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
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?
Credit Where Credit Is Due…
Congratulations to Serbian president Slobodan Milosevic for winning the United Nations prestigious First War Criminal Still In Office award.
Rested and Ready
"What a waste it is to lose one’s mind. Or, not to have a mind is being very wasteful. How true that is." Tough words from a tough man. The man: Dan Quayle. The words: I have no idea.