My dear friend Rich Bledsoe is an authentic figure. I love him for his eccentricities. So I thought before I introduced him last night, I’d do it a bit differently:
There once was a man named Bledsoe
He hails from Colorado,
He is here with his liberal bravado.
His outlines are weird,
His lectures unclear,
But when he speaks we’re all ears.
He talks about sex,
He unravels the text,
Of sociologists unknown,
In them, the fear of God is shown.
Once again he is here,
We don’t know if it was for the beer,
Or the city he loves so dear.
He goes to AA,
The city officials say,
“The priest is here to pray.”
And in the end of the day,
When we’re all ready to lay,
He stays up a good part of the day,
He writes about politics,
He loves the metropolis,
It is in the city that he plays.
So tonight everyone,
As our speaker wonders what to say,
Let us all learn to convey,
Our appreciation to those who labor,
In the goal to savor,
The Gospel afresh in the midst of the dead.
Have perhaps thought about gardening?
Gardening?