David Stuart co-stars with Steve McQueen in the classic commercial "Cornfield" based on the movie "Field of Dreams".
He also played the role of Paul Mance in "The Life Story of Dominic Mance" broadcast on over 1600 stations around the world by "UNSHACKLED!", the longest running radio drama in history.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Steve McQueen Mustang Commercial
Friday, January 5, 2007
On Top of the World
At the age of 31, I was an international banker; the senior vice president of a Canadian bank, overseeing the multibillion dollar portfolios of nine US financial institutions…I had it all! I was on top of the world and could make and break the rich and famous with the stroke of my pen. Until, that is, my wife announced over drinks and dinner at our favorite restaurant just as the sun was going down over the purple bay that our love was a lie and our marriage was over. Then, I received a phone call from the bank telling me that they filed bankruptcy. I lost everything—my beautiful wife and two precious daughters, my prominent job, my flashy black car with the tinted windows and my palatial home near the sea—it all disappeared before my very eyes, like a pencil line on a piece of paper erased and I became a homeless vagabond overnight.
Once a person of sober responsibility, I began wandering from place to place, drinking like a very thirsty man and smoking enough cigarettes to burn down my soul. Then, one night, in the dead of night, as the cigarettes and cheap booze oozed from my pores, and I felt what I can only describe as perfect misery, I considered ways to end my life, but a voiceless voice seemed to say, “If you just prevail, Dominic, someday you’ll feel perfect joy.” I held onto that promise; I held on tight…
Throughout all those hardscrabble, knockabout years on the street of broken dreams, I stayed in libraries during the day and seedy bars at night and slept in old cars or on somebody else’s couch. I lived a million different lives, in a million different ways, trying to forget, trying to remember, trying to forget again. I tried my hand at all kinds of trades, too, and sometimes worked three or four odd jobs all at the same time that always led to the same old, dead-end street. I was a faceless man without an identity…I tramped a million miles to hell and back ever-searching, never finding, and forever running away. And what my eyes have seen, they would rather not have seen; and where the journey led, I did not know. I was a good-for-nothing, broken-down, money machine trying to figure out how to become a living, breathing human being; so, I also read countless books looking for answers to questions that I didn’t even know how to ask.
I recognized early on, though, that there was this invisible “something” taking care of me; and after a series of chance meetings with Christians, who, at first, seemed to me to be certifiably nuts, I began reading the Bible and praying a lot, eventually coming to the realization that that indefinable “something” was the person of Christ.
About six months later, I surrendered my life to Him and God gave me a heart for the homeless and a gift for writing; but I was so broke that I used those stubby, yellow pencils they had at the library I hung out at; and I wrote my stories on the back of colorful flyers that were red, yellow, green and blue, just like beautiful balloons. I began typing and submitting my work to publishers from the smoke-filled, cockroach-infested halfway house for the homeless reeking of pesticide that I called my home away from home…And my work was getting published! Then, some years later, I discovered, much to my surprise, that I could draw; and within a year, my art was being galleried. And, if that’s not enough, all by the grace of God, I’m also a songwriter/singer and radio broadcaster, now. And my life story has been dramatized by the “UNSHACKLED!” program and heard around the world.
In time, I came to realize that even though we might have big homes, fancy cars and important jobs, we’re just like homeless tramps on the inside because we have poor and hungry souls. I want to tell the world what Jesus Christ has done in my life to help the countless people wasting their lives pursuing those foolish, superficial dreams like I once did trying to get what I had but lost. God will never leave you or forsake you and His promises are faithful and true. This is a story which must be told; so now, I’ve told it to you.
Pass it on,
Papa Balloons
Once a person of sober responsibility, I began wandering from place to place, drinking like a very thirsty man and smoking enough cigarettes to burn down my soul. Then, one night, in the dead of night, as the cigarettes and cheap booze oozed from my pores, and I felt what I can only describe as perfect misery, I considered ways to end my life, but a voiceless voice seemed to say, “If you just prevail, Dominic, someday you’ll feel perfect joy.” I held onto that promise; I held on tight…
Throughout all those hardscrabble, knockabout years on the street of broken dreams, I stayed in libraries during the day and seedy bars at night and slept in old cars or on somebody else’s couch. I lived a million different lives, in a million different ways, trying to forget, trying to remember, trying to forget again. I tried my hand at all kinds of trades, too, and sometimes worked three or four odd jobs all at the same time that always led to the same old, dead-end street. I was a faceless man without an identity…I tramped a million miles to hell and back ever-searching, never finding, and forever running away. And what my eyes have seen, they would rather not have seen; and where the journey led, I did not know. I was a good-for-nothing, broken-down, money machine trying to figure out how to become a living, breathing human being; so, I also read countless books looking for answers to questions that I didn’t even know how to ask.
I recognized early on, though, that there was this invisible “something” taking care of me; and after a series of chance meetings with Christians, who, at first, seemed to me to be certifiably nuts, I began reading the Bible and praying a lot, eventually coming to the realization that that indefinable “something” was the person of Christ.
