Ed Spivey Jr. was working as art director of the Chicago Sun-Times Sunday Magazine in 1974 when God called him to join the fledgling Sojourners community and work for its publication, then called the Post-American. The fact that Ed has not heard from God SINCE is not what’s important here, because Ed figures God had other things to do, what with making the world a more peaceful place. Why the world is still not a more peaceful place is none of Ed's business and he would never think to criticize God for slacking off since, who knows, God could have been sick or something.
But, 46 years later, Ed finally retired from Sojourners, content to have fulfilled his life-long dream of working hard for very little money. The only downside is that Ed is too old now to pursue his childhood plans of being either a cowboy or an astronaut. But such are the sacrifices one makes when one responds to the call of the Lord, even if immediately after that, the Lord apparently changed His or Her phone number.
Of a more biographic note, Ed holds an associate degree from Vincennes University. He then transferred to Indiana University where, despite his diligence at attending several classes each semester, he was denied a bachelor’s degree because a psychology professor did not appreciate Ed’s refusal to complete his rat experiment. Apparently, Ed’s was the only laboratory rat that bit, so Ed insisted on wearing thick motorcycle gloves when handling the animal which, the professor insisted, skewed the rat’s response to stimuli. Ed told the professor what he could do with stimuli, which unfortunately did not put the professor in the mood to accept Ed’s alternative suggestion, which was to study the response of rats being loudly cursed at while simultaneously being flushed down university toilets.
Since his college days he has made a bit of a name for himself, and not just “You, There,” which is the name his mother called him when she forgot. Ed won numerous awards for his design of Sojourners magazine, and his monthly humor column consistently garnered top honors from both religious and secular media associations. His book A Hamster is Missing in Washington, D.C. won the top prize in humor at the Independent Publisher Book Awards in New York City. (Due to scheduling conflicts, Ed was unable to attend the gala banquet, but had he gone he would have ordered the fish.) The book sold out of its second printing and Ed is now working on a second volume.
Ed is married and has two daughters, all of whom refuse to walk in public with him, on account of the little whoop-whoop sound he makes when he sees a fire truck. His beloved granddaughter, however, likes it when he does this.
Posts By This Author
A Few of My Favorite Things
When Sojourners' CultureWatch editor asked me to write about my "favorite things," I gave a quick "Sure!" It's not often that I get to talk about McDonalds' new "Tangy Cajun Chicken Parts" and that delightful way the flavor seems to stick to the roof of your mouth, even though you'd rather it didn't.
But the editor pointed out that, no, she was more interested in the cultural aspects of my life, the books I'm reading, the films I've seen, what particular collections of poetry I walk past in the bookstore as I hurry to the magazine section that contains lots of easy-to-read photographs. So, culturally speaking, here are some of the more literary aspects of my life, printed in bold face, so if you just skim through it looks like I'm really smart:
Theological Ethics, Helmut Thielicke's brilliant three-volume series on the implied dialectic of freedom and bondage, occupies by far the largest amount of space on my bookshelf. Which is why I moved it the other day when I dropped my slinky. I occasionally use this device to entertain the pets—since my family has developed a keen lack of appreciation for my skills—and I was shocked to distraction by the sight of our rabbit attempting to "be romantic" with one of the cats. That's when I lost control of the slinky and it dropped onto the bookshelf behind several other books that I have never read but which also look good in boldface, including New Testament Greek for Dummies, John Calvin: Years of Laughter, and A Bunch of My Wife's College Textbooks.
The books I have read reflect a broad range of interests. So I won't mention that the last three are all by Tom Clancy, a frothing-at-the-mouth militaristic simpleton who should be ashamed for writing such great stories. His view of our nation's role in history is the exact opposite of Sojourners' worldview, which, while consistently taking the moral high ground, has never once produced a great action novel. (Yes, Sojourners' perspective on globalization is important, but would it be that hard to throw in a little air-to-air combat?)
Foreign Relations
Some readers have complained that this column has become too personal, too focused on my being a great father, an award-winning art director, and a god-like figure to the rest of the staff. In response to this concern, I have decided to look beyond my personal preoccupations and devote this entire column to commentary on international events, and the surprising way these events remind me of my own life. Such as when Zimbabwe's president Robert Mugabe recently stole the election and then wondered why foreign observers were "making such a big deal about it." Coincidentally, these were the exact words my daughter used when she came in after curfew.
In fairness to Mugabe, he simply wanted to spare his people the trauma Americans suffered after our own disputed presidential election, a time of acrimony and mistrust that turned brother against brother, sister against sister, and first cousin against third cousin twice removed (that one got ugly). Mercifully, Americans have the attention span of one of those squirrels that carefully buries nuts in the yard and then says to himself, seconds later, "Whoa! Somebody buried some nuts here! Well, too bad for them, 'cause it's finders keepers!" So Americans pretty much forgot about that election, unless they weren't Republicans from Florida.
But in Mugabe's case, he simply cancelled the recount, declared himself the winner, and jailed his opponent for treason. Had our own George W. Bush done the same thing, it might have spared Al W. Gore the sad spectacle of having to disguise himself with a beard before going into hiding.
Beep Beep
Since Sojourners is a bimonthly magazine, you depend on us to cover the breaking news, with up-to-the-minute commentary on hot stories like Afghanistan which, by the time you read this, should be well on its way to becoming an independent democracy.
Dateline: Our Nation's Capital
Those of you in the hinterlands—when you’re not taking care of your hinter—are probably wondering what life is like now in Washington, D.C., the nation’s capital...
One Down…
This has been a year of major milestones for our family, not the least of which was the realization that I might finally be allowed to use our bathroom.
I'm Okay, You're Not…
To Grandmother's House We Go
Why shouldn't kids be allowed to have their fun, for gosh sakes?
Last One in the Gene Pool…
It's no surprise that humans are smarter than roundworms. Well, most humans, anyway.
CODE BLUE! (Or is it red?)
I was either having a major cardiac event or was standing in a pool of water being repeatedly struck by lightning.
College Bound (and Gagged)
Because our oldest daughter absolutely refuses to join the Merchant Marines after high school, she made me drive through New England this summer looking at prospective colleges.
The Choice
In just a few short months you'll wake up on a crisp Tuesday after the first Monday in November and do your part to dramatically affect the course of history.
Driving Miss Crazy
There comes a time in every man’s life when he has to begin a sentence with a really bad cliche. This is one of those times. You see, words are not coming easy to me these days. And when I do speak, I seem to be talking in gibberish, running my words together in a strange new dialect:
"YOU’REGOINGTOOFAST!" I’ll say, seemingly at random. Or I’ll blurt out "STAYINYOUROWNLANE!!"
Or even, "WATCHTHECURB!"
And I’m talking louder than I used to, as if I were trying to alert someone far away. An ambulance, perhaps.
It’s just a coincidence, of course, that this only happens when I’m in a car being driven by my 16-year-old. While technically still a child, she has earned the right to drive our 2,500-pound minivan because she passed the District of Columbia’s grueling written test, a test specifically designed to weed out incompetent drivers through the use of such demanding questions as:
- What is your name?
- What is your address?
- Do you have $14?
Surely, There Must Be Some Mistake
The breakfast table was covered with birthday cards decoratively labeled "50," which meant somebody in our home had crossed the half-century mark. But who?