FredMcKinnon.Com

Happy New Year Everyone!

This is the first time I’ve blogged since early October 2011.  The thought that my blog has been sidelined for so long is somewhat discouraging; yet, not surprising.  I wear a lot of hats and sometimes I set one aside – for a season, or forever.  I struggled over the impact it would have but realized soon enough that the simple fact that I didn’t receive a question, email, tweet, or comment about my lack of blogging was evidence enough:  I take this space and it’s influence way too seriously sometimes!  Today’s post is a wakeup for the new year and a bit of ramblings.  If you’re looking for a nice coherent post — well, I may disappoint you.

I find myself excited with each New Year because I’m a goal-setter.  I’m also a goal-maker, a goal-surpasser, and yes – a goal-misser.  I surpassed a number of goals last year but ended the year feeling a bit burned out.  A new start is good for that.

As this race called life keeps zooming by I find myself asking this question:  “who am I”?

Yes – I’m a child of God.  That’s one thing that won’t change.  Seasons in this life can drastically change how you answer that question in other areas.

Thankfully, I’m still a Husband.
Thankfully, I’m still a Father.
Thankfully, I’m still a Worship Leader.

My blog header says:
Worship Leader, Pianist, Producer, Blogger

I don’t know that I can really be identified that way anymore.  Life has changed.

I’m not really a blogger.  That’s evident in my lack of posts since October 2011.
Producer?  I still have the ear, the gift — but haven’t acted in the role of a producer in years.  YEARS.  I’m not that guy anymore.

Then, there are words that are missing:
Entrepreneur:  I love the word.  I live it.  It’s part of my DNA.
Composer:  The word isn’t there because I’ve been slack.

I suppose the question, moving forward in 2012 is this:

Who do I want to be?

1.  I want to be more devoted and close to God.  Not just a worship leader.  A worshiper.  On and off the stage.  Deeper.  More authentic.
2.  I want to be a creative artist.  I’m saddened at the lack of art that I created the past few years.   I’ve allowed too many other things to steal away more than it’s share of creative time.
3.  I want to be a much better husband and father.  This is where it really counts.

So, what about you … if you’re still there, if you still subscribe, if you’re reading this …

What do YOU want to be, or better yet, WHO do you want to be in 2012?

Hey Gang,

The blog has been quiet here … VERY QUIET … mainly because I haven’t been posting.  We’ve wrapping up an 8-day whirlwind vacation that stretched the east coast from New York City to Orlando, FL.  I hope to jump back into blogging soon enough but will need a day or so to recover and catch up.  In the meantime, here’s a little recap of our trip for those who may be interested.  (that would be a few friends on Facebook and my family!)

New York City – Andrea Bocelli

I was blessed to receive an opportunity to attend the FREE concert by Andrea Bocelli in Central Park last week in New York City.  I’m a huge fan of Bocelli and thought this would be like a bucket list experience.  One of the world’s greatest singers, with one of the world’s greatest philharmonic orchestras, in one of the world’s greatest cities, in one of the world’s most famous city parks … you know … epic!

Experiencing something like that is even more fun with friends so Joy (my wife) and I flew up to NYC with another couple from St. Simons Island and spent a couple of nights in Times Square.  We left the kids behind and had a few days of “us” time.  Joy had never been to NYC and it was only my second visit.  We did it hard – from Rockefeller Center to the top of the Empire State Building, shopping on 5th Avenue to waving outside the Fox News windows on 6th Ave.  We had Italian one night and some great pizza at Lombardi’s another day.  We did taxis.  We did subways.  We walked a kazillion miles.  The forecast was for rain and the news said that if the concert was rained out, it would be rescheduled for the next night.  This was a big burden for me because we flew out the next morning to meet up with the kids and leave for our family vacation time.

Well, the rain came.  The gates to the Great Lawn at Central Park were to be opened at 3:00 PM.  Because of the rain, people weren’t lining up quite so early so we got there at 3:00 and waited in line for over an hour in the rain.  Thankfully, Joy sported us some $1-store ponchos that we shared with our friends. (Mike/Leisa Dunn)

The rain was nasty and it got pretty chilly with the wind blowing.  The blessing in the rain; however, was that people just didn’t come to get in line.  We were one of the first 50 people in line on the East Side entrance and as a result, when they finally DID open the gates we got the most incredible seats on the Great Lawn possible.  Friends of mine who waited until the rains held off said the lines on both the east and west sides were 30 blocks long and met! We were literally about 30-40 feet away from the stage – and we could’ve gotten even closer but I didn’t want to be so close to the high stage that I couldn’t see the orchestra and choir in the background.

The concert was as magical and epic as I would’ve guessed.  My DroidX camera photos just don’t do it justice.  We were RIGHT THERE center stage.  The people who paid $1,000 for the “VIP” seats didn’t have seats as good as ours.  (Yep, they were there in full force, Donald Trump & Alec Baldwin to name a couple).

Bocelli was joined with the New York Philharmonic and the Westminster Symphonic Choir.  They were amazing.  He was joined with many special guests including Chris Botti (an amazing trumpeter), Bryn Terfel, Andrea Griminelli, Ana Maria Martinez, and Pretty Yende.

Two of my favorite guest moments included Celine Dion singing “The Prayer” and Tony Bennett singing “New York, New York” with Andrea.

(this photo courtesy of BocelliCentralPark.Com)

One incredible moment of worship for me was Andrea’s rendition of “Amazing Grace”.  Lastly, although he did not sing two of my favorite songs I really wanted to hear (“Sogno” and “Besame Mucho”) he did conclude with a finale of my favorite, “Nessun Dorma”.

A quick flight home from NYC and we gathered the kids and took off to Disney World for FIVE days.  Yes, FIVE DAYS.  “The Happiest Place on Earth”.  I will recap that in a separate blog post.

As for Bocelli in Central Park?  It was a whirlwind trip – really crazy to try and fly up there for a concert and back to dump out our suitcase, repack and drive away again for 5 days.  But it was worth it.

As a composer, a  musician, a singer, and a creative person – I was so totally inspired.  It was one of the most awe-inspiring concerts I’ve witnessed and truly was a once-in-a-lifetime event.  I am reminded when I watch some incredible talent and hear such beautiful music how God created us and blessed us with these talents.  Ideally, they are given to us to bring honor and glory to Him.  It inspires me to take my own talents and use them to bring glory to God and inspire others.

Here’s the last few seconds of the grand finale to “Nessun Dorma” – sorry for the jerky camera work, my wife and friends were trying to pack up the blanket we sat on which I was standing on!

For years my parents would warn me sternly, “Fred, you have to be careful.  You can’t be running around doing these pranks.  One day, someone could come out and shoot you or you could get yourself into a lot of trouble”.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Parents always seemed to say something like that.  As usual, I didn’t listen.  Parents come up with things like that all the time – to scare you, to make you obey.  They don’t really mean it.  (Now, as a 40-year old parent of four, I see how crazy we really were and know how sincere my parents really were).

Since our buddy Chad introduced us to the concept of forking yards the whole town had become aware of this tomfoolery.  Many-a-homeowner would wake up on Saturday mornings to peek out their window and breathe a deep, slow, sigh of relief to see a clean lawn instead of a plastic cemetery.  Some were not so lucky.

Our crew successfully forked yards for weeks before our identity started to leak into the town.  What made things worse was the other kids – lower classmen – who wanted to emulate our canny, dextrous works – yet; whose standards were not up to par.  Their escapades would lessen the impact of our beautiful work and worse, constantly jeopardized our plans and secret identities.  As with any prank, it wasn’t long before the infamous R&R circle was in full motion.

R&R Circle?  The never-ending cycle of “revenge and restitution”.

There was this one school of chicks (I used the word school, as it refers to a group of fish … potential explanation to come in a future story) that really had it out for us.  They not only retaliated but would proactively plan ambushes on our camp outs, sleepovers, and parties.  We’d hit them a number of times and they’d successfully penetrated our defenses once or twice.  It was their time.

Word in the halls of grand ole’ Telfair County High School was that the Fish were gathering for a sleep over on Graham Street.  This could be our chance.

Whether it was a Friday or Saturday evening I don’t recall, but the sun was setting and we’d just cleared out the shelves at Piggly Wiggly and Winn Dixie.   Thankfully, the Patriot Act was far from anyone’s imagination.  You know how the F.B.I. is supposed to notified by storeowners if somebody comes in and buys a bunch of fertilizer or bomb-making materials?  Well,  we weren’t too concerned about tipping off anyone except maybe Mr. Purvis and Mr. Yawn, the managers at the W/D.

I suppose the first thing we did wrong was choosing the Hardees parking lot as our meetup point.  Not only did this bring undue attention to the gathering of the crew, it sucked in a few underclassmen who had no business being a part of our exploits.  To make matters worse, our public gathering was like a Billboard of Shenanigans and attracted the presence of McRae’s finest, Officer Jimmy Joines.

For some ludicrous reason, I never really could see Jimmy as a real law officer – he was just Tommy‘s big brother.  That gun couldn’t be real, much less that shiny badge and patrol car.  I’d grown up with Jimmy stomping around mine and TJ’s playground – so, I never could quite get used to him driving around with such authority in his squad car.

Still a catastrophic weakness for me as an adult, my exuberance for the adventure at hand trumped my ability to keep my stupid mouth shut and I started running it loosely, forgetting that Officer Joines was not just TJ’s big brother … he was a sworn-in Officer of the Law.  I’m clueless as to why some of my buddies didn’t stop me from revealing our agenda.  Come to think of it, they were probably hitting the Hardees restroom once more and stocking up on a few “Hot Ham’n Cheese” sandwiches.

Nevertheless, it was done.  We were poised for attack and I’d just left our destination and mission details in the hands of Officer Joines, our Foe … or Friend?

