Illustrious? Me? Really? Who Is This?

My friends keep asking me why I haven't made the announcement that I've been elected to receive the 33rd and Last Degree of the Ancient Accepted Scottish Rite (NJ) .  Actually, I did amongst a smaller group on Facebook, and I made the announcement during our regularly stated lodge meeting last week.  The truth is, I'm just getting to the point now that I actually believe it myself.  I didn't want too many people to know, so that when the Valley of Danville discovered they'd made a horrible mistake and called the wrong guy, it wouldn't be so embarrassing for me.

It was two weeks ago today that I got the call from Philadelphia from our Valley Active, The Illustrious Brother James L. Tungate, 33°, informing me I'd been elected to receive the 33° in Chicago in 2011.  When I got off the phone, and told Valerie, she sat there for a long time with the same blank look on her face I had on mine.  When she finally spoke, all she had to say was, "you better straighten up, Mister." 

It still hasn't completely sunk in yet.  Maybe that's why they give you a year to think about it--maybe it takes that long to get used to the idea.  I've received a flurry of phone calls, text messages, emails, and cards, and each one makes it a little more real to me.  In fact, I haven't looked this forward to going to the mailbox every day, since my "beer of the month club" ran out.

But seriously, I never thought I'd be, nor did I ever expect to be a candidate for consideration.  I've written about many of our famous Illustrious Brothers over the last five years, and I've made friends with many more.  I know the caliber of men that are selected to receive this rare honor.  It is certainly one of the greatest honors I've ever received. 

I'll bet I've said this a hundred times over the last five years--but most of us feel we can never put back into Freemasonry what we take out of it.  I've come a long way, but I'm just getting warmed up.  I've got a long way to go yet, and as always, no matter what I decide to do after I complete the Famous American Freemasons series, I expect they'll be a lot of good Masons that will help me get there.  I'm truly blessed by the friends I've made in life.  Thank you so much.

And I will try and straighten up . . .

Leadership Lesson: Don't Let Your Mouth Write a Check Your Butt Can't Cash

As Master of our lodge, I really wanted to add a few new members to our lodge this year.  I don't know why, and I hadn't planned it, but during my second meeting as Master, I looked down at my calendar and noted a blood drive coming up.  We hold them several times a year.  There are few things that creep me out more than needles, and the idea of giving blood.  I've had some bad experiences.  In fact, there are few events I don't show up to help at our lodge, but I've avoided the blood-drive Saturday's like the plague.  I did go to one.  I lasted ten minutes, hiding out in the kitchen, then ran out the door like a little girl before any of the vampires  could grab me, as everyone laughed.  It's shameful.  My mother (and editor) has even become a regular donor at my lodge's blood drives.   

So for whatever reason, I saw that blood drive on the calendar and got this brilliant idea that seemed golden in that moment, and said during open lodge, that I'd give a pint of blood for every new petition during my tenure as Master.  I was thinking it wouldn't happen.  Actually, I wasn't thinking at all, or I'd have never given my brothers an opportunity to "needle" me back after "needling" them for the last five years.  What comes around goes around eventually.  The very next meeting, to my shock and surprise (and terror), we had a petition.  It was actually suggested that my Brothers would be easy on me.  I wouldn't be required to give blood as we went along, but as the flood of petitions come in, our Secretary would keep track, and then at the end of the year, I'd just go in and give a gallon or two all at once and get it over with.  That's very funny, but it doesn't work that way.  They must think I'm dumber than I look.  I'm starting to get the feeling they don't like me that much.

We voted on the petition Wednesday, nice young man, and nephew our Senior Warden.  He passed, and the very next night, Thursday night, he received his first degree.  Here we go again.  We're going to start rolling again.  I can feel it coming.  I'm just happy I'll be able to attend Our Grand Lodge Convocation one last time in October . . . and I'm been invited to go visit a couple lodges next week I haven't been to before.  I'm preparing myself for the November blood drive, when I become the first blood drive fatality.

Of course, I'm only kidding.  The directive of Freemasonry is to make good men better.  And there is actually one thing I've always been more afraid of than needles.  It was public speaking.  I'm not good at it, and the mere idea of doing it makes me a nervous wreck, but since I've published my books, I've been asked to do it often.  I write a lot better than I speak.  I do get a little better at it each time, and a little less nervous about it.  In another ten years or so, I might even get as good as the speaker we invited to lodge Wednesday night.  A brother, and professor of history, and chairman of Our Grand Lodge's Leadership Committee. 

