Death of the American Dream? Analyzing Brandon Flowers of “The Killers” New Song

I don’t know if it’s just me, but this week when I opened up the ol’ twitter, *COUGH COUGH* I mean… X app (still hard to get used to that), this song kept on popping up with people commenting on how good it was.

Brandon Flowers – An American Dream

So, being that I’m a fan of The Killers’ catalog, I gave it a listen.

Turns out, it’s quite good. But is it worth all the hype it’s getting from all the randos on X?

Compare this to Ella Langley’s “Choosin’ Texas.” Nothing too deep with the lyrics, just an attractive woman with an attractive voice humbly singing a good ol’ fashioned country song, much in the fashion of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” (God rest her soul). Normally, a song like this would get modest airtime and praise, but somehow, this has broken the record for being the No. 1 song on the Billboard top 100 for something like 23 weeks in a row (beating Mariah Carry’s record, which apparently people are not too please about!). And the only explanation I can think of is they just don’t make that many songs like this anymore.

Simple, catchy, and pleasing to the ear… songs that frankly, people are still seemingly craving.

Listening to “An American Dream,” I sort of get this same feeling. Not as simple or catchy, but still quite pleasing… a type of song we used to get in a different era… almost as if it’s from an America we used to know.

I took the fool’s gold from my nickel pocket
Watched it flake in the morning sun

Beginning with fool’s gold, the song eludes to him chasing a dream with little promise. Perhaps dreams of the flesh over dreams of the soul, further accentuated a few lines later when he speaks of “women with blurred out crotches and stars for nipples, and an ad for the red man burning my lip.”

Suddenly I was aware of myself
I picked up the pay phone and dialed my parents
Only I had forgotten my mother had passed

Sadly, a tale too often told; finally coming to the realization, yet it’s too late, for time is the one commodity we can never get back.

I jump from the edge
Into the silvery cold Colorado
Taken back by my shock response
I grabbed hold of a billboard
That appeared out of nowhere
Asking where I would spend my eternity

A question most of us pose at some point in our lives. “Is there more to life than this?”

Got picked up by Elvis in a Tesla Model X
Jet-black ‘68 comeback leather
He was clean and sober
And he laughed when I asked him if it was all worth it
And he cried when he asked about Lisa Marie

Being that Brandon Flowers grew up/around Vegas, it’s fitting that he would choose Elvis, a major influence of his (at least from what I can gather). A man who in all standard of measure, achieved “The American Dream,” but at what cost?

Gold and silver, God and glitter
Lights that flicker on hubcap chrome
On the road to heaven
In Strauss and Stetson
Swimming pools of horsepower
Take me back
Take me back home

“Take me back home…” What is home for us? Many of us think home is someplace in the past; an America we grew up in, had fond memories of, and loved. With all the problems we’re facing in the country and world, it feels like it’s a place we’ll never go back to, which is what makes this song so sad, intriguing, and above all, beautiful. The old country twang, the melding of American relics contrasting the old with the new, and the passion in which Flowers delivers this ode to America make this nothing less than powerful. Time will tell if it reaches the status of masterpiece.

But as much as we revel about the thought of “The American Dream” and what it may mean/used to mean, that dream—that home—is only temporary. Our true home is with Christ in heaven, for all the glam and glory we may achieve in this world is miniscule to what’s in store for us in the next life. And Flowers, being the religious man he is, seems to understand this.

*Note that Brandon Flowers is a Mormon, and though I have strong theological differences with Mormonism, I can at least appreciate the appeal to a higher power in Jesus.

When it comes to songs, I typically don’t like diving this deep into them, for the effusion of emotions you get by simply listening often leaves you disappointed when you take the time to actually read the lyrics (I can’t tell you how many times I’ve loved a Modest Mouse song only to realize the lyrics themselves were rather pedestrian). However, when you come across a song like this, the temptation is too strong to pass up.

So I encourage you to give it a listen, to enjoy, and to interpret what it means to you. Hopefully, it’ll touch your soul like it touched mine.

And if you’re a fan of The Killers, here’s another one of my favorites of theirs. One that seems to get better with time.

If you enjoyed reading this please consider your support by purchasing a copy of The Touch of Life, a novel written by my father that takes you back to the world of 1970s Wisconsin Rugby. A great and intriguing read for any fan of sports/thrillers.

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“Here I am, Lord. Send Me!” (Isiah 6:8) – Reflecting on Charlie Kirk One Year Later…

Not a day goes by that I haven’t thought about Charlie Kirk since his martyrdom.

And to this day, I still find myself getting emotional, remembering the feeling of guilt from my own personal failings and lack of faith that contrasted with the way he lived his life. So much so, that I felt compelled to write about it—or more accurately, confess my sins. For the thought kept running through my mind that day was “Charlie Kirk took the bullet I deserved.”

Original Post: Charlie Kirk Took the Bullet I deserved

I imagine it was quite similar to how Peter felt after he had denied Christ before He was sent to the cross. Thankfully, that wasn’t the end of Peter’s story. Nor was it the end of mine.

In honor of Charlie and his organization, I ended up buying a t-shirt that pictures him with his fist in the air. And since then, I’ve worn it as a reminder that his death could be a turning point in my life. On that shirt is a quote from Isiah 6:8, “Here I am, Lord. Send me!” So this week, I decided to revisit that passage, and what it can mean for those with ears to hear and eyes to see.

Israel and Judah were going down dark paths during the times of the prophets (approximately between 800 and 400 BC, give or take a century), including the worship of foreign gods, drunkenness, sexual immorality, and even child sacrifice. Though we remember the prophets for their righteousness, faithfulness, and courage, they didn’t exactly have a fun job. It meant telling people things they didn’t want to hear and confronting rulers of their wickedness, and then some.

They nicknamed Jeremiah the “weeping prophet,” for not only was he in constant despair because the Jews would not listen to his warnings, but they punished him for it, going so far as to throwing him in a cistern. Ezekial laid on his side in public for over a year as a sign of Israel and Judah’s sin against God. Hosea was instructed to marry a prostitute, of whom after they had a few kids together, left him to re-enter the workforce (to symbolize Israel’s adulterous spirit towards God). And Jonah… well he got swallowed by a flippin’ whale! Enough said!

