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Double-Minded: Christian Culture’s Diametrically-Opposed Views of Marriage and Singleness

Buckle up, True Believers. It’s about to get real!

I am a Christian. In fact, as a child I did everything in a church except be born there. While I love the Bible and its theology and doctrine, Christian culture annoys me. Trust me when I say there are huge differences. It’s one of many reasons why I love The Babylon Bee: Christian culture is a frequent target of their satire. As it should be.

Image taken from www.trumpet-call.org.

While there are many problems with the Christian subculture (which I will refer to as “the church” from here on), one of the most egregious, in my opinion, is that it is double-minded when it comes to marriage and singleness. To put it succinctly, if you’re already married, it sings the praises of marriage and family, but if you’re single, it does little or nothing to help you get married and tells you singleness is superior to marriage.

I’m sorry, church, but you can’t have it both ways.

Go to any church and you’ll see how it’s family-centric. There are programs for parents, spouses, kids, and teens. Some offer programs for college students and recent graduates, but they seem to assume that everyone gets married by their mid-20s—if not sooner—so little is offered for those who aren’t. There are frequent sermon series on how to have a good marriage or be better parents. It’s hard to not go a week without hearing the theology of marriage; how it’s an earthly echo of Jesus Christ and his “bride,” the Church. (This is something that isn’t meant to be taken literally, by the way). In other words, most of the Christian subculture is centered on marriage and family.

Just don’t expect it to help you get married, like I said.

When it comes to taking steps toward marriage, in my experience, the church is mostly famine and little feast. Generally it seems to think relationships happen by osmosis. It rarely facilitates opportunities for young people—who frequently express their desire to be married—to meet each other and fall in love. Yet in the rare instances when they speak on the issue, they say the church is the best place to meet someone special. All that “unequally yoked” stuff, right? But there are hardly any programs for singles beyond college. And don’t even think about being single after age 30! You’ll be a misfit among misfits. The church won’t have any idea what to do with you. The rare times anyone in the church does try to help singles get to marriage, they’re obnoxiously overzealous or have nothing to offer but empty platitudes.

But then there’s the insult added to singles’ injuries.

The church’s praise of marriage ceases with singles. No longer is it this wonderful, covenantal portrait of Christ’s love. No, it’s a distraction. Instead of Ephesians 5, singles get 1 Corinthians 7. They’re told that marriage will narrow their scope, distract them from serving God, and even make them preoccupied with “earthly” things (there is no marriage in Heaven, after all). The only benefit they might mention is it can help curtail sexual sin, and even that seems like a concession they wish they didn’t have to make. In other words, marriage is a detriment to the single’s faith. This implicitly condemns the institution of marriage, ignoring the fact that it was created by God before Adam and Eve sinned. It wasn’t a byproduct of the Fall that God had roll with. This mindset also ignores the personal and societal benefits of marriage, many of which are being missed because of the culture of protracted singleness (to which the church has contributed some, but that’s a blog for another day).

What this does to Christian singles is it leaves them silently shamed. They desire marriage, but they’re told it’s a detriment to their faith and potential. If it’s a hindrance, why would they desire it? Should they? Why would Christ allow them to desire something that would distract them from serving Him? Yet the church tells the married majority that matrimony is sacred and powerful and must be protected. Why do you think Christian churches are always the ones fighting for the definition of marriage being “one man and one woman”? The irony is they’re just as likely to tell singles it isn’t worth it. Maybe for the sake of consistency they should tell married couples to all get divorced so they can have “undistracted service” for Christ. Oh wait, God says He hates divorce, so they hate divorce.

This is a catch-22 full of knots that the church keeps chewing in the mouth from which is talks out of both sides.

Singles aren’t second-class citizens nor are they inherently superior because they’re unmarried. Their desire for marriage is a good thing. It should be respected, nurtured, and encouraged. The pain they feel from this unfulfilled desire should be met with compassion and understanding and not lectures on contentment and 1 Corinthians 7. Doing that is no different than telling someone whose grandmother has died that he shouldn’t mourn because she’s “in a better place.” This is a pain most singles don’t just “get over.” To be alone (and rejected) when you desire a spouse is a form of widowhood. The Bible frequently commands Christians to care for widows.

What the church needs is consistency. Celebrate marriage with everyone. Help singles maximize their lives where they are and don’t shame them for desiring a spouse. For those rare few who’ve been called to singleness, give them opportunities not afforded to married people. Modes of service don’t decrease with marriage—they just change.

