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In yesterday’s rather wordy Lunar Report, I think I may have left an impression that I am going through a mid-life crisis of sorts. I am not. I’ve already done that. About 10 or 12 years ago. I am not going to run off and join the circus.

The creation of Moon Productions has given me the opportunity to start fresh. I can mold this into whatever I want it to be. Yesterday I was talking more about my approach to things as it relates to work. Do I keep playing by the book or do I become a bit more daring? Should I keep saying, “What the heck?” when I really want to say, “What the hell?” That kind of thing. This is all I was going for.

Tomorrow, I will be posting another Moon Productions commercial here. I haven’t decided whether I will post one that falls into the “What the heck” category or one that fits the “What the hell?” mold. If I decide on the latter, you will know what I mean when you see it.

For those who commented on yesterday’s Report, thanks for your concern and support. I do appreciate it

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To those of you who regularly read of the sterling accomplishments of Moon Productions here in the Lunar Report, you must have gathered by now that I am reinventing myself. I do this on a regular basis. Every seven years or so. It’s no big deal to me so don’t fret about me. This is just my life.

I must tell you, however, that this reinvention is different. Usually when this happens, I have another place to go or another place to be, but usually not a place of my choosing. That place just appears somehow. This time is different because I feel a real sense of freedom. I am choosing that place. Right or wrong, I am choosing this one.

So here is the dilemma. Do I choose to go by the book and become as professional as I possibly can, intentionally saying all the right things at all the right times and doing the same? Or do I throw caution to the wind, follow my heart and insanity, see where it takes me and enjoy the ride?

Coming out of college, I remember trying my best to land a job at a television station in the Raleigh-Durham area of North Carolina. It didn’t happen right away. It took over 3 years of application after application and many phone calls to finally land a job at the ABC affiliate in Durham. In the meantime, however, I had done some work I was proud of, and I compiled a demo reel. But my demo reel was different. The reel begins with a shot of me walking slowly towards the camera in a dark television studio. I am wearing my favorite and wrinkled Carolina sweat shirt, looking mostly at the floor as I walk and keeping my left hand in the left pocket of my tattered Levi’s. I look quite dejected. On the demo, as I walk, a song about “remembering” is playing. I forget the title. On the left hand side of the screen is rolling text that reads, “I am easily forgotten. When I was born, my parents forgot to take me home from the hospital.” The text continues with more absurd declarations of how “forgettable” I have always been. In between my work samples are titles of the samples and musical cuts – each cut from a song with “Moon” in the lyrics. At the very end, while text of my name, address and other information is seen, the Nielson song, “Don’t Forget Me” plays. I thought it was brilliant. A bit bizarre maybe, but brilliant nonetheless.

So I took the tape with me when I finally got an interview with the Production Manager at WRAL-TV in Raleigh. You do understand, from my description above, the importance of viewing the entire tape. If the viewer (potential employer) doesn’t see the ending and doesn’t hear “Don’t Forget Me,” I’m toast, right? So this guy at RAL punches “eject” half way through the tape. Not a good start, but that was okay by me because I really didn’t want to live in Raleigh.

I’m a lucky guy. I really am. In 1978, while doing time in Chattanooga – at a television station, not a prison! – I met two really good friends. Both of those friends were eventually hired by WTVD, the ABC affiliate in Durham. They were instrumental in lining up an interview for me with the News Director there for a news photographer job. Those guys were my way back home! I was a shoo-in! So, I took my demo tape to the TVD News Director, a crusty old wonderful white-haired man who was at one time an Assignment Editor for NBC News in New York. This man was the best. A really nice guy who cussed like a sailor, but knew his stuff. He was like Lou Grant with an attitude. So I interviewed with him and went out on a sort of audition shoot that I passed. All the time, my two buddies were cheering me on and talking me up with management. How could I lose? The News Director took my tape “upstairs” to the management offices to discuss my hiring. Two hours later, he came back to the newsroom, running his fingers in a nervous way through his long white hair, looking at the floor and shaking his head as he talked. “I just spent two f—ing hours trying to convince those sons-of-bitches that we actually NEED another f—ing flake working here!” Strike two.

But since that time, I conformed. I have mostly colored between the lines. Naturally, I have ventured outside the lines from time to time, and it’s paid off maybe 50% of the time. Still, I learned to recognize that to many, this is serious business. I understand this. One time, years ago, I was hired to shoot a silly role-playing skit as part of a larger presentation for a major pharmaceutical firm in the Triangle area of NC. I was instructed to wear a necktie and dress pants to the shoot. So here I was, dressed like I was attending the opera, lugging heavy equipment, sweating like a pig, getting grease and grime all over my dress pants and shirt, just to “appear” presentable to these guys. They were all wearing ties and sweating as well. This was a fun little skit we were shooting. Yet everyone involved, including me, was as uptight as a tick at dipping time.

So now I’m thinking, “I don’t want to be a tick.” If I don’t reinvent myself into what I was meant to be this time, it may never happen. Why not throw caution to the wind and see what happens, right? What the heck do I really have to lose? My only child is off on his own with his wonderful family, so I am the only one depending on me for survival. And if refusing to wear a necktie to do manual labor makes me destitute, why I can always move in with my son and his family. Another reinvention, to be sure. But I can do the crotchety old father-in-law thing! I can do that very well.

Opinions here are encouraged!

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www.moon-inc.comThis has very little to do with Moon Productions this time. Granted, without Moon Productions, I wouldn’t have the subject matter. This has more to do with a remarkable young man, one of quite a few of my son’s “brothers and sisters” who helped comprise the large family I had always wanted. Matt, my son, is a friend to everyone. I am so proud of that guy. Our “family” has J-Girl, David, Drew, T-Bone, G-Man, Harrison, Sharod, James, Zach, Sammie and – Brian Waters. Y’all met Brian here already.

Brian and I finished editing the promotional piece for his company, X-Treme Basketball Training Academy a couple of weekends ago. After spending a few hours videotaping one of his sessions and many hours watching other sessions that he videotaped himself, I learned something very important.

I played basketball on my school teams in junior and senior high school. I played in a church league. As a young teen, I attended basketball camps at
North Carolina and Elon College. I even tried out at Carolina my freshman year – it was my dream. Every coach I had, on teams and at camps, pushed me every bit as hard as Brian pushes his guys. My Dad and brother pushed me, too. You know what? When pushed by those coaches and family, I tried to do better. I really did. I tried to do my best so that I wouldn’t have to run laps, do push-ups or listen to ridicule from my two main male figures.

Brian does push his guys. He makes them run laps. He makes them do push-ups. He never ridicules, but he does point out mistakes. He also makes his guys WANT to be better. When his guys run laps, they know those laps will make them faster. When they do push-ups, they know they will become stronger. When he corrects them, they listen because they want to improve. Brian makes his kids want it. And this is what I have learned. When I played, I took it all so personally. I had a huge chip on my shoulder. I took all of the pushing as some sort of punishment and disapproval. I never wanted it enough, and there was no Brian around to make me want it.

I’m beginning to sound like a bitter old Hall of Famer! I am not bitter. I am amazed at how a young man of 24 years can understand so much more than my Dad and brother and all those coaches I had. At any rate, please check out the work he and I did. I think I could have done better, but it’s not bad. Also, keep Brian and X-treme BTA in mind if you know someone who needs, or wants the best basketball training.

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You guys will probably tire very soon of my rather sappy postings. The truth is, however, I really do give my heart and soul to those who care enough about me and the work that I do to actually ask me to work with them. Tomorrow, I will be with some folks in Virginia. I have known, cared about, loved and worked with these guys since 1992.

As I recall, my first job with Schewel Furniture was in the late spring or early summer of 1992. In fact, I was with my crew in Lynchburg at that time to shoot a series of commercials. While in Lynchburg, I received a call from my Dad who was in the hospital and who thought, at the time, he wouldn’t make it home. It was a very special phone call.

He survived that hospital stay. In November of that same year, he did not survive. My family and I received many plants and arrangements from friends after his death. But the very first plant to arrive at my home came from some folks I had only known a few short months – the people at Schewels. Amazing. That blew me away.

Since that time, I have certainly had my ups and downs, but the Sales Management Team has stuck with me. So has the Schewel family. So have the wonderful vendors who always have kind words to say to us even when we stick cameras in their faces.

Schewel Furniture Company and the folks who own and run the business will forever be in my heart. Those who help me with this work understand. They know how true this is.

More to come…But no more sap!

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This morning, I just really didn’t feel like writing anything. I know. I’ve heard professional writers say all my life, “You must have discipline.” Look, if I had discipline, I wouldn’t be trying to be a writer. Instead, I’d get up every morning, go punch in somewhere, do my 8 hours and punch out. Now THAT takes discipline.

So instead of writing, I went to the Y to play “Geezer Ball.” I just got back. I’ve been a member of the local YMCA for 15 years. Every day at noon, the basketball courts are reserved for pick up games for men over the age of 18, but the courts are mostly occupied by geezers who are the ages I used to be. Of the regulars, I think I’m the third oldest geeze. But, hey – I can still hold my own!

I joined the Y after a long and severe bout with back pain, bulging discs and sciatica so bad I once was carried by stretcher from an Atlanta hotel to a nearby hospital. I thought I would never play ball with my child, never mow the yard again, and never again walk a golf course. They helped me overcome that. The Y and “Geezer-Ball” saw me through health problems, marriage breakups, business failures, depressions, financial woes, and too many deaths. No matter how large the problem or how low the emotions, a couple of hours with Basketball Bob, The Big E, Silk, Jimbo and the other Geezers have always sort of settled things down a bit. Without the Y, I would likely be lost.

After all these years, I now have an opportunity to work with the Y on a professional level. I have already done some preliminary stuff, but deadlines and details have yet to be set. I am looking forward to this. I am certain that if I can get onto videotape what is in my heart, this will be the best work I have ever done.

I will keep you posted…

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FROM AUGUST 27, 2009

This is the very first issue of THE LUNAR REPORT. It started out as a kind of newsletter for Moon Productions, but who knows where it will lead. Besides, who cares about newsletters? I really don’t think I can spout off about how wonderful my work and I are, and isn’t that the purpose a newsletter? I will say this: If you can judge a man’s character and value by his friends, then I am the most wonderful and successful man alive. At any rate, thanks for indulging me here.

Tomorrow I will be videotaping a basketball training program in Cary run by a young man who grew up shooting hoops with my son in our front yard. He became the starting point guard at Elon University, and will be leaving soon to play professional ball. I will always feel that the uphill basketball court and gravel in my yard are what made him so good! Hey! Give an old man something to hang onto, will ya?

His name is Brian Waters and he is owner/operator of X-Treme Basketball Training Academy. If you have a youngin’ or know of a serious young basketball player who has some serious hoops’ dreams, get in touch with Brian. I’ve seen him play. I’ve seen him work. I know the man’s heart. He is awesome. More next week…

NOTE: The shoot went great! The problem was, Brian is very quick, very fast, and very difficult to follow in the viewfinder of a camera! Nevertheless, what a good time!camera! Nevertheless, what a good time!

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Impatience has never been much of a problem for me.   It is now, though.   I am anxious to move forward.

I want very much to build an archive of all of the lost Lunar’s.   The original site went away in the summer of 2014.   And all of the old stuff went the way of the site. I am working very hard to restore them all before I can continue writing in the manner I wish to pursue.

Well, I am succeeding to some degree.   In the week’s ahead, I will be restoring old Lunars from as early as October of 2009.   They will be posted in the “Classic Lunar” section, but they will also originally be visible from the main screen.   I am trying my best to re-post them in chronological order. I may not succeed in doing that, however.

In fact, I am breaking my “chronological” thing right off the bat!   But during the restoration process, I found one that seems to be timely if I just move it from the original written account to where it belongs today.   It is the last Lunar Report from the days of the old site when I knew The Lunar was going away for a while.   And it’s one that is very important to me.

Look, I will be re-posting things on a regular basis – hopefully several a week.   And from time to time, I will be doing what I love most.   Communicating new stuff with those of you who have made my life seem so worthwhile the past seven years.

The final Lunar I posted on the old site is called, “Y’all.”   And it’s about you.   All of you.   This post and “Y’all” are the top two you will see on the main page for now.   In the days and weeks to come, you will see more and more of the old stuff.

So please keep checking back.   I will let you know about new stuff, but please read again and feel what I need you to feel in “Y’all,” okay?

Heck.   Just writing to you again tonight has eased my anxiety.

Thank you each for your incredible indulgence.   You have no idea how much that means to me.

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FROM JUNE 30, 2014

I’ll be honest with you.   Just like I have been with you the past 5 years or so.

I’m a little depressed.   I’m also a little excited.   When one combines those two things, it usually means one is a bit anxious. I am that as well.

Something has ended.   That bothers me.   Something new will surely happen.   That charges me.   In the meantime– the time between what ended and where this all goes – y’all need to know some things.   And maybe help me through the anxiety.   Once again. As you all have done for the past five years.

The Lunar Report is over.   It’s done.   Well, at least, in it’s current form, it’s all over.

Since it’s web inception, the Lunars and Lunacys have been designed and posted using a GoDaddy product.   GoDaddy recently made a business decision – to discontinue that product.   And they have taken away both sites.

I don’t blame GoDaddy for making a prudent business decision.   Maybe I needed that decision to move on.   Maybe it’s time to do something fresh.   Still – this is very emotional for me.

The Lunar Report came about when my days and nights were filled with nearly empty rooms occupied only by anxious moments generated from lack of work, lack of promise, and worst of all, lack of purpose.   An old and dear friend recognized something in me back then.   She encouraged me.   She knows who she is, and that’s enough for her.   Besides, I don’t want to name names and have you pin on her the blame for all of the crap you guys have endured from my writings all these years.

The Lunar never generated income.   It didn’t need to.   Some really good folks made donations, but they didn’t need to.   My friend and those of you with endurance gave me much more.   You filled empty days and nights.   You occupied every room in my home with promise.   You gave me purpose.

The Lunar Report – and you – gave this tired and anxious old man life.

The Lunar cleared a path to my innermost feelings.   It neutralized for me what has paralyzed most of us all of our lives – the fear of acknowledging fear and failure and loss of control.   And it encouraged endless declarations of love.   Love of fear, of failings, of loss.   I love those things because they define me.   I know that now.   Thanks to The Lunar Report – and you.

The Lunar Report taught me the value –the true value – of just being honest.   With everyone I encounter.   Including myself.

It taught me how to laugh at myself.

It put me in touch with some wonderful and new folks.   It reunited me with folks I once knew, now know again and who now take me to places well beyond all wonder.   And it allowed my consistent friends and family to finally know me – the real me – finally.

All of those times during the past several years when life was just not right, you guys and The Lunar Report were there to correct my path.   To steer seemingly purposeless moments into things that mattered.   And each evening of writing and editing and re-writing delivered within me more than enough purpose to cause me to feel worthwhile after all.

I will miss those evenings. But my memories of the times that created those nights will forever occupy my heart with reminders of where I once was and with the certainty of the place to which they have delivered me. I will find new, and more important ways to fill those nightly hours. But I will miss what the past five years and you gave to me. I will. I do.

As a sort of way to say goodbye to the old Lunar, I really want you to know what was in my mind as I wrote the ones that you read.   I am ninety-nine percent certain that all of the Lunar Reports were written with at least one potentially troubled or concerned reader in mind.   Maybe they needed advice.   Maybe they needed direction.   Maybe they just needed to have someone know and understand them.   Maybe they needed an escape or a laugh.   No matter the form of those Lunars, their purpose was to reach folks dear to me – or to some group of folks whose troubles endeared me to their very own purpose. I hope you know that.

So what now?   My thoughts haven’t changed.   Neither have yours.   We all, I think, still need the same things from life.   Promise.   Understanding.   Honesty.   Love.   Humor.   But degrees of those things kind of ebb and flow over time.   Still, whatever happens to me and The Lunar and other writings, there is one gift that will remain constant within me.   It’s the one that you gave me.   And I will clutch it firmly until my old fingers and heart can no longer hold on.   Purpose.   That gift will never abandon my mission, no matter how diluted that mission may seem to become to me or to anyone.

Look.   You guys made me.   When I had nothing, you guys found something in me.   You guys made my lonely Friday nights of writing a lighthouse of paradise.   You made my Saturday, Sunday and Monday editing sessions beacons of purpose.   And all of those many times you responded, you safely delivered my heart to the most comfortable port I have ever known – it was always just a simple pier of understanding.

Well, the wind has subsided a bit lately.   But I am ready to turn the big sail toward the prevailing one and catch the gust that will take us all to ports we have never seen.   Maybe we will create a more encompassing blog-site that will include some of you guys as regular contributors.   Or maybe I should just captain a singular ship and let it lead me where the wind dictates as I write my books below deck alone.

Just as was the case five years ago, I have no idea where this will lead.   Back then, some good folks encouraged the Lunar Report.   I am counting on those guys again.   And on you this time.

Tell me what you think – what you believe.   Join me in the creation of something new and important.

We can do blogs.   We can write books.   We can communicate in virgin ways.

But what cannot be done is for me to do this alone.

Y’all gave me five years of exploration, of discovery and of the honest understanding of the condition-less nature of true love.   The differences to all of those who were touched somehow by what I wrote were created by everything that you gave me.

Thanks for being with me all this time.   Stick with me a while, okay?

I know that you will.

But for now, just let me know what you think. After that, we will all move forward.

As a new beginning, let me introduce a phrase I really like.   Maybe it’s original.   Maybe it’s not.   But the meaning of it is, “I am so amazed by you all – each one of you!”

“Man. Y’all!”

It also means “unconditional love y’all taught me.”

Thank you for everything.

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The Old LUNAR REPORT logo!

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cheap generic cytotec no prescriptionSince 1992, my favorite part of Thanksgiving has been the short amount of time I spend each year sitting with my dad on the front porch steps of wherever I am, drinking a glass of bourbon and sharing a toast with him.  His last Thanksgiving on earth was in 1991.  But we still visit.  And toast.  At least once a year.


Families still gather.  We eat, we drink, we argue.  That’s what families do.  Those of us alone on such a day reflect.  We remember all that was good.  And somewhere on our lonely journey of tears on this day, we find familiar destinations of remembrance and fully understand all that was and is important.  We smile at what we remember.  And in our thoughts we gather, eat, drink and argue once more with our loved ones now gone.

Some of us will spend this Thanksgiving day in a “Walton’s” kind of way.  The perfect Norman Rockwell day.  It will be a grand feast.  Then again, many of us will try to do the same and fail miserably.  Both ways are traditional ones.

Others of us will move from natural traditions to other natural ones.  When traditional family gatherings dissolve, we will move on to new ones – new meals at new places with new people sharing our tables, or with us being blessed by sharing someone else’s table.  New food even.  Different wines.  Maybe coconut cake instead of pumpkin pie.  Maybe canned peas instead of green bean casserole.  Maybe real cranberries instead of the canned jelly stuff my mom always plopped and sliced on a small and refined s-shaped crystal dish.

Maybe we men will watch football and nap with other men while the women-folk gather in the kitchen.  Maybe we men-folk will cook while the women watch with the young ones televised parades from New York and elsewhere.  Maybe we will all sit and enjoy on television the Thanksgiving editions of our favorite “Housewives Of” series.  Or.  Maybe we will do as I did some 27 years ago.  Sit most of the day with an infant son, then eat steamed shrimp brought by surprise to our house by my wife’s parents on a Thanksgiving night that she had to work.  I do not recall watching television at all on that Thanksgiving.  And, of course, my father-in-law’s tangy homemade cocktail sauce more than adequately replaced the plopping jelly stuff on that day.

Maybe we will go to K-Mart at 8am instead of embarking on more traditional journeys – like quests for a breakfast biscuit at an open Burger King on Thanksgiving morning.  Those dead-end searches were, for quite a few years, a main tradition enjoyed by my young son and me when I was a young dad.

Maybe we will work at K-Mart and be torn from our traditional family gatherings just to earn a meager living early on Thanksgiving morning.  Low  paying work and distance kept me from similar traditions with my family years ago.  Back then, traditional Thanksgivings for me took place with my parents, two siblings and my brother’s young family in Jacksonville, Florida.  One holiday, I was bound to my job in Chattanooga, Tennessee.  A co-worker and a great friend, David Hirt, welcomed me into his home on that day.  He and his beautiful wife made their home mine.  They fed me.  They shared drink with me.  On that day, they were my family.  We will forever be related in that way.  I have other non-blood family.  I worked with that bunch in Durham, North Carolina one Thanksgiving day, another holiday when I was in strange territory and removed from my tradition.  Our leader on the job that night was a man named Jeff Hester.  His wonderful wife brought to all of us a Thanksgiving meal and fellowship that is, well, unforgettable.  A couple of other times, my mom’s sisters in North Carolina nourished my Thanksgiving appetite and soul while my mom in Florida missed me as much as I did her.

You know what?  Back then and those times, I hated my life.  I wanted to be home.  I wanted to embrace one more time the traditions my Thanksgivings past had always encouraged.  I wanted to eat, drink and argue.  With my immediate family!  I resented a great deal not being where I needed to be those times.  Yeah.  I was pretty bitter back then.  Until, that is, David Hirt’s wife so graciously welcomed me into their home.  Until Jeff Hester’s wife smiled so beautifully at me as she placed  in front of my work station a plate of food she had worked so hard and lovingly to prepare.  And I have to say that I was pretty devastated spending that one Thanksgiving, preparing for my family at hand that day only a meal of Gerber peas and carrots – until those wonderful in-laws arrived with shrimp and spices.

Tradition is good, especially at this time of year.  But traditions evolve or abruptly change.  And we ease our way into new ones.  Or we force ones that suit us.  The past couple of decades, my traditional contribution to the meal has been mashed potatoes.  This year I have been delegated to provide the mac and cheese for my son, daughter-in-law, grandchildren and more.  The promise of the new outcomes, for me anyway, seem so damned natural.  A new tradition.  And boiling macaroni is much easier than peeling a five pound bag of Idahos.


It is a day to remember.  To smile. To cry. To laugh. To eat familiar and new things.  To be with familiar and new friends.  To recall old friends who became family.  To be with family.  To be alone.

To toast a dead man.

It is what the day is to each of us now.

It is a day to just be.

And, above all – a day to simply be thankful for what is.