What’s striking about Isiah in Chapter 6, is when the Seraphim (aka angels) approach him to give him his calling of prophecy, his first though wasn’t “Of course you’re coming to me, because I’m the man,” like many of us would. His exact words were “Woe to me! I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips…” (6:5). Or in other words, “Oh crap! Daddy’s home and he has his belt off ready to unleash fury! I knew I shouldn’t have back talked to mom!”

It was a reaction rooted in humility, recognizing he was unworthy of their presences as a sinner. To which one of the Seraphim offered him a burning coal, and once it touched Isiah’s mouth, atoned for his sins. And when the voice of the Lord indicated He had a message to deliver and asked, “Whom shall I send,” Isiah responded simply and boldly, “Here I am. Send me!”

He didn’t ask, “well what’s the message,” and after receiving the message (which was full of doom and gloom for the people he was to deliver it to), he didn’t go, “Gee God, isn’t there somebody else who can deliver it? I’m just an ordinary guy!” He would go on to deliver his prophecies with conviction.

Isiah, as well as the other prophets (with the exception of Jonah, and well… we know what happened to him), would go on to fulfill their duties faithfully and obediently. And though their jobs weren’t fun, they were instrumental in God’s plan, particularly when it came to the foretelling of the coming Messiah.

And for all the guilt I felt on the day of Charlie Kirk’s death, I couldn’t imagine the guilt Peter felt when he denied his Lord those three times in the courtyard. Because when it comes down to it, as Isiah rightfully understood, all of us have fallen short of the glory of God. Each of us has sinned, and deserve the death He endured. Yet, through His love, Jesus took it upon Himself to pay our debt on the cross. And after He conquered death and rose from the dead, he saw his disciple Peter again, where he asked him three times, “Peter do you love me?” Peter responds with, “Yes, of course I do,” to which Jesus responds accordingly.

“Feed my sheep.”

Peter was forgiven. He was given a clean slate… another chance. And with that, he would go on to courageously spread the gospel under the threat of immense persecution. He became instrumental in the foundation of the early church, and legend says that when they finally decided to crucify him for his faith, he request that he be crucified upside down, for he was unworthy of dying in the same manner of his Lord and Savior.

In the end, he answered the same call as Isiah. “Here I am. Send me!”

If you’ve read any of my posts, it’s no secret that I’m a bit concerned about the direction of the United States. I’m concerned because I believe, just like the ancient Israelites, that we are prone to biblical judgement as a nation, and we’ve permitted much evil while shining our personal idols. I believe we’re under spiritual attack, that Satan would love nothing more than to see America divided… to see America fall. This can easily be seen by not just those who mock his death, but by all the podcasters, influencers, and others who have used his death for their own fame and financial gain, even to the point where they attack his widow and the organization he ran. And I believe it is no coincidence Satan took out one of the most effective and influential leaders of our generation.

I also know that Satan is arrogant, and in his arrogance, is blind to the almighty power of God. His memorial became probably the biggest proclamation of the gospel in the history of the Earth, and inspired many of us to turn back to God, to be better versions of ourselves… to not just get in the race, but to finish it, so we too can hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” when it becomes time to meet our maker.

Yes, he inspired many of us… myself included.

So, for my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, I pray this day that we may become the type of Christians that will answer the call. I pray that we will look at where our faith my be lacking, so that we can work and prepare for the day we may be called to act righteously. For some, it may be simply opening your bible for the first time in years. For others, it may be volunteering for a church group, or going to a schoolboard meeting to speak out on an issue when nobody else is willing to. And for some, it may mean we confront those out of love that are engaging in evil or self-destructive behaviors, even at the risk of looking foolish or losing friendships. Because listen or not, like the prophets, you gave them a chance, and you will be rewarded in the end.

I have a long way to go, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever get to the level of faithfulness as Charlie Kirk. But I know that I’m much farther along than I was a year ago on this date. And I don’t intend on going back either.

I intend to be a man after God’s heart, like Charlie. I intend to be a man that when called, will reply boldly with, “Here I am Lord. Send me!”

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P-Rod – Forecast (Skate Videos That Live Rent Free Inside My head Part 2)

Confession time. I know he was/is/will be considered one of the all-time greats, but I’m not the biggest Paul Rodriguz fan. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate the guy, and I know he’s good, but it’s almost as if he’s too good. All his tricks look easy and effortless, even if they’re technically complex. It’s hard to tell if he’s skating switch or regular, for it all looks the same, which in a way, decreases the “wow” factor of in his skating (especially in his video parts). And he has a tendency of murdering spots by essentially doing every trick imaginable down it to the point where he shuts the spot down. And after the 5^th or 6^th trick, it’s like “Ok, we get it! Nobody can come back!”

The most notorious example of this is with Tom Penny at the chain:

Which makes his skating seem like a blur, and for that I could never truly appreciate how good he was.

That is, until I watched his Forecast part.

It was August of 2005. I was living on a high for winning my first (and only) skate competition (it was only intermediate skill level, but hey, I’ll take it!), and was set to indulge in bibulous activities across the Washington State University campus, as I was still in the thralls of my prodigal tendencies as a college student. But before that, and I’m not sure it was planned this way, but all the finalists from my division were invited to the house of BJ the Wise before the commencement of said activities. Legend says BJ could’ve become pro in the 90’s but chose to get his PhD instead so he could cure cancer. And if it weren’t for the corrupt medical/pharmaceutical industry, he would’ve already cured it, but that’s another discussion for another day.

“Dude, Zack, Congratulations on the skate comp!” he said to me as I entered into his domain. “Have a seat, we’re watching the Forecast video.” Man, did I feel like a million bucks, for one simply doesn’t get a comment like that from BJ the Wise. It’s earned through years of respect, for a wiseman like himself isn’t afraid to slam you for your foolishness. Just ask the scooter kid at the Moscow skatepark who got chewed out when he got in the way and whacked him with his Razor scooter!

