A Grandpa's Ramblings

Back To Work

2011-02-23T12:19:00.001-08:00

Well, after 8 weeks off it is time to hit the road and become a producing part of society again. I was offered a job working for one of the suppliers that supplied electrical parts to us for so many years. I have never done outside sales before and am just a little bit worried that I may not have the personality for it. However, I have made up my mind to give it my best attempt.

It will be nice to be productive again and have a daily focus that is not the “honey-do” list but helping our customers do their jobs more efficiently and better. It sounded like they wanted me to spend about 1/2 my time in the field with customers and 1/2 in the office helping as I can. I’m really looking forward to this new vocation.

The New Adventure Begins

2011-01-24T16:40:00.001-08:00

It has been 2 weeks since my employment at Betschart Electric came to a close. I am now busily starting to look for a new place of employment. I am not sure if I want to continue in the same line of work I have done for the last 40 years of if I would like to look for something new.

New sounds nice…but challenging. Maybe that would be nice. A new challenge. Yes, I think that would be really nice. I don’t think that I am cut out for a chicken farmer or fast order cook but working somewhere that I get to use my hands for something other than typing on a keyboard sounds really nice.

I’ll let you know how things go as my search widens.

One More Day

2010-12-30T17:36:00.001-08:00

Ha, ha. Just one more day till its 2011. What a ride this year has been. Whew, I hope it slows down in 2011. I’m not looking for anything close to a repeat. My resolution for the new year is “NO HOSPITAL VISITS!”

One of my friends suggested that he might take out an insurance policy on me. He thought it might be a really good investment. Hmmm. Maybe he’s on to something.

Year Number Sixty!

2010-12-18T21:41:00.001-08:00

Whew, I never thought I’d see the day I turned sixty. It seemed so OLD. I mean like ancient old. But here I am. And you know what? I don’t feel old except when it come time to piddle or do anything that requires physical strength.

In January my son-in-law bought me a snow shovel, of all things. I thought he might use it himself but it was sadly for me. I tried to use it, but it only worked for a few minutes and then it just would not shovel any longer. The automatic function seemed to stop working and I just couldn’t get it to work in manual either. It is still hanging in the barn if anyone is interested to see if you can fix it.;

In February, I tried my hand at using www.pajamagram.com. The pajamas came just as they said they would. On time delivery, packaged in a really nice organza covered hat box with chocolate candies and lovely little oil/scent packages that were supposed to ensure a romantic evening. She really hated the leopard print with red piping sleepware. It looked so good on the young lady in the catalog. I’m not sure how or why it failed to light the fire of desire in her. Valentines was a bust.

March is our anniversary month. She wanted to book a Cruise to Alaska. I wanted to book a trip to Wyoming. We booked the cruise. They say that anticipation is 80% of the fun for a trip. We had all the anticipation and none of the fun. We got cold feet for the cruise after I got seasick sitting in a boat on Lake Union. We never left the dock. There was a little waitress walking around handing out cocktails with a celery stalk sticking out of them. Not sure what they were but between the gentle rocking of the boat and looking at that red liquid with the celery stalk for a while, I started to get green and we had to leave before the boat left the dock. We canceled the cruise. Our anniversary was a bust too.

April brought April Fools day. I got fooled and never ever recovered from it. the boys at work moved my office out to the warehouse – phone and all. It was freezing there and the noise from the trucks pulling in and out made it hard to concentrate on my computer.

May included a fishing trip down the Yakima River. I thought taking a Friday off work to go fishing was a great idea. The water was high and the wind was blowing so hard that the boat, at one point, was going up river on its own. The guide had to oar just so we could go down river. Two anglers and only one fish. Not what I consider a good day on the water.

June came and we celebrated my birthday. No 60! What a day. Didn’t know all those things came in black. I still have some of my packages unopened in the back of the closet. I’m really afraid what they might have in them. The girls at the Miss’s hair salon all swear that black is slimming. Maybe it is on them but it has a way of magnifying my hips way out of proportion to the rest of my body. It doesn’t help me one bit.

For my birthday, we went fishing in Republic with my boss. He lives there. We stayed in our motorhome on his riverfront property. It was really nice until the mosquitos found that we were there. They decided to have us for dinner. There was some other mystery bug there that decided to wake from its slumber too. MRSA! If you have ever seen the movie Hitch then you have a small understanding what I looked like the next morning. My ear was about 10 times bigger than it normally was and I really felt like I had the flue. She had to drive the motor coach home. A 10 to 12 hour drive with me moaning and groaning unintelligible things all the way.

We ended up at the hospital the next day and they modified my plumbing with a new thing called a pick line. The feisty nurse installed a tube in my heart that exited my arm and told me to pump these tubies of medicine in them for the next ten days. 57 syringes later she yanked the thing out without even telling me what she was about to do. I almost lost my lunch right there.

July brought the fireworks. The neighbors almost set my house on fire! The kids were shooting off bottle rockets by the thousands – literally! I have the sticks in my front yard to prove it. I also have the broken window. Those rocket sticks made enough kindling for my other son-in-law to start a bond fire in the back yard. He piled so much stuff on the fire that orange flames were visible from the front yard looking over the house. We had scorched earth for 20 feet all the way around the fire pit.

August brought another fishing trip. Our friends, Loren and Marsha, came to visit and stayed with us for a week or so. Loren and I went fishing for a couple of days. The first day out, first hole of the day, I fell in over my head – soaked completely – in snow melt water. Good thing I had shorts on. I think I dried out by about 7 pm that night after I took a shower at home.

September brought another trip to the emergency room to see that feisty nurse. She installed the external plumbing unit again so I could inject my self with that slimy bug killing juice again. I guess the really cool thing about all this is that the grandkids have really had fun playing with all those syringes. The hold about half a soda can of water and will shoot for about 25 feel. We had some fun wars in the back yard.

October is the kindest month of the year to me. I get to go to Wyoming. I get to meet some good fishing buddies, sit around in my new leopard print with red piping pajamas, and endure their harassment for 10 days. Nothing I would rather be doing.

November brought one of the funniest events of the year. We have been raising two turkeys named Thanksgiving and Christmas since early March. They were ready for the dinner table. They got so fat that they could no longer stand! My son and his mom decided that it was time to harvest. I said to use the ax and just chop their heads off. They chose to use a saw! I suggested that they might like to use the limb lobbers on the second one. They chose to use a knife. As bad as the grizzly event was it wasn’t the worst part. They did it in full view of the chickens. The poor things were traumatized for weeks. They almost starved to death because they wouldn’t let us near the coop without a major ruckus. I now know what hen pecked is all about.

December is here and we had Christmas on the fifth day of the month. Our daughter and my third son-in-law bought tickets to come out for a visit. We brought the who family together and ate Christmas (the turkey). He tasted just fine. You’d never know he had his neck sawn off in stead of chopped. His feet are still somewhere out in the back yard. I saw one of the dogs chewing on it yesterday.

If this is what turning 60 is like, I can’t wait for 61.

No Contact

2010-12-08T05:49:00.001-08:00

Its been three weeks. No contact. No word. No email. No texting. Nothing.

Our friend, Peter, has gone back to the Sudan, that forsaken place of full of misery and danger. He wants to find his mother, whom he has not heard from in over 5 years. No easy task. There are no phones, computers or other communication devices in the Sudan.

He left with suitcases packed full of shoes for his family. Sneakers, boots, stompers, just about any thing he was given by friends. Not much money in his pockets either, just barely enough to purchase a return ticket. My guess is that he will spend most of it and have a big struggle saving enough to get back to the US.

We may not see Peter again. He could just meld back into his previous life, or he might surprise us all and return with his family! What a joy that would be.

Pray for Peter. He is one man against formidable odds. Pray that he is able to find what he is looking for and in the process, find happiness and joy. Closure is one of the big items on his mind. Closure on all the what-if’s life has given him.

Peter, may God protect you and wrap his loving arms around you as you traverse the wilds of the Sudan. May you find what you are looking for and in the process, find closure and happiness.

Blessings on you friend!

Lost Boys of Sudan

2010-09-20T05:48:00.001-07:00

Kathleen and I had the distinct privilege of having dinner last night with one of the lost boys of Sudan. He goes by the name of Peter – one he chose for himself from the bible. Peter is a Christian who lived in a Muslim country that has been at war with itself since 1955. It is an African country that the ruling clan wants to make Arab. The ruling clan lives in the north and all the wealth (oil, gas, minerals, salt) are in the poor southern part.

They have been killing one another since before the war started. Peter has lost just about all of his family. His dad was killed; he was separated from his mother when he was 7 and set loose to wander the desert sands of the Sudan for the next hand full of years. He was able to contact his brother last year, but not since. Peter's one desire is to go back to his homeland and find his mother.

Peter is now an American citizen. Yet, while he lives here and sees the life we live – a dramatic comparison at best – he wants to go home, into the war zone, to search for his family. There are no guarantees that he will find anything other than trouble.

Peter is a strong Christian young man. He has an amazing story and testimony of how God has directed and protected his life. I am sure this is not the last I will see or feel of Peter. Blessings on you my new friend.

2010-09-14T05:38:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure what I am supposed to learn from the last few weeks. In and out of the hospital daily, doctor appointments, labs, blood draws, more doctors to see. What does it all mean? Yes, I have some little buggers running around where they shouldn't and they need to be destroyed. But is there a chance it is bigger than that? Was there someone in this adventure who needed me to pray for them or offer an encouraging word? Could that be part of the purpose?

I met many people over the last week – some old friends from my previous bout with this bug and I met many new friends. None of them were grouchy or seemed sad. They seemed like they really did enjoy what they did. That was good. It helped me through a tough time. But I still have to ask if there was a deeper lesson for me to learn?

The only issue that jumps up for me is that unlike my previous episode 10 weeks ago, this time it seemed to be about me. I mean, for me, it was about me and not about others. I did not remember to pray for those whom I had conversations and discussions. I didn't pray for the assistant (Julie) or the blood draw lady (Vicki). I did not pray for the nurse (Marla) nor for the doctors (can't remember their names). It just seemed to be about me. Why was I so focuses on me and not them?

That's not to say that there were not brief moments where I prayed for them – it just was not what I was focused on – and probably should have been.

Lord, forgive my selfishness.

2010-09-10T05:47:00.001-07:00

Have you ever felt like you were being tested? Un common dreams, life events that don't seem to match up with what you were hoping they would be? There is the difficulty understanding the whys, what ifs, and most disconcerting of all, the uncertainty of what the future holds?

I am going through my second treatment for the MRSA bacteria infection in 10 weeks. It is not the treatments, they are not pleasant or fun in any way, and it is not having the actual bug that seems to get me. It is getting it back to back so quickly that is messing with my head and heart.

I have met some pretty remarkable people at the medical facility where I go for treatment. Marla, what a gentle nurse who shows all she meets compassion. Julie, the trainee – she who keeps the linens stocked in all the rooms – always has a smile. There are all four doctors who have stopped by to look in on me. Each concerned that I get well quickly. And there is Miss Vicki. She reminds me of Tiny Tim's girlfriend.

Miss Vicki has had the pleasure of inserting a tube in my arm 51 cm and making sure that it went the right way – down into my heart and not up into my brain – all without missing a beat while I am sitting there cracking jokes and, well, just being a little difficult and annoying to someone who is matter of fact, has all the pieces lined up and each piece in its proper place, almost mechanical.

I think she almost relished the opportunity to do it the second time after the little stunt I did at her expense 10 weeks earlier. She did have a somewhat sinister smile when we met in the hallway this time. However she was very nice to me again. Something I did not deserve.

With all that said, I am having difficulty with the ancillary ramifications of being laid up again. Not the actual being sick or treatment but the inability to do my job and the disruption to my daily routine. That's what is really bothering me.

