"The Greatest" Lived His Faith in a Higher Power

This is a culmination of a three part Facebook post that I felt compelled to write this morning, and is a true story of the time I met Muhammad Ali.  If I'm lucky this will make it into my second book, after I finish the first...


The Champ Quiets a Loudmouth

      In 1991 Muhammad Ali was on a book tour signing a bio of himself written by Thomas Hauser. I went to one of the signings and it was the richest of book signings for me because of all of the experiences I witnessed as a part of that day.

      The champ was well into his Parkinson's disease and he noticeably shook. I learned later that he pre-signed bookplates whenever he could, so that when he became tired or unable to do so himself he could hand over a bookplate to the fan awaiting his autograph. I was within the first dozen or so people and I hoped for a personal one. I received much more than I expected. 

      The line, in this African American owned and themed bookstore in Inglewood, CA was made up of a mixture of people from all walks of life and cultures.  I recall a few Nation of Islam gents in their suits and bow ties, the one who stood in front of me while we were in line refused to engage me in conversation. In front of him was the white loudmouth man you would expec to see, and might avoid, in a sports bar, complete with a New York accent. It was that joker who decided to taunt the name signing, shaking champ.

As Ali signed Mr. Sporty's book, the man addressed Ali mockingly:

"Ya still got it champ? Huh? Still got it? Ha ha ha! You still the champ?" 

     Though I witnessed everything I never saw Ali's arm move. At first it was signing the man's book, and suddenly it was behind a fist that seemed to appear right under the taunter's chin. It took Muhammad Ali longer to look up from the book at the guy than it did for his signing hand to become a fist stopping just under the guy's chin. The former taunter became instantly silent. The quiet in the whole bookstore was palpable. I saw next a glint in the former Cassius Clay's eye, and an ever so slight smile on his face. And the shaking that had temporarily ceased now resumed, as the boxer picked his pen back up and returned to his task. He handed the book to the now quiet jokester who could only mumble a much more respectful "thanks, Champ," before he slunk away from the table. Soon it was my turn for more amazement. 

 The Champ Gets to Me

      After witnessing, while standing in line at an Inglewood, CA bookstore, Muhammad Ali show a taunter that he still had it, it was soon my turn to meet the champ. All I wanted was his signature. I received generosity.

      As I mentioned, due to his Parkinson's disease, the boxer signed his name to bookplates whenever he could. Thus, there was a stack of signed bookplates next to the boxer so that he could hand one over after he became too tired to personally sign any further.

      "Hi Champ!" I said as I slid my book over to him. He did not seem to recognize I was even there,  his full concentration was on the task before him; putting his signature on the page.
Four months earlier my dad died and I could not help but think how wowed my father would be to know I was meeting the great athlete Muhammad Ali. Knowing what a rare honor this was, as the signer slowly began composing the "M" to his first name, I asked "Can you make it out to Peter?" When I look at the signature today I still see the "squiggle" in his first cursive line where he heard my interruption. 

      Sadly, I thought, he would not personalize the book as he kept focused on what he started; signing his own name. Signing slowly, laboriously and as I truly believe to this day - lovingly. 

      He finished the first, and then put down his last name and next surprised me by adding the date. As I reached out to take my book from him his pen drifted to the top of his signature, and in this way he showed me, that he had heard me (as he would show me and gift me again soon after) as he wrote "To Peter." I thanked him and as I moved away I asked the man sitting next to Muhammed Ali, the boxer's best friend, photographer Howard Bingham, if I could also have a signed bookplate for a friend. He handed me one and I walked away but soon learned that Muhammad Ali was not done with me yet.




The Champ Beacons Me Back

     Following an already amazing experience in a bookstore receiving a personal autograph at a signing from Ali and having watched him silence a taunter I thought that was going to be my final interaction with him. It wasn't.

       As I moved away from the champ with my autographed book I asked Ali's friend if I could have one of the signed by the boxer bookplates that were on hand in case the shaking with Parkinson's celeb became fatigues. The friend, photographer Howard Bingham, acquiesced and handed me one. I walked away, but the event that was me and Ali was not finished.

       I headed towards the exit of this African American owned and themed bookstore in Inglewood, CA and in doing so I was walking past other hopeful fans waiting in the line that snaked throughout the store. Suddenly these persons awaiting their own signatures put out their hands to stop me.
At the same time I heard from all around me the verbal attempts to get my attention. "Sir, sir!" they cried and I heard a lone voice say "he wants you!" The hands that had reached out to stop me were now pointing from where I had just come.

