The Thomas Files

2012-02-04T20:12:00.000-08:00

CLOSING IN ON RETIREMENT

Having turned 65 already, I have been considering retirement.
Although I will miss my routine of getting up early and going to work, I believe I will quickly set that aside and focus on the next level of my life.

I am making plans to retire in 4 weeks. At that time I will undertake several things I have been putting off too long. I have computer work I wish to "polish" by sorting pictures, writing documents and organizing my files. I have plans to do some long needed work around the house. Things have been neglected and need to be spruced up a bit; both inside and out! My garage is a mess! I will be hauling away un-needed junk that I thought I needed at the time I acquired it. I have some things to sell; others to give away.

I have volunteer work I want to do. I have a Great GrandDaughter I want to spend time with and get better acquainted; perhaps a couple of Great GrandSons, too; time permitting.

I have much hiking to do to get my body in shape for a month long backpacking trip in the Northern Cascades along the Pacific Crest Trail in August. I have to plan the trip to mesh with the Wilderness Trek for our Metro Teens. My August trip will be awesome! I hope to be able to do about 100 miles along the PCT, including side trips, taking hundreds of photographs and soaking in amazing scenery! This is important to me as I may be nearly blind in a few years from Macular Degeneration. It's uncertain as to how long I will have my vision, but as long as I have it, I want to use it as much as I can. What better place than the Mountains of northern Washington?

I suppose there are uncertainties in life; we cannot always prepare for what may come. I believe we must do what we can, however, to experience what we can in the time God allocated for us. I appreciate the health I do have. I hate the thought of growing old and feeble and ending up in a Nursing Home unable to care for myself. The though of that does not appeal to me at all.

But for now, I am excited to be working my final month before retirement.

2011-08-09T12:11:00.000-07:00

This was my first backpacking trip this year. Brian and I took Bob and his son, Zach, to the Goat Rocks Wilderness for the weekend. Had a great trip. The snow was much higher than we anticipated but we had no trouble finding our destination, as I had camped there several years now. The trip honed my back country (trail-less) experience. We followed map and compass for this trip. The night was VERY COLD! We had a nice campsite and a warm fire with plenty of dried wood.

I've always wanted to see Goat Rocks in the Winter. I guess this is the next best thing. The winter terrain would have 12 feet of soft snow on it. At least this way we can walk on top of the snow without sinking in! To me, this day was a highlight in my entire backpacking experience!

Enjoy the pictures.

Mosquitoes .... had to bundle up!

The bridge over Goat Creek

Skunk Cabbage in bloom.

We had a bunch of these to cross!

Solid snow on the trail in about 1/2 mile from the bridge.

I had chains for my boots! Very handy!!

After 4 miles we found the Lily Basin trail marker at Snowgrass.

Zach & Bob clowning around in the deep snow.

We found a clear spot on a bluff where we made camp.

My new Rainshadow II tent.

Nice campfire ring by Bob's tent but lots of snow close by.

It was a warm fire on a cold day.

We melted snow for drinking water.

I cooked up a nice, big skillet of Fajitas.

My steak fajitas were a big hit!

Early morning campfire with plenty of dry wood!

Yes....I was sitting there warming my feet!

A view of Hawkeye Point off to my left.

Looking uphill towards the Old Snowy ridge.

Finally able to tighten up my tent after the nights wind and rain.

Hiked up to the PCT near Old Snowy. Looking at Mt Adams

We camped in those trees once upon a time.

Standing on top of 6 to 8 feet of snow up here!

Brian looking over at Ives Peak.

......towards Cispus Pass.

Zach looking over towards Goat Lake under snow.

We camped on that ridge last year.

Hawkeye Point above Goat Lake where we hiked last year.

Ives Peak

South towards Mt. Adams.

Mt Adams view.

Mt St. Helens behind the trees.

Brian enjoying the day. So was I.

I always wanted to see The Goat Rocks in Winter.

Can you believe it's JULY??

We had a great day today!

Mt Adams was majestic!

We did a lot of cross country hiking today.

Who knows where the trail is anyway??

Heading home after cross country backpacking on mostly snowfields.

2011-05-06T07:02:00.000-07:00

The Mulberry Tree….

grew like no other fruit tree we ever knew.