I have great co-workers. They rely on me and I on them. Then when you step out of the daily routine for a week of unexpected circumstance no one has a good idea of how to deal with the phone calls and planning that needs to continue with your work. It stresses them out because they are trying to pick up small pieces and patch thing together and understand what you were trying to do. We all can look at a project and my bet is that we would all take a different path toward the end. Not that any of the paths are wrong, they are just different.

My experience is that this breeds suspicion. I think that is what I fear most.

I have a wonderful boss. He is young, has a very quick mind and can run circles around my in the sheer quantity of work he gets done. I am not sure I have met anyone quite so focused. He is a good man to work for and I am continually learning from him. So, why am I so bothered by this second bout with MRSA?

Perhaps it is my desire to not want to disappoint him. I am not sure. I have some further thinking to do before I make up my mind. All I know is that something about this is really working on me.

2010-09-02T13:10:00.001-07:00

I updated my computer at work today. I have been using MS Office 2010 BETA for the last six to eight months. Loved the program so I purchased a final release copy yesterday. While doing my homework on installing it I read many of the horror stories others have had. Ooo, I was a little hesitant.

I did an uninstall via Windows, then used MS Windows Installer Clean Up Installation Wizard for Office 2010 and finally followed up with running CCleaner. The install went without a hitch. Up and running. It saw everything including all the network sign-in information. Oh, what relief.

I'm a happy camper.

2010-08-31T05:49:00.001-07:00

There are lots of good things in life, but not many are as good as old friends. Not old as in worn out and ready for discard but old as in used, with a patina that only age can give. Kind of like a nice piece of furniture you have had and used your whole life...you know,.. that one you could never give up because it just fits you. That's the kind of friends I'm talking about.

We had a couple of old friends come visit for a few days last week. We have known each other for almost 60 years. He and I were in the same nursery at church as infants and our wives have known each other since their early teen days.

We have been through a lot together, on both sides. Mistakes have been made, some poor decisions, family issues have gotten in the way at times, and there have been times when we would shake our heads wondering what the others were doing. Yet, through the years, even with over a thousand miles separating us, we have found that our friendship is precious and of incredible value.

I hope you have a friend in your life that you can share with. Someone who you can share your darkest moments and not feel like you will be discarded. We have those moments, all of us, and it is really nice to know that there is someone who will still love you, offer support, or just not reject you. They may shake their heads, give you the evil eye, or smack you, but you know that they still love you. There is a hug just around the corner.

It doesn't hurt if your friend is your favorite fishing buddy either.

Blessings on you friends! Blessings.

2010-08-23T05:52:00.000-07:00

I wrote something out for today but decided that it wsa too personal. Not for me but for the others that were part of the story. Sometimes the intimacy of a small gourp of people is sacred and should stay that way. With Myspace, Facebook, Blogs and a host of other social networking places it is too easy to 'spill the beans' unintentionally.

I will say that I have some friends that are really going through a rough time with some really big family issues and need constant prayer. It will not be an easy road to travel. There will be some twists and turns that even Hollywood could not envision but the one constant that everyone will be able to count on is that "the Lord cares for you and will walk with you through your darkest moments." This is a promise. Hold it tight to your chest and rely on it. Blessings on you.

2010-08-18T05:52:00.000-07:00

‘Conversion means a turning, moving round a corner. It can be a sharp, sudden, hairpin bend, as was Paul’s on the road to Damascus, or it can be a gentle, open curve, in which we change our direction only gradually. It is the Holy Spirit who does the work of sanctification, pulling us round the bend. ‘ **

Is it fair to say that some of us are pulled kicking and screaming all along the way? How about you? I know that for me, there is a lot of that, kicking and screaming. Why can’t I just go…calmly following…in a gentle curve…headed always towards the goal? Why must my road rival those of the Swiss Alps with so many twists, turns, and double backs along its path? There are lots of ups and downs too. Not much in the way of a flat level ride here.

It has taken 60 years for me to reach the place where I am tired of the all the twists and turns. BUT, am I ready to give in, give up the struggle? Now there is a question. Am I really ready to give in to the Lord’s leading in my life or am I going to struggle with Him for control? The funny thing is that I am happy with the direction He leads me, I just don’t like being told what I can and cannot do; thus the twists and turns. In some cases there are complete double backs and complete circles always going up or down in a spiral.

I think I am ready. I think I am ready to allow Him to take control and lead and me to become a follower. I am ready to stop struggling so much and see if following is easier and less stressful for me.

‘Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful, and enkindle in them the fire of your love. Lord, you tell me, as you told Simon Peter, to ‘Put out into the deep water.’ You are ready to surprise me with the depths I can find in myself, with the work you can do through me. Save me from complacency, from settling for a routine existence. Open me to recognizing your hand in my daily encounters.’ **

** http://sacredspace.ie/

2010-08-16T05:52:00.000-07:00

‘What is stirring in me as I pray? Am I consoled, troubled, left cold? I imagine Jesus himself standing or sitting at my side, and share my feelings with him’.

This quote is from one of my favorite websites – Sacred Space – it is part of today’s prayer. What struck me so much today was the ‘Am I left cold?’

Some days that is exactly how I feel after spending time in prayer. It’s like my prayers for the moment have fallen, deflated, to the floor. My heart feels heavy and there does not seem to be as much joy in my life as there should be.

This dear Irish monk continues by suggesting envisioning Jesus standing or sitting at my side. Once I do that, it is hard not to cut quickly to what really is bothering me and stop dancing around. Why do I feel the need to clutter up my prayers with all this non-essential stuff?

My wife often complains that I don’t talk, that I use too few words, even grunts and groans to communicate with her. She, on the other hand, sometimes has difficulty in stopping. Sometimes it is rapid fire, staccato bursts that seem to go on much longer than what I want to listen to. How different we are. At the same time, she can be incredibly concise and pointed in her words.

Lord, help me to share what I really feel – with you! Help me to be guarded and considerate with my words when others are present. Bless me today, Lord, for I truly need it.

2010-08-08T07:31:00.000-07:00

“Paid in full”, that’s what he said, “Paid in full’. I still can’t believe it. I still don’t really understand what it means; I’m not sure I ever did or ever will understand. Paid in full. What a statement, what a complete understatement!

Here are three simple words that hold so much power, so much freedom. They almost seem to be random yet they are not. They are very deliberate. They are purposefully connected to communicate a closing event, the finishing touch, the last mighty transaction that completes the purchase of a lifetime. It’s the end and the beginning, the end of the old and the start of the new, an incredible transition point.

And what a purchase it is. As purchases go, this is the best there is. There is none better, none greater, none more magnificent. Truly amazing, and interestingly, it was not something I did, but rather something someone did for me.

After thinking about this, I soon realized that the offer had been there all along. In fact, in order for the deal to be completed all I had to do was just simply ask. The offer, no, the gift that made payment possible had already been offered and delivered. That part was done years ago. I just didn’t understand.

He said that all I had to do was simply ask and he would make it so. Ask? Ask what? My son-in-law has a saying, “you get 100% of what you don’t ask for.” OK?

Perhaps you are like me, in that, I have a hard time asking for help. I want to do it myself, I want to be self-sufficient and not require someone else’s help. I may get mad and difficult to be around while I’m working through a tough project and I may break things in the process of finding a way to solve the problem at hand, but I want to do it. I want to do it my way. It is all about me. I don’t want help.

Paid in full was never something I would have been able to accomplish. I would never have been able to repay this debt. But still, ask for help? Huh?

The funny thing was that when it was all over there was this “duh” moment of realization. The fog lifted, the clouds blew away, the sky cleared and it was like I…well…like I understood it really was just that simple. The same is true for you too.

There is a book that has stood the ravages of time and still, two thousand years after it was written is still the number one bestselling book of all time. It out sells every other book ever printed. It is a long book and has a lot of chapters, a lot of different stories that are wonderfully woven together to tell an amazing story. It is the story of a question, a statement, a request for help, an answer and a payment that is beyond anything you can imagine. And the payment has already been made in your name. All you have to do is ask. How’s that!

This book, The Holy Bible, says in the book of John, chapter 3 and verse 16, that all you have to do is ask and it (eternal life) will be given to you. This is possible because Jesus, the Christ, has already paid the price for your sins. Just like he did for me, and he has done it for you too. All you have to do is ask him to forgive your sins and it will be so done. It is simple, and yet terrifying all at the same time asking that your sins be forgiven. I think the hardest part is admitting that I needed help, admitting that something was wrong that I couldn’t fix – that I needed help. Yet, the fix was – is – so easy and so complete. Jesus, the Christ, is standing at your hearts door, offering His help to your problem, and all you have to do is ask Him to come into your heart. It truly is that simple. Just ask Him for help.

Jesus, please come into my heart and forgive my sins. Jesus, thank you. Jesus, I love you. Amen.

2010-08-05T19:46:00.001-07:00

So, what fires your passion? What are you passionate about?

I was asked this question recently and I had to take some time to think about my answer. It is not an easy question to answer for me. There are many things I care deeply about. Many things can get me really riled up. But passion? What am I passionate about?

I did a word search on the internet and found that passion is a very complicated word. Wikipedia, Websters and a host of other sources seem to all agree – the word originates with the writings of the life of Christ and it’s first English use is in the description of the dramatic time for Christ between the night in the Garden (weeping blood) and the crucifixion. As I take a look at what Christ was enduring during those long hours alone – I cannot even begin to imagine or understand what that was like – the word seems to take on a whole new meaning.

What am I passionate about? Wow. I really am not sure what there is in my life that reaches this level. So, where does that leave me?

I have a friend who is passionate to the point of being annoying some times. He is a really outspoken Christian, devoted husband and father and he loves politics. What a combination. He is a mentor as well as an incredible friend. He is someone you can count on if in need and you will find him praying about all that is going on around him. Always!

He is passionate (in my estimation) about many things. Mostly he is passionate about those things that have eternal value. Humm.

OK, so what am I passionate about? No, let me reword that sentence. What should I be passionate about? Yes, I like that much better. It is safer and it does not seem to demand quite the same negative response. But, I am ducking the real issue, aren’t I. What am I passionate about?

Injustice can get me worked up into frenzy really quickly. I can become almost white hot in an instance when I sense an injustice is being handed out to me or those around me. There are others too, but why is the condition of the souls around me not at the top of the list? Why am I not passionate about the fact that I believe, if you do not believe that Jesus is the Christ and that He came and gave His life for you so you might live in eternity with Him? Have I become so sensitized by the world that Christ’s love does not ignite a real passion in me any longer?

I think I need to think a lot more about this. I am beginning to think that this may be one of the paramount questions I will need to answer in my life or rather for my life. Perhaps even, this might be THE question St. Peter will be asking about when he greets me at those pearly gates.

2010-08-03T05:29:00.000-07:00

God is so good. We had a wonderful time on vacation - trials and blessings. I certainly would not have chosen to go through some of the challanges He allowed us to encounter but when all is told it was a wonderful time with family and some new friends.
The Rocky Mountains are gorgous and magnificent. You could see God's work everywhere. This was no accident of nature. It was purposfully created and layed out for our enjoyment. It is a testiment to His power and grace. Oh what magesty. What a throne room!
He is a wonderful God who cares about you and about me.

2010-07-30T05:58:00.000-07:00

What a wonderful time we have had in Rocky Mountain National Park. This place is amazing. It certainly is on par with Yellowstone or Yosemite. Glorious views of incredible mountains and meadows. We camped at the lowest elevation camp ground in the park at 8500 feet. One of the parks outlooks is at over 12,000 feet. You can see what looks like from the Pacific to the Atlantic.

We met our daughter (Jenny) and her wonderful husband (JR) and, of course, our grandson Cason along with JR's parents (Dennis and Linda) there. We had lots of fun.

I was able to fish some incredible waters that flow straight from the high mountain glaciers. Rainbow's, brookies, brown and the ever lovely Greenback cutthroat trout. The Greenbacks are especially beautiful. They are the only indigenous trout to this part of Colorado. My favorite waters quickly became The Big Thompson River as it flowed down through the alpine meadow. the Morain Meadow is about 1/2 mile wide and 5 miles long running right up to the base of the some sawtooth looking mountains. Spectacular views.

