The Jesus Show

St. Petersburg, FL – Back here on the Sun Coast perhaps for the last time in the foreseeable future. The one thing that occasionally dragged us down here is about to disappear. Can't say I will miss the place. Not that I hate it here, it's more the contempt bred by familiarity. I know almost all there is to know about Tampa's older sister. I bristle when folks talk about the AL Champs Rays playing in "Tampa." Wrong! They play in St. Pete in an area collectively known as Tampa Bay. Even that's a misnomer. Tampa Bay is a body of water; two if you count "Old Tampa Bay". It's kind of like calling the Cavs the Northeast Ohio Cavaliers when they played at the Coliseum.

So Omi (mom-in-law) is firmly planted in her living room recliner and loving her little family in Hudson; that would be Monika and me. Now a call comes in on Thursday from the realty lady and the deal is pretty much done. I'm here to pack up what remains of the memories and say one last goodbye to the ghost of my little centenarian – Omi's late husband who left her with few worries.

Because I am in the business I'm in I do like visiting this radio market. Tampa Bay radio stations (here the designation is actually accurate) are very interesting and have some parallel to what happens back home. But I really wasn't ready for the late morning talk show hosted by a guy named Jesus. No, this is not a Hispanic show headed by the common Latin name, with a clearly non-biblical pronunciation. This is the so-called "heavenly host" Jesus Christ. That's what he calls himself, that's the role he plays, the way he answers the phone and the way those on the other end address him. Those fans of the show speak with reverence and ask him questions assuming powers one ascribes to the real Jesus.

There was a real Jesus, for many there is and always will be. My views here are not the issue, so I will leave it at that. But I don't quite know how to take The Jesus Show. I get that it's some form of performance art, akin to seeing Hal Holbrooke playing Mark Twain, or any number of people playing Abe Lincoln, or James Whitmore quipping as Will Rodgers. Yet until now it just wasn't done. There are movies, TV shows, all kinds of representations of the man who walked the earth, and died on the cross over 2000 years ago. But to hear one of the most irreverent of professions representing the most revered figure in history was, well, more than a little creepy.

The Jesus Show is a Premiere Radio syndicated Sunday morning talk show produced by Neil Saavedra, who is acting the role. In fairness he uses common sense and human values as his show prep. As near as I could tell from a short listen this morning he has a good biblical knowledge and infuses it into the show. Some might find this highly offensive, but one thing I heard Mr. Saavedra say that seems to ring true is this: if Jesus were back, and in the flesh, in order to go where the people need him most what better place for him to work his miracles than talk radio? Back then he walked among the least of us, maybe a radio talk show is just a 21^st century version of doing exactly that.

Just When You Think You Don’t Matter

The call happens now and then: “it’s so hard to be an adult.” This coming from someone I will always see as twelve years old. But she’s not. She’s 27 and has lived on her own since her second year in college – with some help, of course.

Now another series of disappointments and more job related consternation. In some respects I love these conversations. It is good to know that such important decisions are still brought home. Aside from being the youngest in the family, she is also the smartest, and a career in the medical field seemed the right choice. But she has to really want to do it and the call last night indicated that was no longer the case. So it goes.

I just want her to do something that she enjoys, and if at all possible something that matters. Usually sometime in these conversations I realize, even if I don’t say it out loud, that the career I have chosen really doesn’t matter much. Strip away all the hype and my second career - a writer - is only to entertain. My time is spent creating a diversion that may or may not be used by listeners or readers to take their minds off the troubles of their day.

Today I got another call. It was from a very nice lady named Jackie. She had just heard the song “Vincent,” by Don McLean on 1590 WAKR. Jackie was in tears and just called to thank me for playing the song. There is a line in the song, “…the world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.” Jackie’s son committed suicide late last year and she is still in deep pain. For that instant, she said, the radio and that song brought her closer to her son.

It was a difficult call to take. By the time we were about to hang up we were both in tears. Suicide is not a foreign concept in the Collins family. It only happened once, and that was many years ago. It was my brother who was too complicated, too conflicted and yes too beautiful for this world.

Jackie’s call reinforced something we often forget: there are people who listen and there are people who hear. For the listeners we are quite trivial, but every now and then there are those who hear something that makes a difference, possibly a real difference in their lives.