Don’t let your ego ruin your marriage

“My advice to you is get married: if you find a good wife you’ll be happy; if not, you’ll become a philosopher.” – Socrates
I see it way too often. Friends, associates, colleagues and strangers who aren’t worth the ego that God gave them. Ego is that which builds us up and tears us down. The ego is the most selfish and self-serving part of humankind.
We all have an ego. What we allow our ego to become is what defines our character. An uncontrolled ego is the bane of everyone else’s existence.
I am no philosopher. I am no expert in psychology. I have, however, learned a few things along the way. One of those things is that egos are the most destructive things a family can endure. The ego (i.e. selfishness) is what ends marriages and harms children. To give in to the ego is to the detriment of those around you.
Almost all cases of divorce have at their root the ego of one or both individuals. Before I go further, let me make it clear that I have been divorced and know full well of which I write. My divorce was not my choice; rather it was forced upon me against my will. I am remarried and much happier than ever before. I trust that my wife can say the same.
What I have learned through my two marriages is that my life is not about me. Life is about what I am to others. What makes a good husband is the attention and service he gives his wife and vice versa. The same goes for a father to his children. To lead a family, one does not command respect but rather provides unconditional love and service.
If I want my wife’s respect, I must first treat her with dignity. It’s the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. If I put the needs of my wife and children before my own needs, they in turn will do the same. This is a concept lost on a lot of people these days. Everyone, including me, falls into the ego trap. We become so self-absorbed that we forget to meet the needs of those who depend on us.
(Allow me to pause here a moment and clarify that I am not condoning co-dependency. That is unhealthy. You should be of service to others, not trying to fix them or make your happiness dependent on their happiness. There are those in life who will not respond in kind. You must guard your heart against that.)
The warrior in a man becomes satisfied once he captures the love of a woman. He no longer needs to court her and pursue her heart. Instead, he becomes content to have a live-in maid who is the mother of his children. He puts so much emphasis on being the provider that he forgets he is also a nurturer. Why else provide if not to nurture one’s family?
While material provisions are good and necessary, it is the provision of yourself that provides nourishment to the soul of your mate and children. If you are in a marriage because it suits you and fills a need within you, then you are probably in it for the wrong reasons. I am in my marriage to fulfill the needs and desires of my wife. Likewise, she sees to my needs and desires.
Our need of each other supersedes that of our children. It is because we have such a strong foundation in our relationship that our children can be content and comforted in knowing that their foundation is secure. Mommy and Daddy are never going to leave them of their own free will. Sandy and I are in this, quite literally, until death do us part.
I can have this kind of relationship because I am the master of my ego. I am a man of my word. As the saying goes, “A man is only as good as his word.”
When I said my wedding vow, I made a sacred, unbreakable covenant between me, Sandy and God. If you are not capable of making such a permanent commitment, then perhaps you are not ready for marriage.
Trust me, when it comes to “for better or for worse” you will find there is a lot more of the worse than you probably bargained for. It’s your ability to keep your ego in check and keep your commitment through the bad times that make the good times even better than you imagined. This is not my philosophy, but rather the reality of life. Those who let their egos quit before they taste victory will only know the sting of failure.
If you would like to know how to have the best marriage you can, I strongly suggest you visit www.familylife.com, click on “events for couples” and then “Weekend to Remember”. There are sessions coming to our area soon. If you value any part of your marriage, whether you are struggling or not, this is worth attending.

Poking at life's box of chocolates

Have you ever had one of those “box of chocolate” days? That describes the weekend for me.
Certainly you know that famous line from “Forrest Gump” where Forrest says, “My momma always said, ‘Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.’”
I tasted a bunch of chocolates this weekend. It began on Friday with the funeral of the father of one of our Cub Scouts. That one didn’t taste so good. It was a beautiful service, but seeing a 10-year-old boy lose his dad on his birthday is a bitter pill no matter how much chocolate you put on it.
That afternoon, I went to cover the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. When I got there, I went to pick up my press box pass for the Alan Jackson concert. Before I could reach the media room on the second floor of the Reliant Center, I encountered a mob scene.
It turns out I caught the tail end of Jackson’s induction into the HLSR’s Star Trail of Fame in honor of performing for his millionth fan at the show over the past 19 years. He became the fifth entertainer to reach that milestone behind Brooks & Dunn, Reba McEntire, Charley Pride and George Strait.
I quickly pulled out my camera, adjusted the settings and worked my way through a sea of cowboy hats until the familiar white hat and blond mustachioed face came into focus. I shot off several frames, but by then he was finishing up and leaving the scene. That chocolate was cherry-filled. I didn’t expect that.
I made the rounds through the show, locating several Waller County folks and snapping a bunch of the pictures you see in this week’s paper. Finding them was like plucking a nougat out of the box. I always seem to have a hard time finding local folks when I go there. This time I ran into Debbie Hollan and Cody Dennison, who directed me to a bunch of kiddos and their projects.
After spending the afternoon and evening walking around, my feet and legs felt like Gummy Worms. When the rodeo started, I continued to move around the stadium trying to photograph the events from different angles. Every once and a while I plopped down into a vacant seat to rest my weary bones. The funny thing is, people holding tickets for those seats somehow felt they were entitled to sit in them. Imagine that.
By the time the rodeo ended and the concert started, I hung around the main concourse shooting more photos of Jackson. After a few songs I retreated to the elevator and went up to the press box on the eighth floor. The view wasn’t so great, but the plush, soft chair was another cherry-filled chocolate.
The next morning, Sandy wanted to take the whole family shopping at Home Depot and Hobby Lobby. I bit into a coconut on that one, but went along with it like it was a chocolate cream. (Oh my aching Gummy Worms!) After shopping and lunch, we headed to the back yard to finally begin making the compost pit we have been talking about for some time. That included digging a rectangular hole in root-infested clay soil. It also meant uprooting a large bush that Sandy didn’t like.
By the time we finished for the day, I had Pop Rocks hands to go with my Gummy Worms feet. A nice hot shower and a movie date with Sandy and I was back into cherry-filled heaven again. We had to get up extra early Sunday morning (coconuts!) so Sandy could sing with the praise team at church. Getting to see and hear the love of my life on stage like that makes it all worth it, though, in a truffle sort of way.
We followed up church with a nap and a great small group Bible study. Now we’re talking dark chocolates – oh yeah! We ended the day by cleaning up our back yard mess. After lifting and hauling branches and limbs and several bags of grass clippings, I had one of those manly-man tired feelings. It was all good.
On Monday morning my commute was beautiful with blooming flowers, lifting ground fog and the setting of the moon. Smooth as caramel! Getting to the office, however, and finding it in disarray was like biting into a maple chocolate. Eww!
Our landlord, Doug Holloman, had his crew working in here over the weekend to paint the walls and put down new flooring. They were far from finished and everything was shoved into corners and jumbled in a way that you had to follow rabbit trails to get anywhere. Even now as I write this, the sounds of saws and drills coupled with the smells of glue and paint are making me feel as bad as if I had just scarffed down the whole box by myself.
I’m glad the work is getting done. It is way past due. But going through the process is like that moment just before you bite into a chocolate – you anticipate delight, but fear getting something bitter. I guess in the meantime I’m going to keep poking at the chocolates looking for the cherries.

Love is the elixir for life’s hurts

“Life is short, and it hurts. Love is the only drug that works.” John Coit, late columnist for the late Rocky Mountain News
John Coit was no philosopher and certainly didn’t have time for organized religion. What Coit did have was an incredible insight into the human condition. As a columnist for the Rocky Mountain News back in the 1980s, he had a knack for shining the spotlight on the marginalized side of life.
He hung out with bums, drug addicts, and an assortment of people that you’d flip a quarter to as you passed by, never to think of them again. His idea of covering the Super Bowl was from Bourbon Street, not the Superdome. He was an old-school journalist who lived as hard as he drank and smoked.
Coit died of a heart attack on Jan. 11, 1986, just 11 days after getting married in the lobby of the Rocky. He was 38. I could never relate to Coit personally because we lived such different lives. But I loved his columns and read them regularly. It turns out we both got our start in daily newspapers at the same place, The Daily Advance in Elizabeth City, N.C.
I loved that quote above from Coit and memorized it a long time ago. It jives with many of the messages in the Bible and is a truth that anyone can recognize. I was reminded of Coit and that quote this weekend after a campout with our Cub Scout pack at CubWorld in Conroe.
Pack 1000 is small, only about a dozen boys. A few weeks ago a boy by the name of Colby joined us. He is the only boy we have working on his Bear badge. He came in late in the game, but is enthusiastic and has been working hard to achieve the rank by the end of the school year.
Our campout was his first one with us. He is a quiet kid but didn’t shy away from being involved. Normally his grandparents or his mother bring him to meetings. This time his dad came with us. Marvin’s looks and personality reminded me of the late disc jockey Wolfman Jack – big in stature and bigger in heart.
On Saturday morning as we got up, fixed breakfast and prepared for a hike, Marvin stayed back and took it easy. He didn’t join us on the hike because of a heart condition that prohibited a lot of excursion. After lunch, he and Colby began packing up their gear and taking down their tent.
When I asked him why, he said that sleeping on the ground was too hard on him. That and Sunday was Colby’s 10th birthday and they were planning a big party for him. Marvin had Colby taking down the tent by himself. When I offered to help, Marvin called me off. He said Colby needs to learn to do these things himself and to do them right. I respected that. As they were leaving, the Pack gathered around and sang Happy Birthday to Colby.
I was sad to have them leave early but was happy that they were spending family time together for this milestone occasion in Colby’s life.
Focusing on the rest of the activities, I didn’t think much more of Colby and his dad. We finished the campout and all of us had a great time. On Sunday afternoon, we returned home, unpacked and resumed life as usual. Late Monday night, an e-mail was sent out from the mother of one of the other boys. Marvin passed away on Sunday – Colby’s 10th birthday.
“Life is short, and it hurts. Love is the only drug that works.”
I can’t begin to imagine what Colby is feeling right now as I write this. The rest of his birthdays will be burdened with the memory of the loss of his father. My heart and my prayers go out to Colby and his family. I only knew Marvin for a few hours, but they were happy ones.
I have pictures of Colby and his dad sitting around the campfire roasting hot dogs. The last picture I took of them was of Marvin instructing Colby how to roll up their tent.
Life isn’t fair. Life really is short, and to be sure it comes with a lot of pain. Life, however, comes with much joy and pleasure. Love is the fuel that makes life worth living. It’s a father and a son and final moments together, inseparable and happy. In the end, that’s the most any of us can hope for when our time is up.