       I turned to see a sight that I will never forget. With the dead facial stare due to his disease the Champ was looking at me, and with one stiff and shaky hand was beckoning me to come back. I did.
As I approached Ali I actually stammered "Ye-ye-ye-yes Champ?" He motioned for my book and I gave it to him. I soon realized that he heard my request for a bookplate. Maybe he thought I was asking him for it, or perhaps he did not know that Mr. Bingham had given me one already. Regardless he opened my book and began laboriously peeling off the sticker protection on the back of the book plate and then affixed it himself into my book (which I had to quickly flip around for him so that it was not upside down) with a firm, yet loving pat. He smiled and handed me back my book along with some Nation of Islam literature - also signed! - and I left the store with my hands and heart full.

       That day I went to meet and to get a momento from a famous boxer. I left with much more; a glimpse into the true champion that he truly was - a man with heart, with love to share and faith that he lived. That day I received gifts I never expected. He truly was "The Greatest."

 


The End

A REAL Actor Dies

This one will probably make it into the book I am working on about my parents.  I hope you enjoy this!  Feel free to follow me on Facebook too - Peter K. Ackerman, or Twitter @peterack


 A REAL ACTOR DIES

So, today - May 9, 2016, I just read that Bill Schallert died. You might say "who?" and that is okay. He probably would not care. Looking at his picture you probably can say "I know that guy from....." and may or may not be able to fill in the blanks. Or maybe you can; Star Trek, Get Smart, The Patty Duke Show, and so much more.  He did so many characters I had the privilege of working with him, and around him on what was to be my dad's final series - The New Gidget.

On The New Gidget Bill (don't call me William) Schallert was very approachable and oh so knowledgeable about his craft of acting on film. I had been trained as a stage actor and could not make the transition into film, though I tried. My dad, an Executive Producer of many classic television series, threw me a few bones and I was able to act on a few episodes of the series (and the TV movie - Gidget's Summer Reunion from which it was taken - you can watch that on YouTube watch it here!). One time I was in a scene where a candy eating chubby kid's line, about why he gave away some secret was: "but dad, they conned me with carbo's!"

The young man read the line as you see it written. Yet Schallert knew it was written to get a laugh, and he knew how the actor had to do a little work at crafting it. The director let the take stay, but when the boy was out of earshot, Bill showed me how the line could have been delivered to actually earn the laugh track guffaws that it would get.

"But dad...they CONNED me...with CARBOS!"

Bill was right. Actors that can make it look so easy do because they know how to take something like a throwaway line and touch it up just right to make it into a laugh line. Bill could also make the crew laugh. Though I could give examples of some of the jokes, this conversation with some people off set should say it all...

I was waiting tables in the middle 1980's at Hamburger Hamlet, Sherman Oaks and was chatting up some of my guests and they learned who I was, what my dad did, and then revealed to me that they were William Schallert's agents. One of them tested the waters..."how do you like Bill?" All I had to say was, "that guy can tell the dirtiest jokes!" and they knowingly laughed heartily.

Yet, I have to say it again...this guy could act. So could my mother, Elinor Donahue (Father Knows Best, Pretty Woman, and much more). The danger in television, especially in those days, is that the well known faces could become so easily typecast into characters - Schallert as "dad," and my mother, Elinor Donahue, as :"Betty Anderson." Each of them is a good actor in his and her own right, and I am so delighted that they got to work together.

Where? On "The New Gidget" of course! Nepotism was alive in the Ackerman family back when my dad was around. Heck, my mom played Sally Fields' sister in The Flying Nun also Executive Produced by my father, why not cast her to play Bill Schallert's love interest on an episode of The New Gidget? And you know what happened when they had a scene together? Good acting!

I have never witnessed this on a set before or since. Bill and my mother had a scene in a classroom as I recall. It was just the two of them doing two or three script pages of conversational dialogue. Each time they did their part it was fresh, new, and in the now. The director might throw a comment in between takes, or not, but every time they filmed the scene with them together it was different AND spot on! The reason?

Good actors do not just read lines! They LISTEN to each other, and react (acting) to that! That is what Elinor Donahue and William Schallert did that day filming The New Gidget.  As the professionals of their craft that they are and were; they acted together as actors should and real actors do. It was marvelous to witness. Never do I remember a crew so transfixed by two television veterans, as the crew members anticipated what they would do with the material next.

