Past Dynamite News

I was doing some work on my blog sites today and came across this post from November 4, 2007. Some of you may recall that during this time Jerry and I went to Lake Havasu City, AZ. to plant a church, and from the very beginning God honored us with powerful services and dynamic growth. I consider that out of all the decades of our ministry, the three and a half years we were there were some of the most blessed of all our ministry. Much of our work was done with alcohol and drug challenged people.

I weep at this moment as I think of those dear people and their little children. Hard? It was the hardest church work we ever did. Rewarding? Yes, absolutely the most rewarding of all.

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CHRIST ALIVE CHURCH Lake Havasu City, Arizona November 4, 2007

“We had rented 40 extra chairs, and on Saturday, Michael met with Jerry and me to set up for the Sunday morning service. When we started putting the chairs out, though, it looked like so many, that Michael’s faith and mine faltered a bit, and we decided to leave about a dozen of them stacked in the hall.

But we had invited lots of people. I had mailed letters to every person who has ever visited our church, we had made and distributed flyers, we had an article in the local paper, Jerry had made dozens of phone calls and personal contacts and Michael had invited everyone of the “Goatheads,” a yuppy, motorcycle group based here in Lake Havasu. Earlier in the week, one of them had called Mike to ask, “Is it okay if we ride our bikes to church?”

“Of course. Not a problem at all,” he had told them.

Jerry and I arrived at the church around 8:30 and there were already a few people there. But it was around 8:45 that we heard the roar of the bikes and soon the parking lot was inundated with motor cycles, so that finally there was hardly room to park.

They came pouring in, and quickly I told Brandon, “Set up the rest of the chairs.” When we had registered and counted, we found that 85 people were at Christ Alive today! Recall that we have only been here 8 months. We were ecstatic.

Brother Pence of Prescott, AZ. has a most remarkable testimony of a healing from cancer. The doctors had given him two weeks to live. He had 22 tumors in his lungs from a cancer that had metastasized from his kidneys.

He had lost 60 pounds, had made all his funeral arrangements even to picking out his casket…Here, he is showing the packet from the mortuary where he had made the arrangements. But God had different plans and has completely healed him! All the tumors have gone, his racking cough is cured, and recently, his doctors declared him completely cancer free. His testimony is incredible.

Ernie, who is pictured here is suffering from pancreatic cancer, and the doctors have not given him a good prognosis. He came to Christ Alive today believing God for a miracle in his own life.

I was touched by the generous response of the audience, and their involvement with worship that to many of them was unfamiliar. They were extremely receptive to the Word of God as it was preached, and to an invitation to join in our Pentecostal worship. All over the room, both men and women were openly crying.

At the conclusion of the very appropriate sermon, Brother Pence invited everyone to the front who needed special prayer. Ernie was the first to leave his seat and head to the pulpit. Here you see him being prayed over.

Please pray for our work here. These people are precious–some of them know God in a measure–others have a very limited knowledge of Him. Jerry and I are desperate to be able to point them to Jesus, the only Saviour.

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So, here we are many years later, retired now, someone else the pastor in Lake Havasu City. Both Jerry and I count it the greatest of joys that God called us to do a work for Him among those very dear people.

What Will We Do With This Moment?

Photo courtesy of AP/Andrew Harnick

“Together, we represent the most extraordinary nation in all of history. What will we do with this moment? How will we be remembered?”

President Donald Trump

Jerry and I had watched the clock and before 6:00 arrived had tuned into Fox News on our computers, as we were eager to hear the State of the Union address by President Trump. Although the purpose of this piece is not to critique the speech, it seems appropriate to note his thoughtful, patriotic, uplifting words to be of the highest caliber.

It was his words, “What will we do with this moment? How will we be remembered?” that resonated with me, and it is of that I speak.

I recalled a day at the beach as I watched a man with his children. What of their moment? Where will they go? What will they do?

She was afraid, I recall, for while you cannot discern it here, there was a chasm, a drop-off, a scary place. Seeing her fearful crouch, he took the hand of his young daughter, and led her across. He taught her in that moment he would protect her, that she could trust men, that her daddy loved her and her mommy loved her, that she could conquer fear; indeed that sometimes it was okay to be afraid.

Others. Rather. Memory loam foul for the dig, deep the findings of scream and stagger. The hate. Hide and cut. Reach. A hand? ……..Any? Is there none? A slap, that’s a hand

Didn’t you know that?