When I got started in Freemasonry, I didn't like the idea of having to stand up and do ritual.  Recite word for word ritual that hasn't changed much in 300 years.  It's a beautiful tradition to watch, but I couldn't see myself doing it.  Never thought I'd go through the chairs.  Instead, I decided right in the beginning to sit along the sidelines, and work behind the scenes and write.  I can do that!  There was no way I was going to take a chair.  That didn't work out that well.  Our lodge put me right in a damned chair the meeting after I was raised.  And of course, I had no idea at all that my book that I was thinking about then, and later wrote, would get popular, and I'd be asked to do the very thing I was trying to avoid by writing.  I never planned on writing two, let alone a third I'm working on now.  People wanted me to talk about the books!  That never really crossed my mind.  I figured I'd sell fifty copies to my mom (Christmas gifts for family and friends), and donate five or six to the local libaries, and that would be about it.  Scratch one off the bucket list--published a book.  Done!

So if I can go from the Chaplain of our lodge five years ago, that couldn't manage to spit the two prayers out during opening and closing, to a guy that can open and close the lodge as Master, can speak to some very big rooms, throwing up only occasionally before and sometimes after, giving a pint a blood should be a piece of cake.  Bring it on.  I'm going to do it.  I hope we do as well at my lodge as our neighboring lodge did last year.  Actually, I'd like to do one more.  Let's do eleven this year--what is that, a half gallon? 

Oh, wait . . . how many pints are in a quart? 

Back To Work

Now that I'm back to working on the last book in the Famous American Freemasons series, I'd forgotten how much work goes into the research.  Basically, one of my chapters (which aren't very long) takes at least a week to research, and a couple evenings to write.  But it's fascinating.  Try it.

Spend a week learning about a person you admire--read a biography or two about them, look up their famous quotes, read their personal letters and published works.  Get to know them.  Better yet, do the same thing with somebody you don't like--maybe you'll find out something you didn't know. 

There was a Mason in my first book I didn't really want to write about, but I didn't see how I could get around it--if I'd left him out it would have been obvious.  After a week of researching the man, my whole opinion of him changed.   I realized I'd formed an opinion of the man early on, based on just one decision he made, without understanding who he was, or why he made the decision he had.  You can't imagine how stunned I was when I had to admit to myself, that put in the same situation, I'd have probably done the same thing.  The experience has changed the way I look at a lot of things.

Anyway, I'm finally getting my groove back, and I'm having a good time with it.  I've got a great line-up of famous Americans in this one.  I think you'll enjoy it.  I went to the library yesterday at lunch to pick up a few books I'll need over the three day weekend, and the libarian looked at me and said "we thought you were dead."  Then she charged me a 90 cent late fee that had been on my account for over a year.  Nice.  Do you think I can take that off my taxes as a business expense?

Perfect Moments . . .

You ever get that rare feeling that the stars and planets have aligned and you're flowing in perfect unison with the universe around you?  It comes along rarely, and it's usually right before all hell breaks loose, but that's been the way my week has gone.  My cup runneth over this week.  I've been riding a wave.  But this morning was the best!

This morning, on my way to work, this woman in her big honking SUV gets right on my butt.  It's a two lane highway, and she can't pass me.  She's so close to my bumper all I can see is her grill.  I'm not exactly putting along--I was doing 65 mph on a 55 mph road.  So I slow down five miles per hour.  She backs off, and I can see she's cussing and swearing, and making rude gestures.  Then she swoops right up on my ass again.  I slow down another five miles an hour to the speed limit (see that's my advantage, I always leave early so I don't have to drive like a lunatic to get to work on time.  I could stop and fish for an hour on my way to work, and still be there on time.)  That makes her really mad, and she lays on the horn.  Although I don't usually, about that time I came up to one of the little towns along that route, and I thought it was a good idea to slow down to the posted speed limit of 45 mph, the entire time, she's holding her horn down inches off my bumper.  She can finally pass me, and she roars around me, flipping me off as she went.  Real nice lady. 

That'd already made my day.  Five miles down the road, it was my turn to pass her.  She was pulled over.  The cop was standing at her window writing her a ticket.  I honked and waved at her--the look on her face was priceless.