So I am sad that William Schallert has gone to the next phase of eternal life, but I am also so happy that I got to know the "real" Bill, and saw a marvelously talented actor in action on many occasions! What a blessing, and a reminder of what we continue to see less of in today's "personalities" who are referred to as "actors."

Rest in Peace, Bill!  

We Need to Love like Starbucks

    I try so very hard not to get wrapped up in the political tension that sometimes arises, but my humanity comes into play and I sometimes fail and release some of that tension among friends on social media.  Thanks to a clergy colleague I had a nice discussion about this and a re-focusing of my attention.  In short, as an Episcopal priest I feel called to love and support all of God's people and that includes people from both sides of the political aisle.

     Parishioners who hear my sermons will know I have only once preached a sermon that went "political" and leaned ever so slightly, but noticeably, to one side.  That brought forth the tension in that congregation and showed me who was Democrat and who was Republican merely by the responses I received which were, thankfully, all surrounded with love and allowed me to dialogue with each of the people which was a good result.

   One of my frustrations, which my friend helped me to temper, is how many Episcopal clergy wear their allegiance to the Democratic party on their sleeve.  Mind you, this is not about the party.  My parents were staunch Democrats as I was growing up.  I cast my first vote for Jimmy Carter (who was beaten by Ronald Reagan in that election) and my daughter interned this past summer for Hillary Clinton. As you can see I do have some comfort with the political left. Having said that, I encountered President "W." Bush on a few occasions and he, while serving as our President, did an unasked for kindness to one of my children.  I am also a fan of W's dad, and have even corresponded with "H.W." and thought well of Mitt Romney back when he was running.

   My point is not that I flip between parties but that I try to find good in people though I may disagree with their politics.  And sometimes I find that a person from another political party might have the best characteristics for a job.  Long ago I gave up using my political party as a Team Sport, and I think my fault is in my desire that other people would do the same.

   Still, and respectfully, I think my Episcopal clergy friends fall short in this category.  If you are not a Democrat they then put you into as close to a category to "Hitler" as they can.  News flash - not everyone can be "Hitler," and my same friends who post on social media their frustration over their sinking parish attendance are the same ones who I read quoting MSNBC in the sermons more than the Gospels.

    Then there is Starbucks - and believe it or not I am getting close to both my conclusion and my point!  Starbucks who has made it very clear that they are trying to be "the other thing" in people's lives.  Now that "church" is not the place for everyone to gather socially, or do good volunteer work, etc. Starbucks actively competes to be that place for people.

    Recently the company took out a full page add showing negative words on one side of a page like "Exclusion," "Vitriol," "Cowardice," and more.  On the other side were words like "Leadership," "Respect," "Courage," and more.  The point of the add and a followup comment I saw quoted from the CEO of Starbucks elsewhere was the call for us to wake up and look at what this election season is pulling us towards, reminding us that we are better than this, and that we have a choice on how to engage the other in better, more civilized, ways.

    Yet while this post is shared occasionally on social media with "likes" and affirmative comments I watch my Episcopal clergy friends and their congregants continue playing to the "other" side of the page....for instance in the same post decrying Donald Trump's mean-spirited ugliness I read as a good Episcopal parishioner referring to Trump as a "big fat jerk!"

Hello pot...let me introduce you to the like colored kettle.

     So whether you like their coffee or not it is Starbucks, that competitor in being "that other place" for folks, who is stepping up and saying "let us not play into this and reduce all of our selves down to the lowest level."

   Yet should not this be coming from the original other place...our churches, and most importantly our clergy?   Yes we need to uphold people's rights including their sexuality and gender choices, we have to reach out and help the disenfranchised, but even Jesus who said that everything is about "love" reminds us to "love our neighbor," and when queried by a lawyer Jesus reminds us that our neighbor is actually that person who we do not like.

Hello...Democratic Episcopalian...meet your other, Donald Trump. Now, love him.

Hello...Republican Episcopalian...meet your other, Hillary Clinton,  Now, love her.

What a wonderful world it will be if we can serve as an example of our faith to others.

What a wonderful church we will be if we do the hard work of showing love towards those whose policies and actions we hate.

What a wonderful opportunity that clergy have to show their flocks how to live Christ's love.

How sad, in this case, that a coffee house company does better than the church.