And you new in my heart. A moment. To take. Of peace, Divinity, sobs, shame. Reach. A hand? ……Any? There is one and another ……and that is love. And forgiveness. And care.

Didn’t you know that?

And the good man I watched . . .as he watched . . .as he yet watches. And now is her birthday. She’s twelve. She’s safe.

New blog post on God Things. Link below.

https://shirleybuxton.wordpress.com/2019/02/07/then-grace/

On The Cusp

Occasionally we finger the edge of it; our touch reckons it to be uncommon, even of the eternal. From our deep, issue thick tears, even as our breath catches. Rarified has brushed against us; encounter with glory laces our world.

Compelled to know the depth of this story, I recognize it now more than ever, to be our story, Jerry’s and mine, and in an unfathomable way, he is as our child. He who nearly killed Jerry. We weep . . .for him. . . for his people . . .for ourselves . . .for mankind. Journal words grip . . .his father discarded by drugged parents–orphanage drop-off, as casual as the mailing of a post office package. Rage. Violence. Carried to new generation . . .and to another, kicked as a bent can down the wretched road of drugs and alcohol and anger.

“My father, an Italian man was racist, called flies on the wall niggers. My mother mentioned that she did not like me at one point because I was David Jr.” A sense of aloneness in his family engulfed him, he told me yesterday, and still at this time in his life, he intimated, “I have a sense of aloneness.”

And so we met, and talked, and cried, and loved. We apologized. We forgave.

 

Dave and his wife, Dana.

At the Claim Jumper, we ordered food we could not eat.

And they had brought their copy of A Thousand Pieces, and I wrote in it, and then did Jerry, and maybe at that moment none of our eyes took in the dedication page: To Jerry, who lived it.

So here we are. On the brim, the edge. Delving, Searching. We read. We write. The last chapter? On the margin of enlightenment, self-understanding, reckoning with ourselves, finding our way ever deeper into the presence of God. The Buxtons and the Esteys . . .on the cusp. . .

Brother Hyde Has Gone To Heaven

Hugo, OK – December 28, 2009. Hyde Frederick Kimmons Hyde, also known as “Brother Hyde”, 87, has gone to a new life with his Lord Jesus on Dec. 25, 2009 in Edmond, OK. He was born August 16, 1922 in Tulsa, OK to Jasper and Vessie (Bowdoin) Hyde. After his dad passed away he entered John Brown University in Siloam Springs, AR for a short time. He served his country joining the U.S. Army from Feb. 14, 1943 to Feb. 13, 1946. He was a Line Corporal in the military police at Camp Wallace, TX. During WWll, he guarded German Prisoners of War.

Reverend Fred married his Sweetheart, Betty Jo Billingsley on August 8, 1951. He was an ordained minister with the United Pentecostal Church International living in the New Orleans, LA area for over 60 years. He retired from The Spirit of Freedom Ministries in 2006 and moved to Edmond, OK in Dec. of 2007. His life was changed when he received the infilling of the “Holy Ghost” and was baptized in Jesus Name on Sept. 19, 1958 just a half block off of Canal Street @ 122 North Dorgenois St. in New Orleans, LA. There he taught the Junior Boys Sunday School Class. In 1960, he and his wife moved to Slidell, LA where he started a church and pastored until 1970. From 1970-1978, he served as a missionary in Indonesia, Thailand, the Philippines, Hong Kong and other areas of Asia where he was known as the “Singing Missionary”. He also served as a Missionary Evangelist all over Asia, Australia and the South Pacific. He returned to the United States and on August 28, 1978, at the age of 56 he founded the Spirit of Freedom Ministries with a tape of his testimony, his guitar and the Lord Jesus Christ.

He is preceded in death by his parents; brothers, Jack, William Earl “One Punch Billy Hyde”, Jimmy, Lewis “Tuffy”, Truman, and Harry Hyde. Sisters Kitty Bell Yates, Viola Flemming, and Mildred Harper. He is survived by his wife, Betty Jo Hyde; son, Michael Lynn Hyde; daughter-in-law, Tina Marie Hyde; sister, Miona Sullivan; brother, Skipper Goins. Viewing will be on Wednesday, Dec 30th from 2-4pm at Southern Oaks United Pentecostal Church 6501 S. Walker Ave.; OKC, Ok 405/634-2991. Services for Reverend Fred will be at 4:00 pm, Wednesday, Dec. 30th at Southern Oaks United Pentecostal Church. Burial will be 10:00 am, Thursday, December 31, 2009 at Mt. Olivet cemetery in Hugo, Oklahoma.

