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
I've Fallen from Grace and I Can't Get Up!
EDITORS' NOTE: The above headline may not necessarily relate to the following article.
The Man Without a Face (Sort of ...)
Recently, some spots on my face were diagnosed not as the distinctive markings of a rare intellect-which I had assumed them to be-but as a precancerous skin malady.
It's Time to Play "Let's Blame the Poor!"
Recently, some spots on my face were diagnosed not as the distinctive markings of a rare intellect-which I had assumed them to be-but as a precancerous skin malady.
It's Morning in America. Again.
A new day has dawned in our country. Unfortunately, that day is some time in the 1950s.
Raising Kids with Minimal Hamster Loss
It started with the kind of silence that makes a parent sit bolt upright in his bed; an unnatural awakening, a feeling of something wrong.
Summer Lies and Weary Travelers
People don’t always say what they mean (I meant to say that). And this past summer brought several examples of the daily "little white lies" we tell each other.
To Your Health
We recently changed over to a different health insurance company here at Sojourners. The new company is less expensive than our previous insurer, and it covers virtually every pre-existing medical condition except stuttering.
("No, I swear I never stuttered before I signed up. I just walked in here, and, well, it s-s-s-s-ort of came over me all at once.")
Our new insurance company seems pretty good. At least the application (at right) was only one page long. The only thing I wondered about is a new procedure—called a "group x-ray"—that the staff has to get once a year. Apparently it saves the insurance company a lot of money, but I don’t see how we’re all going to fit on that table at one time.
But seriously, health care is an important concern of all Americans, particularly sick people who wish they lived in virtually any other industrialized nation except ours. Here in the United States of Complicated Health Forms, if you go to a hospital you pray that your insurance is accepted—otherwise you’re put on the "standby stretcher" (the one with rust on the wheels), or you have to share a bed pan with somebody you don’t know.
With all the conflicting opinions about our nation’s health crisis, it’s nice to hear at least one clear voice of integrity. Not surprisingly, it’s from cigarette executives, the people who have the courage to state that their products have absolutely nothing to do with health. In fact, there is very little evidence linking cigarettes to lung cancer, and as soon as that’s shredded and burned there won’t be any at all.
The Day the President Dropped By
Actually, it was more like "The Day the White People Came" when Bill Clinton and his entourage of young Caucasians descended on our inner-city neighborhood.
And Just Look At That Shine
This issue of Sojourners marks a significant breakthrough in paper technology.
The Gospel of Who? Oh, Him.
Our top story this month has the theological world "all in a tizzy," which in the original Greek means "something much too nuanced for you to understand since you’re just a lay person."
White Space and Bad Hair
Aaaaaah. It’s nice to stretch out in all this extra space.
Health Tips for 1994
The enormous challenge of revamping our nation's health care system has congressional leaders promising to work harder than ever. Some are even considering returning to work after lunches.
Ask Mr. H'rumphs
Well, that's some magazine so far, eh? Malevolent global corporations, the bleakness of Nicaragua, and the Holocaust. What is this, National Public Radio? I've seen more laughs in a jar of mustard.
How I Spent My Summer Vacation
EDITOR'S NOTE: This column was full of humorous material when it left the office. Some settling may have occurred during shipment.
The Hits That Weren't
Summer movies and other reflections from the art director