My Dad is Batman

My dad is Batman and for that I am profoundly thankful. During my 8^th or 9^th grade years (’67 or ’68, can’t remember which it was) at Clark Junior High (yes kids, back then we had two 3-year junior highs in the Crescenta Valley) I went to a weekend winter camp with forty or fifty kids. Gary Baker was the LCPC Youth Pastor, my mom and dad were youth advisors, and Batman the TV series was in full swing staring Adam West as Batman, Burt Ward as Dick Grayson, Alan Napier as Alfred and dozens of comedic actors as villains and villainesses such as Catwoman (Julie Newmar & Eartha Kitt – wouldn’t that make it Catwomen?), The Penguin (Burgess Meredith), The Joker (Cesar Romero), and The Riddler (Frank Gorshin). The point here is that some good actors loved being bad guys in a cheesy TV show taken straight from the 40’s comic books. People love parody.

Saturday night at Camp Owongo we gathered for fellowship after dinner and a full day of snow activities - that’s right, back then we had snow in the local mountains during winter. Camp songs had been sung, a lesson given, and a table set up in front of the crowd when out from a side door came Pastor Gary Baker dressed in full-on chef’s regalia or chef’s whites, complete with white double-breasted jacket, white pants, and his head topped by a puffy toque (chef’s hat). He came out carrying a mixer, a bag of flower, and few other odd kitchen implements, set them up and introduced himself as ‘The Mad Baker’ and began telling us of his evil plot to enslave us and began mixing the potent compound he’d use to do it all the while flicking bits of flower at the front row. His performance was consummate and we were rolling in the aisles laughing. The humor was a bit tempered for me because as an advisor’s kid I knew who was a likely ‘volunteer’ for clean-up.

The Mad Baker quieted and, if possible, grew more sinister. He threw out malevolent looks to the crowd until we settled down, if only for a moment because that’s when Batman burst from the kitchen door, complete with a spandex costume straight from the TV screen - grey tights, black silky cape and head gear with matching silky shorts and gloves, and plastic boots and belt completed the scene. My dad’s voice bellowed from below the mask, and he could bellow with the best, “Not so fast Mad Baker!” The place fell apart and the fight scene ensued, worthy of the TV screen, flower puffed in every direction, POW! BAM! and WHAM! - until the foe was vanquished. Legend. For that three-year generation of Junior High kids, my dad was Batman and he was frequently greeted as such.

  

I didn’t mind the cleanup. After all, that was my dad who had saved us. It’s funny in so many ways but still, I find it emblematic of my dad’s heart. He is an Elder in the Presbyterian Church. He looks after the people, guides them, teaches and directs them. And he protects them. I tell you that my dad is a shepherd after God’s own heart.

From time to time I’m asked why I’m in youth ministry or why I’m still doing youth work. Most times I give inquisitor a simple math equation. Genetics plus God’s call. I’m happy with that. It is no wonder that I got involved with youth work early on, informally as a senior high student with junior high kids and then as a Sunday School teacher of third graders while a freshman at Glendale Community College. I hold my folks in high esteem and look up to them and how they conducted themselves as parents with faith. People who know us from those days and are peers of my parents don’t ask, they know why we serve as we do. Some folks shake their heads and wonder if I should be working with youth but until I’m led elsewhere, this is where I’ll be.

I'm not great with PhotoShop but
you get the idea

I don’t have a specific memory of this, but I have a photo of me standing up in the palm of my dad’s hand and looking around as if it were the most normal thing for me to be doing as a one-year old. The photo is emblematic of the way I’ve come to think of dad, holding me up, letting me look things over. ‘He’s got my back’ is the say it would be said these days. I frequently sign off on letters and such for Christian communications, ‘In His Grip’. It’s a phrase I picked up from my friend Darren Bottino shortly after my family first came back to LCPC and I got involved with the junior highs there again. That’s how I think of things, ‘In His Grip’ or in the palm of His hand. From time to time over the years I’ve imagined that photo with my dad in his Batman costume.

We all have choices to make in how we remember the people in our lives and the events that have shaped us. Choose the ones that give you peace and make you smile. Laugh a little, it’s okay.

Dad, thanks for having me in the palm of your hand and teaching me early on that putting on tights and a cape in front a bunch of junior high kids is natural.

In His Grip,

jerry white

Heavenly Transport

Naked Voices - Spring 2015

Voices raised in harmonies and tones, beats and reverberations, rang out through the hall. Naked Voices blended in ways that bespoke and confirmed my belief that God deposits a bit of His creativity in each of us. These young musicians, Brothas From Otha Mothas, Vocal Motion, and Intervals have touched upon the Mother Load and worked their craft to refine the ore and graced us in the purity of their performance. Thank you.

Sundaes on Sunday, how can I have said no to that? The after dessert fair the concert was kicked off by Brothas From Otha Mothas (BFOM, all male a cappella) with a rendition of Come Sail Away by STYX written by Dennis DeYoung. I saw waves breaking, heard gulls crying out, and was transported pleasantly away to carry on. Thank you BFOM.

Vocal Motion (VOMO – all female a cappella) followed up with a RAP/Hip Hop medley out of which I did not recognize any of the songs. You’ll just have to forgive me on this one because I just might have been the oldest person in the audience this past Sunday night, certainly in the top two percent – finally, I’m in the top of something. Nevertheless, while they sang never gonna get us I might have a gotten a little glimpse of them. The group was in constant motion and their sound was an eruption from the soul, I was delighted to see, hear, and feel their performance. Thank you VOMO.

I have a little observation tempered by my long career in the phone factory. Telephone men like their acronyms and I noticed that a cappella groups do as well. It must be a communications thing. What?

InterVals, the co-ed group of seven between the first two openers and the host group sent us a long with a rendition of _____. When I stalked their YouTube channel I noticed they sported several more voices on other occasions. I won’t hesitate to tell you that I closed my eyes and felt carried along like a raft on a stream, I love that easy-going way that rivers have while moving through the country. Thank you InterVals.

Naked Voices, sixteen co-ed voices deep, hosted Happy Sundae as the last concert of the year and honored their outgoing seniors, my nephew Trevor among them. With a full ten-song set plus an encore to pay tribute to, my post will run longer than my personal word limit but since it’s my blog and my limits I can stretch them when I want. The group is full-bodied, like a good Merlot.

You’re the One I Love, lead solo _____; you can’t close the door on this performance, it made me want to give a standing O. The energy bundled in the execution of the piece was barely contained, contagious, and was a fine kick off for the set.

Rather Be by Clean Bandit, solo ______; there was no place I’d rather have been, I loved the life NV gave this rendition. There was something satisfying listening to a love song while being with my core five, wife, three kids, and me. There will be times when we’ll be a thousand miles from comfort, make sure to have someone in your heart to love and you’ll be where you want to be.

Being a child of the sixties, The Beatles Medley hit me where I lived back then and evoked memories of crazy sing-alongs, then and now. Leading with Paperback Writer sucked me right in because it’s no secret now, I want to write something worthy of putting out in paperback. Hey Jude with my nephew Trevor on solo was awesome. We are thankful to Naked Voices and all that you’ve meant to him.

This Love by Maroon 5, solo performed by _____ was par excellence, sung with feeling and honesty. Loved it.

Fix You by Coldplay, senior solo sung by Trevor; one of the purest things that I’ve seen or heard Trevor do and he’s as honest a person as I know. I know he touched the audience as a whole but it felt like he was singing to each of us from the depths and so, from this song my hope for us all is to have someone sing to us “Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones and I will try to fix you.”

Treasure by Bruno Mars, solo performed by _____. Full of life, your energy was contagious. Contagious in a good way but brings me to another observation. A cappella crowds are a rowdy bunch and very demonstrative in their delivery of appreciation, love it over and over again.

I’ll break here for a couple of personal notes; most often the beat box guys/gals are standing alone and I just wanted to run on stage and hug them so they wouldn’t feel apart from the scene. And, we heard that otters hold hands while they sleep so they won’t drift apart. With all the love songs and songs about love and this being a senior night with summer staring us in the face allow me to say this about drifting; I have seen in print and am grateful to have it in my life – the best of friends though separated by time and distance never drift apart and when reunited take up where they left off. May it be so for all of us and our best of friends.

Woods by Bon Iver, solo by _____, amazing tones with harmonics especial. Time was slowed down and I was amazed at the end of the concert that time had barely passed.

_______ by _______, solo by Sheila, an organizational maven who sings like in instrument played by angels. Happy trails Sheila, you’re wonderful.

Love the Way You Lie (Part II) by Rihanna, solo by _____; a wonderful rendering of a disturbing song. Always be a hero but I suggest we do it without lying, my personal bias.

The Michael Jackson montage was electric with energy and the joy of performance, the perfect way to the end the official set. Great choreography, the wolves were especially captivating.

The encore wrapped things up nicely, “where there is love, I’ll be there.” Can’t go wrong with that. May there always be an encore.

While I try not to engage in wishful thinking too often, with the possible exception of the lottery, I do attempt to participate in hope and prayer and mine for you all is that nothing comes along to keep you from singing, that life gives you plenty to sing about, and that there is always someone in your life to cause you to raise your voice in song.

         

In His Grip,

jerry

Keep the iron side up.