So, friends, the Good News is that God never gives up on us, and the world provides us plenty of opportunities to live our faith.  So drink your cup of coffee, wake up, and be the church!

Love,

Your EpiscoPAL - Peter+

Just Writing to Write!

   I have not been writing more than I have to at the moment.  In my priestly vocation I am coming upon a tremendously busy time, and I still have two sermons to compose for next week.  Add into that a brief out of town trip with Marie, and the fact that I slept for 13 hours last night are all of my excuses for not writing.  Frankly I do not have much to say, but writing books which I have read remind me that a writer "writes," so to get to doing it. That brings me here.

    My mother's package arrived with many items in to help prime the pump for the book I am writing about her and my father, and maybe me and my vocation and I have yet to open it; knowing that I will have questions aplenty to begin writing down, so I am waiting until the quiet time post Easter.  In the meantime I will try to keep writing here and there to keep my fingers nimble.  Until I open the package and determine what is inside, and what questions I have, that will probably help form where my next steps go, especially the structure of the book.

    Recently I saw a post from the fine mystery author Lawrence Block on Facebook inviting people to apply to him for an audible.com copy of his book on writing in trade for reviewing it.  I am listening to it during this "down time" in my composing, and though this work of his is about fiction it still serves to inspire me as that is where I would like to go as well.  So, we shall see.

    If you are reading this, just know that you helped me, because I like to write for "you," whoever you may be.  Though I might not have much to say, this is a good way to practice keeping me at this craft that I love.

Opening Up the Past

I mentioned to my mother a few weeks ago that I was working on a book about growing up in the family that were so top of their show biz status when I came along that my birth was announced in Variety and The Hollywood Reporter back in the day.  Like a good mom she cheered me on, but said that she could not be of much help as for her the past is the past and memories fade.

And that is a-okay with me!

Then I received a surprise.

My mother dug into some old files and found notes that she thought that she had discarded.  Some from a published project of hers, and many others from a non published one.  She spent some time scribbling notes upon and around the already written recollections and sent them packaged on its way to me.

In our weekly phone call my mom and I had one of those chats that a mother and son do not normally engage in; one where we were both open with not only our hopes and fears about the project at hand, but at what I saw and witnessed as the "quiet one" in the family.  In fact, I provided  mom with the key about why I think, upon the end of Bewitched and the divorce of "Uncle" Bill Asher (director and producer of the show) and "Auntie" Liz Montgomery (the star), Liz stopped speaking to we Ackermans altogether, and no longer let their children associate with us (I did not see them again until we celebrated Bill Asher's 70th birthday sometime in the early 1990's, I recall).

I think I put the puzzle piece in place for her as it was always a mystery. Interestingly enough my sharing of that with her, along with what I witnessed happen on the set of that show between Liz and a man, which seemed strange at the time to a boy, who I later learned was her lover, opened the valve to some memories of my mom's that were long since buried.

Who knew that there was so much left for me to mine!

In a generosity which is characteristic of my mother she invited me to, as I write and as I peruse what she sent to me, to merely write down any questions that come up, and she will write to me all that she can recall.  What a gift.  This, like any modern day package came with a warning.  As she told me from her previous writing experience (In the Kitchen with Elinor Donahue   http://www.amazon.com/Kitchen-Elinor-Donahue-Favorite-Hollywood/dp/188895292X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1457375682&sr=8-1&keywords=in+the+kitchen+with+elinor+donahue ) "Once you open up Pandora's Box, you cannot close the lid."

Thankfully, I believe this opportunity has come to fruition at a good time in  my life, where I have experienced much growth and maturity. I think beyond what I witnessed, known and unknown to my mother, during my growing up in Hollywood, God  knows that I am ready to confront anything that comes forth.  I am grateful for that.

I will continue with this blog, of course, as it helps me to remain in touch with writing, but soon I will post less so that I can write the book, and not just write about writing the book.  As my friend Herbie J. Pilato told me on more than one occasion, "You have a story to tell.  Tell it!"

So, again, here goes nothing!

I lost a friend and family member this week.  Cooper began experiencing some health problems earlier this year, and though after we followed the Veterinarian's orders things not only got better, but Cooper thrived like never before. Alas, I believe that whatever it truly was that ailed him when into remission and then came back with a vengeance last Thursday.  By Monday morning after our walk at Fort Ward Park I was convinced that my wife and I had to take him to the Vet for a final "goodbye."