Source: Apostolic News

Arrangements for Brother Hyde:
Visitation:  Wednesday December 30, 2009     2:00 PM – 4:00 PM
Memorial Service:   Wednesday December 30, 2009     4:00 PM
Southern Oaks United Pentecostal Church
6501 S. Walker Avenue
Oklahoma City, OK 73139
Interment:  Thursday December 31, 2009    10:00 AM
Mt. Olive Cemetery
Hugo, OKBroth

Arrangements for Sister Freeman:
Viewing/Visitation: Monday January 4, 2010   5:00 PM – 8:00 PM
Memorial Service: Tuesday January 5, 2010  4:00 PM
Emmanuel Pentecostal Church
1200 Poplar Drive
Mesquite, TX 75149
Interment: Wesnesday January 6, 2010
Roseneath Funeral Home
211 Murrell Street
Minden, LA 71055
318-377-3412
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The Ugly of Sin

“Mom, you need to call Marcine. She’s in some kind of trouble.” I recognized it to be Michael who had left the message on my phone. I promptly called the woman. (Marcine is a pseudonym.)

She was crying so that I could hardly understand her. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong, Marcine?”

I could not understand her words, and pressed her to speak more plainly. “Tell me. Tell me what is wrong.”

At last I could understand her and knew what needed to be done. We worked through the necessary details so that finally we were all at the church–Jerry, Marcine and I. She sobbed and trembled as she told us the story, a story whose details I cannot divulge, but whose details really do not matter, and whose knowing or not knowing changes not at all the impact of the tale. For the story is identical. The story is unchanged. The story is of sin and fallen man and wretched ugliness; the ugliness of sin; the hopelessness of life without Jesus Christ.

We sat in the lobby of the church as she sobbed and eked out the words–words which later we found to be lacking in veracity and completeness. “I need a cigarette,” at one point she said.

“Well you know we can’t help you with that, Marcine,” I said.

“I know. I know…I have one cigarette; the rest are at the house. I”ll smoke half of it.” We watched as from her purse she drew a leather holder, clicked it open and removed the single cigarette.  Through the glass that stretches across the front of the church we saw her walk across the blacktop area, and respecting our plea with our CIP students not to smoke on our property, she trudged into the rocky lot next to ours. She slumped, then sat flat among the scattered stone and sand. She lighted half a cigarette. My aching heart bled.

We took her into the sanctuary after she had smoked, seating her on the edge of the platform; she wept and sobbed. Gently we talked with her; inquired and soothed, then I knelt beside her and grasped her hand as she bent forward into a position of black despair.

“Do you know how to pray, Marcine?” Jerry asked.

“Yes.” And so…we prayed and wept and mourned.

Later she called her probation officer, who advised her to call the police and surrender herself. Marcine wanted to do it at home, but just as she positioned herself in her friend’s car for the ride home, two police cars pulled onto our parking lot…and then after more weeping and hugging and whispering words of courage into her ears, the officers handcuffed her and led her away.

I’ve written before, and no doubt will do so again, concerning the ghastly and mistaken thought that serving God and abiding by His law is a form of bondage. Bondage, you say? Bondage it is to live in a holy and godly way? Bondage to refrain from stealing and promiscuity and drunken brawls and hideous addiction? Bondage, you claim? Bondage to dress in a modest way, to erect a family altar, to read often the Word of God? Bondage to attend church, to give generously, to minister to the less fortunate, to be kind and caring? This is bondage? No friend, let me tell you of bondage.

“I wonder if they might have a cigarette,” Marcine said at one point yesterday, as she stood looking across the street where two men stood on a parking lot.

“They tried to force me to join a gang,” Eric told my husband a few minutes ago. Eric received the Holy Ghost four weeks ago, and the next day had to go to jail. He was released only yesterday.

“There was every kind of drug you can imagine in the jail,” Eric continued.

“How do they get it in there?” Jerry asked.

“Pastor…by hiding it in body orifices.”

“The gang leaders tried to force me to shave my head,” Eric said.

“We were introduced to hard drugs by our parents,” the trio told Michael. One at 12, one at 13, one at 14.

