Twin Sons From Different Mothers

Yes I know it is the title of a album by Tim Weisberg and Dan Fogelberg. I never really understood what must have been going on with Tim and Dan until now. I feel like I met a brother I never knew I had…you know someone you feel so easy around…like time and space and distance holds no bounds…I feel like I am one of the Morriss Brothers. Let me explain.

Well it all started you see at Conwy. We got on the Irish ferry from Dublin to Holyhead in anticipation of getting a car and heading out on our Wales, Scotland, England leg of our adventure. Of course, because we’re Wertz’s, there were no cars available. 

So we’re sitting in Holyhead ferry station looking for somewhere to go, when we chance upon this city of Conwy, Wales. There is an entire city built inside the walls of this castle built in the 12^th century by King Edward. It looked awesome, but with no reservations anywhere we would take a chance and we booked a rail ticket to Conwy.

On the way, with the wonder of the iPhone, we found the link to a place called Bryn Derwyn (Oak tree Hill in Welsh), and rang them up. Unfortunately, they had no room there but had a little unit right over by the train station. We agreed on a price on the phone and went for it…sight unseen.

Well to say it was lovely was an understatement. It was a three story flat with narrow tiny stairs…kind of Swiss Family Robinsonesque. We met Andrew the owner and he hooked us up and included a breakfast at Bryn Derwyn to top it all off…LOVELY! The flat sat right up against the wall of the castle ands we could reach our hand out the bathroom window and touch the 700 year old wall. Pretty historic.

So the next morning we head off to breakfast…quite awkward at first cause everyone at that B&B knew we were not one of the guests…they thought we were “crashers” I guess. But we sat down anyway and met Andrew’s father, a very polite man, and he escorted us to a table behind a door…kind of in the corner.

So we meet a lady from Maryland and then she goes over and talks to this guy (it was really just a voice to us…we can’t see him and he can’t see us) about him being in a bluegrass band.  Well we had heard there was a sort of festival here beginning on the weekend and obviously he was here for that. Mrs. Maryland was done and so from behind the door I spoke up and said…”BLUEGRASS…I LOVE BLUEGRASS!!!”

Well that started a great conversation that went on and on and on. We talked from behind the door for a bit, but as the suspicious guests left we made ourselves more comfortable…eventually joining up at our table. His name was Trevor Morriss. Turns out he’s in a band called Matching Ties…he and a friend from the States. He was a Brit but has lived in Munich for the last 30 odd years. He was joining up with his brothers Glyn and David (the Morriss Brothers) after an eight year hiatus, to play some bluegrass at the festival. He has a really lovely life with a wonderful lady and a precious daughter.

Well our conversation went from music to life to politics to spirituality, back to music and life and God…well it was a wonderful conversation. I happened to mention to him…well down the conversation road that I was a pastor. His face was hilarious…not sure he had ever met a pastor who knew as much about Pink Floyd as he did. I am way sure he never sang all the words to "Friend of the Devil" by the Dead with his pastors growing up. But it was a really cool time of just talking about what we believed and listening to understand what he believed. He was raised in the church but set out to find a bit different method of experiencing God.

When he told us he was headed to Oregon to play music we tried to find out where and when so maybe we could come and see him play. Turns out he is playing at Willowa Lake, a place we really wanted to go. I told him that’s where the book The Shack takes place…another long discussion ensued about the premise of the story, which sent us off on another tangent. He thought he might like to read it. Well it just so happened that I had thrown a copy in my bag to reread on our adventure…and well…we agreed to get together later and get him the copy.

We got the book and we hooked up with Trevor and now Glyn the banjo brother, and Joe the rock and roll mandolin player, and Jerry the eccentric fiddler, down at the waterfront pub. We were there for hours laughing and joking and getting closer and closer. What a joy to get to know them and sing and play music…and well…it was family.

Sometimes, our own families don’t fit us so well…we feel odd around people we should feel normal around. And then you meet your twin brother from a different mother…and well…it feels just so right. Trevor is my brother…

The Parable of the Goldfish

Goldfish are interesting creatures. If you buy one for a quarter and stick it in a bowl of water it can survive for years. If you go out and buy all the tanks and pumps and the deep sea diver, place that same goldfish in there and sure enough that sucker dies the first day. It seems that the more desperate the situation the better the fish thrives.

