Purifying Snow

It never snows in central North Carolina. In the rare event when it does, it never snows more than 2 inches.

I grew up here.

I’ve spent nearly thirty years here.

Believe me when I say, it never snows here.

That said, last weekend we got 8 inches.

And it was last weekend I was slated to have my big release party for my new book.

I’d put two months into planning the event. Spent money I didn’t have.

I was expecting upwards of 400 people. Was hoping for at least 400 book sales.

But the blizzard had other ideas.

And while a nice crowd of around 75 people braved the conditions to come out and support me— and while I am profoundly grateful for their support— it was not the epic release party I’d been hoping for.

Truth be told, I was bummed about it. Real bummed.

But then, Monday morning, I remembered there was a much bigger event happening in central North Carolina, one that makes my little book seem puny in comparison:

Monday was the grand opening of the International Civil Rights Museum in Greensboro, NC.

You see, Greensboro is the home of the Woolworth’s store where the now famous Greensboro Four staged their revolutionary sit in. These four heroic young men— men who believed in honesty and integrity and equality, men who decided they would no longer accept the racist staus quo— walked into Woolworth’s and sat down at a segregated lunch counter… in a restaurant where only whites were allowed to sit.

Though they were not served that day, these four NC A&T students were allowed to remain sitting. And then the next day, 27 more students showed up to do the same. Within 4 days, 300 black students were participating in this peaceful protest.

This now famous moment helped catalyze the Civil Rights Movement, and this week, despite the epic blizzard that hit central NC, the International Civil Rights Museum opened its doors.

My heart often swells with pride at how far our nation has come, but then I grow sad at the thought that I am a member of a race that spent so many years holding its brothers and sisters back.

There is no excuse for the way we whites have treated blacks throughout the history of the United States. And to say that racism doesn’t still exist is both short sighted and wishful thinking.

But we have come a long way. There’s no denying that.

When the Greensboro News & Record ran a piece two weekends ago on the Greensboro Four and their heroic protest, I was reminded at how, though our history is certainly spotted, there is an undeniable capacity for love and empathy and understanding in our human spirits.

You see, the article ended by quoting Franklin McCain, one of the famous four, speaking of an elderly white woman who happened to be in Woolworth’s on that fateful first day of the sit-ins.

“I don’t know of anyone who made a bigger impression on me… perhaps in my lifetime,” McCain says of the woman, “She told me she was proud of me— and then asked what took so long.”

McCain then went on to finish: “That little old lady taught me a lesson for life— don’t you ever feel prejudice toward somebody because of race, station in life, or where they come from… I can see that little old lady right now. She won’t go away.”

Might that serve as a lesson for all of us.

The Bible say that God’s love makes our sins as white as snow.

Perhaps this is why He sent that epic blizzard to central North Carolina this weekend: His love was purifying the monument that now stands in tribute of a courageous people who rallied to overcome the most sinful stain in our nation’s history.

I, for one, welcome this purification.

Even if it did cost me some book sales.

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Not Only Cute Babies Love High Points and Lows!!

Upon seeing the post below of the cute babies holding copies of High Points and Lows, my literary agent, Mary Beth, asked, “Can it get more shameless than this?”

Yes it can, Mary Beth… yes it can.

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The Results are in!!!

Babies are crazy for High Points and Lows!!

(oh, come on, who can resist this? Doesn’t it make you wanna run out to the local bookstore and join the craze??)

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We’re Out There

We want you to know we’re out there:

Christians who love Jesus but don’t use him as a crutch. Christians who prefer peace and social justice over political capital. Christians who don’t measure self-worth by whether we’re able to convince you to see things our way.

We’re out there.

And here’s what we want you to know:

We’re distraught by our current representation in the media. Heidi Montag. Ted Haggard. That silly little girl who was Miss California. I could go on for days.

You see, these people not only trivialize our faith, but they simplify it, too.

Because for us— for those of us out there feeling voiceless and unrepresented— Jesus is more than words. Jesus is more than a set of bullet points on Sunday. Jesus is more than a systematic theology. Jesus is more than a name we drop so others might think us pious and good.

For us, Jesus is a way: a way to practice love and peace and respect for others.

We want you to know that, just like you, we are three-dimensional. We can’t be lumped into one stereotypical category.

We didn’t all vote McCain simply because he was Republican. And those of us who did vote McCain can give an intelligent, reasoned argument why— one that doesn’t include, “Because I’m a Christian.”

Meanwhile, those of us who voted Obama can give an equally persuasive argument why— one that, among other things, is based on our Christian faith.

Whether we are for or against the Iraq war, or for or against sending troops into Afghanistan, none of us believe our mission to be a mandate from Jesus. For us, Jesus is never an excuse to drop bombs.

Nor is he ever an excuse to subjugate.

To profile.

To discriminate.

We believe whole-heartedly in the literal death and resurrection of Jesus, yet we don’t rush to anger if you think us simple-minded for it.

We believe in personal responsibility but also believe a person’s situation greatly affects his opportunities. And we want to help those who come from less fortunate situations overcome their circumstances.