I've finally caved in to the Dark Side

The power of the Dark Side is strong and it’s lure too great. I have gone over to the other side and I think I like it.
Last week I upgraded my old flip phone for (gasp) an iPhone. I have entered the world of touch pads, mobile Internet, and all the bells and apps that go with it. To my surprise, this handy little gadget even has a cellular telephone built into it!
I’ve seen many other people using iPhones. I’ve often privately mocked them, seeing what slaves they’ve become to technology and the loss of personal contact that goes with it. You’ve undoubtedly seen these iPhonies walking around with a glazed look in their eyes and the shiny, slender device in the palm of their hand, leading them though as if they were zombies.
Without their iPhones, these people look … lost, like they’re out of place ... almost lifelike. While they seem helpless without the gadget in hand, at the same time they seem very powerful when wielding their iPhone. Their ability to connect to the world from most any place at any time is astounding. I used to marvel at how fast I could take a picture with my digital camera, upload it to my computer and then e-mail it to friends or upload it to Facebook. That now seems sluggish compared to the ease and speed of the iPhone.
Last Saturday night I sat down with the phone and discovered the app store. It took me a couple hours, but I successfully downloaded the free Facebook app. My 15-year-old son was sitting next to me about to explode with frustration while watching my struggles. He could have done it within seconds, but I was determined to find my own way. After all, a real man doesn’t ask for directions; he blazes his own path.
As Wesley watched me scroll through the endless list of apps, he kept pointing out games he likes and things he thinks I should have on my phone. I really don’t want to get caught in that trap, though I admit the temptation is great. When I finally figure out how to use this tool to connect to the newspaper’s website, I should be able to post things much faster from the field and with a little more consistency. I’m looking forward to that.
On Sunday we attended our new small group at church. We met some people who are new to us and wouldn’t you know it, one of the guys works at the Apple store! God must have gotten frustrated with my slowness and sent him to me.
This is a bold step into a new world for me. I don’t like phones in general and I specifically don’t care for cell phones. But this thing is a game-changer. It’s also dangerous. It can be very easy to get caught up using the blasted thing and to lose all track of time and human connection. I fear now that I have joined the Dark Side that I will become an iPhone zombie.
Anyone who knows me well will understand my distaste for constant electronic connection. To say that Joe Southern has an iPhone is akin to saying Donald Trump doesn’t carry a wallet. Those things just don’t happen. But it has happened and I am simultaneously proud and ashamed.
I have a very good reason for not liking phones. Almost 30 years ago I lost about a fourth of my hearing due to firing shotguns without ear protection and listening to loud music. I have tinnitus, which is a permanent, continuous ringing of the ears. I have a hard time understanding people in good circumstances, but if there is any background noise or distortion, such as that of a phone, I have a really hard time understanding what I hear.
It’s kind of like having the old man syndrome where you may say one thing, but I hear another. My wife thinks it’s selective hearing. To a degree it is. Usually whenever somebody says something of interest or humor, they speak a little louder and clearer. Oftentimes I catch part of what was said and end up asking the person to repeat themselves. Other times I can be sitting at a table with a group of people and if the conversation isn’t directed at me, I tend to tune it out like the rest of the “white noise” in the background. This is especially true if I’m reading or otherwise distracted. If I focus too hard to listen to a conversation that doesn’t involve me I can’t concentrate on what’s before me. That gets me into a lot of trouble, especially at home.
I also have a love-hate relationship with Hollywood. There are a lot of movies and things I like, but there are many more movies, TV shows and such that I despise. I also don’t like the thought of Hollywood having 24/7 influence over what I see and hear. There is something Big Brotherishly wrong with that.
That is the influence that attracts most people to the Dark Side. That is the part of the Dark Side that I fear. I pray that it will not catch me in its web.

