Andre the Giant, Anne Lamott, and Asides

Photo by Anna Metcalfe on Unsplash

ou may have noticed, if you are a regular reader (Hello Regular Readers!) that I work pretty hard to keep from identifying specific people here, unless they are famous, of course. I use “they” instead of “he” or “she” for a Dear Friend. I use BFF instead of a name. Instead of calling my husband what I normally call him, I refer to him as Hubby. (Hey there, Hubby!)

Hubby is a regular reader too. He has always been the biggest support for whatever I wanted to try whether it was learning to knit or committing to write every day. We were heading to bed after dinner and a movie with the kids (yes! It was one of those nights! Clueless was the movie. Pizza was the dinner) and as we went upstairs Hubby said, “Have you written anything today?” Come on! THAT is what I’m talking about. What a good Hubby. BFF doesn’t like that I use “Hubby.” Probably because it is unlike anything I’ve ever used when talking about him before. For some reason, I find it hilarious. So, for now “Hubby” will remain.

That was the first of two asides. The second is that it is becoming a common thing for me to say hello to a person or group of people in a parenthetical statement. (Hello People!) If you are a regular reader and are going to continue along this journey with me, I need you to understand something very important. When I type “(Hello, fill in the blank),” I hear, in my imagination, Andre the Giant saying whatever I have typed in the parentheses.

ndre the Giant played Fezzik in the 1987 film The Princess Bride. At the end he shows up with four white horses and calls up to the window of the tower, “I thought there are four of them and there are four of us, if we find the lady.” Then, he waves at Princess Buttercup and says, “Hello lady.” So, every time — and I mean every single time — I use that convention, I am paying homage to Andre the Giant. I hope you will too.

Soon, I’ll tell you the sad, sad story of the first time I saw The Princess Bride. I’m too tired today to write about that, but I’ll give you a hint. It is the only time I ever went on a date with anyone other than Hubby.

Here endeth the asides.

try to keep some sense of privacy, though I realize how strange that must seem when I am sharing such intimate details of our lives and how easy it is to find anyone these days. Most of you reading this already know exactly who I’m talking about at every moment. So, I’ll come clean. Other than the fact that Hubby is a private person who prefers no attention whatsoever (Hey again Hubby!), I am telling myself every time I write an essay that it is likely to be read by MILLIONS OF PEOPLE before its all said and done. That is my hope for Year 49. So, get to sharing! I’m depending on you.

Now, because of the way I was brought up, every time I think such a thing there is another part of me that is laughing out loud — well it is loud in my mind — because I know I’ve got nothing special here. (That is not a request for pats on the back, seriously.) There is no reason my writing would get any more notice than anyone else’s. That is just the truth. But, every night before I close the computer, I say a little prayer,

“Dear God, please, oh, please let Anne Lamott not only read my essays, but find them so adorable and poignant and funny that she absolutely MUST take me under her mentorship, bring me to her home in California, drink tea with me (though I’d prefer Diet Pepsi) and make me a world-famous writer JUST LIKE HER. I will not try to do my hair like hers, I promise.”

don’t really pray that every night, though I do often mention to Hubby that I hope Anne Lamott reads my writing one day. My prayers don’t really look or sound like those kinds of requests anymore. In fact, I most often pray LIKE ANNE LAMOTT taught me. “Help. Thanks. Wow.” (Hello Anne Lamott and Rachel Martin!) I add “Please” to the beginning, so often this is my prayer:

Please. Help. Thanks. Wow.

And, that will be my prayer tonight and every night regardless of where this daily writing takes me. At least I think so. My prayers also often contain, “I don’t know.”


I don’t know.






In no particular order: Writer, pastor, Mama Bear, LGBTQ+ ally, wife, preacher, watcher of TV, seeker, mystic want-to-be

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T. H. McClung, she/her(s)

In no particular order: Writer, pastor, Mama Bear, LGBTQ+ ally, wife, preacher, watcher of TV, seeker, mystic want-to-be