marty Rubin, publisher of only one book in 1987... The Boiled Frog Syndrome

He Humiliated Me

Domestic Violence in Tennessee... She wrote:

"He raped me, he beat the crap out of me, he humiliated me, he stripped me of my identity, and many times left me crying on the floor.

I have been to jail on Easter, it marks 1 year Sunday, I went and they let him go. I called them and they took me.

But, through it all I always screamed and begged God to help me get away. And he kept his promise!

I am free and none of it matters anymore! He is the last dark secret in my closet and I am physically, emotionally, and spiritually set free because of God whispering to me, You Got This!

That is my story."