World Wanting Peace

Find Your Voice...

In 1998, you could not have drug me to an Opera. I was more of James Taylor-Santana-Steppenwolf kind of guy.

But then I married an opera singer.

I was really nervous going to my first opera (Andre Chenier) to watch my wife on stage, but I hadn't fallen in love with a beautiful woman with a beautiful voice.

At the end of Chenier, I had fallen in love with opera too.

Yesterday, Luciano Pavarotti died. A great voice, huge talent. He brought opera to the masses. Even if you don't like opera, you know Pavarotti.

Today, my friend Mark Hendricks (who spent several years in the music business as well) sent me a link to a scene from the British version of The American Idol.

A man - a cell phone salesman named by day Paul Potts - wows the audience with his version of a Pavarotti standard taking everyone by surprise.

As soon as he opened his mouth, I gasped...and tears started flowing.

It was the story that got me, not the music itself. Oh, he's good, but when I'm in Atlanta, I room with a tenor who practices every day and is a much better singer.

But this little guy is everyman, hiding in little job because he doesn't have great confidence in himself. He's the chubby guy in the lunchroom who sat by himself avoiding social interaction. He's the one who doesn't say much or smile much because he's got bad teeth.

And inside him, lay a spirit - his voice - that couldn't be contained.

We've all got that spirit. All we have to do is find our voice.

Click on the link - turn up your speakers. Watch and cry.

Then click to the bottom of the page and listen to his next-to-final performance.

And click here to see his final performance on Youtube.

Whew!

Brothers in Arms. . .

Sitting next to my son, USAF Staff Sgt. Matthew Perdew, I watched as my youngest son, Seaman Ryan Perdew, marched onto the quarterdeck with his division.

Matt wiped a tear from his eye when he saw his younger brother dressed in white, wearing a sailor's cap, standing at attention in a sea of white uniforms. Ryan was completing his 8-week training at Great Lakes Naval Station north of Chicago to become a real sailor.

The national anthem played and . . .

Having a blast over here at Zaadz!

I'm meeting tons of people and reading about some really interesting folks. But I bumped into someone yesterday with the same last name as me -- that's not all that common. And then I recognized him from The Apprentice.

That's him on my friends list on the right. . .recognize him?

Birthday Surprise: From left — Dan, Charlsa, Carson, David

How beautiful is this woman?

I left the house this morning at 6 a.m. to drive four hours to Atlanta. I would miss Valentine's Day and not be home until Thursday.

I asked my sweet Charlsa, "What do you want to do about Valentine's Day?" We decided to put it off till Thursday.

But you know, everyday at my house is Valentine's Day. After years of searching, I finally found the right relationship.

I was prompted by a question in my inbox this morning: "Does Every Woman Have Her Own Special Beauty That Goes Beyond Looks?"

The answer: Absolutely! Charlsa is blessed with looks, too. But there are very specific characteristics that show her true beauty:

1) Laughter. Her world is quirky. It always makes me smile. And it's part of her DNA so she doesn't really know how she does it, which endears her to me even more. Sometimes, when we're with good friends, Charlsa quips an off-the-wall, but hilarious comment. We'll all burst into laughter and she'll say, "That was funny?"

Other times, we'll just be silly — together. And it's always fun.

2) Honesty. She turned 50 last weekend and she attacked it with a voracious appetite for living. As a cured cancer survivor, she's tasted her mortality. And it doesn't scare her. She wants more from herself and her life. Age is no obstacle. In 2001, she tackled a fear and a dream to own and ride a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Now, she's passionate about that.

At 45, she decided coloring her hair was ridiculous. I agreed. Now it's a beautiful salt and pepper befitting a beautiful 50-year old woman.

Her goals for the last three years have included being as healthy possible when she turned 50. She goes to the gym 3-4 times per week because it's a priority, sacrificing deserts and TV time for that priority.

An advantage of honesty is understanding when other people aren't. (See kindness below.)

3) Integrity. Never, ever would she harm physically, emotionally or spiritually any other person — or animal for that matter. The idea that she caused you pain is abhorrent. If there's a possibility she has done so, she'll make amends immediately.

If she thinks she's under delivered on a promise she's made, she'll over deliver robbing herself of her precious time.

She's a teacher — one of the best. And a beautiful Opera singer. But instead of focusing on her performing career, she's helping to build character and integrity in her students.

Her integrity causes her to challenge yours, when appropriate. Just because she'll go the extra mile doesn't mean that she'll let you off the hook for your responsibility.

I love that, too. That's called healthy boundaries. Everyone knows what's expected.

4) Kindness. I never knew selfless kindness until I met and married this woman. The bar for that attribute was pretty low in my life. The question always playing in my head was, "What about me?" If that question plays in her head, it's way down on the list.

"How can I help you?" always comes out of her mouth first. And when she's feeling particularly down, she responds by helping others.

She has a knack for letting you "win" without giving in. Yet, you get the satisfaction of thinking you're right. She does it with a simple phrase, "Perhaps, you're right."