Go Mexico, and take Santa Anna with you

When you think about it, 175 years really isn’t that long a time in the grand scheme of things.
This month, however, it’s a really big deal in Texas. (But then what isn’t a big deal in Texas?) It was in 1836 that a group of brave revolutionaries collectively thumbed their noses at Mexico and penned the song “We’re Not Gonna Take It”, which later became a big hit for Twisted Sister.
The words were written by a committee of dudes who met just up the road from here. Then they went a few miles south of town and picked up a couple of canons and went to help defend the Spurs at the Alamodome. By the time they got there, however, the Spurs had already lost (typical!).
Mexico was coached by a guy named Santa Anna. Why someone would be named after an old, fat man and a girl is beyond me, but that’s the way it was. They had already whooped up on the team from Goliad and were determined to keep their winning streak alive at Houston which, given the sorry state of the city’s pro teams, wouldn’t have been too hard.
Along the way, a guy named Sam Houston and some of his buddies bushwhacked the Mexicans, and in a matter of a few minutes ended their season. As a result, Santa Anna took his ball and went home. He said Houston and his cronies could have Texas and he really didn’t like it that much anyway.
Yeah, whatever…
So that, in a nutshell, is what we are celebrating this month. And wouldn’t you know it, Waller County is smack dab right in the middle of where a lot of that stuff happened. That’s why local cities and county officials are commemorating the big anniversary by doing absolutely nothing.
Apparently the 175th anniversary must have snuck up on them. It was kind of hard to see it coming from so far away. In all fairness, I’m the pot calling the kettle black because I haven’t done a special story for the paper.
If anyone in Waller County is a descendant of anyone who fought for Texas Independence, I’d like to hear from you so we can do a story. My wife and sons are apparently descended from a man who fell at Goliad. We are still working to verify that.
Ancestry is a fascinating subject. Lately I’ve been researching the Southern side of my family. I’ve made some eye-opening discoveries. My great-great-great-great-grandfather fought in the Revolutionary War. Two greats before him, the first Southern came to America from England.
On my mother’s side, I’ve been told that my great-grandfather Gust Ekborg was one of Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders and was even wounded at the Battle of San Juan Hill. I have yet to find any evidence of that, but I’ll keep looking.

Where’s the beef?
Not long ago Taco Bell got its bell rung when someone sued the fast food chain because it allegedly has only 36 percent beef in its beef mixture. While the company disputes that, you might want to know that two of the big three hamburger chains do not use 100 percent beef under their buns. Burger King and Wendy’s have seasonings and/or fillers. Only McDonalds uses 100 percent beef.
How do I know this? I have a son with Celiac’s disease. It is a genetic disorder that causes his body to reject wheat gluten. When he was first diagnosed, we checked out the restaurants thoroughly. Wendy’s and Burger King have wheat in their meat. Not only that, but they cook their fries in the same oil they use for breaded fried foods, such as chicken. Only McDonald’s has dedicated fryers for their fries. To Wendy’s credit, however, Luke can eat their chili, and he loves it.
It’s also safe to say that Chic-fil-A doesn’t use a single bit of beef in its sandwiches. Luke can eat there if we order his chicken grilled and not breaded. Their waffle fries are also safe for him to eat. We loves us some Chic-fil-A!
You would be surprised at the number of foods that contain wheat. Some ice creams, root beers, colas, candies, and even some brands of popsicles have wheat in them. A good clue is to look at the ingredients. If you see caramel coloring listed, most of the time it is burnt wheat. Modified food starch often contains wheat.
So, before you go asking Taco Bell “where’s the beef?” you might want to ask that of any place you dine on some divine bovine.