“My mother left us when I was a child to go live with a lesbian,” said one of our CIP students who looks about 13, but who is actually 19. “I’ve been to about 30 psychologists and psychiatrists,” he added. He pled with me as I enrolled him some months ago. “I have to smoke marijuana. It’s the only thing that calms me down.”

“Have you been drinking?” Michael asked the student as he attempted to enter the class. “No, but she has,” he said, pointing to his female companion.

“I’m sorry, but she can’t be here,” Michael explained.

“Okay, I understand,” said the student, and he led his staggering friend away and seated her in his truck on the parking lot.

Relapse, jail time again. Prison. Visiting hours, books, magazines.

I sat in a court room and watched one of our students–shackled hand and foot–as she shuffled to her spot.

Excuses, embarrassment, cries, troubled children, community service. High on drugs, dropped from class, re-enrolled. Teeth rotted from methamphetamine. Emergency dental calls. Pain. Disappearance. Broken promises. Fines. Failure to pay. Failure to appear. License revoked. Eight siblings–all different fathers. Violations. Probation officer. Judges. Chains. Bars. Cigarettes, beer, cheap wine, hard liquor. Stagger. Divorce, mistrust, broken windows, unmarried mother unmarried daughter–both pregnant–due two months apart. Emergency room visits, stomach pumps, prescription pills. Little boy killed by drunk driver, his father and friend nearly killed, still having surgeries, not able to work. Sleep into the afternoon. Violated. Nightmares. Sleeping pills.

Speak not to me of bondage associated with serving Jesus Christ my Lord. Say no such thing to me. For it is only through Jesus that Freedom and Peace can envelop the human soul, can straighten the twisted life, can right dreadful wrongs, and can apply the sweet balm of Gilead.

I’ve told of yesterday’s grisly afternoon at Christ Alive. Compare it please with yesterday’s evening Bible study where we worshipped, prayed for friends and relatives, rejoiced that in the past few hours Eric had been released from jail and that he was eager to be in church Sunday, studied God’s word, sang a great hymn of the Church and laughed; where new converts testified, finally having to declare they just couldn’t explain how wonderful they felt, and where after church we just hung out for awhile, admiring the moon and the beautiful sky…and loving each other.

No. Do not speak of bondage in the same breath with which you speak of God’s church. You have come too late, you have come to the wrong person. Positively I affirm that it is the grip of satan that chains the human soul and that  drags him into everlasting, hideous bondage and torment. But in Jesus, my Saviour, my Lord,  is absolute and glorious Freedom, whose glittering highway leads into Life everlasting, where we will forever to be in the presence of God.

How Tough the Love?

“Why?”

“Because they’re your kids.”

After the guest speaker had finished, Michael went around the circle asking each of the students; “What did you hear from him?” and it was at this point that a lively, profitable discussion had ensued. The guest was Darin Craig, a local businessman whose only son has gone through a serious bout of drug addiction, and who had agreed to address our Christian Intervention groups as he spoke of a child’s addiction as seen through the parent’s eyes. The sessions were riveting.

It was the “tough love” issue that aroused lengthy and conflicting views. “Tough love” was not universally endorsed by this group and when it became so obvious, Mike asked for a show of hands. Interesting. About half of the group thought that a child could do nothing that should cause a parent to refuse to support that child. No matter what he does, he should always be accepted back in the parents’ home.

“Why?” Mike asked.

“Because they’re your children,” was the pointed, adamant answer of one young man.

I disagree, as do all the leaders of our group, our thought being there comes a time when parents must be tough, and say, “This behavior is not going on in this house.”After repeated tries, broken promises, defiance, law-breaking, jail time, drugs in the house, drunkenness in the living room–finally, a parent has the right (even obligation) to say, “No more.” Does that mean that parents no longer love the child? Of course not. A normal parent will love his child to the grave–no matter the behavior.

What say you? Are you a “tough love” proponent, or do you agree with many in our Christian Intervention program who say no matter what a child does, the parent should always take him in again, and again?

Arrested! Second Degree Murder Charges for Killing Our Daniel

It has now been confirmed. Tina Means has been arrested here in Lake Havasu, charged with second-degree murder and two counts of aggravated assault.

A Lake Havasu City woman was arrested Monday on charges of second-degree murder and two counts of aggravated assault in relation to the fatal head-on collision March 17 that critically injured two local men and claimed the life of a 9-year-old boy.