Think about it! Who wins that argument? You walk away thinking "Yes, I'm right. Maybe?" But the argument is definitely over. And no one is hurt. It's incredibly kind. And disarming.

5) Beauty? Of course, she's beautiful. Everyone thinks she's beautiful. And that I'm lucky. I agree.

At first, I was attracted by her striking features. When people get to know her only for a few minutes, they see what I saw quickly. It was something very rare — a beautiful soul with arms outstretched, welcoming you to a better way of life.

Lessons Learned by a Young Couple in 2005

This past fall, Charlsa and I drove to Nashville, TN, just two hours away through the beautiful rolling Appalachians of southern Tennessee.

The occasion — a wedding reception for a former high school student.

Charlsa, my lovely and talented wife, built one of the most prestigious high school chorus programs in Georgia and labored at that night and day for 13 years.

After teaching thousands of students, several stand out. But Chance holds a special place in her heart. For years, she's repeated stories about Chance and his in-class pranks and off-the-cuff quips that kept her in stitches, and the underlying gentleness of his soul.

She wouldn't have missed this celebration if it were in Montana — on the other side of the world from us.

When we received a Christmas greeting from Chance and Jennifer, his wife, she smiled from ear-to-ear. When I read their lovely letter, I smiled too.

Chance and Jennifer shared — with their typical sense of humor — what they have learned about each other in the short 3 months of marriage. And it's so appropriate for building a loving peaceful marriage, I asked Chance if I could share it with you. Here it is.

Things I learned in 2005 (by Chance):

• Sometimes there is no reason why a woman cries, but you quickly become the reason if you try to tell her that.
• They've created a crazy, new invention since I was single called a clothes hamper and apparently they're all the rage! At least they are at our house.
• Food tastes much better when your wife makes it for you.
• A) Lid up B) Lid down C) Separate bathrooms. . .Say it with me now — C!
• Communication is all about trying to understand your partner's needs and point of view. It's very important that you HEAR your wife. . .Then do whatever she says.

Things I learned in 2005 (by Jennifer):

• Coming home to someone is amazing.
• Chance really, really, really likes TV — no, more than you thought he did.
• Men can somehow walk by an overflowing trashcan, a sink full of dishes, socks lying on the floor. . .and genuinely not see it. It's like a magic trick — how do they do that?
• When guys have lived on their own for a while, they really appreciate a home-cooked meal. . .and it feels great to be appreciated.
• Communication is all about trying to understand your partner's needs and point of view. It's very important that you HEAR your husband. . .Then, explain to him how he's wrong.

"Above all, we're continuing to learn that we're all here to love one another, beyond words and with our actions. . .and to better understand the boundless depths of God's love for us."

Congratulations to Chance and Jennifer and peace to all.

My friend died this week

It was a sad day at our house. Even as we celebrated the long and vibrant life of a dear friend, we couldn't help but wonder why he died.

Roger was 89 years-old in June.

To the end, he was feisty and independent. He cared about his health and slowly deteriorating body doing everything he could to stay around a little while longer. He was angry that his doctor wouldn't check his prostate because, he explained to his son, the doctor said at 89 there wasn't much point.

The point, indeed, was that Roger liked living. He stocked his cabinet with Saw-Palmetto tablets and took charge of his own prostate health after that.

He could barely walk. When he visited our house, built on cherished land that we purchased from him, he required help to step over the two-inch threshold at our front door.

So when I tell you how he died, you'll understand our frustration.

As the retired county agent, he knew the land and loved the forest. His extraordinary stewardship, as the minister rightly named it at his funeral, was beyond compare. He passed that stewardship of this land that he loved so much to us. And we're honored to accept it.

But we were only one of many families touched by Roger's generosity. The first night he lay in the hospital after his accident, a couple of dozen of friends and family, in an amazing display of love,  gathered in the Emergency Room waiting area and outside the doors to be available to help if needed.

One the most independent men I've ever met, he continued to work. If he wasn't working on something, he wasn't being valuable. He grew enough produce in his garden each year to feed several families. And he did.

Mine was one of those who reaped the benefits of his green thumb. Gardening became more difficult Roger each year. Several times, he had to be rescued from the garden when he fell and couldn't get up.

But he continued to grow beautiful produce until he finally sold the house last year and moved into a zero-lot line townhouse.

When I helped clean out the basement of his house, he said, "Look around and see if there's anything you'd like." There was a double-blade broadax I thought I would like to have. I pointed it out to Roger. "Uh . . .," he stammered for a minute. "I might still need that, but I'll let you borrow it." I laughed, and challenged him to pick it up. His frail 89-year old body wouldn't cooperate. He couldn't.

But his will to keep doing was huge - larger than any life I've known. And I'm sure that kept him alive long after many others would have given up.

Roger had a little red Nissan truck. And he loved peaches from the local produce stand. Late August is a great time to get the best peaches. His wife begged him not to go. He shouldn't be driving, she said. He'd only be gone a minute.