It was rough, and it has been since.  Yet Marie and I and our adult children are continually buoyed by the love available to us from others that truly lifts our souls and spirits.  The following is what I posted on my Facebook page at the conclusion of that difficult day...

"Thank you all for the outpouring of love today. Marie and I were fairly certain that this was Cooper's last weekend and that was more evident this morning. I am grateful that he and I had a final walk together in his favorite park (Fort Ward) where he on wobbly and unsteady legs, looked longingly at the sights and I saw him actually savor the smells that his hound's nose drew in. I am certain that he knew it was his last outing. So he and I ended like we began together. On a walk. My favorite moment today was one of his usual in park visits. He loved walking through the original fort's gate. I let him know that this is probably what the gateway in heaven looked like so if he headed for that he would be in good hands. An hour or so later, in the vet examining room, as he fought injected prep sleep Cooper heard from Marie and me in mere words that which he showed us in being for the 8 of his 11 years we had him; "I love you." Thus now the sun goes down on a sad day, yet one warmly fragrant in love. Thank you, all. Bye Coop. Til we meet again."

It Gets Real

     It gets real.  Ever since I stepped outside of the Scene of the Crime bookstore with my copy of a brand new novel entitled Fletch I wanted to write.  I wanted to make characters come alive.  I wanted to tell stories.  I wanted to see my name on a book jacket, and later I decided that it would be really cool to sign my books for people.  Yet, that was not to happen, and still might not, but I am going to try.
     I will not bore you with the whys of my not writing.  I have taken classes, I have "dabbled," but really life and and  my life's choices led me away from this craft that I always wanted to embrace.  Now in place of that were some pretty cool things.  I was able to act on the stage in college, and on film for some small projects, or bigger projects that gave me small roles.   I became a closeup magician and performed for many people and became a Magician Member of the Academy of Magical Arts in Hollywood; also known as The Magic Castle.
   As you can read, I have done some cool things.  Yet, accept for class work and one fictional piece published in a seminary student periodically, I never reached the status of Author.  I still do not see if or when I will write fiction, but something happened recently, that may get me writing and if it is God's will published.
     People who hear my sermons know that I frequently interject stories from my "Hollywood" upbringing as the son of Television Executive Producer, Harry Ackerman, and actress Elinor Donahue.  In addition whether that be commercials, music videos or my working as a support production staff member on shows like Friends after people hear about that part of my life and learn what I do now by serving a congregation as their Episcopal priest, they invariably ask me: "How did you go from Hollywood to the priesthood?"
     One friend and author who interviewed my dad for some of his books, and still interviews my mother for others said to me many times: "Peter you have a unique story to tell, you need to put this down on paper and get it out there!"  When I finally aqueist and decided to try this out as part New Year's Resolution and partial Lenten practice my friend, Herbie, came through.  Before I knew it I had a phone consultation with a Literary Agent who handles show business and political memoirs and who ironically has her offices in nearby to me Washington DC (she never had a show biz client this close!).
     We spoke and asked each other questions and she gave me a 55 minute tutorial of the Publishing business which I found fascinating.  After discussion with my wife, Marie, a couple of friends, and lots of prayer, I knew that God was inviting me to try this out.  It is not fiction writing, just presenting  my own story tied into that of my parent's lives with the hopes from my Agent that it have more of the latter than the former.  Suffice it to say this week I singed with the Agent, whose contract, after the stipulation of my name and identity, refers to me as "Author."   Will God guide me to become a published one?  We shall see.
    So, it gets real.  I have begun writing the book that I want to write, and as I complete it we will see what my agent says.  If something ever comes of it, you will  know about it, and if not, you will know about it.  With some effort if it all comes to naught then I am out nothing more than putting memories down in a collection, but it also offers an opportunity to do something more.
     This is why I let God into this.  I do not want glory.  I do not want to feel smug sitting at a table signing books for people.  Instead, I want this to be used to tell some really cool stories, but also show how God works in people's lives.  I begin this journey with prayer, and I accept any prayers and good wishes that you wish to bestow on me and this project.  Most of all, pray that God works through it; for me, for those whom I encounter, and for those who read what comes forth.  It gets real, and I am so grateful that God is here with me in this reality. 

Always Be Discerning

     First of all, if I get any parishioners from my current parish reading this, let me say up front - I am not leaving you any time soon!  I hope that is good news!  I just want everyone to read this in a relaxed manner and not get frightened that my time at my current church is completed; far from it.