 

Lake Havasu City police arrested Tina M. Means, 37, at her home in the 3700 block of Sloop Drive at approximately 11:30 a.m. after blood tests revealed her blood alcohol concentration to be .26 percent at the time of the accident that allegedly caused the death of Daniel Halliday, of Lake Havasu City.

“The arrest was very simple, like she expected it was coming,” said Lake Havasu City Police Sgt. Troy Stirling.

Means’ arrest came two days after Mohave County Sheriff’s Office arrested her Friday on felony charges of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, endangerment and multiple DUI charges related to an incident on State Route 95 March 3, according to a Mohave County Sheriff’s Office press release issued Monday.

Last week, Daniel Halliday was riding in a Ford Bronco driven by his father, Dustin Halliday, 31, and front-seat passenger George Hope, 47, when the Bronco was involved in a crash in the 2900 block of Daytona Avenue at approximately 3:45 p.m. March 17, according to earlier reports in the Today’s News-Herald.

Means was reportedly driving a Toyota pickup truck traveling eastbound on Daytona Avenue in excess of 50 mph in a 35 mph zone when she swerved across the centerline and into the path of the westbound Ford. The two vehicles collided head on causing the Ford Bronco to roll onto its side and catch fire, reports said.

Daniel Halliday was pronounced dead at the scene.

Dustin Halliday and passenger Hope were air-evacuated to the University Medical Center Burn Unit in Las Vegas, according to earlier reports.

The driver of the Ford Bronco and the passenger, for whom Means was charged with two counts of aggravated assault, remain in critical but stable condition at the burn unit in Las Vegas, Stirling said Monday.

Means was transported by ambulance to Havasu Regional Medical Center from the accident scene, where she was treated and released, police said.

Means was booked into Lake Havasu City Police Department holding facility to await her bond hearing.

The March 3 incident involved MCSO deputies dispatched to the area of Cattail Cove where a Good Samaritan was with a vehicle that was allegedly traveling northbound in the southbound lane on SR95, MSCO authorities said.

When county deputies arrived, they contacted the female driver, later identified as Means, who was reportedly in an unresponsive state and was emitting an odor of alcohol, according to the MSCO.

“We thought we were dealing with a medical issue,” said Trish Carter, MCSO public information officer.

River Medical ambulance service transported Means to Havasu Regional Medical Center where routine blood samples were collected from Means for further analysis in the Arizona Crime Lab.

The Good Samaritan, a witness, told MCSO he was traveling southbound on SR95 approaching the upward left turn at milepost 167 when he saw a vehicle heading toward him in the southbound lane. The Samaritan said he avoided a head-on collision with the oncoming vehicle by turning into the shoulder.

The witness further reported he turned his vehicle around and watched the suspect’s vehicle drive back across the highway and onto the shoulder where the vehicle came to a stop. The witness turned the suspect’s vehicle off and it was later towed from the scene, according to MCSO.

MCSO deputies arrested Means for her alleged involvement in the March 3 incident at approximately 2:30 p.m. last Friday at her residence on the 3700 block of Sloop Drive where she was taken into custody without incident.

The Arizona Crime Lab revealed Means blood alcohol concentration was .32 at the time of the March 3 incident on SR95, the press release said.

Means was transported and booked into the Mohave County District 3 Substation jail, according to the press release.

Means was released Saturday at 1:30 p.m. from the Mohave County District 3 Substation jail when she satisfied a $1,000 cash bail, Carter said.

Means has previously been convicted on DUI; alcohol, drugs, toxic vapor or combination, DUI with blood alcohol concentration of more than .08 percent, and extreme DUI blood alcohol concentration of more than .15 percent in Lake Havasu Municipal Court in August 2002, according to Arizona Supreme Court records.

From Lake Havasu Herald

 

Stopping Drunk Drivers

Interesting exchanges, perhaps even controversial ones, arise when talk of the acceptable degree of governmental intrusion into our personal lives is considered. Nearly all of us agree that our business should remain our business, and that we are not fond of others dictating our actions, or for that matter even knowing what we do once our doors are closed and we are within the confines of our homes. Yet a rational person understands that for a society to operate in a safe and orderly manner, there are times when private activities may so affect the welfare of the general public that government directives must be issued, so as to safeguard its peoples.