Even more humbling was the reaction from my competitors, Tim and Parker, for they all were the further compilatory on my accomplishment, as is the custom of most skaters. “In all honesty, it could’ve been anybody’s game,” I replied in respect of their skill level as we reminisced about the glorious day, unable to stop giving each other props to the point that we almost forgot a skate video was on (which is unheard of with a group of skaters). I reminded Parker that for a minute, I thought he had it in the bag when he ripped off a gnarly indy grab over the hip followed up by a backside 50-50 down the bank to start off his run. But I lucked out after he went for multiple backside flips off the quarter pipe and ran out of time for any other tricks in his run.

The moments P-Rod’s part came on however, all of us seemed to quiet down, as we were sucked into trance. It must’ve been a combination of the mood I was in, with the half-waning/half-driving tempo of his part, but it finally dawned on me, “Oh snap! This guy is good! Like, really good!” I think it was a feeling mutual to the crew, for it was just an onslaught of combo after combo, line after line, and one spot murdering after another—the sheer volume of tricks performed in his part were simply absorbing into my skull like Neo downloading Kung Fu into his brain to fight Morpheus. It was part overwhelming, part amazing, and part, “this video doesn’t do his skating justice, but it comes close!”

That’s the thing with some skaters. You can watch a video part, but it can’t showcase how good that skater actually is unless you see them skating in person. And man, what a treat it would be to skate with him, for I can only imagine the amount of tricks he could pop off on rails, down stair sets, and across other obstacles in a consistent basis.

Being that this was the era before YouTube (or at least YouTube was in it’s infancy) and skate videos weren’t wildly available yet online, I never got the chance to watch this part again. And with a slew of other amazing skate videos that had come out in 2005, among them Baker 3, Zero – New Blood, DVS – Skate More, and Almost – Round 3, Forecast probably got lost in the shuffle. Yet, his part always hung around year after year, and that waning/driving song of his kept popping back up in my head, to the point where I couldn’t take it anymore and I just had to rewatch it.

And I’m glad I did. And even though I get to watch it every now and then online, it still lives rent free inside my head.

Full Video Here (P-Rod’s part starts at the 29:00 mark):

Other articles in the series: Tosh Townend – Sight Unseen (Skate Videos That Live Rent Free Inside My Head)

If you enjoy this, please consider your support by checking out a copy of my book “Waiting on Heaven’s Doorstep,” about a former skater who learns the hardest lesson of all… saying goodbye.

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Tosh Townend – Sight Unseen (Skate Videos That Live Rent Free Inside My Head)

I suppose I’ll always consider myself a skater at heart, even though my best skate years are well behind me and I no longer have the time to skate like I used to as a father of two. One thing I think I can speak on, however, is that once you’ve stepped on a board and learned to skate the streets, you never look at them the same. Each ledge, stair set, rail, or bank is a treasure trove of imagined tricks waiting to be performed, much inspired by the skate videos I’d watch religiously in my youth. And now, 25 years later, many of the parts from those skate videos live rent free inside my head.

I’ll probably end up writing an entire essay on the Transworld Skateboarding videos at some point, for in the late 90’s/early 2000’s, they came out with a solid string of videos that really elevated the spirit of skateboarding. They showed that it was more than pulling off a few stunts on a board; that in its pure state, it was an artform, and they masterfully brought out the culture and style of each skater they profiled.

No better is this showcased than in Tosh Townend’s part in Sight Unseen.

This became the first skate video I ever owned, having received it for Christmas in 2001. My father bought it because he told the guy at the skate shop (probably a Zumiez) that “my son likes the DVD format,” and that was the newest (and possibly only) skate DVD they had. In all honesty, I wouldn’t have minded getting one on VHS, but in the end, it’s safe to say I was fine with the choice.

As a 16-year-old relatively fresh to the skate scene, Tosh Townend represented what we all wanted to be. He was from Huntington Beach, California, the mecca of skateboarding. He was the same age as us, and as a skater, he was living the dream. When you watched him skate, aggressive enough to hit large handrails, yet laid back enough to make it all look easy, you never thought the dream was out of reach, something his music choice for the video, “Ammaring” by J. Mascis & the Fog (a band I am not familiar with), mirrors artfully.

In his Sight Unseen part, two tricks sequences stand out to me. The first is a line he does at a skatepark around the 1:45 minute mark. I guess it’s seen as taboo to include park skating in your video parts, but this clip always brings me back to those night sessions at the skatepark, where the entire crew is there feeding off each other’s energy, living in the moment and loving every second of it… wishing it would never end. The park he skates looks amazing and is appropriately filled with skaters, as it should be. I dreamed of skating it, imagining the lines I’d hit, and in a way, I envied not having a park like that in my hometown. Although looking back, even for how crusty it was, I wouldn’t trade my hometown park and the people who skated it for anything. And for those who grew up skating in the Lewis-Clark during that time, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

The next is a nose manual nollie flip out that he does on a ledge in the next clip. The smooth manner in which he moves his hands to balance, how relaxed he looks on the skinny ledge, and the technical nature of the trick just makes it an enjoyable combination to watch. I can’t tell you how many times that sequence would pop in my head during class or during a car ride as I looked out the window scoping out spots, thinking of the day when I’d be good enough to do the same.

I’m not sure how many of the younger kids would know Tosh Townend if you mentioned his name in skate circles today. Looking at his Wikipedia page, it seems that he’s been out of the spotlight for some time, focusing on the local scene in his community with his own skate company. For although skating is different than most other sports, the window for a professional career can still be small for most skaters. That holds especially true today now that skateboarding’s an Olympic sport. During his time on the scene, though, he created a glimpse into the heart of skateboarding, capturing the essence of what it felt like to be a young skater during its prime. He captured how fun it was to dream of becoming pro… dreaming along with the community we created, having experienced pure joy and freedom every time we stepped on a board.

Rewatching this part brings me back to that time, and makes me grateful for getting to experience it.

Check out the full video “Sight Unseen” here:

And feel free to check out some of my other posts on skating: Top 5 skate video parts of all time

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The Touch of Life – A Rugby Novel by Ike Andrews

There have been distinct moments in my life where I have been extraordinarily proud of my father. The first was in the 4th grade during a “what does your dad do for work” presentation where he turned a pedestrian career in the paper industry into an exciting exposition of international business, making me the envy of the classroom for having such a “cool” dad. The second was when he delivered the eulogy for his best friend Brian, honoring him and his Lord with his convicting message. And upon my re-reading of The Touch of Life, that feeling of pride swelled within me once again.

I was roughly five years younger than Professor Michael Burke the first time I read this book, an age where I was too occupied with partying and making skateboard videos to read a 500-page novel. Yet, despite my prodigal tendencies, remnants of God’s command to honor your parents still clung to me. So, I read on. And for a kid who found reading to be a chore up until that point in life, I genuinely enjoyed the read, much like a teenager’s first viewing of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. It was a surface-level enjoyment, where I laughed at the antics of Ripper, cringed at the weasel known as Jeff Sheonick, and was on the edge of my seat during its climactic finale.

And to this day, I can still remember the night I finished the book. I was glued to the final chapters, unable to sleep until I discovered the fate of the Select Side rugby players. This of course, became problematic, since I was slated to wake up at 5 AM for a full day of salmon fishing with my father and some friends from church. On paper, it’s an experience any man would be grateful for, but for a 21-year-old college student on Christmas break, I wasn’t exactly enthused for the outing, nor for the eight hours spent in the middle of the Snake River freezing my butt off.

I actually caught one during one of those trips!

Despite the dread of an early morning fishing trip, I put down the book that night satisfied that I had just read a well-written thriller that any connoisseur of fiction would be proud of. But even though I would go on to recommend it to others, I still lacked the maturity to understand the deeper themes presented. And similar to the Lord of the Rings, it would take half a lifetime to truly appreciated the emotional and spiritual depth of this book.

When my father approached me with the idea of re-releasing The Touch of Life (now that eBooks have made reading more accessible), I happily obliged. Feeling that I owed him a favor after he graciously proofread my own novel, I also knew it would be a good exercise for someone who had just started his own publishing company. What I didn’t expect is how much more I would enjoy reading it the second time.

Now, being the approximate age of my father during the time he wrote this, the story hits from an entirely different angle. It astonished me how well my father captured the zeitgeist of not just Wisconsin in the late 1970s, but of being a young man navigating the path into adulthood. From the very first chapter, I felt like I had been there, a stranger in a strange land, finding routine and contentment with the little you have. I could relate to the feels and struggles of the professor, and even found joy in the simple details of his surroundings, from the scent of freshly mowed grass to the peaceful ambience that encompasses a college campus after students have left for the summer. Though the settings may differ, it’s during these transition periods that lead us into wonder, longing for change, yet clinging to that last vestige of an adolescent spirit. It’s what led the professor to the sport of rugby, and strangely enough, it’s activities like rugby—molding the physicality of youth into the courage of manhood—that best propel us into the throws of the real world.

Fox River Rugby Club, where much of the book was inspired from, Circa 1980.

There’s brutal honesty portrayed in every facet of the story, a quality that’s often missing in modern writing, especially given the superficial culture promoted through social media. The foul-mouthed, beer-guzzling antics of rugby culture, though humorous at times, will make many wince. Graphically depicted are the carnal desires of sex, not for titillation, but as a reminder that the temptation is real in every man, and in a day and age where pornography is accessible at our fingertips, it’s a sin that is too-often ignored in fear of self-implication. “The Rape of the Planet” reminds us that there is unabashed evil in our world. Yet it’s evil that all good men must eventually confront, for evil has a way of metastasizing if left unabated.

And that’s the risk of honest writing. It exposes our own sins, insecurities, and weaknesses, and can give wicked men ammunition to tear you and others like you down. But, in doing so, there is also the potential for great reward. It shows the most depraved among us that there is salvation, no matter how much of a misfit they are on and off the field. That like them, we are severely flawed, but if we accept Jesus as our Lord and Savior, He has a way of destroying those demons and promoting the good within us; qualities like loyalty, determination, and most of all, courage that are developed on the rugby field.

And that’s what I find most admirable about this story; the courage my father displayed in writing it. In exposing his own vulnerabilities, he reminds us that like rugby, life can be quite muddy. It’s filled with messy situations, violent encounters, and requires decisions where morality is often muddled. And after a long-fought match, win or lose, we often come away better equipped to face the next, having persevered through the very end. And whether it’s between teammates, opponents, or even enemies on a battlefield, there is great honor that is shared amongst men in these environments.

I believe there’s a providential connection between the passage of time and the re-release of this book, for perhaps the greatest endorsement I can give is by the time I got to the last page, I had shed a tear. Like those characters in the epilogue, I’m wiser, married with kids, and have had time to reflect on the many trials of life. And despite the pain felt during many of those trials, the second reading truly made me grateful for those life experiences, and God willing, for a life that has several years left.

Nobody but my old man and the Lord will fully understand the amount of time, heart, and sacrifice that was put into writing this book. The unfortunate reality for most writers is that the fruits of their labor will never be fully realized. And having written a novel myself, I can sense his passion for this story, paying homage to the game of rugby and the teammates he met along the way. In doing so, he has brought honor, not just to them, but to his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

If you are among the few who have stumbled across this gem, consider yourself blessed. You are in for an exciting adventure. You are about to dive into the rough and gruff world of rugby. You are about to see how the Holy Spirit can rebuild the most broken among us. And for that, I am honored to share this book with you.

Zachary Michael Andrews
Grizzly Chadams Publishing

The Touch of Life is available now on amazon.com. If this post spoke to you in anyway or if you know anybody who would enjoy a sports thriller based around rugby, please consider supporting us independent authors by purchasing a copy using the link below:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H2PVQN5N

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No laughing about wee wees!

Recently, we visited this place called Lotte World. Think of it as Korea’s version of Disneyland. And though clearly a knockoff, it was still pretty fun. Of course, they had all sorts of rides, long lines, and a resort for guests to stay at.