    Having said that, a question I get a lot of the time goes something like this; "how do I know what God wants me to do?"  For me it is time to bring out the letter "D" for "Discernment."  Discerning in God and with God is something that I trust all priests have done at least once (for our initial call to the priesthood), but hopefully continue to practice in all aspects of our lives.

      In the great David Mamet film version of Glengary Glenn Ross, Alec Baldwin. playing the corporate sales person, looks at the sales crew in front of him and demands that they "Always be closing."  Always be closing a sale.  This is how I think of of discernment.  Always be discerning.

     Since I was ordained in 2007 I will tell anyone who asks, that I am always discerning.  Sometimes that discernment is to determine if I am where God wants me to be; at a particular parish at a particular time in its history, but it is also about discerning my role in some activity, or discerning how to approach a particular challenge, or more.  Discernment is not a bad word, certainly, and if you give into the fact that discerning invites one to listen to and see signs from God, it is certainly a holy practice.

     How does discernment look?  Here is a recent example.

     I need to stress right away how I feel that I am perfectly placed where God needs and wants me now.  I am a parish priest in a church where my gifts are needed, appreciated and I am very happy here, so there is no immediate thought of moving onto the next area of my call from God.  Yet God knows that Marie and I have a couple of wants we hope will be included in the next call to ministry; if and whenever it comes.  We would like to consider moving back closer to our parents who all live in the same state.  We would also love it if the job came with a house close to the parish.  Then there are the additional extras that are optional but add attraction; that the church is close to a beach or a body of water, healthy in the ways that parishes are measured, and more.  Well wouldn't you know it.  I became of aware of a place looking for a priest that had a lot of these qualities.  We are not ready to leave where we are yet, not even close! But how could we ignore this possibility?  What to do?  The answer:  Discern!

    Marie and I prayed.  We prayed together, and we prayed separately over the few days after we looked into this almost too good to be true place.  In addition to that, we spoke to people and got more information on the job, the area, the people, but it was all surrounded with prayer. "God, give us a sign!"

    I received a sign.  No, I received three signs on Sunday morning!  The first was a dream;  a very biblical way of how God speaks to some.  My dream had no imagery at all, just blackness, and out of it a voice said "You are where I need you now.  Do not go for that job."  After I awoke I carried this dream around with me while I prepared for services that morning, and I eventually sent up a second prayer; "God, did I hear you correctly in that dream?"  Well, not long after I received a note from a preaching colleague asking if I could print her sermon and bring it to church for her, and I agreed.  When the pages came out and I paper clipped them together I could not help but notice her opening line which read something like this:  "When I was young I kept a Dream Journal by my bed so I could write down my dreams."

      "Okay," I thought, "is this another response from God?"  In mere moments after asking for clarification about a dream I received, in my hands, a sermon where the opening line suggested that I remember that many people pay attention to dreams!  Okay, so I am a bit thick headed at times, so I just wanted to be really sure.  That is why, less than an hour later, I was at the church and preparing for the first service.  One of my habits is to go to the side chapel and pray quietly.  Sometimes I open the bible that sits there, and it was open to the last place I had left it from the last time 1 Corinthians.  As I knelt I prayed again "God, please, I need a sign, about that dream."

       As soon as the prayer was out of my lips I looked down at the bible and a different phrase than the one that I meditated on a few weeks before jumped out and grabbed me.  In my request for a sign the next thing I saw, right in front of me, was "This is the third time I am coming to you..." (1 Corinthians 13:1a).  Okay, Lord, got it!

    I am always discerning, which means I am always looking, I am always praying, and I am always listening. I am glad especially when discernment reminds me that I am where God wants me to be, because I like it here, and I like being in God's presence. 

     

I wish I could return to the Scene of the Crime!

    When I posted yesterday's blog on my Facebook page, I did so mentioning a bookstore that no longer exists, and commenting on what someone else wrote about The Scene of the Crime mystery bookstore wife agreed "It WAS the best bookstore, ever!"
      Scene of the Crime was new back in the mid 1970's, or at least to me and as time moved forward more of these brick and mortal specialty stores arose.  There on Ventura Blvd. in Sherman Oaks, California was this "ma and pa" bookstore, run by Ruth and Al Windfeldt.  Ruth always wore a Victorian ladies outfit and had a massive amount of hair perfectly coiffed and sitting upon her head, like some enormous Derby bonnet. The store had the look of a library you might find tucked away at Downton Abbey, and there was a "nook" in the rear left of the store where they kept all of the Agatha Christie and Sherlock Holmes related works, and was a place I was sure to go on my visits there.
   My mother took me in there for the first time because they realized that I was addicted to reading.  Due to poor grades I had my comic books and television watching privileges removed and for a 12 year old this was tough going, so to survive I began searching the house for something to read.  In my dad's study he had lots of paperbacks and it was there I discovered the James Bond novels by Ian Fleming, some of Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe mysteries, and more.  
   My mom seeing me begin to read through many of these at a quick pace, knew what to do.  It was that decision that brought her and me to the new mystery bookstore that had recently opened for business.  When the store owner, Ruth, asked me what I liked to read, this then shy 12 year old kid was able to explain that I liked "hard boiled detective stories, with fights, and wise cracks from the main character."  She had just the thing for me, and walked us over to a shelf and explained to me that an author named Gregory MacDonald had recently come out with a book that was doing quite well in sales and she explained how I should like it because it was about a wise cracking investigative reporter.  That is the book that my mom bought for me, and I read "Fletch" in a day, or two, and was back to the shop again that weekend to immerse myself into more of the reading worlds that The Scene of the Crime had to offer.  Oh the adventures I had, and read!
    Seriously, I could go on and on regaling you with some of the adventures I experienced there.  Where to begin?  I remember sneaking peaks at the voluptuous woman's naked rear end on the cover of the Mickey Spillane paperback "The Last Cop Out," I fondly recall going to book signings and meeting Nicholas Meyer the author of the Sherlock Holmes book "The Seven Percent Solution" (and others) BEFORE he became a director of films, including two of the Star Trek ones.  I met my favorite author Robert B. Parker there, as well as the legendary Elmore Leonard.  I even happened to be in the store one summer morning when actress Loni Anderson, was buying books for her then husband Burt Reynolds.
    Scene of the Crime was ahead of its time for bookstores; hosting mystery author related trips.  I traveled overnight to San Francisco with the Windfeldts and others for a Dashiell Hammett trip where I met author William F. Nolan and had him sign my "Logan's Run" books (I still have all three of his original paperbacks in the series, signed by him to me). My dad, who knew Raymond Chandler was asked to speak on the day-trip where fans from the store went by bus around Los Angeles to see sites from the author's books.  Dad's lecture was at Musso & Franks a restaurant that a few years later would have his Hollywood Walk of Fame Star placed nearby.  On the bus that was our transportation for that day trip, I can still  remember Ruth introducing some of us to each other, and pointing out one of our number who was "a member of the LAPD;" a young man who I believe now to have been author, Paul Bishop, who I met later quite a few times at signings after he became a published author.  I am grateful to be able to call him a friend, who I regularly correspond with. 
    As I wrote yesterday it was Paul, who introduced me, via social media, to his fellow author Robert F. Dorr, who I now speak with by phone, and with whom I hope to have a meal with later this month.  I am reflecting today on the wonderful connections offered by being a friend of just one bookstore.  Because a woman named Ruth took an actress' son figuratively by hand and took the time to steer him in the right direction, he became a book lover for life, and has amassed memories and friends along the way.
   Today is Sunday; a day where I often find time in my vocation as a priest to offer thanks.  The Scene of the Crime bookstore is no more, but I give thanks to that shop, and to all of those named here (including the late Mickey Spillane's wife who was apparently the model on the cover of that particular book), as they have been a huge part in enriching my life.   Thank you.  It is because you that I love to read; it is because you that I enjoy writing; it is because of you that I am this book lover still today!   

    One of the greatest compliments I ever received was when my daughter was in early junior high school; you know that period where teenagers still talk to you?  She was reading the late Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird" and she made the comment that I will forever hold dear.  "Dad," she said, "when I read about Atticus Finch you know who I picture?  You."  That prompted a nice discussion from a memory she had from when she was even younger where, due to a situation that occurred, I offered to  her my thoughts on racism.
       Now of course that comparison makes me stand taller, but the "me" aspect of this is not why I make this post.  I post this for a few reasons.  Firstly, I sincerely hope she has the same feelings about racism as I do.  Secondly, I think what touched me more in my daughter's comparison was something that Harper Lee left behind with her work: a connection shared via generations.