Certainly such is the case when considering alcohol consumption. Now in order to further protect those on the highways, certain motorists will be required to install

breath-monitoring gadgets in their cars. Some believe this to be a remarkable development; others are of the opinion that this is again inappropriate government intrusion into private lives.

CHICAGO – Motorists convicted of driving drunk will have to install breath-monitoring gadgets in their cars under new laws taking effect in six states this week.

The ignition interlocks prevent engines from starting until drivers blow into the alcohol detectors to prove they’re sober.

Alaska, Colorado, Illinois, Nebraska and Washington state began Jan. 1 requiring the devices for all motorists convicted of first-time drunken driving. South Carolina began requiring them for repeat offenders.

Mothers Against Drunk Driving has been conducting a nationwide campaign to mandate ignition locks for anyone convicted of drunken driving, claiming doing so would save thousands of lives. But critics say interlocks could lead to measures that restrict alcohol policies too much.

Users must pay for the fist-sized devices, which in Illinois cost around $80 to install on dashboards and $80 a month to rent; there’s also a $30 monthly state fee. And they require periodic retesting while the car is running.

“It’s amazingly inconvenient,” said David Malham, of the Illinois chapter of MADD. “But the flip side of the inconvenience is death.”

Read more of the AP story here.

As most people, I really don’t want the government peering into my bedroom, telling me where to go to church, how to spend my money, or where to shop for a bag of potatoes. But I do know this: In 1994, a young man, barely exceeding the measurement that marked him drunk, drove his red truck into my husband’s body and forever changed his life.

Philosophy For Recovery, From a Clown

Andy’s 1962 Falcon Ranchero, originally uploaded by Shirley Buxton.

What you see here is the pride and joy of Andy; his 1962 Falcon Ranchero, which is fully restored–all original, except the custom made cover for the back of it. The art work was done in 1998 and is signed Fraser. He keeps the vehicle garaged at a relative’s so as to avoid the hot sun, but often takes it out and drives it around a bit. He was eager to let me take pictures of it, and when I walked over to his place yesterday, he was lovingly dusting it.

Andy is a crusty, remarkable man, and more than once I’ve seen his spectacular eyes fill with tears. He attended the funeral of Tonya, whom he had never met, just because he was so touched by her untimely death.

A few weeks ago, he gave me a copy of a poem he wrote several years ago. This writing is very important to him, and I believe will be to you also.

“…I’d like to close with my football story, which sums up to me a whole lot of what this deal is. I like football, and I just like to think that this morning the God of my understanding is saying to me: ‘I’m getting up a football team and I’m making you the quarterback. And I’m going to give you eleven men on this team that you lost during your active alcoholism. I’m going to give you three men in the backfield that you lost during that time, and I’m going to give them back to you in the reverse order in which you lost them. I’m going to give you hope, faith and charity.’

‘I’m going to give you seven powerful men on the line. At the two ends I’m going to give you honesty and humility. At the two tackles I’m going to give patience and tolerance. At the two guards, I’m going to give you unselfishness and gratitude, and at the center, I’m going to give you willingness, and it’s going to be necessary that you use willingness on every play because this game is going to last a lifetime and there will be NO timeouts.

‘So I’m going to give you some ground rules. The ground rules are the ten commandments. The first four of these commandments have to do with your relationship with your coach and manager, God. And the last six of these commandments have to do with your relationship with your teammates. Now the ball is your eternal soul and goals are the gateposts of Heaven.’

‘NOW GET IN THERE AND PLAY BALL'”

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My devotional blog is here.

Face of a Clown, Soul of a Man

Ding A Ling’s Face, originally uploaded by Shirley Buxton.

All faces are masks. Lurking beneath the smooth buttery skin of youth, or behind the deep cragginess of the aged are secret stories, unspoken lusts, restrained tears, ragged dreams and unattained vision. There, too, may be lofty ambition, frank accomplishment, unseen generosity, even rare midnight poetry, whose words at the moment were tucked away–humbly poked to the back of the keeping place, well hid from the peer of judging eyes.

DJs RV park here in Lake Havasu is a such a place, a place of both face and mask, of openness and closure. Consistent with the human being, the face is the easier to see, but, know also, that the face of DJs is a mask, a covering that shields people of dream and vision, and covers those of decay and plunging despair. In its 102 spaces are sleek, expensive rigs, at some junctures set side by side with the most modest of dwellings. Inside these units, whether regal or humble, is the soul of DJs.