Also, if you leave that goldfish (let’s call him Gil) in the bowl of water for 3 years he will remain the same size (roughly). But put Gil in a bigger bowl of water and he will grow even bigger. A bigger bowl…and well you see the dilemma…in order to grow he needs wide open spaces.

It is interesting to me as I have had many conversations with now both Irish and British people, that they are Gil’s. First off, they are a very hearty bunch, lot of spirit, lot of spunk. They have been kicked around by the weather, famines, unscroupulous kings, and marauding tribes. They are survivors.

But they are small minded in the way they view their world, just like Gil. We spoke to some people about driving from Dublin to Belfast and they advised us not to try it unless we were going to get a hotel in Belfast. “How far is it” I asked. Oh it’s about two hours drive. Two hours…are you kidding me? Sarah drives that just to go shopping at her favorite grocery store every week (well maybe just a bit of an exaggeration). But for them, the idea of making a journey like that is reserved for holidays. Now it could be that the price of fuel here makes the states look like a super bargain…but I think it is because like Gil, they can only grow to the size of their bowl of water.

Compare that to the Big Bowl of Water we live in. It is nothing for us to embark on a cross country drive, 3,000 miles in 36 hours. Westward Ho and all that. Let’s take a road trip…go go go…soccer moms driving big Land Rover’s with Rhino Grills so they don’t smash into shopping carts. We are mobile…we are on the move…saddle up the horses…don’t fence me in…”go west young man”…but when you see the deep sea diver and the bubbling treasure chest…look out! 

Here’s a list of really cool things in Ireland

• Citywest Resort just outside of Dublin. Great price, includes a really great breakfast, very nice resteraunts. Very hoitie toitie though. Big Rolls Royce parked outside.

• Guinness Factory is really fun…very crowded…free tasters and a pint at the end. Very informative and interesting.

• Neil Young at Malahide Castle was a real blast…see earlier post.

• Irish People are so nice. So many of them have been so helpful and kind.

• Rock of Cashle was by far the coolest thing we have seen. Great place to hang out and experience. We hiked around it, found the ruined Abbey, saw in the distance the hidden castle, really cool place.
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• Café Brazilia in Bangor. Really good coffee, nice little lady to talk to.

• Seamus the Cabbie  wonderful old school taxi driver in Dublin.

I’m Such a Wertz

One only has to live for a couple of days as a Wertz to know the irony that it is to be a Wertz. Thankfully for Sarah, she was able to shed the moniker, and hopefully be able to live long enough to forget all the pain of being a Wertz…sorry Jacob, your stuck with it.

So as you know, I love driving in the more challenging driving environments. New York City, San Jose Costa Rica, Vancouver BC…you know some of the big ones. I approach driving in these areas much the way a team prepares for an assault on a mountain…training, preparation, testing reflexes and all. Obviously driving in Ireland is like tackling Mt. Everest in Flip Flops…nothing prepares you for everything being bass ackwards. But I have been…well masterful to say the least. I have tackled the major hiways, the crowded city streets, the country village, the one way back downs, the parallel parking on the opposite side, the endless round abouts….put it this way, if I were in the Olympics I would have Gold Medaled in the Decathlon. But like every stellar athlete, I had an Achilles Heal.

After a backtracking 20 miles because I forgot my credit card at the gas station, a minor Wertzflooper, we headed out towards Slane Castle. Down country roads right out of a Irish picture book. Beauty everywhere. In a typical Wertzian maneuver, I was looking at the forest and missed the trees. There was the road to Slane Castle in my rear view mirror. A simple three point turn. On a quiet country road. Who would have ever guessed such a little common maneuver could take down the giant. A David and Goliath moment. Who knew under the little grassy edge of the road would lurk such a foe…a 500 year old curb made of ancient stone. The new plastic cars are no match for 500 year old curbs. It seemed so insignificant a little bump at the time. But after an hour of driving things began to unravel…plastic parts began to rattle and fall off…weird noises began to get louder and louder.