But minutes turned to hours. The owner of the peach stand called and said that he had an accident. Pulling away from the peach stand, Roger's foot slipped off the brake and hit the gas. He shot across the road into the ditch. Luckily, no one else was nearby on the busy state highway.

The impact wouldn't have done much damage to a younger man, but Roger was left with four broken ribs, a punctured lung and two broken vertebrae. He was lifeflighted to Huntsville Hospital where he began improving over the next couple of days. He talked to his wife and son, sat up in bed and began talking about recovering at home. And he apologized for being so stubborn.

Then his body, finally relenting, went into shock. All the vital organs began shutting down. Monday, he was taken off life support and was gone within an hour.

And we were left wondering why.

Roger was like a father to my wife who had lost her own father when she was 11. At first, we were angry that Roger had done this to himself. But after reflecting on it, we realized if he let go of his independence, he would have died much sooner.

We'll miss him. But everytime we look at the sun reflecting the blue sky in our stream or watch the beautiful hickories swaying in the breeze, we'll see Roger sitting on our deck, straining to see his beloved ducks floating upstream.

He's here, watching over this land with us. Always.

For the love of a good woman

I've changed everything. It wasn't just for her. Everything needed to be changed. I wanted to change. And finally, I'd found someone who understood the kind of changes that I wanted to make.

She never pressured me to change, never pointed out my failings, but just listened until I saw the flaws myself.

The changes had begun years earlier. Maybe she could see that. Maybe she could tell that underneath the wreckage of my life, the squalid apartment, the egotistical motorcycle-riding mess, there was something worth waiting on.

I wouldn't have done it.

Today is the 7th anniversary of my only blind date. Although we didn't marry until October 22, 1998, April 1 is the real anniversary. After three months of nagging by a mutual friend, Charlsa and I agreed to meet -- briefly. I didn't want to do it because she sounded like someone I could get serious about, and I had vowed never to do that again.

Charlsa Sings Carmen

Charlsa Sings Deep River

But I did, and very quickly after the blind date. Our personal vows to each other when we agreed to marry included that if we did marry, there was no way out. We were committed till death. Committed -- whew! There's a change.

The changing process began, for both of us. In our first year, I convinced her to quit a very secure state teaching job she didn't like and to begin teaching from home. The Atlanta Opera chorus master had told someone that she was the most talented musical sight-reading instructor in the Southeast. I showed her how she could make more money and have more time. My job would cover the insurance. She had more time to devote to her spiritual growth. I had a happier wife. The trade was great.

She taught me that I didn't always have to be right without ever telling me I was wrong. Instead, she said, "Perhaps you're right." For a long time, I thought I'd won the debate, whatever the debate, until I realized she never conceded, she just was done debating. Without hurting my feelings, or correcting me, she let me walk away thinking I was victorious. She is so much smarter than me. Now, when I get the perhaps-you're-right-line, I just sit down and shut up. She smiles. And I smile. We understand.

At 45, the right woman walked into my life. It may have been because I was ready, more mature, less interested in the chase, more interested in the catch. But in any case, I know a love that is born of all things good: respect, honor, integrity, faith, and even a good old fashioned dose of lust. But it's real.

Alan Alda was asked on CBS Sunday Morning a few weeks ago how his Hollywood marriage has stayed together for 47 years. His response was simple. "I love her. She loves me. And we're both sure about it."

Perhaps he's right.

Guitar Queen

A few years ago, I strapped my guitar to the back of my Harley and road to Buckhead in Atlanta for my once-a-week lesson. The guitar never worked well for me. I loved playing, but could never quite figure out how to play a real song. I could burn through the scales, but wasn't able to put the art into the music.

But my teacher, Angela Motter, was awesome. She could play just about anything on any guitar. And her singing could take me places I hadn't explored. So, I followed her around Atlanta to different clubs, especially Eddie's Attic, for several years, until I moved to Alabama.

Angela's music gets me at the core. It is bluesy, folksy, gender-bending, painful, and joyful. She sings from her heart with songs written through experience.

I miss Angela. Since I moved away, we haven't seen each other much. I miss the laughs. We shared intimate details of our love lives and our fears. We understood each other without judgment. From completely different worlds, she showed me new opportunities to grow. I don't know what I brought her, but I hope it was a whole lotta love.

I watched her write, perform, record and market her first CD -- Pleasure and Pain. She played songs for me in her living room. I was in awe of her talent, but most of all her relentlessness. She is focused. Napoleon Hill, author of Think and Grow Rich, said the key to success was to have a "burning desire." She doesn't know how to turn down the heat on her desire. When she's a global star, everyone will say, she's an overnight sensation. But her friends know better. Someone who has worked diligently to pursue her art, her bliss, her peace for so long deserves all the recognition and acclaim she gets. And more.

We still email. It's been way too long since I've seen her. Or heard her. But I love getting her email updates about her latest gigs. Catch her if you can.

Sometimes we forget how many people are out there pulling for us each day. I'm always pulling for Angela.

Want to hear some great music? Check her out here. And order a CD.