One such person is Andy Anderson, whom Jerry met a few weeks ago, and who since then, I have had the pleasure of meeting. He is a charming, club of a man, whose twinkling clear blue eyes somehow seem misplaced in his bunched-up furrowed face. His stories are captivating as he frankly tells of his life of sorrow and crime, and then of his ripping off the chains of alcoholism some years back.

 

View Shirley Buxton’s map

Taken in (See more photos here)

The following is a reprint from a 2003 issue of Home and Garden.

Now a devout Christian, Andy admits to succumbing to one youthful indiscretion after another, from petty crime and vagrancy to alcohol and drug abuse. “If I had any money then, I probably would have been a compulsive gambler too,” he says. Not surprisingly, his hard living costs him dearly . a divorce and a five-year-stint in the Nebraska State Penitentiary were the bitter fruits of his aimlessness.

After a successful tenure as a truck driver, Andy embarked on a career path that would change his life forever. He became a clown. Literally. “I had a lot of sorrow, hurt, and heartache in my life,” he says. “I wanted change. I wanted to make people happy and see them laugh.”

To realize his goal Andy attended clown school at the University of Nebraska at Omaha. At graduation, he became Ding-A-Ling the clown , a hobo/tramp clown in the style of Red Skelton and Emmett Kelly, though unique, of course. “Rule Number One at clown school,” says Andy, “is that you don’t copy another clown’s face. Ding-A-Ling is my own creation.”

As Ding-A-Ling, Andy worked as a rodeo clown (“Now they call ’em bull fighters” he laughs) for nine years. during the off-season, he used to work birthday parties, grand openings, picnics, parades, etc., where his specialty was in balloons. “At the time, I could make 68 different figures out of a balloon. Now I can barely blow one up,” he laughs.

The height of Andy’s career as Ding-A-Ling was an appearance he made with Emmett Kelly and Red Skelton at a fundraiser for a children’s hospital in Florida. The lowlight came at a rodeo performance, where he was knocked down by an angry bull and savagely bitten in the arm. At the hospital, he had to have skin removed from his leg to act as a skin graft for his damaged arm. Yet he still considers himself fortunate. “People get killed every year on the rodeo circuit. I was lucky that nothing really bad ever happened to me or the other rodeo people I worked with.’

Like an aging NFL quarterback whose reflexes are slowing down, Andy wisely retired from his physically dangerous occupation in the late 1980s. He still loves clowns, though, and is an avid collector of clown paraphenalia. His most prized possessions are a pair of authentic, bright red Bozo the Clown shoes and an Emmett Kelly doll. At one time, his collection totaled more than 350 items. “When it’s time to go to the big rodeo in the sky,” he says, “I want to donate my collection to a children’s museum.”

On December 20, 1996, Andy suffered a stroke. Five days later, on Christmas day, he had a life-affirming heart-to-heart chat with God, vowing never to touch alcohol again. Recalling the experience still brings tears to Andy’s eyes. He’s been clean and sober ever since.

Because of Andy’s unique story, and because of his honesty and frankness in talking about his past mistakes and his winding road to recovery, he’s frequently called upon to speak at substance abuse treatment centers and alsohol rehab clinics throughout California and Arizona. He’s also spoken at high schools, colleges, and churches. His life hasn’t been an easy one, but it’s filled with lessons that others can learn from.

“I’m not afraid to let people know who I am and what I am, so long as I never forget,” says Andy. “My message is simple and straightforward. If you commit your life to alcohol and drugs, you’re gonna end up in one of three places–in the state pen, in a mental hospital, or in a horizontal position wearing a suit and tie.”

Though Andy’s message is often blunt and to the point, he always sprinkles his talks with humor and amusing anecdotes from his life. He puts it this way: “For the first 45 minutes, I got’em laughing; but I got’em crying for the last 15.”

Andy knows that his inspirational story of recovery won’t change the hearts of everyone, but he keeps plugging nonetheless. He believes that if enough people–especially kids–listen to his story, he can make a positive difference in their lives. The key is to get them not just to hear, but to listen.

“You know why God gave us two ears and one mouth?” smiles Andy. “It’s so we can listen twice as much as we talk.”

I’ll finish up this article tomorrow.

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My devotional blog is here.