(to be continued)

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“Small Town Stories” is a departure from my typical blog content on worship, faith, and leadership and presents short stories about my memories of growing up in a small town.  As always, memories are that … memories.  Names will be substituted where appropriate, and facts will be blended with fiction, or half-memories.  That’s what makes them fun.  If you enjoy this series, please let me know by commenting.

(Dear Reader:  today’s “Small Town Stories” post was meant to be another humorous story of the mischievous journeys of our crew of boys, yet, I realized I couldn’t possibly begin the story without first introducing you to one of our greatest weapons of choice:  plastic cutlery.  This seemingly innocent box of utensils sets up numerous stories …  legends like “Mrs. G and the Midnight Holdup”, “Don’t Leave the Grand-Am Exposed”, “Where Are My Keys”, and “Deputy Dixon’s D-Day”.  So, before we get into those stories, let’s go back to the origin of the infamous, plastic forks, spoons, and knives).

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Plastic forks, spoons, and knives.  These “Small Town Stories” wouldn’t be complete without their honorable mention.

At any given time, given the moment to slow things down a bit and ease into reminiscing about childhood, these darling cutlery utensils appear.

It all started when this new kid showed up in high school.  His Dad was a doctor of sorts, something most of us kids had never heard of … an “Internist”.  I wasn’t sure if that was somebody who looked inside of you, or if was like a Junior Doctor or something (Intern) trying to catch up and get a real job.

Word spread quickly down the streets about the new family’s arrival.  Word spread even more quickly that there were four kids.  FOUR KIDS.  That’s a score for us.  To top that, one of them was MY AGE.

As if things couldn’t get better, this family bought the mansion.  No, not just any house in McRae, GA — they bought THE MANSION — The Max & Emma Sue McRae House of 1897.

© All rights reserved by Brian Brown (Dirt Road Cowboy)

The Mansion was this massive, white, colonial home with this huge wrap around porch, towering balconies, and stone chimneys that would come to serve as brute force protection from bottle rockets, roman candles, and police car search lights.

Though Presbyterians from Baltimore, this new family somehow found a home on the pews of good ole’ McRae United Methodist Church.  Just about everybody in our crew went there – as far as we concerned, Baptists were as much a cult as any other weird religion.  It was there that we first met our new found pal, Chad.

It didn’t take long for Chad to become a fixture in our crew.  He was funny, smart, the chicks liked him, and he’d come from the city — so he knew things that were a bit foreign to us small towners.

One such thing?  Forking.

Forking (as in, forking a yard) is a stunt where you sneak out in the middle of the night and stick plastic forks in someone’s yard.  They wake up to a mini-graveyard of plastic forks poking out of the earth and the cleanup is a real … well, let’s say “nuisance”, but you thought the word, most likely.

Now I’d heard of some kids “rolling” a house or trees with toilet paper, but forking?  This seemed kind of strange.  Soon, we’d have our first opportunity.

So here’s the catch.  You can’t really just go up to your folks and say “Mom, Dad, could you please pickup several hundred boxes of plastic forks for me at the Piggly Wiggly today?”.  That’s like planning your own funeral.  As a result, we were stuck buying our own cutlery.  The only problem with that is there is limited shelf space in Dickie Rich’s Quick-Stops, so instead of giving us a choice of forks, spoons, or knives, you had to get a big combo box with all three.

I’m still not quite sure what these late-night cashiers thought when a group of hormonal, silly, clumsy guys strolled in grabbing every box of plastic cutlery in the store.  You’d think we were buying some serious contraband they way we checked out.

Soon enough, “forking” became known not just for forks – but for forks, spoons, knives, and whatever else could be had.

Forking wasn’t  a passing fad.  It became part of our ritual.  A calling card of sorts.  Others adopted our evil practices but none were as eloquent as “The Crew”.  Forking would soon give way to some of the funniest (and scariest) stories of our adolescence.

(Stay tuned over the coming Saturdays for more stories, including forking stories like the ones mentioned above).

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Hey Gang,

I’d like to kickoff a new series here on the blog:  “The Calling Series”.

I frequently get asked about how I was called into ministry.  How did I know what I wanted to do with my life?  What influenced my decisions to study music, specifically, Theory/Composition, Piano Performance, and Production?  How did I hear from God when I answered a call to a specific church of ministry position?

I’ve struggled with the concept of this series because I don’t really want it to be about me … I’m pretty sure folks aren’t that interested in my mini-autobiography.  At the same time, because I get asked the questions so often … especially from youth who are thinking about going to colleges, worship leading schools, etc., I hope that the story of my path will help others.

Everyone may hear God’s voice and His call in a different way – for me, it’s not always the same way.

I’ll get into that as we progress into the series.  In the meantime, whether you’re a worship leader, pastor, volunteer in church ministry, or a lay leader … how did you answer your call?  How did you choose the current path that you are on?  (yes, even if it’s not ministry-related).

I hope you’ll comment below and join the discussion.

For the Kingdom,
Fred McKinnon