We screw things up more than we get them right.

We give, we pray, we help, we hurt, we doubt, we want, we try, we fail. We try again.

In other words, we’re just like you.

And we want you to know we’re out there. We’re out there and we want to work with you. Laugh with you. Grow with you. Try with you.

We want to, together with you, better the collective whole.

So won’t you step forward with us?

With love and respect,
Austin

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Books Choose Us

There is something magical about books.

Some people remember their formative years through school and teachers. Others, through friends and experiences (first kiss, first cigarette, first beer, first Widepread Panic show, etc.).

I, however, trace my own lifeline through books.

As I’ve said before, my love for reading began at age seven with C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. When curious little Lucy wandered into that wardrobe, only to be transported into a new world— a world of magic and beauty and meaning— so did I. And to this very day, with each new book I open, I am again hoping to stumble into a world as affecting as was that first trip to Narnia.

Soon after devouring all of the Chronicles of Narnia, it was off to the bookstore for books like The Trumpet of the Swan and Where the Red Fern Grows.

A couple years later, I was motoring through the entire Nancy Drew series (embarrassing: yes. Referenced in my book: yes).

At this point, I was shifting into middle school, where, suddenly, it became very cool to own and (at least pretend to) read Michael Crichton books. This was pre-Jurassic Park, so the titles we were fawning over included The Andromeda Strain and Congo and Sphere and Rising Sun (I also owned both The Terminal Man and The Great Train Robbery, simply to prove my superior love for books).

It wasn’t long before 9th grade and To Kill A Mockingbird, when I vowed to be like Atticus Finch when I grew up.

And it wasn’t long after that when one’s reading of his own volition became “uncool,” and I, certainly as insecure as the next guy, craved acceptance more than learning, and I abandoned my love of books in order to fit in.

Years then passed without my shadow darkening the doorway of a bookstore. And, ridiculous as it sounds— and though I’m sure I didnt realize it at the time— I think my soul missed it.

It’s as if my spirit knew, from a very young age, that when entering a house of books, it was entering a world that transcends time and prejudice and mortality. All of those books, all of those words— some written by men as far back as thousands of years— still as alive today as when they were first written.

To me, that’s the beauty of bookstores and libraries: with each new trip, there is the chance of stumbling into a world that can change the way you think, can let you know you’re not alone, can inspire you to take on the world.

It’s what happened when I first picked up Dave Eggers’ A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. It’s what happened when I stumbled upon Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead. Klosterman’s Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. Kidd’s Secret Life of Bees. Lamott’s Traveling Mercies. Miller’s Blue Like Jazz.

And just this weekend, as I stumbled upon a book I’d never heard of, Collum McCann’s Let The Great World Spin, I felt it in my gut: another book had chosen me.

See, that’s my contention: we don’t choose books. They choose us.

So, with my book being released tomorrow, and consequently, available in bookstores everywhere, it is such a humbling, exciting, gratifying thought to consider that maybe, just maybe, somewhere out there, in this big world, some person who’s never met me, never heard of me, might stumble upon my book. And he/she might flip it open, read a few words, begin to put it back down… and then it may happen:

The book might choose them.

It is a magical thing, the way books choose us.

And, for someone who’s life has been measured by books, it is dizzying to consider that someday, my book might be a small part of the timeline that helps measure someone else’s.

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1/26-1/31

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First Week of Release (1/26-1/31)

After two years of working on this project, High Points and Lows: Life, Faith, and Figuring It All Out, will be released into the world on January 26th. My updated tour calendar is located under the “appearances” link on my site (you can just click the tab at the top of this page). I really would love to see you at a local event!

Meanwhile, I am hoping to arrange a “book bomb” between January 26 and January 31. That meaning, I would really love it for everyone to join me in a concerted effort to buy a copy (or two!:) of my book between those days. This is a great way for the book to spring out of the gates, and alot of authors have been successful using this strategy. It really would mean a great deal to me if you and your friends would join me in this collective effort!

12 more days, kids. I can’t wait to hear from you all with your thoughts on the book!

Austin

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Why Russell is a Millionaire?

On this season of Survivor, there was much talk of how Russell Hantz was independently wealthy. Everyone suggested he made gobs of money as owner of an oil company (or something like that).

But my question is this: wouldn’t his gig with Jennifer Nettles in Sugarland have been where he derived the greater portion of his income?

Perhaps the most savvy strategic move he played all season was his hiding the fact that he was a country music star.

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From American Pie to America’s Team

Even though my Duke Blue Devils put a whooping on “America’s Team” the Gonzaga Bulldogs this weekend, one has to be so very impressed by how far head coach Mark Few has come since his days as “The Shermanator.”

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MASH

Everyone remember this game?

I once had a MASH fortune predict I would live in a mansion in Malibu, work as an actor, and drive a Ferarri.

Let’s check the facts:

I live in a one bedroom apartment.
In High Point, NC.
Working as a very poor writer.
Driving a beat up ‘84 Dodge Ram and an even more beat up ‘92 Honda Accord.

Thanks alot, MASH. Talk about gettin a kid’s hopes up…

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