About six months later, I surrendered my life to Him and God gave me a heart for the homeless and a gift for writing; but I was so broke that I used those stubby, yellow pencils they had at the library I hung out at; and I wrote my stories on the back of colorful flyers that were red, yellow, green and blue, just like beautiful balloons. I began typing and submitting my work to publishers from the smoke-filled, cockroach-infested halfway house for the homeless reeking of pesticide that I called my home away from home…And my work was getting published! Then, some years later, I discovered, much to my surprise, that I could draw; and within a year, my art was being galleried. And, if that’s not enough, all by the grace of God, I’m also a songwriter/singer and radio broadcaster, now. And my life story has been dramatized by the “UNSHACKLED!” program and heard around the world.
In time, I came to realize that even though we might have big homes, fancy cars and important jobs, we’re just like homeless tramps on the inside because we have poor and hungry souls. I want to tell the world what Jesus Christ has done in my life to help the countless people wasting their lives pursuing those foolish, superficial dreams like I once did trying to get what I had but lost. God will never leave you or forsake you and His promises are faithful and true. This is a story which must be told; so now, I’ve told it to you.
Pass it on,
Papa Balloons
Monday, January 1, 2007
The Shoebox
When Timmy was a little boy, he had a shoebox; and in that shoebox, he kept all his favorite things, like his yo-yo and marbles. As he got older, he put other stuff in there, too; stuff that meant a lot to him and expressed who he was. Some things stayed and some things were replaced.
We all have a special shoebox like that, friend. We all have trinkets from the past that stick to us like an old campaign badge. Those shiny souvenirs collected over a lifetime of living that define us and even dictate how we think. When you get right down to it, I guess each one of us really lives in a shoebox of his own making and perceives this dizzy world around us through it.
These beat-up, old shoeboxes of ours that we lug around all day long and sleep with all night that may contain our favorite brand of cigarettes or beer; and maybe, hidden beneath the memorabilia of a “Dear John” or “Dear Mary” letter, there’s a risqué magazine or two. These shoeboxes replaying the countless, wasted hours of TV soap operas and game shows we watched when there was nothing better to do. These shoeboxes lined with newspapers and stacked with books. These shoeboxes always cluttered with sayings like, “My mother always told me…” and “Father always said…” These shoeboxes littered with fading photos of our Italian or Irish or Jewish ancestors. These shoeboxes all tangled-up with Catholic rosaries and fake gold chains.
What’s in your shoebox, friend? What’s in there that makes you tick like your grandfather’s busted pocket watch? What’s in there that makes you see things through the eyes of your Great Aunt Tilda’s spectacles that she bought at the five ‘n’ dime? And what’s in its deep, dark secret places like grandma’s grave, that’s killing you?
Is it booze, a broken heart or an empty wallet? Have you been lied to too much, dumped too many times, or wasted too many nights on pot, pills, blow or bourbon to care anymore? But, be that as it may, the big question is this: Is that shoebox you covet killing you bit by bit and sending you to hell?
God’s bigger than all of our shoeboxes put together. His thoughts are higher than ours and His ways are not our ways. Throw away all that accumulated junk you cherish and get rid of the gunk like somebody else’s bubblegum on the bottom of your shoe, then fill that empty space it leaves with His Son.
Don’t get trapped in your comfort zone; don’t cling to a treasure trove of boloney. Accept Jesus Christ into your life, friend, and become the person you were always meant to be.
Dare to Dream,
We all have a special shoebox like that, friend. We all have trinkets from the past that stick to us like an old campaign badge. Those shiny souvenirs collected over a lifetime of living that define us and even dictate how we think. When you get right down to it, I guess each one of us really lives in a shoebox of his own making and perceives this dizzy world around us through it.
These beat-up, old shoeboxes of ours that we lug around all day long and sleep with all night that may contain our favorite brand of cigarettes or beer; and maybe, hidden beneath the memorabilia of a “Dear John” or “Dear Mary” letter, there’s a risqué magazine or two. These shoeboxes replaying the countless, wasted hours of TV soap operas and game shows we watched when there was nothing better to do. These shoeboxes lined with newspapers and stacked with books. These shoeboxes always cluttered with sayings like, “My mother always told me…” and “Father always said…” These shoeboxes littered with fading photos of our Italian or Irish or Jewish ancestors. These shoeboxes all tangled-up with Catholic rosaries and fake gold chains.
What’s in your shoebox, friend? What’s in there that makes you tick like your grandfather’s busted pocket watch? What’s in there that makes you see things through the eyes of your Great Aunt Tilda’s spectacles that she bought at the five ‘n’ dime? And what’s in its deep, dark secret places like grandma’s grave, that’s killing you?
Is it booze, a broken heart or an empty wallet? Have you been lied to too much, dumped too many times, or wasted too many nights on pot, pills, blow or bourbon to care anymore? But, be that as it may, the big question is this: Is that shoebox you covet killing you bit by bit and sending you to hell?
God’s bigger than all of our shoeboxes put together. His thoughts are higher than ours and His ways are not our ways. Throw away all that accumulated junk you cherish and get rid of the gunk like somebody else’s bubblegum on the bottom of your shoe, then fill that empty space it leaves with His Son.
Don’t get trapped in your comfort zone; don’t cling to a treasure trove of boloney. Accept Jesus Christ into your life, friend, and become the person you were always meant to be.
Dare to Dream,
Papa Balloons
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