Marriage is hard, but so is singleness. Depending on the person, one or the other will be more difficult. Someone should never be forced into either one if God didn’t create them to be that way. It’s a simple concept. But the church has trouble grasping such things.

Are you a single who’s been hurt by these conflicting mindsets? How so? What do you think can be done to remedy these problems?

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Why We Love Caricatured Villains

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember any of it,” said the dastardly dictator M. Bison.

“You don’t remember?!” blurted the heroic Chun-Li, having just told him the story of how he killed her father.

“For you, the day Bison graced your village was the most important day of your life. But for me…it was Tuesday.”

As a friend once said, that is the perfect troll response.

In case you didn’t know, the 1994 Jean-Claude Van Damme Street Fighter is one of my favorite bad movies. Ming-Na Wen is well-cast as Chun-Li; it’s funny intentionally and unintentionally; and while his accent is way too thick, Van Damme at least fights well as Guile.

But the biggest reason I love this flick is Raul Julia’s M. Bison. It takes an exceptional actor to make a speech about the “Pax Bisonica” and do it with such conviction. He actually researched real dictators like Mussolini to give what could’ve been a one-dimensional, cartoonish Bond villain a bit more depth and sophistication. He also had the charisma to chew the scenery and make it entertaining. (It’s sad that he died shortly after the movie was released).

Have you ever noticed that audiences tend to love over-the-top villains more than over-the-top heroes? Emperor Palpatine from the Star Wars films. Jack Nicholson’s Joker in Batman. Dr. Doom in Roger Corman’s unreleased Fantastic Four movie. Heck, even my own Marcus the Morally-Dubious from Ninjas and Talking Trees. But if you try to google “over-the-top heroes,” you’ll be hard-pressed to find examples (though they do exist).

Why is this?

I believe it goes back to something that has been said by several famous Christian thinkers:

“The devil…that proud spirit…cannot endure to be mocked.”
-St. Thomas More

“The best way to drive out the devil, if he will not yield to texts of Scripture, is to jeer and flout him, for he cannot bear scorn.”
-Martin Luther

“Above all else, the devil cannot stand to be mocked.”
-C.S. Lewis

The last one is my favorite because it comes from The Screwtape Letters, an epistolary novel written by Lewis. It’s a satire where an elder demon, the titular Screwtape, writes letters to his nephew Wormwood on how to secure the damnation of the human he’s been assigned. It is laugh-out-loud funny at points. (My favorite part is where Screwtape gets so angry, he stops writing and his letter is completed by another demon, who says that Screwtape transformed into a giant insect in his rage).

While M. Bison and these other over-the-top villains are hardly the Prince of Darkness, they’re certainly caricatures of evil. Some aren’t necessarily meant to be taken seriously, but it’s clear that their actions are evil. These exaggerations make their evil more palpable, and when used as satire, they make the audience ponder the nature and meaning of evil. Lewis does this with Screwtape.

However, these characters are still absurd parodies. The audience can laugh at their grandiose plans, flamboyant gestures, and ridiculous fashion senses. This is because we can’t laugh at real-life evil. Paradoxically, as Screwtape illustrates, by laughing at the Devil, humanity robs him of some of his power. This, in turn, can be extended to these villains. Since, as Christian theology says, the Devil is the source of all evil, these villains are his “children,” his “little devils.” By laughing at them, the audience is laughing at the Devil. It’s yet another thing that illustrates my personal belief that deep within every human soul they remember Eden and the tragedy of losing it. God said in Genesis 3:15a, “…I will put enmity between you and the woman [Eve], and between your offspring and hers.” Buried though it may be under a sinful nature, this enmity toward the Devil is inside all of humanity. The love of caricatured villains is a manifestation of this, and since I believe one can’t believe in the existence of the Devil without believing in the existence of God, I could almost make the argument that the ironic love of Raul Julia’s M. Bison disproves atheism.

Who are your favorite over-the-top villains? How do they serve the same function as The Screwtape Letters? Or, how do you disagree with my notion?

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Moving to the Fortress of Solitude

Once again I’ve neglected my website. My apologies, True Believers. To make up for it, I’ll be giving you two blogs a week for at least two weeks on Thursdays and Saturdays.

Caprice?

Good.

Moving on….

Image taken from www.baruch.cuny.edu.

Speaking of moving (see what I did there?), I just made a major move. If you’ve been following my blog, you know I just started grad school. I’m studying for an M.A. in English with a writing concentration. Along with that, I moved. To Fort Wayne, Indiana, to be specific. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Call me weird (most people do), but I like this city. I have a lot of connections here thanks to family, college, and growing up nearby. Unlike when I moved to Bluffton, Indiana, in 2007, I have a built-in support network. Plus, this city is the perfect size for me: not too big to overwhelm the rural/small town kid in me, and not too small that it lacks amenities.

It was tough the first two weeks of school. I was commuting or staying with friends while balancing classes, teaching (I’m a graduate teaching assistant), and a part-time job on the side. I survived, obviously.

Then came the move.

I spent all of Labor Day weekend moving into an apartment in a nice little community next door to the university. Unfortunately, I learned again that transitions are messy. Packing was laborious. My parents said they’d help me and not to rent a moving truck. We’d just caravan everything to Fort Wayne. Well, that didn’t work out as well as we’d hoped. It required several trips over the entire weekend. There was miscommunication over whether I needed to drive back every day to help move furniture and transport more boxes. There was even some drama over from who I would get some of my furniture (most of which were “hand-me-downs,” but I feel no shame). This ramped up tensions and led to some…spirited discussions, shall we say? But when it was all said and done, I managed to get 95% of my stuff here.

Moving will make you want to become a minimalist. I never realized how much stuff I own—or how I managed to cram most of it into one room—until I moved. My increased space-consciousness combined with a need for some extra spending cash has inspired me to start selling some things on eBay. (Check out my auctions here). I was inspired to do this by a podcast I listened to recently that interviewed a toy collector who said he would sell pieces he wasn’t in love with to make room for stuff he did love (and to earn what he called “toy karma,” i.e. good standings with other collectors who could help him get other items).

Unfortunately, I still haven’t unpacked or fully decorated my place yet. I want to make it my own.

The Fortress of Solitude. (Image taken from www.Screenrant.com).

Admittedly, while I believe God led to me this community (that’s a story in and of itself), I have a two-bedroom two-bathroom apartment all to myself, so it’s lonely oftentimes. I went on Facebook and asked my friends to suggest names for my apartment. I got many good ones—“Darf’s Lair” and “The Nate Cave” among my favorite runners-up—but I ended up going with “The Fortress of Solitude.” For those who don’t know, this is the name of Superman’s Antarctic “hideout.” It’s essentially the ultimate man-cave (“Superman-cave”?). While it sounds kinda depressing, I thought it fit because Superman usually goes to there alone to get away from things, and it’s full of awesomely cool stuff.

At some point soon, I hope to have an overdue housewarming party. But I want to finish unpacking and decorating first. It doesn’t feel…uniquely me yet. That will be remedied soon, though.

What was the biggest move you’ve made? How did it go? What advice would you offer someone as he settles into a new place?

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Narcissism’s Illusion

Today’s blog—the second for this week—is somewhat related to my previous one.

Recent events in my life prompted me to research gaslighting, which then led me to look into narcissism. I realize that I, for whatever reason, am a magnet for narcissists. In fact, the people who have hurt the most and worst have been narcissists. I could name at least six or seven people whose words and actions have scarred me, and while I’m only an amateur armchair psychologist, they certainly fit the bill.

I had a “friend” (I use that word loosely) in college who was a pretentious elitist. I’ll call him “H.” He thought he was smarter than some of his professors and usually didn’t hang out with his peers because he thought he was better than most of them. Heck, I’d go to him for advice about getting a girlfriend even though he thought the girls on campus weren’t good enough for him. It was condescending, in retrospect. Anyway, without getting into all the gory details, I saw who he really was when he stabbed in the back (not literally, of course, but I sometimes think it would’ve been easier if he had).

The massive laser cannon from the original Star Trek. (Image taken from Memory Alpha).

At one point I was talking with another friend about H having an ego the size of a mountain. My friend said H’s arrogance was a front, a mask. He compared it to a scene from a pair of episodes of the original Star Trek called “The Cage” and “The Menagerie.” These episodes feature one of the Enterprise’s earlier missions when the ship was under the command of Capt. Pike. Anyway, the crew visited a desolate planet, and Pike is kidnapped by big-headed telepathic aliens called Talosians and taken underground. They go down an elevator hidden behind a thick door. Spock and the away team try to blast through the door with their laser (not phaser) pistols, but despite the explosions and debris, the door remains intact. They later bring in a huge laser cannon, which makes even bigger explosions and more debris, but the door still looks untouched. It’s later revealed the Talosians create illusions with their telepathy, which they used to hide the fact that the door had been destroyed. My friend said H’s arrogance—his narcissism—was an illusion. Our criticisms only seemed to have no effect on him. The truth was he was a fragile, damaged person who wanted to present himself as invincible.

On one hand, thinking of it this way, I can pity people like H. They’re afraid to be vulnerable, to let people know their weaknesses, so they put on a front. On the other hand, their narcissism leads them to manipulate, use, and abuse others. They’re control freaks with superiority complexes. To them people are toys and/or tools to be discarded when they’re no longer of use. H told me he did what he did to me because he was bored. The father of one of my ex-girlfriends refused to believe any man was worthy of his daughter so he treated her like a “porcelain doll” (her words). More recently, a colleague forced me out of project so he could have complete control of it.

I recently heard Steven Crowder say in a podcast that it is weak people who will betray and bully others (generally speaking). It’s because they fear strength. I’ve concluded that narcissists fit this description. Their narcissism is an illusion they cast to hide their weakness. They’re obsessed with what others think of them, so they have to always be in control. When they’re confronted with their weakness, they deflect the criticism and project it onto others. I’ve had this happen too. Narcissists have accused me of their faults. I’ve questioned my moral integrity and my perceptions of my own conduct. Now, however, I’ve realized it was nothing but gaslighting.

I’ve learned that the only way to deal with narcissists is, if at all possible, to cut them out of your life. Leave them to their own devices. Eventually, their lives will keep shrinking until they suffocate in the entropy. Only then will they be capable of remorse.

Maybe.

Have you dealt with narcissists? How did you handle them? What did you have to do to keep them from gaslighting you or controlling you? Do you have any sympathy toward them?

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Burning Your Bridges

It’s been a crazy month for me, so since I’ve been negligent on blogs, you get two of them this week!

Image courtesy of www.androxa.wordpress.com.

When I was in college, my writing professor once told my class not to “burn your bridges” in the publishing world. The reason was simple: it was a small industry, so it would be easy for word to get around. If you had a falling out with an editor or fellow writer, even if you were in the right, it could create a bad reputation. This in turn could damage your chances of getting work. No one will want to publish someone if they’re difficult to work with (unless you’re the late great Harlan Ellison, who got by on sheer talent).

In the internet age, I think this advice has become universal. At my new day job, for instance, a disgruntled customer threatened to “go on social media” and trash the business. I guess that’s how you threaten someone in 2018: internet rumors. It used to be that one only had to worry about whether to put former bosses as references on job applications. If you knew a particular one wouldn’t speak favorably of you, you either left it off or said not to contact them. But as my professor pointed out, in a small industry where everyone knows everyone, it can be a problem. Reputation carries a lot of weight. People may not take to the time to see if what they hear is true or not.

I’ve been thinking about this lately because of a recent falling out I had with a colleague. It made me think back on times when I’ve either burned my bridges or chosen not to. When I lost my first post-college writing job, I vacillated between blaming myself and blaming my bosses. They were kind enough to say I could use them as references, and a few years later at an author fair, I met one of them and said there were no hard feelings from me. On the other hand, an online Christian ministry I volunteered for faithfully for five years more or less “fired” me for nebulous reasons. Since then I’ve completely disassociated myself from them. I don’t talk to anyone who works there nor do I put anyone from there down as a reference.

It gets harder when you realize you’re working with a toxic person, though. When you know they’re abusing and using you. On one hand, you have to draw boundary lines. On the other, you feel the need to warn others about this person. But is this desire motivated by altruism or revenge? Aye, there’s the rub. It’s easy to disguise the latter with the former, especially when you know you could do some serious damage to the abuser.

Because of all this, I started listening to the appropriately titled album “Songs to Burn Your Bridges by” by the hardcore rock band Project 86. Their song “Oblivion” has been resonating with me more than ever. The second verse in particular has become something of a mantra for me:

From somewhere far, far away…
(It’s mine to avenge, I will repay)
A distant voice from some familiar place
(Drive it home in me, pull it out from me)
“Let go the anchor
Let got the deadweight.
(I will repay, I will avenge),
And I’ll change what’s in remiss”

These lines were inspired by a phrase found twice in the Bible. Specifically, in Deuteronomy 32:35 and Romans 12:19. I will confess for someone with as strong a sense of justice as I’m blessed/cursed with, keeping to this tenant of my faith is…difficult. I want to be God’s hammer—His Mjolnir, you could say. But rarely does God allow such things. So, I must patiently wait for Him to vindicate me and set things right. He is, contrary to popular belief, a God of both love and justice. That’s why I have to remove those people from my life: it separates me from the situation and leaves room for God to work.

I hope, True Believers, you can do the same things. Don’t be afraid to get yourself out a bad relationship and/or situation. And when you do, let God bring about His superior justice.

What about you? Have you had to “burn bridges”? What did you do? Did things work out? If so, how?

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Blog Day has Moved!

Image courtesy of ThemeFuse.

You may have noticed I didn’t have a blog last week. That’s because I just started grad school, a new university job, and I’m about to move into a new apartment. In light of this, I’m moving my weekly “blog day” from Thursday (or Friday, if I’m late) to Saturday. 

So don’t fret, True Believers! I have a new blog in store for you this weekend!

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My Life: The Reboot

My life is not unlike this film right now.

It’s been a crazy few weeks. I’ve had two book signings. My website was shut down to transfer it to a new host (thanks, Nick! [My apologies if his site is still being transferred]). Sadly, I did lose the short blog I wrote at Gen-Con, but all it said was that I was at the convention, wouldn’t be writing a blog, and that you all should come see me at my table.

As for other changes, I gave one day job a letter of resignation. I start grad school at a local university next week, as well as working as a graduate teaching assistant and writing center consultant for said university. I’m moving to be closer to the school. And these are just the changes I can talk about right now.

It’s…overwhelming at times.

My pastor told me Sunday that this isn’t so much starting a new chapter as it is opening a new volume. I said it might be more apt to call it a “reboot.” And why not? Reboots are all the rage in Hollywood right now. Most of them suck (I’m looking at you, Ghostbusters 2016), but then you have that handful that are amazing (like Batman Begins). Perhaps it’s more of a “soft reboot” like the 2009 Star Trek: it’s starting fresh, but it wouldn’t have happened if not for the events of the previous movies/series. I’m embarking on a new adventure where most everything is different, but there were many things in my life that led to this point.

But with change comes grief.

A coworker (at a business named Reboot, ironically), who also works as a pro-bono pastor, told me that grief is more about change than it is loss. Even positive change requires losing something, whether that be singleness for marriage or freedom for parenthood, among other things. I’m going to miss where I was because it was comfortable and predictable. I was used to it. It was safe. But where’s the adventure in safety?

A lot of things, both good and bad, related to my past have fallen away. I had to get a new car six months ago after an accident. My writing mentor retired in disgrace. That’s a few I can name. I still have plenty of constants (my friends, my family), but everything is changing.

Perhaps it’s appropriate then that Eric Anderson and I are working on a sequel to 42: Discovering Faith Through Fandom, and its central theme is how God changes things. I’ll be writing from experience.

What are some big changes you’ve navigated? How did you go about it? What did you have to “grieve” in the process?

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My Thoughts on the Dr. Dennis Hensley Scandal

Ironically, this image is courtesy of the meme website www.1funny.com.

(This will be the only time I discuss this subject in a public forum).

“It’s my estimation that every man ever got a statue made of ’em was one kinda sombitch or another.”
-Capt. Malcolm Reynolds

This line from the Firefly episode “Jaynestown” has been repeating in my head for over a week. It speaks to the hard truth that one should never meet his heroes because they’re not perfect or above reproach.

That’s harder to do when you already know your hero.

Last month, Dr. Dennis E. Hensley, founder of my alma mater, Taylor University’s, professional writing program and one of the most influential people in my life, retired suddenly. His current students were shocked. The theory was that he did so because of several deaths in his family and his wife’s stage four cancer. The students planned to send him some well wishes.

Then the truth came out.

He left because a former student came forward saying she had been sexually assaulted by Dr. Hensley in 2004 (which was during my time at the university’s Fort Wayne campus). This opened a floodgate of accusations spanning decades.

I avoided most of the uproar for a while because this was reported just before G-Fest XXV, and I didn’t want my weekend tainted. Once that was over, I inundated myself with articles.

There’s a lot I could say about this; a lot I’ve wanted to say. For the sake of this blog, I will focus only on how this revelation has affected me.

If Nick Hayden was the Obi-Wan Kenobi to my Luke Skywalker, Dr. Hensley was our Master Yoda.

One of my schoolmates and fellow Dr. Hensley students wrote on Facebook that this whole thing felt like someone had died. Indeed, those early stages of grief hit me hard. I didn’t want to believe it. I even tried to tell people not to jump to any conclusions and remember that these were only accusations. (Ironically, this was a journalism rule I learned from Dr. Hensley). This brought me under fire, albeit briefly, which was why I wrote what I did last week.

From denial I quickly moved to the anger stage, but it was anger without a target. I didn’t know if I should be angry at Dr. Hensley, his accuser(s), or the MeToo movement. That’s why I’ve waited as long as I have to say anything. Anger rarely, if ever, leads to sound reasoning, and in this outrage-addicted internet culture, it can be dangerous. Regardless, I was angry because something had been taken from me—the Dr. Hensley I thought I knew.

The man who reassured 18-year-old intimidated prospective student me that I had the talent to be in his writing program.

The man who teased me for having an e-mail at a now defunct website called www.Godzillafans.com. 

The man who found every typo I wrote in my papers and everything I did right.

The man who plastered “EYE OF THE TIGER!” on every “A” I got.

The man who told me how to conduct myself as a professional writer and what to expect in the industry.

The man who got me my first byline.

The man who put me on student newspaper staff as soon as I walked onto campus.

The man whose teaching style I so admired I wanted to emulate it as a teacher myself.

The man we described as a “teddy bear with sharp teeth” because he wasn’t afraid to tell you what you did wrong but he’d do everything he could to help you succeed.

The man who had an entire bulletin board—the “Brag Board”—dedicated to showing off his students’ publications and achievements.

All of these and many more—and now I have to reconcile them with these accusations.

Ironically, like the woman who first came forward, I, too, once confided something personal to Dr. Hensley. I won’t go into details, but something happened where I distrusted most everyone at the school, including my friends. It was my senior year, and I knew it might affect me academically, so I told him what happened. He was understanding and encouraging. He gave me a week to breathe and then sent a letter to my mailbox saying it was time to buck up and finish strong. I took it to heart.

In the time between his sudden retirement and the reporting of these accusations, I sent Dr. Hensley an e-mail saying I’d heard he left Taylor and that I was praying for him and his wife. I also mentioned that I would soon be starting grad school and working as a graduate teaching assistant and a writing tutor. He replied saying he knew I could do it.

If that is the last communication I ever have with “Doc,” that’s how I want to remember him.

But that’s the statue—and those always come crumbling down.

(I recommend reading James Watkins’ blog on this matter. He’s given the best assessment of it that I’ve read).

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I Have Three Poems in an Anthology!

Submission want-ad for “Bards Against Hunger: Indiana Edition.” (Image courtesy of www.indianaauthors.wordpress.com).

I’m happy to announce that I will have three poems published in the upcoming anthology, Bards Against Hunger: Indiana Edition. Two of the three poems, “Glimpse” and “Coma,” were originally posted on this site. (However, I am going to remove them in light of their upcoming publication in this anthology). The third poem, “Phoenix Rose,” originally appeared in my first novel, Pandora’s Box. This anthology will be published in the fall with a book launch event at Elwood Public Library in November.

I’m actually a bit surprised they were accepted. Not because they were bad. No, because I submitted at the last possible second. We’re talking within minutes of the deadline. Not a habit I want to make. 😛

Accord to their website,

Bards Against Hunger was founded in 2013 by the Bards Initiative, a poetry group on Long Island, NY that hosts many readings and publishes local anthologies. The leaders of this group came up with the idea to host a poetry reading that would gather food for the hungry around Thanksgiving time as a way for poets to give back to their local community. The poets of Long Island loved the idea and flocked to help organize, read at the event, and gather food.

They’ve also published a few poetry anthologies (click here and here), with the profits being used to collect food. As the want-ad says, the proceeds from this Indiana anthology are going toward Homeless Advocacy of Anderson and Madison County. It’s a wonderful idea.

Exciting times are ahead, True Believers!

A Man from Another Time Exploring Another Universe