I was able to take JR fishing twice. This was the first time he ever fished with a fly rod. He did really good. By the end of the second day he was casting pretty well and I could comfortably leave him on his own. Good job JR!

I think we will be back here some time in the future.

2010-07-22T05:51:00.001-07:00

Some days I wake up with what feels like a heavy heart. No specific thing is weighing me down, I just feel like I have those heavy lead blankets the dentist puts on you before he takes an xray of your teeth. A Heavy, heavy weight slowing my mind down. These mornings I go to Sacred Space, http://sacredspace.ie/ an Irish Jesuit prayer page. It always manages to lift my spirit.

These faithful believers have a way with words that seem to always penetrate my soul. I’m not sure how they do it. Their words are always what I need to hear.

Today, for instance, I woke up at 4:04 am with the rooster crowing. That is usually my signal that I need to pray about what is on my mind. I have a short list of people whom I pray for when God wakes me this way. Somehow in the middle of praying I fell back to sleep – Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. It was the alarm clock going off. 5AM. I got up and made coffee, started my Anthony Burger CD and sat down in my chair for a few minutes of quiet.

With the heavy blanket on my heart, I opened my netbook and tried a couple of pages to distract myself from the feelings I was having. Didn’t work. I opened Sacred Space and went through the prayer liturgy for today. What a blessing. 5 minutes is all it took and it seemed like I was singing. The heaviness was gone. I’m not sure what that heaviness was…don’t really care…God managed to help me get past it and start really living my life today.

Thank you, God, for giving us such resources like Sacred Space, to help those of us who need it. And, bless the people who pour their time and effort into such projects. Blessings on them!

2010-07-21T05:54:00.000-07:00

Oh what a sceene it must have been. The queen ... dressed in her finest royal clothing ... anixous adn nervous ... standing at the palace courtyard entrance, waiting for an unscheduled audiance with the king. It could cost her her life if he was in a foul mood. One thing you did not do was interrupt the king or upset the scheduled events of the day. Not even the queen had that option.

The time finally came and the great doors opened. The Great Hall ... filled with the royal courtiers and the kings servants ... awaited this monumental break in protocol. Who would dare break the scheduled cycle of the court? Who would put their life at such risk?

There she stood - the queen! How beautiful she was. What could have been so important that she would risk her life this way?

The king sees her and raises the royal septer granting her entrance and an invitation to approach the throne! Oh, what a long, long walk it is to the throne. But, with head held high the queen makes the most important walk of her life. First one foot, then the other, time after time, slowly and delibertly showing more strength with every step she moves through the royal court. Every step gives her more and more resolve that what she is doing must be done. She risked her life all for one night with the king (more on that in a little while).

You see, the queen saw that she needed to fight the evil cancer of unjustice, greed and power she saw in the kings confidants and advisers. Queen Esther put her life on the line for what? Nothing less than the lives of her people.

Is that story so much different that what we face today? The lives of our people, friends, families, coworkers? Am I willing to stand up against the evil of my time? Am I willing to make the long walk through the royal court for one night with the king so I might persuade him to change the way the country is going? To help him see that his policies are killing my people?

If given the chance would I take it?

2010-07-20T05:48:00.000-07:00

In todays hustle and bustle it seems so hard to take time to stop and clear my head of all that is going on around me. There is always some new electronic gadget or program to learn, some noise maker to fill my life with sound and distraction from what is important - focusing on God and His love for me and you.

This morning I made an attempt at coping with uncluttering my mind and focusing on Him. It was a lot harder than I thought. I was thinking that I would skip jumping in the hot tub at 5AM like I usually do each morning, turn on some soft southing, restful music, plop down in my rocking chair and unfill my mind. The only problem is that I could not shut it down enough to start downloading. I could not find a way to decompress. It is like I'm stuck in the fast lane and cannot get over through all the other traffic to the slow lane so I can exit the roadway. My brain is engaged before my body is ready to even get to the starting line.

Vacation is coming in a few days. Hopefully I will be able to find a way to renew my soul and find a way to think again. Its like I need to reboot, throw out some old files so that there will be room for the new. I guess I am tired of overwriting and need a new, bigger hard drive with some unused disk space.

Lord, help me to find a way to start each day with you and find a way to force the world and all its distractions out of my life for a few moments each morning so I may quietly commune with you. Lord, help me slow down and think on you and your word each morning. Help me to find a way to quietly listen for and to your quiet voice. I need your word and direction in my life - more now than ever before.

Thank you Lord, thank you for being patient with me. Thank you for waiting quietly and not giving up on me. Thank you for the occasional head slap. Thank you for ... well ... all you do for me. You provide blessing in my life and the lives of those around me. We have so much in the way of your blessing. Thank you.

2010-07-04T08:10:00.000-07:00

It's been just a little over a week since those little bacterial decided to find a new host - me! Three trips to the hospital for IV meds and pick line over a weekend was enough. I now have a paper bag with 57 syringes that will make for great fun with the grandchildren when it gets hot.

I still have about 8 days of oral antibiotics to take and I should be finished. Staff infections are not fun. However, I have learned how to program almost every appliance in the house, including the TV remote control. I was finally able to get it to operate the Comcast cable box. For some reason Samsun and Comcast are not too compatible but I managed to get it to work.

I think I'm going to clean the barn today. I do not feel like I have the energy for church and all those people in one assembly. I should be ready to go back next week.

Blessings,

2010-06-26T07:18:00.000-07:00

It's 6am on Saturday morning. What are you doing? I'm giving my self 5 syringes full of IV meds. That should last about 12 hours and I get to do it all over again - for the next 5 days.

Actually, I am very grateful to the medical staff at Group Health for perhaps saving my life. I managed to get a very sever case of bacterial infection in my blood via my ear and face. They think that they caught it in time however I have to take some very strong meds that they can't just give me through a vein but must be administered through a catheter just above my heart. What fun.

There are two very good up sides to all this. My blood sugars are down where they are supposed to be because I'm not eating much and I'm loosing weight. What a miracle. Modern science has come so far. I love it.

The down side is that my butt is getting flat from sitting. I'm thinking that I may duct tape the IV pump to the handle bars on my bike and see if that doesn't work to get things a little less static.

2010-06-21T17:00:00.001-07:00

Well, its official now. I am 60 years old. The way I look at it 60 is the new 40! There is still a lot of life to live. Like today for instance.

LOLA and I went off this morning to get the Toad fixed. Les Schwaub changed the front shocks and said that should take care of the problem. It sure drives better now that it did yesterday. But I'm not convinced that was the only (or major) problem. I still think that there is something in the u-joints or transfer case that is not right. Well, we are going to move on tomorrow and see what happens. The adventrure continues.

Twisp, WA, is a wonderful little place. Lots to see and do. The river is still running, the wind is blowing, clouds are shuffeling across the sky adn I have hjad a wonderful day. We visited the local hardware store and bought a new barbarque for the motorhome. Its small and easy to fit in the storage cabinet. Can't wait to see what Weber gives me for dinner tonight. Hope it does not taste like new burnt paint.

Tomorrow we move over to Republic, WA. Fifteen miles from Canada. We will be staying on a parcel my boss ownes on the Kettle River. We are supposed to go fishing together on Wednesday. That should be fun. Need to go for now...I hear that steak calling to me.

2010-06-21T17:00:00.000-07:00

2010-06-19T19:26:00.000-07:00

Well, its vacation week. We left this morning and drove from Tenino up I-5 to Arlington and jumped on 530 East headed for Twisp, WA. The drive over the mountains was spactactular. The Northern Cascades are know as the American Apls. There were spots where the mountain sides towered over us 5-6000 feet straight up.

At one point the jagged edged saw-tooth snow-capped mountains were right there ahead of us. Beautiful, thats all I can say. Winthrop/Twisp area is kind of like going back a 100 or so years. Western themed ranching country.

We took a drive up the Twisp River Road thinking that it would lead us to some small stream fishing. When we found a nice spot we pulled over to the side of the road and asked the rancher if we could fly fish the river through his property. He said "Well, I guess you could but fishing doesn't open here until July 1st." Oops. It is only June 19th. That could have been an expensive mistake.

We continued on up the mountain road and took a side road that lead us up to Black Pine Lake. It was 8 miles up a dirt road to the lake. At mile marker 6 the truck started to make a real loud clicking sound near the transfer case so we turned around and started down the mountain, praying all the while that God would get us home without a long, lonely, dark walk. As soon as we turned on to the highway the sound started to get more and more faint.

Les Schaub is only a couple of miles up the road and we will be there Monday morning bright and early. Hope they can fix it!

We are in Riverside RV Park, Twisp, WA. What a beautiful place. The Methow river is 25 feet away. Only grass and wild roses between me an the water. Oooo. Tomorrow the Methow and I have a date. Time for doing the dinner dishes. Then some quality time with LOLA. Now were talking!

2010-06-13T06:18:00.001-07:00

I woke up this morning with a question ringing in my ears - what can wash away my sin? It won't go away, the question, it is with me like a nagging headache. Even as I sit in my rocking chair with some Anthony Burger playing softly in the background, it won't go away.

Soooo, what is it that can wash away my sin? I asked Google and Google says it is the Blood of Jesus. It returned 356,000 pages in 2 seconds. Pretty good odds there may be something here.

What is blood and how can it cleanse? You've seen it, blood that is. Probably some of your own. It's sticky, gooey and drys to a crusty scabby kind of mess. It gives us life. It restores our bodies from the beatings we give them every day. It stains! It is hard to remove. It leaves a residue on every thing it touches. Just watch NCIS or one of the other cop shows on TV. They have this really cool light and colored glasses that show where the blood is/was even after it has been cleaned up. I should ask my nephew about this. He works in the Crime Scene Unit for the Washington State Patrol. He probably would know.

Ok, if it cannot be cleaned up, if bleach won't remove it, if water only dilutes it, somehow, I'm thinking, it is not blood that does the cleansing. It must be something else. What?

But Google is usually pretty reliable in answering my questions. Jessie Stone (Tom Sellick, TV cop) says to always go back to the beginning when you come to an end. I'm going back to the beginning.

The first page Google returned in answer to my question says, 'Nothing but the blood of Jesus; What can make me whole again? Nothing but the blood of Jesus. ...' Ah! Now we have it, here it is, right in the first listing. It takes a special type of blood! Not just any blood. Yours or mine won't work. There is no cleansing power in our blood, its gooey and stains. In fact it will only make things worse. But Jesus' blood...now that's a whole other thing.

Jesus, the one who died on a cross and rose from the dead. It is His blood that cleanses our sin. Well, that is what Google says. And, it's also what the Bible says. Imagine that. Google and the Bible giving the same answer. It must be right!

Jesus took our sins, yours and mine, and in a remarkable event, became sin in the face of God. And, God had to look away from Him. Ouch. What's that all about? That's another post some day.

God could not look on Jesus because He became sin (for you and me). This is the supreme act of selflessness throughout all history. One son, God's son, gave up the only thing he wanted most in life, to shine in his fathers eyes, for you and for me. He gave it up by dying on a cross with nails driven in his hands and a sword piercing his side. He died in disgrace and dispair. He died bleeding, physically and emotionally. A broken body and a broken heart.

A magical moment happend that day. At the exact moment when he died, God tore the curtain (seven very heavy curtains hung as one) that seperated the holy place in his dwelling place (the temple) in two, allowing the common person access into the Holy of Holies. In other words, he made a way for you and me to gain direct access to Himself. We didn't have to go to God through the priest any more. And we didn't have to sacrifice another living thing (that blood thing again). But it only happened because God's son, Jesus, became sin and died on a cross, for you and me. Jesus was heart-wrenchingly seperated from his father for a brief moment.

Because of that selfless act, the blood that was spilt that day, Jesus' own blood, now has special powers that no other has. It cleanses sin. Your sin, and my sin, it cleanses it all, it takes it away, it destroys it, it is forever removed - gone for eternity! Wow!

Thank you Jesus! Thank you.

2010-06-10T05:21:00.000-07:00

I like stability! Repeats are great. As I get older (just turning 60 this month) I find that routine is just fine more and more. Somehow it seems to make life easier. Get up at the same time...go to the same barista for morning coffee...drive the same route to work each day...manage the same tasks and coworkers...take your meds at the same time...watch the same TV shows...go to bed at the same time...they all add up to a full and enjoyavble life.

Add too much additional drama to the mix and life seems a little off kilter. I don't like being off kilter.

This past year has been full of additional drama. We see it playing out in our national politics, in our local communities, in the lives of our friends and even in our own. It feels disconcerting to me. As a nation it seems like we are at war with ourselves. There is not a defined enemy other than "its the other guy" and we really don't have a clear definition of who that is except for anyone who does not profess the same values you or I hold so dear. And, that just does not make too much sense.

We all know that it takes diversity for life to work. We see it in nature. When too much inbreeding happens dramatic changes occur. Changes that are not good. The same is true when we want everyone to do the same thing or think alike. We very quickly become a herd of sheep headed for the cliff. A very high cliff.

I have started to pray that I could find some leadership to support that would not be quite so polarizing and that would be clear in what it stands for. It seems to me that we don't need more drama, finger pointing or blasting away at the other guys but clear and concise statements of understanding and knowing exactly where we stand on the issues. I need a national cheerleader who can cheer me on towards the future. Some one who can pull us back from the brink of the cliff.

Please, please show your self!

Tuesday Morning

2010-06-01T05:27:00.000-07:00

It's Monday, err, Tuesday morning after a very nice long weekend. Wow, did I need the extra day of rest. Feeling pretty good this morning.

Kathleen and I took time yesterday to go for a drive. I promised her that I would make sure we were back home by noon. We went looking for a new fishing spot that one of her co-workers suggested. It took some time but we were able to find it. I think that it will be one of the first places I try when the season opens next weekend.

Oh, yeah, we got home at 11:53. Seven minutes early. Took a nap, putzed in the yard, cleaned the garage, and generally goofed off the rest of the day. Wonderful.

A Memory with Bedford Hicks

2010-05-23T15:53:00.000-07:00

One of my old friends past on today.

He was ancient by my way of thinking. He is the father of a beautiful redhead I dated during high school. That was almost 42 years ago. She, I liked very much. Oh, that red hair. I liked her mom and brother too. I really liked her sister (who married one of my best friends) but I was absolutely terrified of her dad. I thought that he might enjoy having my ass for dinner just because he could. And, he did, on multiple occasions. Just because he could.

Later on a few years, I remember going on a fishing trip with Bedford and one of his doctor friends. I think the reason we (my best friend who married his daughter and I) went with him was that he owned a motor home and that was way more exciting than sleeping on the ground or in the pickup bed. He and the doc had the bedroom, my friend got the couch and I slept on the floor.

The TV played from the time we left home until we arrived back there after a week of fishing. He never turned the thing off. One time I tried to turn it off and he just roared at me. Once, while he was sleeping (really snoring and snorting loudly with an occasional gasp for more air) using the remote control, I started to turn the volume down one click at a time over perhaps 15 minutes, so I could sleep without the TV playing reruns of Mr. Ed or The Twilight Zone. Finally, the volume was down to almost off...one or two more clicks...you had to really work to hear it...and I was feeling like a million dollars with sleep just starting to wash over me. Oh, sleep, quiet sleep, what blessedness it gives the soul.

Inever made it to that last click. Bedford sucked air just enough to momentarily wake up. "Who turned off the TV," he roared, 'I was watching that!" He instantly knew it was me who had turned it off. No one else would dare do such a thing. "It's not off, the picture is still on, watch-a-way all you want", I said. Didn't work. He made me turn up the volume on the damn thing. I thought of pulling a tube out of the back but there was none. Awe shucks!

Another memory on the same trip was that Bedford and the Doc would consume alarming amounts of Vodka. They would start at breakfast with Vodka and orange juice, at lunch it was Vodka and Coke-a-Cola and by the time dinner was over it was just straight Vodka.

I'm not much of a drinker, but it seemed to me that one bottle of Vodka a day per man should be enough to really leave one plastered and sleep should come easy and hard. Not so with Bedford. The more he consumed the more easy going he was with everyone else and the more he enjoyed torturing me.

There were ways of getting even with him though. My wife has always had this fancy of hiding embarrassing things in my clothes or fishing gear. One trip it might be some fancy lacey underware or perhaps a leapord print bra. I have quite a collection now. On this trip she had purchased what could only be called a cleverly comical guys G-string Complete with a face, hat and giant nose. I found it and quickly hid it in Bedford's stuff.

Sometime after dinner he found it and was mad as hell. He came storming out of the bedroom waving this thing all around in the air, making gestures and yelling words that still burn my ears all these years later. The motor home was rocking from side to side, dishes tumbling into the sink and glasses spilling, people jumping to get out of his way. He looking for me! Once again, he knew it was me who had planted this obscene thing in his precious stuff. But, Oh what a laugh we all had. It took some time, but even Bedford began to laugh at Pierre.

Memories. These are all I have left of my precious friend, just memories. Good by old friend, we will miss you.

God is Good

2010-05-17T05:22:00.000-07:00

What a weekend. Hard work on Saturday and rest on Sunday. Just how it is supposed to be.

Saturday I finished the greenhouse for Lola. This is something she has wanted since we moved to Washington 8 years ago. Now she has a place to start her vegies and plants to get an early start on the growing season.

Sunday we took time just for ourselves. After a wonderful time at church we went to lunch. We were the first people in the restaurant - a little mariachi music in the background and a nice young lady who kept our chips and salsa full. What more can you ask for?

We took a nice 20 mile drive through the country on the way home, cows in the fields, geese in the meadows, horses at the fence waiting for someone to feed them a carrot or apple. The windows were rolled down and we could hear the birds singing above the low roar of the wind in our hair. How nice it is to relax.

Home and a nap! Never got the nap but home was really nice. We did crawl into bed for some youthful fun and that always has a way of straightening out whatever it is that gets me kinked up. It somehow reshuffles my hard drive and gets my brain working again.

This is all so wonderful because heading into Friday, both Lola and I were getting more and more messed up. She was suffering from depression and I was reacting poorly. I accused her of not taking her meds and she accused me of ...well, being me. Ouch.

We missed our granddaughters recital because neither of us wanted to be in a crowd of people. We wanted some time to ourselves without the need to interact with others. There are just times when quiet and hard work are therapeutic. And, that is what both of us needed.

Now the chore is to find a way to say 'I'm sorry' to Kayla. Perhaps a special concert just for Nana and Papa might help.

All that said, it's Monday morning and the gray clouds are gone. God has help to restore our souls once again. How amazing He is.

Mother's Day at Rock Prairie

2010-05-10T05:56:00.000-07:00

I asked my wife what she wanted for Mothers day this year and she replied with this question: 'Can I have anything I want'? Yes Dear, anything you want. This is your day. 'I don't want to go to church. I need some time away from people!'

She chose to spend the day at our home on Rock Prairie. Breakfast out at the local (only) restaurant with all the other Rock Prairieites. We, of course, went in blue jeans, our normal dress code, and felt somewhat over dressed. I didn't have any suspenders on and she didn't have her hair up in honeybun or whatever they call that now days.

After breakfast we went shopping. Well, we went up to the old Barn looking for some dogwood trees. Her (our) children had given her some funds to purchase a tree or two. They had a lot of trees but not the one she was looking for. So we packed it up and started for home discouraged a little. Then we took off for the next town down the Oregon Trail about 20 miles away. As we drove down the highway I mentioned that this is one of my favorite roads to travel. It goes through a lot of farms and follows a river for a good while. Green, slow, peaceful. I really love this drive.

After about 20 minutes of this most of her discouragement was ebbing away. Walking through the nursery and touching all the plants seemed to heal whatever was bothering her. She was smiling. Then she said to the clerk, 'I want this one...and this one...oh, and that one. WHAT? All I could see was WORK coming. I mean we live in Rock Prairie...the name fits.

We brought the trees home and started to work...how do you keep the mole from eating the new roots? Ah! We planted them in chicken wire baskets set in the ground. Hope it works. Some how it just takes dirt under her finger nails to make the couds go away. She spent the whole day working at planting trees and other items in the yard as well as making a few modification to the chicken coops in the back. At one time I caught her just sitting in the middle of the chicken coop playing with the two new turkey chicks. She was actually lying down in the hay letting them climb on her - giggling all the while. What ever it takes for those smiles! I love it.

Me? I went in and cleaned up the kitchen, washed the dishes, thought about doing some laundry (not) and settled in my easy chair with a cold soda. It was turning out to be a good day at Rock Prairie.

It's going to be a good day!

2010-05-06T05:38:00.000-07:00

Hey, it's going to be a good day. I'm vertical, not horizontal! Lola pushed me out of bed with her feet and said 'get your a** in gear you ol' coote! So here I am. Haven't been called that for a while.

We moved my African Violets to a new location and they seem to be really happy. Some have leaves taht are as big as the palm of your hand. Others are full of new blooms. My orchids are blooming with new spikes. Not sure what color they are. I think a green-yellow mix with some small brown spots. They should open in a couple of weeks.

Just imagine...growing orchids in your kitchen in WA. Who would have thought that could happen. I mean it is 34 degrees outside this morning. And we thought summer was here. It is supposed to be in the mid seventies this weekend. Maybe it is.

Got to go...

Would to God that All

2010-05-05T05:54:00.000-07:00

"Would to God that all the party names and unscriptural phrases and forms which have divided the Christian world were forgot, and that we might all agree to sit down together, as humble, loving disciples, at the feet of our common Master, to hear His word, to imbibe His Spirit, and to transcribe His life in our own." (January 4, 1754 - John Wesley)

My son-in-law’s father put this quote on his Facebook page. For some reason it just struck me – humbly sitting down together – or rather sitting down together, humbly. There is a difference. The first implys individuals humbling themselves before meeting as an assembly of peers and the latter implies that the group humbles themselves collectively as they begin to contemplate an action.

How much better it would be if we were to follow this ageless direction for our lives as believers. Many things find ways to divide us and the real message gets lost in all our bickering. I was reminded in class yesterday of the importance of sharing the Good News with those around me to help ensure that they too have a chance to sit at the Masters feet and hear His word.

There is so much in this quote. ‘Would to God that all…’ Me, you, we are each included. It is collective and encompassing. But it is so much more. Not just those of us that are living and breathing beings, but the thoughts and ideals we hold do dear. Those same thoughts and idea, are what divide us, as we find it so difficult to reconcile the differentness of our thoughts, wisdoms and teachings on a given tenant or doctrine.

‘All that divides the Christian world’ – whew, that’s a lot! What is it that divides you and me? What are the issues that cause us to think ill of one another? What is it that keeps us from joining together as one to worship the Master and Savior together? Why are these things so important that we allow them to divide us? The easy answer is to blame it all on Satan. But somehow I think that, while he may hold some of the blame, I too, am indicted by my own actions and words. This is the most troubling part of the paradox for me.

“Me? How can that be? It’s not me, it’s them. I mean, just look at them carrying on and on deriding what I believe. How can they do that? No, how can they think that way? It’s just not right! How stupid can you g…?” And so on goes the conversation in my head. And what does it get me? A poke in the ribs from my wife…that’s just for starters. Actually, what it gets me is discouraged. Frustrated that we let such seemingly petty things get in the way of sharing the Good News and helping others to find Him, the One Who is Able to Save, the Redeemer. Somehow this conversation always casts a pall over spirit and my bright outlook gets dulled. That part IS Satan’s work. But I own the rest. Dwelling and continued contemplation on the differences and working myself up so I say angry words or begin to plot hurtful words to fling back. That part is ME.

Oh my, but I could go on for a long time. The me part again. BUT, this should be about HIM. What would He want me to do? In my heart I know what it is. He would, and does, want me to share - if we will let Him into our heart, lives and thoughts He promises that we will have eternal life with Him in return. It really is that simple.

Bless the Lord, Oh My Soul

2010-05-02T16:10:00.000-07:00

Today I was witness to one of the most astounding baptism services in my 60 years of following Christ. A new fellowship of believers, new friends, God’s amazing presence, and testimonies of how He has changed believer’s lives were all very much a part of this wonderful time.

My experience is that baptism always seemed to be solemn affair, almost like, well, communion - here, today, it was a celebration with everyone clapping and shouting encouragement – all while loud celebratory and praiseworthy music was being played and we congregants worshiped the All Mighty God, The Savior and Redeemer of Life.

In God’s presence is an amazing place to be!

Perhaps Robert Coleman says it best. “It is beautiful to contemplate the nature of deity and to bask in His glory. This is really what worship is – the adoring response of the creature to the infinite majesty of God. While it presupposes submission to Him, worship, in its highest sense, is not supplication for needs, or even thanksgiving for blessings, but ‘the occupation of the soul with God Himself.’ Whatever the means – preaching and hearing of the Word, celebration of the sacraments, singing of hymns, offering of prayers, quiet meditation – the end of it all is the pure joy of magnifying the One who alone is worthy.”

Today that ‘pure joy of magnifying the One who alone is worthy’ was part of the baptism of believers. Hallelujah, amen!

Sleep What?

2010-03-19T15:19:00.000-07:00

I had just called to talk with the doctor and get the results from some testing that he had scheduled for me to get done. It seemed a little strange that they wanted to do a “sono-gram” on me. I’m not pregnant and have not been visited by aliens from outer space that I know of. What are they going to look at anyway? Oh, but I’m way ahead of my self here. Let me start at the beginning.

…I just got back from the doctor again. What is it about all these tests? OK. Sure, I have complained. But not enough to justify seven different doctor office visits, each with some sort of test associated with it. The last one was for sleep apnea for heavens sake. I’m fast asleep within 30 seconds and usually don’t wake up more than once for a visit to the … well, you know the drill. Sleep is NOT one of my problems.

So I show up just like I’m supposed to. The specialist is a 45 minute drive from my home if there is no traffic. With traffic…it could take an hour or two. This little ‘candy striper’ of a nurse calls my name out and I follow her down the hall to the exam room. She instructs me to disrobe and she will be back in a few minutes. The gown she gives me won’t cover my ass much less any other parts. Luckily there is a towel hanging on the back of the door.

When she returns she sweetly smiles and says, “Oh, Mr. Maxwell, not that much! These gowns are only big enough to cover your upper body. I only need to see your chest and shoulders. I’ll be back in a minute”.

Crap. How could I have misunderstood her directions? No, I got it right. I saw that grin she had on her face. That little… I quickly put my pants, socks and shoes back on. Then I waited. Nervously. How can your toes get so cold so fast? And this gown, its not much more than half a baby crib sheet with a tie on it. I have tee shirts that are bigger.

Finally she returned. It was only then that I noticed her name tag. DR CHRISTINA. After all was said and done, my little candy striper nurse was the actual doctor! She didn’t look like she was more than a few weeks out of college or med school. I was stunned.

After a brief introduction, complete with a smile from ear to ear she started prodding and poked all around my neck, feeling for who knows what. This was about sleep right? What’s that have to do with the neck and shoulders.

The next thing I knew she had me strapped up to a machine with a bunch of little sticky pads placed all over my chest and neck. There was a mask that blew air in my nose and tube that had to go in my mouth. I looked like I was part of a Frankenstein movie scene. Then she said “you need to remember how to do this yourself tonight”. What? I wasn’t paying attention. There’s got to be 30 wires here. How am I supposed to remember where they all go? You got to be kidding me.

She checked a lot of things and somewhere in all this made the comment “this doesn’t feel right. You should get your thyroid checked. Oh, and make sure that you get this green wire on the top terminal of the control panel when you do this tonight. It won’t work right if you don’t and then we will have to do it again.” Not going to happen.

This is my last doctor’s visit for a long time. I’m not doing this test again. Who invented this thing anyway? How am I supposed to sleep with all this electronic junk hanging on me?

OK, I got it all wired up and settled down to go to sleep. How do you sleep with this mask on? And this tube blowing air in my nose, it was awful. I have two friends who use one of these masks every night and are almost afraid to try to sleep without them. They got to be nuts! Well, one actually is nuts, but that’s another story.

How do you roll over? All I did was toss and turn, well, actually, I just got mad. The more I tried to sleep the more uncomfortable I became. After some time I did fall asleep for what felt like only moments at a time. After 5 hours of this I gave up and ripped it off and threw it on the floor. Finally I could get some sleep.

Brrrrrrrrrrrr. It can’t be 5 AM yet, can it? That nasty alarm clock just went off and jolted me to a semiconscious state of morning breath and heavy eyelids. I slid out of bead and tripped on to the floor. That blank-ity-blank mask got me again. Somehow I managed to get my teeth brushed and my eyelids open long enough to pack that thing up and throw it in my truck. Boy, will I be glad to turn this in and be done with doctors’ visits for a long time.

A few days later I received my sleep apnea report. I have no problem sleeping at night! Just like I told them. I wonder how much that little episode cost the insurance company?

Oh, yeah, on the bottom of the report was a notice to report to another doctor for a sono-gram. What? A sono-gram?

Its Been A Long Time

2010-03-13T05:42:00.000-08:00

Its 5:30 am on a Saturday morning. The house is quiet, the dogs are still sleeping, my wife is just starting to stir. I thought I would check my email and there was a message from our oldest letting us know that she had something special posted on her blog. She said she was asked to speak at church in tomorrow mornings service and she wanted to give us a heads up on what she was going to say.

Ooooo. My mind shifted into overdrive trying to guess what that message might be. Good? Bad? What would she say that she thought we might need advanced notice of?

Shame on me!

I guess I really needed to read what she said. It made me realize that as parents we really do have influence in who/what our children become. I mean, I already knew that...I just needed to be reminded. What a wonderful young woman of God she has become.

Now, please understand, I am not saying that she is who she is because of me or because of my influence in her life. Although I would like to think her mom and I played a part in who she has become...she is who she is because of the choices she has made in response to those life circumstances and events that take place everyday. And wow, are we proud of her.

Rock on Kassie!

Must. Stop. Eating. Cookies.

2006-08-02T07:06:00.000-07:00

Must. Stop. Eating. Cookies. Where does all this extra skin come from any way?

Well, I jumped on the scale this morning at mom's behest and had a little panic attack. I guess I will have to give up eating Grandma's cookies. But they're so good!

She uses real sugar, not Splenda and they have oats and other good for you stuff in them, so why are they so bad for you? It's not fair! I guess I'll have to go on strike.

DO YOU KNOW HIM?

2006-07-31T13:57:00.000-07:00

DO YOU KNOW HIM?

The Bible says my King is a seven-way king....He's the King of the Jews; that's a racial king....He's the King of Israel; that's a national King....He's the King of Righteousness....He's the King of the Ages.....He's the King of Heaven....He's the King of Glory....He's the King of kings, and He's the Lord of lords. That's my King. Well....I wonder, do you know Him? David said, "The Heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament shows His handiwork. My King is a sovereign King. No means of measure can define His limitless love. No far seeing telescope can bring into visibility the coastline of His shoreless supply. No barrier can hinder Him from pouring out His blessings. He's enduringly strong....He's entirely sincere....He's eternally steadfast....He's immortally graceful....He's imperially powerful....He's impartially merciful....... Do you know Him?

He's the greatest phenomenon that ever crossed the horizon of this world. He's God's Son....He's a sinner's Savior....He's the centerpiece of civilization....He stands in the solitude of Himself....He's august....He's unique....He's unparalleled....He's unprecedented....He's the loftiest idea in literature....He's the highest personality in philosophy....He's the supreme problem in higher criticism....He's the fundamental doctrine of true theology....He's the cardinal necessity for spiritual religion....He's the miracle of the age.... He's the superlative of everything good that you choose to call Him....He's the only one qualified to be an all sufficient Savior...... I wonder if you know Him today?

He supplies strength for the weak....He's available for the tempted and the tried....He sympathizes and He saves....He strengthens and sustains....He guards and He guides....He heals the sick....He cleanses lepers....He forgives sinners....He discharges debtors....He delivers captives....He defends the feeble....He blesses the young....He serves the unfortunate....He regards the aged....He rewards the diligent....and He beautifies the meek....... I wonder if you know Him?

Well, my King....is the King....He's the key to knowledge....He's the wellspring to wisdom....He's the doorway of deliverance....He's the pathway of peace....He's the roadway of righteousness ....He's the highway of holiness....He's the gateway of glory....... Do you know Him?

Well....His office is manifold....His promise is sure....His light is matchless....His goodness is limitless....His mercy is everlasting....His love never changes....His word is enough....His grace is sufficient....His reign is righteous....and His yoke is easy, and his burden is light. I wish I could describe Him to you, but He's indescribable....He's incomprehensible....He's invincible....He's irresistible.

Well, you can't get Him out of your mind....You can't get Him off of your hand....You can't out live Him, and you can't live without Him....The Pharisees couldn't stand Him, but they found out they couldn't stop Him....Pilate couldn't find any fault in Him....The witnesses couldn't get their testimonies to agree....Herod couldn't kill Him....Death couldn't handle Him, and the grave couldn't hold Him. Yea!!!, that's my King, that's my King.

Father..."Thine is the Kingdom....and the Power....and the Glory....Forever"....and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever. How long is that? And ever...and ever...and when you get through with all the forevers, then.... AMEN!....AMEN!

- S.M. Lockridge

All I can say is take a look at the previous post. It'll knock you socks off too.

You Can Trust Him

2006-07-31T13:37:00.000-07:00

You Can Trust Him

He's the one who made you, it is He who made us and not we ourselves. The heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament shows His handiwork. No means or measure can define His limitless love and no farseeing telescope can bring into visibility the coastline of His shoreless supply. I'M TELLING YOU TODAY YOU CAN TRUST HIM!

No barrier can hinder Him from pouring out His blessing. He's enduringly strong and He's entirely sincere. He's eternally steadfast and He's immortally graceful. He's imperially powerful and He's impartially merciful. He's the greatest phenomenon that has ever crossed the horizon of this world. He's God's Son, He's the sinner's Savior, He's the centerpiece of civilization. I'M TRYING TO TELL YOU CHURCH, YOU CAN TRUST HIM!

He does not have to call for help and you can't confuse Him. He doesn't need you and He doesn't need me. He stands alone in the solitude of Himself. He's august and He's unique. He's unparalleled, He's unprecedented, He's supreme, He's preeminent, He's the loftiest idea in literature, He's the highest personality in philosophy, He's the supreme problem of higher criticism, He's the fundamental doctrine of true theology, He's the cardinal necessity of spiritual religion, He's the miracle of the age, He's the superlative of everything good you can call Him. I'M TRYING TO TELL YOU CHURCH, YOU CAN TRUST HIM!

He can satisfy all your needs, and He can do it simultaneously. He supplies strength for the weak and He's available for the tempted and the tried. He sympathizes and He sees. He guards and He guides, He heals the sick, He cleansed the Leper, He forgives sinners, He discharges debtors, He delivers the captives, He defends the feeble, He blesses the young, He regards the aged, He rewards the diligent, He beautifies the meek, I'M TRYING TO TELL YOU CHURCH, YOU CAN TRUST HIM!

He's the key to knowledge, He's the well spring of wisdom, He's the doorway of deliverance, He's the pathway of peace, He's the roadway of righteousness, He's the highway of holiness, He's the gateway to glory, YOU CAN TRUST IN HIM!

He's the master of the mighty, He's the captain of the conquers, He's the head of heroes, He's the leader of legislators, He's the overseer of the overcomers, He's the governor of the governors, He's the prince of princes, He's the king of kings, He's the Lord of lords, YOU... CAN... TRUST... HIM!!!

His office is manifold, His promise is sure, His life is matchless, His goodness is limitless, His mercy is everlasting, His love never changes, His word is enough, His grace is sufficient, His reign is righteous, His yoke is easy, His burden is light, I wish I could describe Him too you, He's indescribable because He's incomprehensible, He's irresistible because He's invincible. You can't get Him off your hands, you can't get Him off your mind, you can't outlive Him and you can't live without Him. Pilate couldn't stand it when he found he couldn't stop Him, and Pilate couldn't find any fault in Him. And the witnesses couldn't get their testimonies to agree and Herod couldn't kill Him, and death couldn't handle Him and thank God the grave couldn't hold Him.

There was nobody before Him and there will be nobody after Him. He has no predecessor, He'll have no successor, you can't impeach Him and He's not going to resign. YOU CAN TRUST HIM!!!

-S.M. Lockridge

There is very little that I can add to this. WHEW! Only this, "You CAN trust Him!"

A New Fellowship

2006-07-17T13:25:00.000-07:00

Sunday, Kathleen and I had the great fortune to share worship with a new (to us) fellowship just a few miles from our home. We flipped a coin, so to say, and chose to visit Grace Community Church (Wiggins and Yelm Hwy, for those who want to know).

To say we came away feeling like we were at home would be an understatement. Those of you in our immedate family know that we have found it hard to find a fellowship where in we truly felt we fit in. We may have found it here, however.

I do not like "church shopping". It feels wrong. What do they believe on this, and how about that, and so on. You look for this and that but you don't really see anything at all. I guess it is more about the "feel" you get.

At Grace Community Church we "felt" like we were home from the first anthem. Yes, it was a good ol' anthem - hillbilly style, complete with harmonica, fiddle, yukalaylee, drums and guitar. Almost all the worship team were "greybeards" except for the fiddle player. How funny is that!

Really, from the very beginning, there was a spirit that seemed to permiate into my soul. Perhaps I truly was that needy, or perhaps God just had something that special for me that day. Either way, I am truly thankful that we chose to visit Grace Church.

I think that Kathleen feels the same way too...you will have to ask her.

Blessings,
Michael

The Fog of Morning?

2006-07-12T07:51:00.000-07:00

My eldest daughter Kassie has a Blog, http://ketchumsblock.blogspot.com/ , where she shares many of her feelings and thoughts. Her latest post entitled 'Controlled Abandon' is perhaps one of her best. In it she shares about having been awakened early in the morning, much like Samuel in the old testament, having felt a touch and heard a voice calling out her name.

Of course, there was no one there. No one to touch her or to speak her name, and yet, she surly felt a touch and heard her name called out. Many of us, who call our selves Believers, have had similar experiences, times where, in unexpected ways, God gets our attention. And, just like Samuel, we too are slow to recognize what is really happening. We are slow in understanding, that it is God himself, who is endeavoring to get our attention.

Is it the fog of morning, waking suddenly or just the confusion of a mind not yet engaged that makes us so slow with recognition? Why does it take three or four attempts on His part to get our attention? Is something wrong with me?

I am more and more convinced, almost daily, that my problem with recognizing His voice quickly has more to do with the continual over stimulation of my senses, minute upon minute, hour after hour, day upon day, to where I just am unable to discern Him calling out my name. How much do you tune out every day? What do you allow in? What do you block out?

I am very cognizant of the lack of quiet time in my life. My goal for the next few weeks, is to see if I can recover some time in my day, to just be quiet. Perhaps then I will be a little faster in recognizing God’s voice when he calls out my name.

Is War the Answer?

2006-06-21T10:54:00.000-07:00

Please know that this is not about Iraq...it is about war.

My son-in-law, JR, posted a statement, well more than a statemen, on his blog, http://jarcaines.blogspot.com/, this week that really has caused me to revisit a difficult subject; Is war ever right? He had watched the movie "Gandhi" and it had prompted him to ask a few questions. Difficult ones I might add.

Following is my reply to his wondering about war, being a follower of Christ's teachings and our choosing violence over other alternatives. This is a REALLY BIG SUBJECT and it would take volumes and perhaps even a life time or two to really do the subject a fair hearing.
--------------------------------------------

If you do not stand up to the bully next door you end up loosing everything. Should we become like Chamberlin and appease the Hitler's of our time and risk loosing our nation in the process?

There is a distinct difference between how we, collectivly as a nation, and how we, as Christian brothers and sisters, should act and react. It takes a nation to stand up to the bully who imparts great injustice, even unto death, on his citizens.

Love is very powerful and the desire to avoid conflict is heightened all the more by Christ's love in us, and yet, love, even Christ's love, without backbone, isn't love at all. It all too quickly degenerates into cowardice.

Once lines are drawn in the sand, and that line is crossed, action is required to make the bully back off. I don't think that we can go very far before we must draw some lines in the sand whether it is a personal boundry or one with global multi-national implications.

Even Gandhi drew a line in the sand and when the time came and he had to act he chose a "war" of sorts. He did not choose to "war" with violence but he did choose to "go to war" non the less. He was incredibly successful in influencing change in India.

In the end it was the one thing he choose not to do the was his undoing, showing us just how confusing and difficult these decisions are.

No sane person likes or wants violence a part of their life, yet it all too often happens, even within our own families.

The conflict we are engaged in in Iraq is not a "War on Terror" as we hear daily, but a "War on Terrorist" (those who would commit indescriminate terror). These are people who find pleasure in beheading their foe and do not mind blowing themselves up o further their cause.

It is not a war against the Iraqi people but a war on those who would destroy the Iraqi people. This is a VERY BIG difference.

What outcome would you really expect to achieve by turning the other cheek?

JR, please know that I am not a proponent of war. However, there are times when it is necessary. Alas, all too often it seems to be implimented way too soon.

And as Brandon so aptly put it: "War Sucks."

My Finest Fish

2006-04-19T13:27:00.000-07:00

Well, here it is ... the world record Artic Char from my 2001 trip to Alaska. Can't tell you where I caught it though. But it was certified by a weigh-master and by the State of Alaska Department of Fish and Game.

Face to Face with One of Wyomings Finest

2006-04-17T16:12:00.000-07:00

We were fishing on my favorite stretch of water in Wyoming. A small creek that winds its way through a wonderful canyon filled with wild flowers and critters and then exits on to a flat plain. It winds like a slithering snake, back and forth through the valley below. You can fish what seems like miles of stream and actually only move along a few hundred yards.

I had just finished my turn catching a beautiful 15-inch brown trout on my third and last attempt. My first try ended with the fly stuck in the bushes somewhere behind me and my second was just a simple missed strike. But this one…the third attempt was right on. Wooshh…and a tight line. “Fish on,” I yelled. No one cared but me.

My fishing buddies had a bet going on whether I would be able to land the fish. Of course you have to know that they are going to do just about anything to make sure I won’t land it. Things like throw a net and try to break off the fish. Goose me while I intently try to reel it in or make loud noises that would make me jump out of my skin and make a big mistake causing the fish to go free.

These guys are supposed to be my friends…and yet this is how they behave. Well, you have to know…that…humm…yah, you need to know…I’m just as bad to them.

John had to slide down the overgrown bank and go knee deep in the soft, silt and muck to net my beautiful fish. Loren, on the other hand, had already started climbing up the bank on to the next bend.

“Oh Shit!” was all we heard. John jumped up out of the muck onto the bank in one leap. It normally would have taken a few minutes of tugging and pushing just to get his feet loose with the real possibility of having to go back down to retrieve a boot left behind in the mud. I, on the other hand, just needed to turn from my crouched down position to see what had spooked Loren so much.

There he was. Sliding back down the bank, running backwards across the water, with his rod going one way and hat another. He was moving so fast that his feet didn’t even leave marks on the stream bottom. His face said it all. FEAR. Terror. Intense concern for his own safety. He wasn’t thinking about us, just himself. Nice guy for a friend.

And there it was. Just a little fellow, oh, maybe 4 to 5 feet long. You would have thought it might have been those big, long teeth that causes all the commotion but it was the baby rattle he held in his tail that caused the most fear. It was here that Loren came face to face with a 5-foot Rocky Mountain Rattle Snake!

A Moment on Mystery Creek

2006-04-05T16:47:00.000-07:00

Loren, John and I had been fishing our favorite water – a little stream in central Wyoming just outside of Ten Sleep. I call it our favorite because every trip we take somewhere else we always say “why didn’t we go to …”

I’m not going to tell you much more in the way of a name other than to call it “Mystery Creek”. Mystery creek runs through a beautiful valley, slowly meandering along for a few miles. It runs through a golf course and then through a number of ranches. At one point it goes through a canyon that is truly gorgeous. Tall walls, rough ledges, holes and caves for fanged animals to hid in and brightly dressed, red striped, rainbow trout and black backed brown trout.

Before I tell you too much more you need to understand our concept of fishing. It’s called Tag Fishing: One person goes up front fishing while two guys lag behind offering encouragement and distractions along with a lot of friendly ridicule. You get three strikes and you’re out. Three attempts to catch a fish. That’s all. If you cast into the bushes or hang up in the weeds it counts against you. If that happens you grab one of your buddy’s rod and continue fishing. Once you catch a fish you go to the back of the line.

At some point in the early afternoon, Loren and I separated from John for a while. We went right along the inside of an island and he went left. We were fishing our way through some rough over grown banks, sliding down into the water to work our way up stream to a really nice flat above a log jam dam. From past years fishing here we knew that there were some 20” brown trout that resided in the back of the flat. Loren went across first.

He doesn’t know it yet but since he is almost a foot taller than me I let him go first so I know if it is safe for me to cross or if I should look for a shallower pathway. I usually need to find another way. If I just blindly follow I almost always fill my waders with that cold water. His waist is almost at my arm pits. Even with my hands held high above my head, walking on my tippy-toes I can’t cross at the same place. Maybe I should adopt jumping on to his back and riding across. Now there’s a thought.

Loren was on the north bank intently fishing some pocket water and I was slowly approaching behind when I saw a HUGE boil WHAT A FISH!

I heard even before I watched Loren’s chest fill with air. I knew a scream was about to be pressed out of his lungs even as he lunged back with his arms flailing the air around him. The only other time I ever saw him move so quickly was when he was confronted nose to nose with a western rattlesnake while climbing out of this very same creek.

Actually it was more like his lungs were FILLING with air. Gulping nonexistent air in an attempt to scream but nothing ever came. I could however, hear his heart pounding. Funny thing was, this is the wrong reaction for a truly huge fish!

A moment later it was my turn. That same heart stopping, thunderous, gasping for air was all mine. There it was directly in front of me – coming my way at break neck speed. All I could do was stand there paralyzed, gasping for air that would not fill my lungs. It swam right between my legs, bumping against my legs, almost knocking me over.

It took a full two minutes before I could talk a coherent sentence. It was another three minutes or so before my heart stopped pounding enough for me to be able to concentrate enough to get out of the water and check my pants.

Loren said, “Did you see that!” I slowly replied, “That was the largest beaver I have ever seen!”

Dirty Sally’s Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

2006-01-03T10:51:00.000-08:00

We drove all night changing drivers every three hours. With blood shot eyes peering into the rising morning sun we cruised down the hill into Ten Sleep. From the top of the hill you can view the entire settlement – all 23 buildings on Main Street, the High School and a number of old-time residences.

Ten Sleep has two restaurants that are open when the cook feels like cooking, three bars and one “Stop-N-Go” market. The only pay phone In town is at the Stop-N-Go and it has a 20 foot cord on the receiver so you can dial the number you want and then sit in your car, out of the weather, to talk. At times there are three cars lined up waiting their turn to use the phone.

Perhaps the best establishment in town is Dirty Sally’s Saloon. You enter through good, old-fashioned, swinging saloon doors. I don’t think I would be able to guess how many cowboys have passed through those doors.

At some point in time the saloon was purchased by the shapely Kitty Russell who played the operator of the Long Branch Saloon on Gunsmoke for so many years. Her TV name was Dirty Sally.

I mentioned that this was perhaps the “best” establishment in town for a number of reasons, not the least of which is the entrance. This is real western – swing doors and clapboard exterior. There are none of the Marlboro or Coors advertising signs plastered on the out side – you know – 6-packs for $6.99 stuff. This is a classy place.

As you enter there is a small general store that has an amazing amount of supplies in it. The kind of stuff you wish you could get at the local hardware store but they don’t know were to get it stuff. Off to the side, around the corner and through a doorway, is the gun/knife/brass knuckles/everything to get you in trouble stuff. There is an amazing collection of blow-em-up stuff in there. I know this because the gun room is where you have to go if you want to get a fishing license. Oh, yeah, they have some fishing supplies there too.

At the back of the main room is the bar with the local gossip page is posted on the wall – you know – the bounced check list – there for all who enter to see.

It is here, at the bar, that three city boys made there entrance into the folklore of Ten Sleep. You see, we started something new in this town that had not seen anything new since the introduction of the automobile.

Having purchased our fishing licenses we sundered up the bar and asked about getting a strawberry rhubarb pie for dinner. The young gal behind the counter told us that there was none available but she could get one for tomorrow if we ordered it today. We immediately placed our order. Her next comment caused each of us to get a little funny feeling in our stomachs. “Ya’ll know that our pies are made by the girls in the home economics class at the high school, don’t you?”
Gulp. Decision time – pie or no pie. We said, “well I guess we’ll just have to give it a try on one condition.” “What’s that,” she replied. “Double or nothing,” said John.

“What?” she questioned. “You know, we’ll flip you for it – double or nothing,” said John. She got a funny look on her face and said she’d be right back. A moment later she returned with the manager (her husband) and asked us to explain John’s proposition to him. He got a big belly laugh out of it and said “Sure, you’re on.”

We lost! The total price for the complete strawberry rhubarb pie, after doubling the original amount was $5! Loren chimed in, “No way! We’re not paying that much! It costs more than that for a single slice from where we come from.” I think that we settled on $7.50 for that first pie.

It was time to go fishing…and so we did.

We, You and Me, Are Thinking Creatures

2005-12-29T09:14:00.000-08:00

I was reading my son-in-law’s blog (http://jarcaines.blogspot.com/) this morning and was really struck by the power that the written word can have in someone’s life. Yours, mine, anyone’s and everyone’s. JR’s blog is all about deep thinking in the realms of spiritual and social responsibility. Heavy stuff for this old man. And, yet, I am really drawn to it.

We, you and me, are thinking creatures and we very seldom have concurrent viewpoints on any issue, particularly spiritual and religious ones. What makes us such interesting individuals is that we ARE different and we DO think differently.

In my life time we have seen the great Socialist experiments in China, and the now defunct USSR, collapse. Experiments that were designed from the start to ensure that all under their influence would look, act and think as one, everyone the same, all the time. It did not work. It could not work.

Mankind was created in our Father’s (God's) image. We were not created as clones, each one looking or thinking the same. We were created as individuals who think, look and act independent of one another. We are wonderfully and gloriously made different from each other on purpose. It is God’s design that we be different, that we THINK different from each other. How special.

Psalms 139: 13-18 says it best:

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother's womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous--and how well I know it.

You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.

How precious are your thoughts about me, O God! They are innumerable! I can't even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand! And when I wake up in the morning, you are still with me!

My hope is that we all will fight intollerance of opposing viewpoints where ever we see it, that we will fight injustice at every opportunity and even more importantly, that we will support those who pick up the sword to lead us.

A Love Story

2005-12-08T08:28:00.000-08:00

A True Love Story

I will seek and find you . . .

I shall take you to bed and have my way with you.

I will make you ache, shake & sweat until you moan & groan.

I will make you beg for mercy, beg for me to stop.

I will exhaust you to the point that you will be relieved when I'm finished with you

And, when I am finished, you will be weak for days.

All my love,

The Flu

Slim and the Hyattville Mafia

2005-11-29T07:58:00.000-08:00

Jack had ducked around the corner in into “Fat Jack’s Saloon”, the fine (?) establishment next door. It was fine if you were looking for a western themed inebriation station.

The exterior is rustic with a capital “R” and the interior not much better. The bar is a very large slab of tree laid on its side covering some old, recycled cabinets. The floor is hundred year old planking with a few old weeds poking through in places that don’t get much foot traffic.

The Saloon is connected to the Café by way of the old garage running between them – dirt floor and all. Old car parts and abandoned junk littered the ground with a pathway just big enough for a couple of farmers to walk side-by-side and not trip on something.

Connie, Jack’s wife, runs the café. It is really a nice and very pleasant place to sit and sip a cup of coffee or lemonade while eating some really fine cooking. The morning we were in town, the local “Women’s Club” was having their monthly meeting and celebrating one of their member’s 90-something birthday. Lot’s of happy sounds were coming from within their midst.

At one point while we were cutting in the door, the young school teacher (whom the local preacher was courting) brought her kindergarten class over from the one-size-fits-all school across Main Street for their school district supplied hot breakfast. Luckily for us, they went back to school before the “crash” happened. At least all we did was spook a bunch of old ladies when the wall fell in.

Connie helped to get things straightened out with Jim. She gently reminded him that he knew it was Jack who had done what was done with the stealing of his Suburban and battery. I’m not sure if it was her sweet threat of bodily harm whilst waving that iron skillet around or if it was her soft stern voice the convinced Jim to cool down and reassess the conclusions he had made. Which ever it was we three city boys were grateful.

We went looking for Fat Jack and found him in the Saloon talking to a guy who was loading the old refrigerator in the back corner with beer. Now it’s cold outside, somewhere in the upper 30’s had they’re loading beer for the 5 o’clock rush. It really struck us as funny.

Connie called us over to the Café for some dinner. Pork chops and mashed potatoes with a really yummy pork chop gravy. A meal fit for Kings after a day of cold fishing. After we were done we went back to the Saloon to say our goodbyes to Jack. He introduced us to Slim, the guy we saw earlier stocking the refrigerator. Slim is 6’-4” tall. Thin as a rail with a handlebar mustache that just drooped off his face. He is a soft spoken man with a southern Texas drawl that completely mesmerized us.

The place was full of farmers! Well, full is 6 or 7 guys all around one table. They were all playing some sort of game and having a lot of fun shouting and poking fun at each other all the wile drinking beer and other poured drinks. Being friendly friends of Jack’s they, with some coaching form Jack, invited us to join them.

The game they were playing is called Ship-Captain-Crew. It has a leather cup loaded with 5 dice. No board, cards or any other instruments are needed. We noticed that each farmer had a pile of loose change in front of them and so we agreed to join.

John was the first to roll. The object of the game was to roll one four, one five and one six and then your score was the total of the remaining two dice. Each player enters the game by placing a predetermined amount in the pot. It our case they started out at 5 cents.

You get three rolls and you can leave any four, five or six on the table while rolling the remaining dice to better you chances. It didn’t look too difficult. Little did we know hat a lesson we were in for.

It wasn’t the nickel pot that got us in trouble it was being egged into side bets that got us. One farmer would bet that Loren could not roll a run and he would put down a quarter to back his bet. I would take his bet and put down my quarter and Loren would roll with only his nickel in the pot at stake and he would bomb out and I would be 25 cents poorer while Loren only lost his nickel if in the end he lost the round. This went on for some time all the while everyone is drinking what ever Slim passed around.

Before the night was too old all three of us city slickers had no more cash left. Those farmers cleaned us out and got a real good laugh doing it. I’m not sure if they felt better at beating us at their game or if it was the spandex under wader outfits we still had on after a day of fishing that gave them the real laughs.

We placed our last few remaining dollars on the bar in front of Slim as a gratuity for a fun night and the good southern service he had provided us with all evening. Slim kept trying to give it back and we would put it down again. This went on for a couple of rounds and finally Fat Jack jumped up and told Slim to keep the money. Slim started to make a fuss and said that we had paid for all our drinks and that we didn’t owe any more to the till. Jack amusingly told Slim that the money was meant for him. When he balked Jack told him it was a tip. I still don’t think Slim understood.

As we were leaving we suggested a new name for their group. In our eyes they, Fat Jack and the farmers, could only be named “The Hyattville Mafia.”

A Soft Sweet Voice

2005-11-22T08:50:00.000-08:00

“What in the Hell are you doing with my truck!” Huh? “What in the Hell are you doing with my truck , can’t you city boys hear?” “Who gave you permission to “steal’ my truck, and what’s with stealing the battery out of my car? I had things to do today and you guys screwed my day from here to there and back.”

“Who are you guys, anyway?”

This old farmer was really pissed off and John, Loren and I just looked at each other wondering what was going on. Buford knew that it was time to hide and he took off around the corner following Fat Jack.

John stuttered some unintelligible grunting sounds and I thought the farmer was going to have a coronary right there. The veins in his neck were bulging and ready to burst. His eyes were white with fury and it was all directed at us.

There was a long silence while we tried to compose ourselves and come up with an answer that we thought would be acceptable to him. None of us had much to say.

There was a distinct odor in the air as everyone’s sense of imminent calamity began to flood their being. Fear, it turns out, causes your skin to smell or in this case, to stink. We were tired from the bouncing and being thrown back and forth, up and down while riding in the back of the suburban and none of us had much in the way of patience left to deal with this irate farmer.

“OK boys” said a sweet voice behind us, “what’s all this yell’n and holler’n about?” My, were those words comforting. I’m not sure if it was the words or the soft sweet voice but the situation immediately changed and everyone’s guard was lowered some.

“Jim, what are you so worked up about and why are you yell’n and carrying on like a cat who’s tail is on fire anyway” she said to the farmer. “You know it was Jack and not these fine fellas that messed with your stuff. Now, get on with it.”

“JACK!” she yelled. “Where in blazes is that husband of mine. He’s always caus’n me some kind of trouble.”

Fishing with Fat Jack #4

2005-10-31T17:26:00.000-08:00

It was snowing lightly as we prepared to start back down the mountain to the coral. Fat Jack was standing there with fish tails sticking out of his jacket all over the place. There were tails in every pocket and hole. He must have had 30 fish stuffed in it.

I had just arrived back at the stable and was getting ready to dismount when I heard a loud “Wahoo” coming from behind me back up the trail. Loren decided to make a grand entrance and he, on his horse ominously named “Ricochet,” came screaming down the trail, around the trees and into the area just outside of the coral.

Loren was trying to get his horse to clear the fence, tugging on his reigns and really whooping it up when his saddle started slipping. Somehow his “cinch” had worked itself loose. Centrifugal force took over and he began sliding down and to the outside just like a bull rider. His horse wasn’t quite sure what was going on and I don’t know who was more scared, Ricochet or Loren.

Ricochet made the turn but Loren ran head first in to a 4 ft high snow bank. The collision tore Loren right out of the saddle and there was a huge spray of snow flying all over the place.

At first I was sure Loren was deeply and horribly injured. I launched myself out of the saddle and started running to see if I could help. He seemed truly dazed and disoriented. We got him to sit up and lean back on the snow pile and started to see if he could identify how many fingers we held up in front of him. It took a while but finally he said “three” and that was the right number.

I think it was Fat Jack who thought to look after Ricochet. John and I were focused on Loren. After a few minutes when it was evident that Loren was OK except for his pride, John nicknamed him “Crash” and we all had a good laugh.

The trip down the mountain was uneventful except for the bumping and bottoming out in the ruts, dips and cavernous troughs we had to drive through. We still had to hold our hands on the ceiling to ensure that no cranial damage was done to our bodies. Fat Jack did not know how to drive slowly. It was full throttle all the way.

It was dark when we arrived back in Hyattville and there was a greeting party waiting for us. They didn’t look too pleased either, except for Buford, Jacks dog. The first thing Fat Jack did when we got home was greet Buford and start tossing all those trout to him. He just chucked ‘em in the air and Buford caught them and swallowed them whole. Here we thought Fat Jack wanted them for dinner and what he really wanted them for was dog food.

One of the old guys who was waiting for us started yelling, “What in the Hell are you doing with my truck!” Fat Jack just grinned that same grin he gave us when he peaked around the corner when the door caved in on the old ladies having tea earlier that morning. We new there was going to be more interesting events coming.

Fishing with Fat Jack #3

2005-10-24T15:52:00.000-07:00

Unbeknownst to us, Fat Jack had taken us to a horse camp high up in Wyoming’s Wind River Range. All the way up the mountain, Jack kept telling us we would get a opportunity to see his “little pink poodle.” It sounded so strange that we all dismissed it as just a little tale and really gave it no mind. Finally, the Suburban slid to a stop. Jack had slammed on the breaks and tried to see how long a skid mark he could leave. We piled out of the SUV as fast as we could. I think John even exited through the window! It had been a long ride slipping and sliding our way up the mountain. At times we had to brace ourselves with hand and arms against the roof to keep our butts anywhere near the seat. I think one or two of us even kissed the ground when we got out.

Jack had fetched 5 horses and we were in the process of saddling up when I asked if there was a bathroom around. I thought it would be nice to take care of business before we left. He pointed me to a trail and said the outhouse was only a few yards up the trail. “Oh, and by the way say hi to my “little pink poodle” he said. I thought “not that again.”

He was right. It was only 20 yards or so to the outhouse and I was desperate. I was really glad not to have to use a bush for cover. It wasn’t bad as outhouses go and I’ve used worse. It really beat just a hole in the ground. Also, outhouses don’t stink much when the outside temp is in the low 30’s. It’s just the cold seat that stings a little.

Here we are miles from anything civilized – a two-hour ride in a 4-wheel drive vehicle just to get here. I opened the door with the half moon cutout in it and there it was! The seat was padded with soft, light pink furry foam and on the seat cover was a Pink Poodle. It was very artfully painted on the lid once you opened it up. What a sight and what a joy to have soft furry foam instead of hard cold plastic.

Jack had us mount up on the horses once he had them saddled and off we went. We used the fifth horse as a pack horse and loaded all our fishing gear on a pack saddle. After a two hour ride we arrived at our destination, a small stream high up in the mountains.

It only took a few minutes in the icy air for us to get geared up to go fishing. Jack was really snickering under his breath at us getting all decked out in the “right” fishing attire. HE was wearing this old thread bear jacket that looked a little like it had seen it’s last life years ago. It had holes were the stuffing was peaking out, strings hanging at the cuffs and neck and it kind of smelled like, well, I’m not sure what it smelled like. It just sort of stank.

We had to break the ice on the stream in a lot of places to get room to fish. It was loaded with brook trout. Jack told us to just throw the fish up on the snow bank and he would come back later and pick them up. He said he wanted to take them home.

We fished for 4-5 hours and caught literally hundreds of 7-10 inch brook trout. The snow banks of the stream were littered with them.

Jack finally caught up with me and what a sight. He had fish tails sticking out of every hole and pocket in the jacket. They weren’t in bags or paper, he had just stuffed them in head first anywhere he could put them. It looked like he had added 100 pounds to his already ample 300 plus pounds.

He had followed behind us and kept the fish he wanted and tossed the others back in the stream. I was skeptical that we had not killed any fish until I saw him toss one back that had been on the bank for 15 or so minutes. It slowly just swam off. Amazing!

Jack challenged us to try “fishing naked” and I was sure that he was crazy. Then he explained that what he meant was to fish with a hook only. Sure enough it worked. A red hook worked better than a gold one and gold was better than bronze. But we caught fish on all three colors. Again, I was amazed.

It was time to head back to camp. We had an uneventful trip back but on arrival Loren earned a new nickname.

Fishing with Fat Jack - #2

2005-10-18T17:13:00.000-07:00

After the buzzing of startled old ladies died down Fat Jack came out from his hiding place and was met right in the middle of the café by Connie (Mrs. Jack). She put a stop to everything and demanded to know what was going on.

John stepped forward and introduced us as “Sven, Ollie and Otto” complete with Scandinavian accent. He continued to tell her that we were contracted to install the new door as payment in kind for Fat Jack to take us fishing. This didn’t set well with Mrs. Jack and, of course, Fat Jack was sheepishly just letting it all happen. Connie and Jack made their way back into the kitchen where there was some discussion that we were not privy to.

Soon Jack emerged with a smile and some lipstick on his cheek. To this day we do not know what Jack said to Connie but we certainly are thankful!

John and I found some old weather beaten wood in the passage way between the two buildings that served as a “garage” of sorts. We took and ripped them I the old saw to make some trim pieces for fancying up the hole we had just cut.

After about 40 minutes John, err Sven, and I had the door hung. Ollie (Loren) just stood back and gave directions to which Sven and I paid no attention.

Just as we finished cleaning up Fat Jack came back. “All ready to go?” he asked. “Ready” we all exclaimed. And off we went.

Fat Jack took us up into the Wind River Range of mountains. We traveled for about 2 hours up this bumpy, rutted and weather warn dirt road.

We stop at a stream on the way up to fish and Fat Jack handed us some flies to use. They were #10’s or #8’s! Some of the biggest damn flies I have ever tied on my line. We kind of laughed at him and he seemed puzzled at first then he figured out why we were laughing. We were used to fishing with those “little dinks” from California as he called them.

We did catch fish on those huge flies.

There was snow on the ground and the air temperature was in the upper 20’s. Ice was forming in the guides of our rods almost as soon as we cast out. We were constantly dunking our equipment in the water to release the ice.

All I heard was “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH SHIT! And then a big SPLASH!

Loren had slipped on an iced over rock and had gone in over his head in this really cold, freezing water. When I got to him he was really hurting and COLD!

We found a hunters camp that was not being used and stated a fire in the stove. Loren had to get out of his wet clothing fast and get warmed up. Both John and I shed some clothing and gave it to Loren to wear.

We decided it was time to continue our adventure and piled back into the Suburban. After a little more bumping and being tossed back and forth we arrived at what we thought was our destination. Jack said for us to hole up here for a few minutes and he would be back. Sure enough, in about 20 minutes here he came with 5 horses in tow!

Fishing with Fat Jack - Installment #1

2005-10-10T16:57:00.000-07:00

On one of my many fly fishing trips to Wyoming, my buddies and I happened to land ourselves in Hyattville, WY. It is not what you would call a big city, maybe not even a city. It is perhaps two blocks long and one block wide. There is a post office, a church, a school, 2 or 3 drinking establishments and a couple of civic buildings.

It was a cool, crisp October morning. The only place in town that was open was a small café and saloon across the street from the elementary school. The name on its shingle was “Fat Jack's”.

A slight breeze was blowing and there was the feeling that snow was about to fall. An old barn door, falling off its hinges and held open a bit with a 2x4 greeted us. There was the sound of a sawzall and a poorly tuned radio spewing mostly static and some hard to make out country music coming from inside. A cat skittered off the street into the old barn and my buddies and I followed.

We were looking for somebody who could give us direction on where we might go fishing. I'm not sure that we should have ever asked.

Inside was a very large man cutting a hole in the wall with the sawzall and next to him was this really big old hound dog. The man seemed a little annoyed at our appearance but stopped working to see what we wanted.

We introduced ourselves, “Hi, I’m Loren and this is John and Michael.” We told him that we were from out-of-state. I am sure that there was not a need for the "out-of-state" comment as we were standing there in what my wife likes to call our "spandex" fishing undergarments.

I thought the guy was going to choke to death as he tried to clear his throat enough to get out the words, “Howdy, what ya’ll fellas want?”

We quickly asked if he knew where we might go fishing. “Hey, now that seems like a right fine thing to do on a day like to day, with the snow ‘n all. Hmmm, my names Fat Jack and I own this here place.”

“Ain’t no one around that can take ya’ll that I know, jus look around, the town’s almost boarded up, sep’n us and the Hitch’n Post down the street. Besides, I got a git this door hung ta’day or the Misses is gon’a tan my hide.”

John said, “You go ask your wife and we will make sure the door is hung.”

“Huh?” said Fat Jack. “Yeah,” said John, “we’ll hang the door for you.” And, off he went to negotiate with the Misses.

All we heard was voices getting louder and louder. Soon the rattle and banging of pans from the kitchen drowned out the voices and the hound dog moved across the room.

It wasn’t long and Fat Jack was back. He was sweating a little and looked a little nervous. “If ya’ll are sure ya’ll can hang that door ya better git to it!” He said.

John grabbed the sawzall and started to finish cutting where Fat Jack had left off. He just pushed the blade all the way through cutting both sides of the wall at the same time. Before long the cut-out was loose and it fell away from us into the room on the other side.

“What the …” screamed a startled elderly woman. The local Women’s Club’s Tuesday morning meeting was in progress at Fat Jacks Café. We were face to face with 10 very startled old lady’s gazing at us through a cloud of drywall dust and sawdust.

Fat Jack neglected to pass on some very vital important information. His head poked around the corner and he had a smile that went from ear to ear.

Fish Naked - A Definition

2005-10-03T12:14:00.000-07:00

Well...I guess it is time to get you all up to date on what "Fish Naked" really means. This really is for J.R.'s benefit, however, I am sure many of your havn't got a clue either.

The term "fish naked" refers to fishing with only a bare hook! No bait, feathers or other incumberances. I have caught fish this way but only in extream circumstances.

This will sound like a TRUE fish story but it truly is true.

My buddies, John and Loren, and I found our selves in Hyattville, Wyoming one fine September morning. We stopped at Fat Jacks Saloon and Diner to find directions on where to go fishing. We meet the proprieter, Fat Jack, and commenced on what turned out to be one of the finest adventures I have ever had. I will tell it in length one day.

Fat Jack stole a vehicle, battery and who knows what else from one of his friend in town. He took us fishing high up in the Wind River Range of Wyoming. We took a two-hour drive in a 4-wheel drive SUV (with a stolen battery) up a dirt road.

We went about 15 miles up this horrible, rutted and rained out road and stopped at a horse camp. It seemed strange that we circled the camp more than once before we entered but I didn't figure out what we were about to do until after we arrived back at the Saloon that evening. We later found out that the horses were not Jacks at all. Guess that made us "rustlers."

It was snowing and the wind was blowing something awful. We road on horse back for about 2 hours winding our way even further up the canyon. When we arrived at our destination there was this small stream with completely covered by ice all the way across. We broke through the ice with a log and our feet. The stream was chalk full of 6-8" Brookie Trout.

Between the three of us, we must have caught 60-70 fish. We just through them up on the snow bank to retrieve on the way back down stream. We picked through the fish on the way back and even after 30 minutes the ones we tossed back still were alive and swam away. Their metabolism had slowed down almost to a stand still I guess.

Well, back the the fishing naked...

These brook trout were so hungry and litterly went after any fly we tried, whether it was a nymph or dry, that John challanged me to catch one using just a hook. Well, I gave it a try and wouldn't you know it, I caught a fish. Then he had to try it and it worked for him also.

What da ya think, J.R.?

There is lots more to this story and one day I will finish telling it. It includes some gambling, dice, a guy named "Slim," a few farmers, Fat Jack, three city slickers and Mr. Jim.

First Ramble

2005-09-27T15:52:00.000-07:00

Life's too short, fish naked!