online diary for the masses

The majority of the past week has found me putting all of my possessions into boxes, moving those boxes to a new living space in Spokane, Washington, and emptying them out in hopes of finding homes for their contents. Over 100 years prior, Sonora Smart Dodd was in a similar boat as she moved up to Spokane from Arkansas. Dodd, a church-goer like myself, sat in on a Mother’s Day sermon one Sunday and felt compelled by her love for her dad to create a whole new holiday in 1910: Father’s Day.

And it worked.

So here we are all these years later celebrating our fathers on June’s third Sunday. At least I am.

My dad is a stallion. He’s modeled excellent fatherhood and husbandry to me for longer than I’ve been watching. He loves his family and the Church well. He worked the graveyard shift at 7-11 on top of his day job to pay the bills when he and my mom first got married. I can’t think of a single one of my gymnastics meets that he missed despite having a schedule so busy missing would have been justified. Though he has his moments of token “dad humor”, he actually is quite funny. He even gave up those Camels shortly after this photo was taken, because his wife wanted him to (and, turns out, smoking isn’t good for you).

From the bottom of my heart, and the city in which it originated, happy Father’s Day, Pops.

* Update: Turns out, that is my dad in the photograph, but it isn’t me. It’s my cousin. Good one, D.O.

Friday night after leaving a rock show with a cameraful of poor images due to the venue’s horrible lighting set up, I came across two street musicians playing on the corner beneath more appropriate lighting. Between songs I asked if they had a name, and they told me they were just two members of a larger group called The Converters. Our conversation was promptly interrupted by a less sober inquisitor, so I gave them my card and an I’m-sure-I’ll-see-you-around look… and I hope I do.

Americans have been leaving audio messages — whether on answering machines or voicemails — for twice as long as I’ve been alive. While the technology that allows these voice messages to exist has evolved over time, the content of said messages has largely gone unchanged:

[Answering Machine Picks Up]

Hi, you’ve reached [name] and I can’t get to my phone right now. If you’ll leave your name, number, and a message I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks. [Enter annoying lady: "If you'd like to leave a message please press one or just wait for the tone." Um, if I didn't want to leave a message, I'd have hung up already. Also, I've been leaving messages my entire life and I certainly don't need any help from you. "To leave a callback number press five."] *beep*

[Message Is Recorded]

Hey [name], it’s me. I was just calling to [blah blah blah]. Call me back.

Perhaps the reason these messages haven’t changed is simply because they don’t need to: they’re simple, succinct, and mindless. And with the advent of text messaging, the need to even leave a voice message at all has become nearly obsolete.

However there do exist people in the world who refuse to settle for societal norms when it comes to leaving voicemails — and phone use in general. Their creativity knows no bounds, and they’ll happily sacrifice intelligible content for the sake of humor. What follows are five short voicemails I’ve received from two such phone users who I am proud to call friends. Perhaps the brilliance of these voicemails will inspire you to raise the bar in leaving voicemails of your own in the future.

You might call or text a friend to ask if they’ve heard some new song. These friends sing the song:

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You might call or text a friend to encourage them during the Lenten season. These friends do too:

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You might call or text a friend wishing them a Merry Christmas. These friends do the same thing… in song:

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You might call or text a friend and wish them a Happy Thanksgiving. These friends make up fake relatives, call as those relatives, and wish you a Happy Thanksgiving:

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You might call or text a friend just to let them know you’re thinking of them. These friends have your fake relatives leave you a message “just because”:

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So consider yourself challenged. May we settle no longer for boring, mundane voicemails. Our friends, family, and co-workers will appreciate it, no doubt.

Saturday morning I woke up and sent a text message to some friends telling them we ought to make the two-hour drive westward to Palouse Falls State Park. To my surprise and delight they agreed, and we were able to visit one of the state’s most beautiful waterfalls on a surprisingly nice (read: “dry”) Spring day.

Palouse Falls is just short of 200 ft tall and happens to be the very falls on which the world record for highest kayak drop was set.

I am beyond thankful to live in such a beautiful part of the country, and for friends with whom I can share said beauty.

My long-time readers (I love you) may recall the time I posted about getting hired at REI in Dallas. Among the people hired with me was Cynthia, who I remember thinking wouldn’t last long based on how late she showed up to each of our training sessions. Anthony had been hired six months prior and as soon as we realized that the other was the funniest person at store #45, we became fast friends. Four years later I quit working at REI to pursue church planting, and I left behind two dear friends: a still-employed Cynthia and her then-fiancé, Anthony.

I had the privilege of shooting their wedding on the first of this month. It looked like this: