I Call Shotgun [Book Review]

All godly fathers want to pass on a love for godly truths to their children.

I Call Shotgun is a collection of 64 “letters” from authors and fathers Tommy Newberry and Curt Beavers to their sons.

I Call Shotgun [Book Review]There are plenty of imitation sources of wisdom that are ready to offer ungodly alternatives to our children. By design, fathers are essential to impart godliness in their words and their actions.

This book purposes to impart wisdom through words.

“You only get one shot at life, son.” That’s a great summary of the book’s goal: to equip a son for life.

The introduction is necessary reading in order to make sense of the book. For example, without the introduction the text messages suggestions appear as pull quotes and don’t always relate to the content surrounding it.

Although the book is written from fathers to sons, the authors address other fathers in the introduction this way:

We are confident that you want to equip your son with the understanding and wisdom to succeed in the world today. We wrote this book with you [fathers] in mind.

Some Great Navigation

The letters serve as a catalyst for fathers to write their own letters to their sons, in order to help pass on a godly heritage.

The book’s title, I Call Shotgun, probably refers to the common phrase that requests someone who’ll ride beside the driver—perhaps as a navigator. The subtitle reflects this implication: Lessons from Dad for Navigating the Roads of Life.

Here are a few parts of the book I liked that offer helpful navigation for life:

Click to continue reading »

Twas the Night AFTER Christmas Poem

I’ve decided that during the holiday season we should change the mall’s name to “maul.” I’ve never seen such mayhem—kids running, parents screaming, angry people in long lines—all to the music of “Joy to the World” in the background. Good grief!

Twas the Night AFTER Christmas

(Photo by Stephane Bidouze, via Vivozoom)

If you decide to head to the “maul” the night after Christmas, you’ll see more of the same chaos—a rush of returns in exchange for . . . even more . . . stuff.

So in honor of these days after Christmas, I’ve decided to try my hand at rewriting Clement Clarke Moore’s Christmas classic.

Here she goes. (Ahem.)

Click to continue reading »

Tomorrow, Today, and the Priorities of Someday

Years ago I heard about an odd work of modern art. The artist attached a chair to a loaded shotgun—with the barrel pointing at the chair. The gun had a timer set to discharge at some undetermined point within the next 100 years.

Tomorrow, Today, and the Priorities of Someday

(Photo: iofoto, via Vivozoom)

Believe it or not, droves of thrill-seekers viewed the exhibit by sitting in the chair and staring point-blank range into the gun barrel for sixty seconds. They knew the gun could fire at any moment, but they wanted a thrilling minute in the chair.

(What I would have given to sneak up and poke them in the ribs and yell, “BOOM!”)

Most of us would never dream of taking such a foolish gamble. And yet, how often will we toy with the future by counting on a future that may never happen?

Click to continue reading »

Dysfunctional Greeting Cards

I’m convinced some company could make a killing if it had the guts to market dysfunctional greeting cards.

Most birthday or holiday cards gush with flowery sentiments, like, “To the Greatest Father in the World,” or, “Mom, you are my best friend.”

Yeah, well, what if they weren’t?

Greeting Cards

What if your dad was an angry jerk and your mother abused you? What if your brother backstabbed you and stole the inheritance?

Where are the greeting cards for reality?

Just once I’d like to see a card that reads, “Mom, you blew it . . . but I love you anyway. Happy Mother’s Day.”

It’ll never happen.

Click to continue reading »