The Emerging Center of Evangelicalism

Standing at the punch table swallowing punch

Dear Seattle:

Hi.


-Bradley D.

Aha(va)!

I heart Kelly, Leon, and Andy.

Andy wrote the article found here.

Kelly and Leon speak here:

Stuck to a chairWatching this story about me

After wrapping up the last two weeks' training here in scenic Grand Forks, ND, work is going outstandingly well; my collective life experiences—sales and otherwise—are paying off nicely and I have thus far been completely comfortable cruising at the very top of the entire department's performance expectations. On top of this, I got the schedule I wanted: four ten-hour days a week, leaving me with a weekday off in addition to my weekends free. Sometime between now and three months' trial period they'll be deciding if they want to officially hire me permanently, thus providing me with performance-related pay on top of my hourly wage as well as some sort of health, medical, and dental.

I've reconnected with Mr. Lynn Quamme—my own To Sir, With Love of the guitar, in terms of taking me "from crayons to perfume" with my playing more than a decade ago now. We had a great chat at the end of his Friday and we'll be resuming lessons once more at a sweet little afternoon slot on my non-weekend day off. I'm so stoked. My main aim will be Martin Taylor–style work.

(Somewhat topically: There's a sweet show here on Saturday, November 21st, 2009, for which you would do well to be here. I'll be scoring some sweet, pre-advertised tickets soon.)

Additionally, on a quite personal, temperamental level, I have continued to scrape out victories here and there that, while small, have meant a lot to me to have been able to navigate. It's not, of course, that I haven't known The Right Answer in most every of my past temperamental-specific failures; it was—as it always is, I suppose—a question of the doing it. So, while I'd be happy to elaborate on the phone with you sometime (while continuing to be somewhat evasive on specifics online), the last few months have displayed themselves to be the unfolding of yet another chapter of progress; and, since I can't honestly say this about every stretch of a few months, I thought I'd share.

One of the handful of people I reconnected with during my January–May internship here was Chris Dawes, pastor of Valley Christian Center, an Assemblies of God church here in—say it with me—scenic Grand Forks, ND. Chris—man of the world, father of four, youth group leader on top of senior-pastoring a church—is one of the better chaps I've ever had the good pleasure of knowing. From his rapier wit, to the dizzying archive of all the classic movie lines, to an impressive command of the keyboard (to say nothing of his writing and arranging abilities), to his infectiously genuine joy in life...I'm tellin' ya, this guy is one to meet. I think we're going to talk about just what we'd like my capacity to be 'round those parts during our next lunch appt.—more than likely at the Italian Moon.

All of this said (and plenty more left unsaid), while I'm putting the best face I can on my revisiting the (pre-Cities) "hometown" of sorts I cursed upon my departure and swore never to see again, all of the quite-fine things here leave me somewhat—and I'll be honest: in some ways quite significantly—soured insofar as I'm having these things here and not where I want to be. It's stunning to find just how dead five hours' driving time can kill some things. It's as though the entire Atlantic filled the gap.

In the words of the Nighthawk: Goodnight America—wherever you are.

As Sounding Brass

With thanks to M. Coward: