Taste and See

I have been following his blog for months, now, but never left a comment. That is how awed I am by his writing. The fear of being banal keeps me from even trying to formulate a comment. But I follow. Faithfully. I read every post he writes. I ponder it. And again find myself at a loss for words.

Now he's got a book published. A book I intend to purchase this week. Already I know it is going to be one of those flourless-chocolate-cake-rich books where a couple of bites at a time is all I'll be able to handle. I'll need time to digest before returning for more. Can this guy write? Yup. He sure can. Whether he's talking about the church he attends, his work as a refrigeration mechanic or -- more frequently -- about his relationship with his young-adult son Sam, his marriage, or the autistic son that is never far from his thoughts, he can write. Every now and again, I get that odd sensation that this man is looking into my own very soul and telling what he finds there.

At the little grocery store where I shop, the one where a kid I taught in my fourth grade Sunday school class works at the deli counter, the background music is an oldies station. The other day I heard the insipid song, "Sometimes When We Touch." I cringed and nearly gagged. Talk about banal. And yet here's what comes to mind when I think about Joe Blair and his writing: "The honesty's too much." Too much for a whole serving at once,  but just right for a bite or two in a blog post or a book chapter at the start of the day.

Don't take my word for it. Go read his blog for yourself. Or better yet, buy his book. We've got to keep him writing. Because he feeds a hunger we never knew we had. In small, small portions.