I assured Mimi that all is well, no worries (she wasn’t buying it). But we made it back to our hotel and discovered it was a little worse than I thought. Fenders were misaligned. Plastic pieces were flopping around. Fiberglass was scratched. It wasn’t  pretty.

So there I lay…on my back…repairing all the damage…painting the fender with my Sharpie…thank God we got a black car…we think it passed the inspection…its just what Wertz’s do. We Wertz’s are a long line of back-layers…artists in our own right…not the kind you will ever see hangin on a wall…that is unless we make a wrong turn in our rental cars. I’m such a Wertz! 

What is a Limerick?

There once was a Lassie named Mimi

Such a beauty she makes me drop to me knee-knees 

There’s no doubt I’m her biggest fan 

But I tell ya, she’d kill an ordinary man 

I’d be pleased if Mimi would stay forever with me me

 We have actually been to Limerick…Ireland that is. Very nice town. Big castle right on the river…big church…wait, that’s what every town in Ireland is like. Big castles, big churches. But Limerick is really nice. King John’s castle is now almost 1,000 years old. St Mary’s church is 900 years old…people still worship there every week.

 Cork sucks though. That’s right. Cork sells it self by saying it is second only to Dublin in shopping…what’s so cool about that? Do you think in 200 years people will be saying…”Hey look, that’s the old shopping mall.” Me tinks not!!! (yes that’s how they say it). While we were there I watched as another business was closing it’s doors for the last time. They come and they go.

 When you compare the two, it seems to me to be like the parable that Jesus taught about building your house on sand versus the rock.. Why waste your time going after things that are so temporal…like shopping for stuff. There must be things we could do with our time that will leave a lasting legacy…like King John did. Like the people who built a church expecting it to be there 900 years later

How To Make an Old Guy Feel “Young” Again

I remember back so vividly, it was 1967 and I was 12 years old. My sister and I bought an album for like a $1.95…big money for us…and on that album was the song “Mr Soul” and the lead singer was this skinny scraggly looking Canadian dude (I had never seen one  up to that point in my life…a Canadian that is) with a high squeaky voice singing “well hello Mr Soul I droped by to pick up a reason.” I still don’t know what that means…but I still remember thinking it must have meant something really important to Neil. 

That album, “Buffalo Springfield Again”, pretty well set the course of my music taste for the last 41 years. I always want a song with a meaningful lyric, a crunchy electric guitar, and the very present distinct sound of a Martin acoustic guitar (which my wonderful wife bought me on my 50^th birthday).

So, fast forward 41 years. We are on the trip of a lifetime to see castles and the beautiful Irish landscape,meet wonderful people, and just experience all that is Irish (1/4 of my heritage), when we see that Neil Young is scheduled to play in Ireland while we’re here. Through the power of the Internet (thanks to Al Gore) we book two tickets the night before the concert. 

The concert is north of Dublin at the Malahide Castle. A 16^th century castle, where as one concert goer explained, “there were no battles fought here…it’s really just a large house.” Whatever, it was older than our country.

So imagine our surprise, based on our late ticket purchase, when they hand us a blue wrist badge. Not knowing what it was we asked the castle expert behind us what it meant. “We are in the first 1,000 people” he said, “we get to go right up front.”  

Whoa!!!! We were in the third or fourth row.  So close I could see every freckle on the set up crew’s Irish face.  How did I get so lucky, or blessed, or well…priviledged. To come all the way to Ireland to see a man who has been impacting me for so long, and then to be so close I could almost touch him (fortunately for me the bouncers were keeping whacko’s like me behind the fence).

So when Neil took the stage and his first song was a 19 minute jam of pure electric wailing and crunch…I was a goner. I was so taken back…so blown away. I had waited a long time for this moment…and it was worth every penny we over spent to get here (Dave Ramsey is spinning in his chair right now). Third song in…you guessed it…Mr Soul. I just  dropped by to pick up a reason…a reason for expensive vacations…a reason for recreating…vacations are supposed to renew us and make us feel young again. To make us feel like 12 year olds with their whole lives ahead of them. To make them feel as if something as simple as a song, can change the course or direction of another. Wow…did I need to see Neil Young…what ever the cost…the benefits were priceless.