At least one

Office phone rings...

"Good afternoon, Hollywood Adventist Church, this is Lennox."

Voice on the other end: "What's up, Lenny Len! I'm heading your way. 

Got a spot in North Hollywood to show you."

I've been hoping to catch up with this guy for a few weeks now. He's got a lot going on, so I completely understand when our schedules don't coincide. 

California Subs turns out to be everything he promised. Their mixed fruit smoothie and Italian Sub on sourdough leave nothing to be desired.

We talk about his growing success as an actor. His recent performance on CBS's Cold Case airs May 3. 

I once asked him why it is that he gets roles when others can't even get auditions.  He said, "You gotta know what you want and if anyone says you can't have it, that should upset you. If you tell me I can't get it, that pisses me off."

Today he adds, "I would much rather live on the dangerous side, than not realize my full potential."

I ask him what he likes so much about acting. He says it's the chance to feel so many different life experiences and make them his own. "You can experience firsthand what people go through."

I ask if he has fans. He replies, "at least one"

He was on audition recently and practicing his lines when another actor, auditioning for the same role, said "You were on Eleventh Hour, right? I only watched one episode and you were in it. I thought you were really good!"

At first he thought someone was playing a joke on him, but then he realized the guy was serious. Amazing to me how humble is this friend of mine, so talented, so informed, so brilliant. 

I'm also a fan. I'd say you now have at least two fans, sir. My guess is there will be thousands more. 

A single phrase to describe my friend Dennis Hill: Actor Ambassador King

The Other African

She pulled me aside on the ramp outside the main room at church. She's so fun. Exciting to be around. Some people just have that presence. It's not that she talks all that much or cracks jokes all the time, because she doesn't. But there's such fire in her eyes, you definitely sense a real live person in there watching you. Dancing with you, even when you're standing still. 

She's said so many encouraging things to me before. From the first moment we met, she's been building me up. 

She says I'm a gifted musician, and what musician doesn't love that? She says I'm a great songwriter and guitarist. I'm eating this stuff up. When she slows me down this day on the way out of church, I'm braced for another helping of compliments, thank you very much.  

"You were great today, Len"

"Thanks." I'm smiling. Yeah, I like this. 

"Do you believe all that stuff you were saying?"

"Yeah, of course. Don't you?" 

Strange question. Seems an odd way to set up the next compliment. But I'm down with variety. 

"So how come you're not living it?"

"huh?"    and by huh,  I mean "What the...?"

"It's called Lip Service, Len. Clever words about how much you love God and how much you love your wife, but that's not what your actions represent. When are you going to stop paying Lip Service and actually live the stuff you say?"

Emotional Response In My Head: "Who the hell do you think you are, Merna Osborne? And what gave you the idea I want your opinion right now?"

What I Say Out Loud: "duh, ah, um, well, ayah, uh, hmmmm..."

Proverbs 27:6 Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but deceitful the kisses of an enemy. 

My friends don't always say nice things to me all the time. That's how I know they're my friends. About 5 years ago, my friend asked me some tough questions. I am grateful to her for caring enough to tell me the truth. 

 A single phrase to describe my friend Merna Osborne: Dancing Spirit Action

More Than Muse

I've come often to the edge of telling, and for close or distant relatives of fear, I retired to safer stories. But this one changed my life.

So much to say about this woman. Where to start?

She's the person I want to call when I fail, and I fail frequently. She's the person I want to call when I win. She's the person I look into the audience hoping to glimpse. I know she's not there, but I still look. She, the laughter that fades beyond earshot.

A few years ago, I realized that I compare all women to her. I'd meet a woman. Confident, kind, pretty. Almost right. Only one thing wrong with her. She's got NS. 

She is Not Suzanne.

At first I didn't realize what it was, but then I began to catch on. It's an Epidemic. As vision develops, I see the letters branded on their foreheads.

Spectacular, magnificent, elegant, but . . .  NS

Compassionate, accomplished, intelligent, but . . .  NS

Conscious, spiritual, radiant, but . . .  NS!

My heart's a weird heart. It's got a space in it that only Suzanne fits. I've lost interest in trying to fit anyone else.

A single phrase to describe to describe my friend Suzanne Palanuk: My Favorite, my only favorite.

Ridiculous!

I have too much to say. 

I'm dying here, cause it's not yet time to say it all. 

Still, I can't just say nothing...

photo by Zoe Pamintuan

I'm thinking of the song "I am a Friend of God" by Israel Houghton, which includes the line "He calls me friend."

I'm thinking that in a blog about my life experience as the summation of my friendships, this is a friendship I gotta talk about. I am having a day I cannot explain to you. I would break confidences and betray trust if I told you the details, but I can't just say nothing. 

God is ridiculously good to me. Ridiculous, I say. As in, stupid crazy Good. Make-no-sense kinda Good. Completely-lost-his-mind Good. That's the kind of Good I'm talking 'bout.

I'm thinking of the phrase "goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life" and I picture myself as I often do, hunted. Followed, searched out, pursued. There is ruthlessness and a relentless intent about the way Goodness follows me. I cannot explain it. I cannot avoid it.

What's interesting is that I would ever run from it. Hunted, as I was by circumstance, and running, as I would from fear. It makes sense to run from fear, but who in their right mind runs from Goodness and Mercy? 

I'm not gon' preach right now. But it's coming soon. I'm gonna tell a story about a man hunted all his life by Goodness and Mercy, until one day he stopped running out of sheer exhaustion. 

And got caught by a ridiculous God. 

photo by Darlene Taylor

A single phrase to describe my friend God: Ridiculously Good!

Classically Not

There's something British about her. I feel I should drink more tea when she's around. There's a decorum, an elegance, a sophistication.

There's something Jewish about her. It was fun hanging out with her and Scott and Levi by the gelato shop in Venice, practicing Cherkessia (Jewish dance step).

There's something Spanish about her. It's amazing to watch Elizabeth in concert. My favorite pieces are her flamenco-style work, fingers flying, drumming the dance of the matador, at least that's what I picture.

Rasgeaudo, that's the name of the technique, that thing where she turns her fingers into a firing squad, guitar strings beware. It would be violent if not so beautiful. Amid the flurry of hands and notes and dancing harmonics, she closes her eyes and leans, smiling, into her imagination.

There's something Colorado about her. She's a still, quiet soul with a calming presence and a healing warmth. She's born of wide spaces and grand nature. Stately like trees. Peaceful like water. Designed by God and full of his glory. Captivating, like Colorado.

There's something Los Angeles about her. Just when you think you've seen this brand of classical before, she breaks into an amazing rendition of a Peter, Paul and Mary tune. Just when I think how proper and elegant she is, she inverts into a head-stand on the beach, explaining that if you fall backwards you'll land on your feet and if you fall forward you will have completed a somersault, the one a comfort, the other an accomplishment.

At lunch on Monday she said, "I wanna go somewhere where life isn't just around the corner, it's already here!"

There's something Classical about her. There's something Not.

A single phrase to describe my friend Elizabeth Busch:

Life Dance Adventurer

NO...MATTER...WHAT.

Everything's negotiable. 

Everything?

Today I hung out with two brilliant negotiators. What impresses me isn't their ability to negotiate; it's their choice not to. 

Today is the final instalment of "The 365 Experiment," one of Leslie Foster's blogs. He wrote a script a day this entire year! A script a day!

On a film shoot in Tennessee I was up from 5am 'til 1am the next morning. As I crawled into bed for a 4-hour recharge so we could do it all over again, Leslie settled at his computer to write the day's script. Dude, seriously?

Why not just write it tomorrow? Why not take 2 weeks off while the movie is in production?

Because this was his "non-negotiable." Because he'd made a promise. To himself. Every day this year, he was going to turn in a script, a crafted slice of imagination, a soul-painting, a story worth telling.  

NO...MATTER...WHAT.

Actually, I think I first heard the phrase "this is one of my non-negotiables" from Bjorn, another incredible human I encountered today. I'll tell you about him later...

Foster, I am impressed by your resolve, intrigued by your creativity, inspired by your integrity.

What are my non-negotiables? 

What do I have to do today? Who do I have to be? 

NO...MATTER...WHAT.

A single phrase to describe my friend Leslie Foster: Diplomatic Non-Negotiator

Third Wheel

A full-grown man asking my permission to go to the bathroom! 

I knew my path for the day would cross a particularly attractive woman. Amazing as she is, she is not the one for whom my heart reserves. I knew I had to walk that path, but I also knew that on that day I wasn't strong enough to face the encounter alone. So I asked my friend to be there with me.

I met this guy about 6 years ago and he stands out in my memory because he's not afraid to dance whenever the music comes on. He'll even dance when there's no music playing. He's a carrier of contagious enthusiasm. 

Lately I've been reading Nehemiah 8:10 differently than before. It's says the Joy of the Lord is my strength. Ok, sure it's my strength and your strength and everybody's strength. But I'm realizing it's not just generically everyone's strength--It's specifically MY strength.  

Tom Rath describes Positivity on page 141 of his book Strengthfinders:

...Somehow you can't quite escape your conviction that it is good to be alive, that work can be fun, and that no matter what the setbacks, one must never lose one's sense of humor..."

That sounds like Clayton, sounds like Dan, sounds like Jim, like Mike, like Penner, that sounds like...

I've been paying attention to which men have my back in a tight spot, and it seems coincidental they all exhibit this trait, this Positivity, this strength. I'm learning more about the way Joy both derives it's strength from Character and supplies it's strength to Character, a perpetual cycle of replenishment. 

I did run into that young lady and we had a blast! Me and her, and my brother. 

I needed a man I could count on that night. He never left my side. Except one time, and he asked me first. I wonder what he would have done if I'd said no. 

A single phrase to describe my friend Clayton Bedell: Strong Joy Backup