*A few pics from the park to give you an idea of what it’s all about.*

*Although Mrs. Lotte was a bit voluptuous for our taste (you should’ve seen her bunny friend. She was even worse!!!).*

Thus, when we weren’t at the theme park, we were able to find some other activities to keep the kiddos occupied, one of which was swimming (sorry, no pics of the dad bod this time).

As we were finishing up one of our sessions at the pool and heading into the locker room, there were of course people doing what they needed to do in preparation for their swim. No problem. Completely normal. Though for a 5-year-old boy having limited exposure to locker rooms, there were obviously some oddities to take note of.

“Look daddy,” said my son taking notice of one of the gentlemen in the throws of a wardrobe change. “That man has a strange wee wee!” No doubt the man, as well as the rest of locker room patrons, heard what was said. As for his ability to understand English, I prayed it wasn’t great, but an educated guess tells me he understood in some capacity the words that were uttered by the boy.

Making the best out of such an awkward situation, I played it off as no big deal and replied to him simply and tersely. “Zander, let’s just focus on getting your clothes on. We will talk when we get back to the room.”

“But dad, his wee—”

“Zander!” I reminded him, and continued to do so a few more times before we exited the locker room, since that’s how an innocent 5-year-old is expected to act. Eventually, we were able to get out of there, where I was able to salvage enough credibility to recover from the situation.

Or so I thought…

I waited until we got back to the room to speak, since for his sake, it was only fair to converse in as private of a setting as possible; and the resort hallways and elevators just wouldn’t do. No need to embarrass the little guy after all.

Back at the room, we dropped our pool bag and I sat him on the bed, taking a moment to brace for the conversation at hand. “Zander, it’s important that we don’t point and talk about other people’s wee wees when we’re in places like the locker room.” As soon as those words came out of my mouth, my wife starts giggling, fully knowing she shouldn’t be. “Hun, it’s not funny!” I scolded, for in fact this was a serious talk between father and son—between man and young man—and I intended to keep it that way.

Instead of quelling her laughter, the comment only seemed to intensify it. However, doing my best to maintain composure, I continued with the boy. “Also, we shouldn’t point or look at other people’s wee wee’s when we’re in the locker room either.

“But daddy,” he started to reply, his voice softening and eyes lowering. “I didn’t mean to look at his wee wee.” At this point, I could hear my wife snickering on the other side of the bed, popping out just like that stupid dog does when you miss in Duck Hunt.

“Seriously, knock it off,” I reprimanded once again through gritted teeth. I suppose one could give her some credit for trying to hold it in, but in reality, she wasn’t helping the situation—One bit. And every time I yelled at her, it only seemed to make things worse. Again, understanding the importance of our conversation, I wasn’t going to let her behavior get in the way of what was right. I brushed it off as best as I could and continued.

“I know you didn’t, and if you see another person’s wee wee in the locker room, that’s ok. We just shouldn’t stare. Do you understand?” The boy just kept his head down, feeling like he had failed his old man. Of course, shame was never my intent, for all I wanted to do was use it as a teachable moment and prevent him from future troubles, as any good father would do. With that mindset, I changed tactics.

“Hey bud, why did you think his wee wee was strange?”

“Well, it was hairy and black all around, and in the middle there was a white dot.” At this point, my wife was pretty much dry heaving, like she was about to blow a gasket at a moment’s notice. I had to wrap this up quick before a catastrophe was afoot.

“Well, buddy, just like people look different, the same is with wee wees. Some have lots of hair and some don’t, Some are bigger, and there’s even some that are smaller…” I could sense heavy movement in the corner of the room. I glared over at my wife, who stood there convulsing like she was in the middle of a seizure. For the love of everything holy, keep it together! It was a tall order, one I doubted she could uphold, but I had no other choice. I had to continue.

“But the important thing to remember, is that just like people, it can be rude to talk about wee wees… even when they indeed, look a little… strange.”

What ensued was the equivalent of a MOAB going off in the desert. My wife howled with laughter, foregoing the last remnants of dignity in the room. “Hun! Seriously! You couldn’t control yourself for a few more seconds?!” The words served as fuel to her sense of “humor,” as the bellows came out heartier than before, further intensifying my frustration. Yet, outburst after livid outbursts only served to exacerbate her manic state, leaving me at the end of my rope.

“C’mon, Zander, let’s get out of here!” With the situation now far beyond my control and all other options exhausted, I signaled for a retreat. But as we walked down the hallway, I, as well as other guests, winced at the maniacal laughter echoing across the hallway. I hung my head in disgrace, fearing my well-intentioned chat may have resulted in years of therapy. What have I done…

At the end of the day, are there things I could’ve done differently? Sure, nobody’s perfect. Was there a better venue to have this talk at? Possibly, though in the fog of war, time and clarity are luxuries often not granted. And that’s what parenthood comes down to. You don’t have to be perfect, for half the battle is just showing up with the courage to have those difficult discussions, even at the risk of humiliation.

And you know what? Since then, wee wee talk has gone down considerably! And I can already see the growth, so much so that he earned the right to see his first movie last week at the theater (Project Hail Mary, which was quite good, and recommended if you haven’t seen it already. Check out the post here). And given how mature he acted throughout, I’m starting to think that this little talk about strange wee wees was a turning point! And I, for one, am proud of how far he’s come along.

So ladies, I know when us guys are having these types of talks, you may think they’re funny. And you’ll be tempted to use that as a prime opportunity for embarrassment and ridicule. But that’s ok. As men, and more importantly, as fathers, that’s a sacrifice we’re willing to make. Because at the end of the day, there is no wee wee strange enough that’ll keep a father from having a heart to heart with his son.

So remember that next time you see your husband, and don’t be afraid to cut him some slack every once in a while.

And what better way of showing your appreciation than with a good book for them to enjoy???

Or, if you simply enjoyed what you just read, feel free to support me by purchasing a copy of my book (and leaving a review if you’re ever so kind!)

-Grizzly Chadams

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Project Hail Mary: The Perfect Movie for the Easter Season

Warning: Spoilers ahead.

I reached a major milestone in my dad status this week: my son and I went to our first movie together, “Project Hail Mary.”

And it turns out, 5-year-olds are much smarter than we give them credit for.

It was a risk taking him to a sci-fi thriller, knowing there would be some tense scenes in there, but I was impressed with how well he was able to stay focused through the slower parts, understand the basic themes of the movie, and how he really grew to love both Grace and Rocky, the human/alien duo who meet and establish a strong friendship.

“So, it sounds like the risk paid off,” you say. Well, yes, but not without a few hurdles along the way…

He got attached to Rocky. I mean, really attached. And when it looked like Rocky wasn’t going to make it, it was just too much for one little guy to bear. He began rubbing his eyes, then started taking deep breaths, trying to keep it together in a room full of strangers. I wrapped my arms around him to let him know it was going to be all right, but as he climbed up on my lap and buried his face into my chest with tears filling his eyes, he uttered phrase in between sobs that was almost became too much for me to bear.

“Dad, can we go home now? Please…”

He knew that Rocky was likely a goner, and being wise beyond his years, his instincts were correct. He didn’t need to be there to see it, didn’t need the pain to fester by watching him in that comatose state. But as I held him in my arms at that moment, a simple phrase came into my head. “Have faith,” I whispered to him. “…Have faith.”

A few moments later, Rocky’s hand started to move, signaling to Grace that indeed, his friend was alive and well. “Look,” I said to my son with as much excitement as I could express in a silent movie theater. He turned his head, and to his relief, there Rocky was, moving, talking… interacting.

Rocky had risen.

For anybody who has watched a few movies in their day and has a basic understanding of story structure, you can recognize the “all hope is lost” plot point, when things look like they’re over, only for our hero to miraculously come back to life/save the day/finally bag the babe and find true love. But I can’t blame my little dude for reacting the way he did, for it wasn’t too long ago where I found myself rubbing my eyes in the theater during “Homeward Bound,” believing Shadow was never going to climb out of the muddy ditch at the end.

Geez, that scene still tears me apart to this day!

But as we walked home that afternoon, I couldn’t help but think of how the disciples felt after Jesus was buried in the tomb. It’s said that John was the only one of them who witnessed His crucifixion, for the rest of them, much like my son, couldn’t bear to see their Lord suffer and die. But unlike my son, they were full-grown men. And in the midst of despair, they too had lost faith.

Faith. It’s a concept that should be easy, yet when pressed, it easily crumbles. Just think when Peter walks on water to meet Jesus but quickly sinks, to which Jesus responds, “What little faith you have.” And if I were standing in Peter’s place that day, I don’t think I would’ve fared any better.

The good news is, we have several examples of how faith comes through. David when he slayed Goliath, Daneil in the lion’s den, and most notably when Jesus showed faith by obeying his Father with the words “Thy will be done.” And in the ultimate show of love, He willingly gave up His life to save us all from our sin.

Then, three days later, he rose from the grave.

Some of the greatest stories have elements of the greatest story of all time, which is why I think my son, and many others like him have resonated with Project Hail Mary so much. Aside from the fact that it’s free of foul language and explicit content (which actually is a big deal for me these days), it has elements of what’s good, true and beautiful in life. How love and sacrifice are some of the highest virtues. Why we hold in reverence those who make the ultimate sacrifices, for that is the highest form of love somebody can give. And like Rocky showed when he was willing to sacrifice his life, not just for his friend but for both his and Grace’s planets, it’s a replication of the love that Jesus showed 2000 years ago on the cross, a love that none of us deserved but received regardless… which is why they call it love.

So, if you need a great pick me up, or if you’re in need of a good activity to do with the family this Easter weekend, I would highly recommend seeing Project Hail Mary. And if you’re a dad trying to find a way to relate the Easter story to your son, it’s the perfect complement to the season.

If you enjoyed this post and want to support my work, please check out some of my other work available on Amazon.com.

And if you like what you see, please leave a review!

-Zack

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All-American Halftime Show Challenge: Let’s Transform More Kid Rocks into Robert Ritchies

From the buzz I’m seeing on Facebook and other social media sites, it seems that the All-American Halftime Show that Turning Point USA put on was effective. And I, for one, am happy, since it seems like the NFL is becoming less interested in representing people like me, so I hope Turning Point can continue to build off this.

But beyond just the entertainment value was something personal to me, and that was the transformation of Kid Rock.

I was a huge fan of Kid Rock my freshman year of high school. From a young adolescence in the thrusts of puberty, his foul-mouthed, hard-hitting style of rock and roll spoke directly to the rush of testosterone suddenly flooding my body. That wasn’t, of course, without great risk for a teenage boy.

Not only did his album include derogatory lyrics, but the album title alone of his first major release “Devil Without a Cause” provided enough caution for any Christian parents. And just to add an extra level of flair, as soon as you opened the case, the CD itself displayed a giant middle finger (in case you didn’t get the message). Needless to say, my fanaticism for Kid Rock was kept on the downlow to prevent a hard lecture and potential butt whippin’ from my mom.

Not to Mention the PARENTAL ADVISORY Sticker!!!

Fast forward almost 30 years (hard to believe it was that long ago), and seeing him play the title track to that album “Bawitdaba” made me wince a bit at first. And for a moment, I really thought that he and the team at Turning Point really missed the mark.

Then, he did something that surprised me.

After a string instrument interlude, he was reintroduced, not as Kid Rock, but by his real name, Robert Ritchie. He stripped away his old attire to something much more humble, and instead of singing about “the midnight glances at the topless dancers,” he gave a much more uplifting message. And it was during that song, where he took a moment to proclaim the gospel.

The more I think about this, I believe the song selections (and even the choice to lip sync the first song, given some of the lip-syncing controversies that float around with live performances) were intentional. And in a strange way, they were touching, for it reflected some of the transformation that I’ve seen in my life. Now, I was nowhere near the level that Kid Rock experienced, from his walkout at Woodstock 99 in a pimp’s coat to his hard partying and dating of some of the most beautiful women a man can get his hands on. But if I were in his position, would I be willing to resist some of those same temptations? Truth be told, I probably would’ve found myself indulging in some of the same excesses.

Yet, with his reintroduction as Robert Ritchie and his proclamation of the gospel, it was as if he was making a statement. “Here I am Lord, born again and ready to serve.” After all, new names have often been given by God and Jesus. Abram to Abraham, Jacob to Israel, Saul to Paul, Simon to Peter, and on and on.

Now that Robert has proclaimed the truth, will he completely shed his previous lifestyle and stay on the narrow road? I certainly hope so, and will pray that he does, for I believe his story going from the “devil without a cause” to unapologetically preaching the name of Jesus in front of 22 million plus people (I believe that was the final estimated number, and a conservative one at that) is a powerful one. It is a difficult road, however, and many in his space have stumbled (think Kanye), so I encourage others to pray for him as well (for he’ll certainly need all the help he can get).

But this now leaves a challenge to us believers. There are many Kid Rocks among us. Those who have indulged in sinful lifestyles, whether it be promiscuity, drunkenness, drug use, or been stuck in idolatrous behavior. There are probably many of those who are holding onto sin deep in their heart that is keeping them from accepting salvation. How will we minister to those? They may be foul-mouthed partiers, but they also, like Kid Rock, understand that there is a deeper truth. That they’re longing for change… that they’re longing for Christ.

Because though we may have cringed listening to his first song, that’s ok, because we weren’t his target audience. They were.

Transformation doesn’t come easy, and it often doesn’t happen overnight. And for those of us who grew up in a church culture who shunned this type of behavior, it will be quite uncomfortable (which is probably the point). But just like how Jesus met the lepers, tax collectors, prostitutes, and the most broken and misfit in society, we can step out of our comfort zones to welcome them into discipleship. There is a hunger amongst many of us sheep that have strayed from the flock, and if we allow it, the Holy Spirit will work through all of us to transform lives.

So let’s welcome in the Kid Rocks among us, and through the power of Christ, let’s turn them into Robert Ritchies.

If you enjoyed this blog, please consider supporting some of my other work. Waiting on Heaven’s Doorstep takes the same message of a broken young man and rebuilding him anew, and The Significance of a Birthday is a great birthday message (and gift) for all ages, emphasizing the miracle of life and how much you changed the world the day you entered it.

Thank you, and God bless.

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We Must Stop the Evil in Minnesota Before Our Kids are Forced to…

I’ll probably lose some friends or followers over this post. So be it. I love my kids and family more than any favor I may receive on social media, and I need to speak up.

What’s going on in Minnesota right now is evil. And I’m not talking about ICE. I’m talking about the so-called “protests.”

I watched the video of the events leading up to Alex Pretti being shot. And yes, it’s a tragedy, but not surprising. When you have people resisting and interfering with arrests, organizing federal law enforcement disruptions, blowing whistles and creating stressful situations for ordinary people doing a dangerous job, I’m actually surprised more of these incidents haven’t occurred given the laws of human nature. And for those agents who have been able to keep their cool and shown restraint during this time, much kudos and respect to you.

But the real tragedy of this, whether he realized it or not, is that this individual served his master well, and from the looks of him and his activities, I’m guessing he received his reward in full and is currently being tormented in hell. Yes, I know that’s harsh to say at this time, but it’s also a time not to mince words, because the devil will use all of us the same, and he doesn’t care what happens. And I rather not see my friends meet that same fate.

And here’s the part I really don’t want to say, for I have lots of friends and family who belong to this party, but again, but just like a loving friend would tell his best bud if his girlfriend was cheating on him, it needs to be said. The Democrat Party has become demonic.

Am I calling all Democrats demonic? No, but if you consider yourself a member, you need to confronted with that fact, and I urge you to cut ties, for what’s going on is evil. I could list numerous examples, from abortion on demand, promoting transgenderism on children, to the current sewing of chaos among our cities for people trying to get bad guys and enforce the law. Though it may hurt those of you who vote Democrat, hell is worse, and I would not be considered a loving friend if I weren’t to warn you of that.

And just to get this out of the way, I’m not even saying to become a Republican, because Lord knows we have several problems on our side, cowardice and comfort being on the top of that list. And if I’m being honest, I’m almost more furious at them for their lack of action! I know full well because I’ve been among the cowardly class most of my life and trying to work myself out of it. I may not have a lot of influence or power, but if I’m calling them to act, then I better put my money where my mouth is and do something for once.

Problems rarely, if ever, get better with time. When the check engine light comes on in your car, how many times have you said “Gee, I’ll just wait until it goes away,” and the problem’s solved? No. What happens is you end up with a bigger problem and bigger bill down the line. And it’s a history lesson we’ve sadly had to learn several times. If nations would’ve stood up to Hitler in the mid-1930’s, 6 million or so more Jews would’ve been saved. If the international community wouldn’t have pressured Irael to capitulate the Hamas (or if Israel would’ve told them to pound sand), we may not have had an October 7^th attack and a resulting war that ravished Gaza because of it. At the time, the risk made these decisions unpopular, but by not following through, the problem was kicked down the road and made worse… much worse.

Which is what I fear in this situation. If these agitators, rioters, and evil-doers (sorry, not going to call them protestors, because they aren’t engaging in good-faith protesting), are not put down (figuratively, for all you dinguses out there who will want to take that as literal), this will not simply go away. It will get worse to the point of civil war with several more casualties.

Do you think it’s a coincidence that people like Nick Fuentes and Andrew Tate have grown in popularity? Or how much Tucker Carlson has deconstructed seeing the evil that is happening in our own country? For how much I despise their belief systems, I’m actually coming to understand why they believe what they believe when moral authority is at an all-time low! The more we push chaos and lawlessness on future generations, and the more the church and other “good” men stands on the sidelines and refuse to act, the further things will boil over until it ignites. And it won’t be us fighting it. It will very likely be my son and your sons. And no, I do not want to pass that onto him, nor should you to your kids. You may not believe me, but history has a different track record, and I’d like to avoid that at all costs.

And if that happens, the devil wins, and America loses. And frankly, if we can’t change our ways as a nation, then we probably deserve to lose, just like the Israelites in the book of Jerimiah (try that book of the bible if you want a real mood killer)! The Lord will find another nation to carry out his will, or maybe Jesus will finally come back with a robe dipped in blood and a sword in his mouth. But if I claim to be a God-fearing man, then I can’t and won’t be silent in this time, and when the time comes, I don’t want to stand before my creator as a coward.

So how about we take a stand against evil. Let’s maybe let’s take a rare collective sacrifice as a generation (or multiple) so we can pass on the America we had to our kids. There’s lots to do, and I have a lot more I can do. But speaking truth and standing up for what’s right is at least a place to start. I encourage you to do the same.

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Waiting on Heaven’s Doorstep – My First Novel

It took me twelve years.

Twelve years, twenty rewrites, and God knows how many late nights at coffee shops to get to this point, but I’m finally finished.

My first published novel:

This has been a very personal project for me. Not just because of the amount of time and work I put into it, but also because it represents a journey that almost all of us have or will go through at some point, and that’s how to say goodbye to a loved one.

It’s an experience I certainly went through (and have gone through a few times now), and a day I can remember vividly: coming home to my dog of 12 years in the process of dying.

That morning, all I could do was sit next to her and shed a tear, wishing we could share one last run together… wishing she could have one more chance to be a dog before we had to say goodbye. During that moment, I prayed to God. Not so much asking him for that chance, for it was a wish I didn’t deserve, but it was more that I talked to him… I lamented the inevitable loss of my dog, and the devastation I felt. I guess in the end I knew he wasn’t going to grant me that wish… it was just nice to have somebody to talk to.

As the day progressed, there were a lot of strange events that shaped how I would write this book, starting with going to the gun range with my sister’s boyfriend at the time to blow off some steam, to even having somebody mention to me in a half-serious way “I can help you put her down,” which led me to consider for a moment, “is this something I need to do,” and “if I were forced to be the one to put her down, how would I do it?”

With so much going through my mind, I needed to get away—needed time to process. So, I did what any normal person would do: pop in a little Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” and run.

And that’s what I did. I started running… for miles.

During that run, each song that played invoked a different emotion. I was confused, then scared, then sad, then angry—FURIOUS! Fury that manifested into a dead sprint, leading me to almost barf on the side of the road.

Then, there was a sense of emptiness, but strangely enough, as I wrapped up my run, there was even some resolve. And as the days and weeks went on, more strange events took place. Events that were almost too coincidental…

Almost as if in an unexpected way, God listened and answered my prayers… just not quite the way I imagined he would.

It was a combination of events and emotions of which I felt compelled to capture. So, I started writing.

At first, I had no idea what I was doing, and no idea this would turn into a novel, which is partly why it took so long. But looking back, there was also a lot of growth I needed to go through in order to tell the story properly. After all, I started writing as a young professional in my 20’s, and though on the outside I was successful, there was a large part of me that felt discontent with life, almost as if the world I was sold wasn’t what I received.

Since then, I’ve gotten married, had kids, have had the privilege of living in a few different countries, and even went through a few miserable global events that I’d rather forget about.

But those experiences were an integral part of me to start my journey back to my Christian faith, which lead me to read the bible cover to cover for the first time. And for the first time in my life, I was finally able to understand the true meaning of love and the power it has.

And that’s what’s at the core of what this book is about: A story of a young man, which during such a despairing event, embarks on an emotional, physical, and spiritual journey and rediscovers the true meaning of love and the power it has to overcome death and bring hope in the darkest of times.

So, if you’ve gone through this experience before, this book will remind you that you are not alone.

If you feel or have ever felt stuck in life and not sure how to move forward, this book will give you hope to climb out of that valley.

And if you simply enjoy a good coming-of-age story about love and redemption, I think you’ll appreciate this book, for it speaks to many of the struggles those in my generation have gone through (and likely you may have gone through) in life.

If you are interested in supporting me and purchasing a copy, this is available on amazon.com (link here). I would love for your support and for you to share with friends, family, and anybody else who you think would enjoy this book and benefit from its message.

Lastly, I can’t end this without a slew of thank you’s:

Silverdale Starbucks (Bucklin’ Hill Road) homies – thank you for making me feel at home all those years by inviting me in and serving me while I worked on this. If you worked there and ever served me, feel free to send me a message, and I’ll hook you up with a copy.

To Chanel from Athens – Thank you for being the first to read this book. It meant a lot to me that you took the time to read this and your feedback was extremely valuable.

To my old man for doing a big proofread/copyedit job for me. Not only did it save me lots of money, but much time and energy was put into helping me get across the finish line.

Oh, and my bud Damian too, for doing a few last minute quality assurance checks.

To my teachers of the past, Mr. Healey and Mr. Black (may you rest in peace). Thank you for planting the seed of storytelling at a young age (for I wasn’t always a kid who enjoyed reading and writing). You have been inspirations not only to me, but to all those who you taught.

And last but not least, thank you to my wife and her support, especially this last year as she watched the kids, allowing me to take time to go down to the coffee shops to wrap this project up. I couldn’t have done it without her.

And of course there are a million other people who I could (and should) thank, but unfortunately, it’s impossible for me to remember everybody and give them the credit that’s due. Fortunately, there’s a Big Guy upstairs who knows this stuff, and he’ll reward you accordingly, whether it’s in this life or the next.

So in general, thank you all for your support, and I really hope you enjoy this book, and I’m so glad that after 12 years, I finally get to share it with you. And if you’re able and willing, please leave a review on amazon.com. Reviews are one of the biggest things that help independent authors like me get exposure and share the story with the rest of the world, so your willingness to review means the world to me.

If you have any questions about the book or have questions (or are interested) in learning about writing and the process of writing a book, please leave a comment below, as I would love to share with you my knowledge and experience.

Thank you all again, and may God bless.

Sincerely,

Zachary Michael Andrews

Waiting on Heaven’s Doorstep is Available on Amazon:

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