       When I was a sophomore at Notre Dame High School in Sherman Oaks, California, a teacher whose name I cannot remember, assigned us certain books that we had to read that year, including "Lord of the Flies,"  "Go Tell It On the Mountain," and "To Kill a Mockingbird."  The latter two I loved and though God called me in various ways to become a priest, I believe Atticus was another way that God said, "Here is who I want you to become."

        Like my schoolmate John, I was inspired by the fictional Finch.  Unlike John I did not become an attorney.  I remember speaking with one of the Roman Catholic Brothers about a potential career as a lawyer.  My dreams of wooden courtrooms with no air conditioning were dashed when the Brother brushed aside my imaginings and instead painted before me the boardrooms of the fine industries where Corporate Law could take me.  "And," he added, "THAT is where the money is!"  

       "Gee, thanks, Father."

        I always blamed that priest for me not becoming a lawyer.  Imagine what a little encouragement from the clergyman to the lawyer that I was imagining might have done.  

        Still, God, had a different call in store for me, and maybe used the good Brother.
       So, thanks to Harper Lee (who passed away yesterday on February 19) for creating characters that make us all aspire to the good that we can become.

        Maybe Peter the Priest is closer to Atticus Finch than Peter the Lawyer would have been.  In humility, I know that I cannot sincerely aspire to the fine capabilities written into the character.  However, I am able to give thanks again for Harper Lee for bestowing upon us dreams, possibilities, characters and the chance to feel the connection when a girl, not much unlike Lee's fictional self Scout herself, looks up to her dad and gives him praise. 

        Many gifts from one novel.

        Thank you, Ms. Lee.

My Book Journey Begins

"You should write a book!"  I cannot tell you how many times that I have heard people say this.  From some it began when I worked in show business, and perhaps via my Irish ancestry (my mother is a Donahue, and my father's maternal side are Flannery's) I tell stories in an entertaining way.  As I regaled some of my adventures as a kid on the film sets of his Executive Producer dad, or Actress mother, they would say "you should write a book!" to which I replied "who would want to hear about that?"
     Yet the adventures continued.  I followed in my mother's footsteps first, joining the throng of very unsuccessful yet talented actors who worked as food servers.  I did do a few acting gigs, but they usually had me running through a set, pushing a gurney, while reciting the important dialogue "yes, doctor," which usually got lost in the noise of the scene anyway.
    A turn of events led me to become involved in the production end of the business...never the creative side, always a guy working for the guy, or gal, or folks who were the high paid ones.  Still whether it was TV commercials, music videos, or shows like "Friends" I had enough adventures that I would share and then it came back..."you should write a book."  "Who would read that?" I thought.
    Yet, my lifelong affiliation with the Episcopal Church eventually led me to leaving television to follow the tug of what we religious types refer to as a "call."  First I became a paid staff "Youth Leader" for my parish, and soon after I also too on the mantle of becoming the Parish Administrator and no one asked me to write a book, but many began to say - "have you ever thought of the priesthood?"  Discernment, work with the Diocese of Los Angeles, finishing my undergrad all came together and I found myself going into seminary in 2004 in VA of all places.
    Adventures continued, even though I was not in show biz land any more.  I met a US President who did an almost private, very kind thing for one of my kids and the stories connected to my life continued to build and I began to share them in new ways.  I found that these stories, my stories and experiences, could be used as sermon illustrations.  Thus they became a part of my preaching.
    Whether telling about the time how I almost drove a truck into a water attraction in the dark on the back-lot of Universal Studios, Hollywood, or standing in for the lead singer of a very famous rock band while the rest of the group did their thing around me, I was able to transform these stories into talking about "needing a sign," or "God's grace in surprises," and more and more people said to me "You should write a book."
   Suddenly that and "how did you go from show business into the priesthood?" became questions I received regularly from parishioners and show biz friends alike.  Finally, after much prayer, and having the life long desire to write, I am beginning to acquiesce to this call, from God through others.  A friend from the show biz side, who has written many books, who I first met after he interviewed my father (who died in 1991) for one of these, and recently my mother for another, figuratively sat me down (we are on separate coasts) and said "Peter, you have books in you, and you have to get these stories out there!"   So, with that prompting, and some research, I have an upcoming directive chat with a literary agent soon, and I have begun to take pen to paper.  Perhaps over time, I will use this blog as a place to preview some of the stories, or throw out some questions.   Until then, I hope this serves to invite you to follow me, to cheer me on, and if it is part of your repertoire to say a prayer as I add this desire to an already full life!