Growing up in NW Arkansas there were plenty of trees to climb on a 360 acre farm. However, no tree was more fascinating than the huge Mulberry tree that grew on the old Likens homestead about ¼ mile from our house. As I recall (of course being a kid, EVERYTHING looked much bigger than it really was), the tree trunk couldn’t be reached around by two of us. The first limb was about the size of a 5 gallon bucket; started low to the ground and grew almost horizontal. There were many other limbs of varying sizes on which we could climb. It was a very large and very old, tree. We always went “shoe-less” in the summertime, so climbing trees was much more fun when you could feel the bark on your feet.

The best part of tree climbing, as I can remember, was feeling like I was “king of the world”. Standing on a limb, high in a tree, one felt like he was bigger than life! My brother, Pat, and I climbed any tree we could get a hold of; any kind and any height. The only thing that held us back from climbing the ancient Black Walnut trees that grew in our front yard was their sheer size! The trunks were large and rough. The lower limbs started 10 or 12 feet above the ground. Not having an extension ladder to assist us, we were content with climbing Oak, Elm, Pine, Persimmon and Mulberry trees, or anything else we could wrap our arms around and dig our toes into.

The favorite trees, whenever we felt like a sweet, tart snack, were the Mulberry and Persimmon. Persimmons demanded respect and one had to sneak up on them. It only takes once to bite into a not-yet-ripe Persimmon to get your attention! It is the most tart, mouth-shriveling experience you could ask for! Our Granny always said, “Don’t eat ‘em ‘til after the first frost”! The cold temperatures, down to the point of making ice, tend to ripen the Persimmons into a very sweet fruit snack. Now you know.

We enjoyed the succulent fruit of the Wild Plum and Wild Muskedines, as well. The Plums grew on bushes so we didn’t have to climb them to reach the fruit. However, the Wild Muskedine was different. It is related to the Grape family and grows on a climbing vine that uses trees as support. The best Muskedines were always at the top of the vine. Imagine that! The fruit was a bit larger than a grape with a much thicker and tougher skin that was fun to chew because it was so tart!

The favorite tree for me was the Mulberry. It produced fruit in plenty! The small berries, about the size of Blackberries, were as sweet as sugar and mighty tasty! The birds loved them, too; as did the Possum and Terrapins. I’m sure other critters loved them, too, but those are the ones we rubbed elbows with the most.

Thinking back upon those days, we never felt like we missed out on anything. The city life was just something we saw once in a week or two when we went into town to shop. We raised most of our own food but we needed staples like sugar, flower, coffee and so forth. Sometimes we went into the town of Mulberry to sell Strawberries or whatever Dad had a surplus of. We would always be treated to a bottle of pop and maybe a few salted peanuts or a piece of candy. We never had much of that because “we was poor folks”. But, like I said, we never felt like we were deprived or missed out on something we felt like we deserved.

Today’s kids often make me shake my head in disbelief because of all the ways they are spoiled. They go throughout their day demanding and wanting more and more. They are bought off because Mom and Dad are working. They compete with each other in Day Care for whatever they get. My Mom didn’t raise kids like that. She always talked about how we would go into a store and just look, never touching anything. I guess we knew we couldn’t have it so no use touching it. She told everyone how good we “was”. Even complete strangers came up to Mom or Dad and told them how well mannered we “was”. We were fine with all that because we didn’t know any better.

Sometimes, when I see kids yelling at their folks because they want something; throwing fits of anger; bouncing off the wall or floor like they are competing for an Academy Award or something, I think about how we used to be and long for the good old days.

2011-04-06T22:04:00.000-07:00

Bits and Pieces
of Growing Up in NW Arkansas.

We grew up in White Rock Community, about 10 miles, as the Crow flies, North of Pleasant View School. My sister, Mary, graduated in 1956 and my older brother, Arnold, was a couple of years later. Mary went to college in Branson. We lived on a 360 acre farm. Didn’t farm much but grandpa raised a few things. I loved watching all the neighbors gather together in the fall and make Sorghum Molasses at the old Likens homestead on our farm. Grandpa raised the sugar cane. After it lay in the field following the cutting, grandpa would hitch the wagon and drive it down the rows. We kids would help load it full and then haul it over to the homestead where they had the horse/mule tied up to the pole where he walked around in circles and turned two drums. A man would feed the Cane into the rollers and catch the juice in a bucket below on the ground. It was dumped in a long shallow vat where a fire was stoked beneath the vat and began the process of cooking and skimming. I wrote about it in one of my blogs. It was a great show!

We rode the school bus to Pleasant view. Seemed like it took a while on that old dirt road, going around to all the farms and collecting the kids. Dad worked as a pipeline welder putting in miles of Natural Gas pipe across Arkansas. Also worked for a man down on Pettit Jean Mountain……I think he was a Rockefeller, as I recall. Grandpa died when I was about 7 and dad was gone a lot, working the pipeline. We kept the farm running during the week until dad came home on weekends. We milked cows, fed chickens and pigs and did all that stuff you do on a farm. We had a very large garden that required a lot of work to produce what we needed for the winter. Mom canned a few hundred quarts of everything she could so we could survive the winters.

We went into Ozark once a week or two to do business. The old man at our insurance company would always come over to us boys and say, “have you boys had your ice cream today?” Course, we never did, so he gave us each a dime for an ice cream cone. He was very nice to us. Mom and Dad would pick up grocery staples to get us by; flour by the big sack, sugar, etc. We would get to ride in the back of Dad’s pickup. It had a cattle rack on the bed and he would let us climb up and hold on going down the highway. He would probably get arrested doing that today! Ha!

I loved going to the Ice House in Ozark. Dad would buy a block of ice for our “ice box” at home to keep our meat and milk in. They would pack it in sawdust to help keep it from melting so quickly on way home.

We grew up poor, but we seemed to always have plenty to eat. We didn’t know we were poor….we were just like everyone else. As kids growing up, we didn’t have cars or horses to get around on. We usually walked everywhere when we wanted to visit our friends. Mom stayed home when Dad was away working. She didn’t have another car to go anywhere.

I will never forget the food! Fresh from the garden and fresh from the chicken coop! Ha! Ha! Fresh strawberries and watermelon were the best I've had. We would sit down in the Tomato row with a salt shaker and eat ripe tomatoes until we were full! We also sampled the sweet peas and corn quite regularly! We picked wild fruit, too: Blackberries, Plums, Muscadine Grapes, not to mention tart, green apples and Indian Peaches around old homesteads. What we didn’t just consume…Mom would make jam or jelly out of it.

We had no running water in our log house on the hill. We drew water from two wells and beat a path out by the barn to the outhouse. In late summer and early fall, we cut firewood and hauled to the house. We heated with a fireplace in each end of the house. Dad put in a coal burning stove when it got really cold and used the fireplace as the chimney. Mom would warm a brick, wrap it in newspaper or rags and put it at the foot of our feather bed so we could stay warm. Three of us boys slept together! That was a source of many squables!

For the most part, life was good, as I recall; lots of memories about that old place. I loved the smell after a rain. Watching the lightening and hearing the crack of thunder during a storm invigorated my blood. The wind was gentle. It whistled through the Pine trees at the edge of the pasture and swayed the Persimmon trees like they were waving hello. The sound of rain falling on our tin roof was comforting to me. I still like to hear it today! We were allowed to remove our shoes in April. I believe, for the most part, except for church and trips into town, we kept them off. By the end of summer our feet were tough as nails; we could walk on most anything without discomfort. I remember seeing the heavens as I’ve seen it in no other place! Millions of stars dotted the skies; the Milky Way was the brightest I have ever seen. Living on a hill with no pollution to block the view made all the difference.

We now live in Portland, Oregon. It’s much cooler here; lots of rain 10 months out of the year. The gray skies get depressing and damp cold often settles into my bones; Aleve is my best friend….not to mention the hot tub! Macular Degeneration is settling in so the stars are dim, or gone, during the couple of months we get to see them. Things change as we grow older. Now I pretty much keep my shoes on all summer!

2011-02-27T22:06:00.001-08:00

Schwinn Varsity Bicycle

I was never an avid bicyclist during my teenage years. I couldn’t seem to get my legs strong enough for the hard long rides like the big boys could do in cross country competition. But I did enjoy riding and feeling the freedom of the road beneath me. I could do the 20 or 40 mile rides but I seemed to tire easily.

Our family moved to Kansas when I was 13. I loved borrowing our next door neighbor’s bike to take rides downtown and see the neighborhoods. Growing up on a 360 acre farm a mile from my friend Paul Millsap, without a bike, restricted us like a tether. Moving into a real city began the biggest change in my life that I’ve ever had.

I started working in Reebles Grocery Store when I was 14 or 15 and began earning money for a bike I had my eye on. At $.90/hr it took a lot of part time work to earn $86 for a fancy bike, but that’s what I wanted and that’s what I did. Looking back over the years of owning cars and things, I don’t remember ever being as proud of something as I was that golden bike with golden tires.

It was a beauty. I wish I could remember the year but it was a 1960-1962 vintage Schwinn Varsity; gold; chrome fenders, a continental seat and gum rubber tires as gold as the bike. It had taped racing handlebars; 10 speed derailleur gears and built to run. It had a generator style headlamp for night riding. It was registered with the Motorized Vehicle Department, as required by Kansas law, and sported its own license plate.

I rode it everywhere. I would load it up with my fishing gear and head for the river after school. I would take joy rides downtown or throughout neighborhoods, exploring the streets and backroads. I used it to go to work. I even had a small paper route where I folded and delivered the “Daily Reminder” to an assigned area for $3/week. It was my companion when a car was not an option.

I wonder whatever happened to that “old friend”…..?

2011-02-26T20:38:00.001-08:00

For a brief time in my teenage life, Dad rented an old farm from John Monkes outside a small town called Americus, Kansas. It was never much of a significant size. Why, back in the 60’s you could blink twice while driving through town and miss most of it. Even today it boasts nearly 900 people. We lived a few miles out but still within bike riding distance on a good day.

I loved that old farm. Mr. Monkes raised Alfalfa in the north field. We used to sit at the breakfast table and watch a lone Coyote bask out there in the early morning sunshine. We had fun exploring the old creek bed and throwing rocks into the pond. It was fun to sneak up to the old grass covered dam and watch a couple of Mud Ducks swimming around like no one else was there. Even though I hunted Rabbit and Squirrel, I never had the heart to shoot the ducks. I loved watching them swim.

I bought a Coyote call, a whistle that, when properly blown, one could call in wild Coyotes. It took me a while, but I learned how it worked. I had been rabbit hunting with our young Beagles. I shot a rabbit. I bent down to pick him up and he began to let out an awful cry. That was it! Immediately, I knew how to blow the Coyote call.

A good friend of ours, Charles Thornton, came out from Emporia one afternoon and we went down into the draw by the creek to see what we could call up.

We found a strategic place in the tall grass next to a barbed wire fence and a small bush to hide behind. We sat down in the grass and I began to blow the Coyote call like a pro. Soon we spotted a lone Coyote coming over a rise towards the West. He was on the other side of the wooded creek that meandered across the land like a serpent. We strained to see as he dropped out of sight in the trees. About that same time we heard a noise that startled us. We both whipped our heads around to see behind us. In the tall Johnson Grass, standing on his hind legs straining to find the source of the noisy call, stood a big, red Coyote not more than 25 or 30 feet away! Our movement was caught by his sharp eyesight and he immediately left the area. We never saw him again.

Charles and I looked at each other and grinned. That alone was worth the time to walk down here and blow this whistle! It was great! Another blow on the whistle and we looked intently down in to the draw to try to find the first Coyote. The sun had gone down and it was starting to get dark. We weren’t sure we would have enough daylight to spot another. Crouching lower into the grass I gave the whistle another blow.

All at once a large Owl, who apparently had his heart set on a Rabbit meal, dove down from the sky towards our position. Fortunately, he recognized the difference and took off into the skies. We could feel the air and hear the noise from his dive as he pulled up just inches from our heads.

The hair on the back of my neck raised and I was done. This was definitely an exciting evening of Coyote calling! We totally didn’t expect the Owl.

I will never forget that day.

2010-12-01T21:11:00.000-08:00

This UNKNOWN AUTHOR says it all.......

At a time when our president and other politicians tend to
apologize for our country's prior actions, here's a refresher on how some
of our former patriots handled negative comments about our country. JFK'S Secretary of State, Dean Rusk, was in France in the
early 60's when DeGaule decided to pull out of NATO. DeGaule said
he wanted all US military out of France as soon as possible.
Rusk responded, “Does that include those who are buried here?"
DeGaule did not respond.
You could have heard a pin drop.

When in England , at a fairly large conference, Colin Powell was asked
by the Archbishop of Canterbury if our plans for Iraq were
just an example of 'empire building' by George Bush.
He answered by saying, “Over the years, the United States has sent many of
its fine young men and women into great peril to fight for freedom
beyond our borders. The only amount of land we have ever asked for
in return is enough to bury those that did not return."
You could have heard a pin drop.

There was a conference in France where a number of international engineers
were taking part, including French and American. During a break,
one of the French engineers came back into the room saying, "Have you
heard the latest dumb stunt Bush has done? He has sent an aircraft
carrier to Indonesia to help the tsunami victims. What does he
intend to do, bomb them?"
A Boeing engineer stood up and replied quietly: "Our carriers have
three hospitals on board that can treat several hundred
people; they are nuclear powered and can supply emergency electrical
power to shore facilities; they have three cafeterias with
the capacity to feed 3,000 people three meals a day, they can
produce several thousand gallons of fresh water from sea water each day, and
they carry half a dozen helicopters for use in transporting victims
and injured to and from their flight deck. We have eleven such ships;
how many does France have?"
You could have heard a pin drop.

A U.S. Navy Admiral
was attending a naval conference that included Admirals from the U.S., English, Canadian, Australian and French Navies. At a cocktail reception, he found himself
standing with a large group of officers that included personnel from most
of those countries. Everyone was chatting away in English as they sipped
their drinks but a French admiral suddenly complained that, whereas
Europeans learn many languages, Americans learn only English. He then
asked, "Why is it that we always have to speak English in these conferences
rather than speaking French?"

Without hesitating, the American Admiral replied, "Maybe it's because
the Brit's, Canadians, Aussie's and Americans arranged it so you wouldn't have to speak German."
You could have heard a pin drop.

Robert Whiting, an elderly gentleman of 83, arrived in Paris by plane.
At French Customs, he took a few minutes to locate his passport in his carry on.
"You have been to France before, monsieur?" the customs sarcastically.

Mr. Whiting admitted that he had been to France previously. "Then you should know enough to have your passport ready." The American said, “The last time I was here, I didn't have to show it."
"Impossible... Americans always have to show their passports upon arrival in France!"
The American senior gave the Frenchman a long hard look. Then he
quietly explained, ''Well, when I came ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day in
1944 to help liberate this country, I couldn't find a single Frenchmen
to show a passport to." You could have heard a pin drop. ….Author Unknown

2010-11-18T16:38:00.000-08:00

FAIRVIEW, OREGON

Nestled in the palm of Troutdale, Gresham, Wood Village and Portland is a small “burg” called Fairview, Oregon. The 2000 census says the population was 7,561, but now pushes over 9,700. Apparently the city does quite well financially. It is a progressive community with a small but adequate police force, a judge by appointment only and a few shops and a library.

Not much happens in Fairview. Crime is fairly low. Houses are expensive and taxes are high. Most of the town is built on an old swamp. The remaining swampy area is called a “wildlife habitat”, by some. Part of it, in some ways, reminds me a lot of Mayberry USA. Shopping centers have built around the old Dog Track that closed a few years ago. The Greyhounds have been adopted out by pet owners looking for something unusual to own. Fairview wanted to turn it into a gambling Casino this year, but the voters turned it down.

In some ways, Fairview is a lot like the City of Lake Oswego. The local law enforcement are keeping the peace and fighting crime like the big boys. They show up in an hour or two to investigate a break-in of a parked car; write up their report and then leave. They check out unauthorized noises, investigate neighborhood complaints of a barking dog, Traffic criminals are apprehended and prosecuted routinely. Officer “Obie” (a generic name coined from the song, “Alice’s Restaurant” back in the 60’s) can often be seen peeking around some obstruction watching out for violators. He sits a lot in parking lots watching for those doing over 20 in a school zone, 7 to 5 every day or so.

I’m sure the city does quite well financially, even in this beaten down economy. Why, the price of a “California stop” in Fairview cost one 60-year old school teacher $485 on her way to return books to the Library to avoid a fine. That’s a “rolling stop” for those of you new to California. Probably 80% of drivers do those, even our fine law enforcement officers, which I’ve witnessed. It’s funny how a rolling stop is more of a criminal offense than a friend of mine who was caught speeding, doing 70 in a construction zone and paid $280.

Obama could learn something from our city. Just look at how much the national debt could be reduced by catching and fining all those criminals out there doing rolling stops and jay walking. We actually witnessed the officer doing an illegal U-turn to go after a young man jay walking. Thank you, Officer, for protecting us!

If you come to our fair city of Fairview, pay attention to school zones and keep it below 20 at all times; 25 in neighborhoods. No Texting is allowed; hands-free cell phone use only (that doesn’t mean you can HOLD IT IN YOUR HAND). Oh, and if you ARE pulled over, the huge fine levied against you will go a long way in keeping our local government financially solvent, so that more criminals, like yourself, can enjoy our friendly city.

2010-10-03T21:03:00.001-07:00

IT’S NO SECRET…..

I do love the mountains! Backpacking trips into high mountain country is my favorite vacation! To lift your eyes towards the high country one day and then relax in a soft chair with hot coffee in the cool, early morning sunrise, watching the first rays of sun light up the mountain tops and fog covered valleys far below, the next day; there’s nothing like it! I wish everyone could experience such a memorable event!

For the most part, my experiences usually left me with a desire…..no….a longing, to return for the sequel. Trips that make you long to return are usually trips that made a positive impact. Rarely did I ever find the opposite to be true. I can only remember two of those; even then, it was a poor choice of trails. Better planning could have fixed that!

My fourth trip out this year was one of those difficult trails. As I grow older, I find it more difficult to get into the shape I need to make backpacking easier. The leg muscles seem to always be sore, never getting strong. I tire more easily now. I’m sure the day will come when the backpacking will end. In my mind, I would love to hike forever (and perhaps I will). In reality, until the end comes, I will continue to do my best and experience the most amazing vistas I can find.

The Enchantments was my destination a couple of weeks ago. Although the weather turned sour with rain and fog, it was a memorable experience! The steepest trail I had ever encountered was this one! The Aasgard Pass is one to remember! You should try it!

More on this hike later….

2010-09-02T19:49:00.000-07:00

WILDERNESS TREK 2010
August 12-16, 2010
Jefferson Park,
Mt. Jefferson, Oregon

This year’s Wilderness Trek was, perhaps, the best and most spiritual of all of our Wilderness Trek’s. Every day was filled with viewing God’s creation and studying God’s Word from the Book of Colossians. Evening devotionals were Spirit led and filled with discussions, reading and prayers. We learned about and from each other. New friendships were made that will last for a lifetime. God was, indeed, in our midst. What a blessing it was to be a part of this experience!

Wilderness Trek 2010 began serious planning stages as soon as we learned that our request for a Group Camp Permit for the Wonderland Trail was denied for the 3rd or 4th year in a row. Leaders were selected and the sign-up list filled by our Teens. Everyone was informed of our decision to go to Jefferson Park on the North side of Mt. Jefferson, Oregon and camp on the shores of Scout Lake.

A week before departure, Alyssa Beekman, Josha Moss and I (Mike Thomas) made a quick overnight trip to Jefferson Park for a “scouting expedition”. We wanted to make sure we knew the trail conditions and what to expect once we arrived in the Park. We found a large campsite at Scout Lake that should serve our site needs. We actually camped at a secondary option on the shores of Bays Lake. The next day we looked around for activity options, and then headed home.

At 0700 Thursday morning, August 12, we loaded up our teens in a 15 passenger van and headed south. Two teens had dropped out which left us with 6 teens and 4 adult leaders. We stopped at McDonald’s in Salem for a breakfast snack, then back on the road towards Detroit Lake, Oregon. About 10 miles out of Detroit we cut off for a 7 mile dirt road trip to the Whitewater Trail Head, where we would begin our actual hiking. Our destination would be on the North Shore of Scout Lake, a distance of 6 miles and 1800’ elevation gain.

It was a beautiful sunny day; exactly like you would wish for, if wishes came true. The air was cool, the sun was shining, and the lower elevation temperatures would be in the 80’s and 90’s today. Ours would be a bit cooler in the upper elevations of Jefferson Park.

We stopped along the trail at the first rocky outcropping that gave us views of Grizzly Peak and Woodpecker Ridge to begin prep work in our Journals that Josha, our female adult leader, had prepared for everyone. It began by allowing us to do some goal setting for the trip and then have a time of sharing our goals or prayer needs with each other. It also gave us time to have a bite to eat and replenish our energy for the final 3 or 4 miles of uphill hiking.

We arrived at Scout Lake beneath the majestic 10,497’ Mt. Jefferson, a Stratovolcano less than 100,000 years old that resides in the Cascade Volcanic Arc, part of the Cascade Mountain Range. It is the second highest snow covered mountain in Oregon in a rugged area named the Jefferson Wilderness and is perhaps one of the most difficult volcanoes to reach in the Cascade Range.

We camped at about the 5900’ elevation level with beautiful picture window views of Mt Jefferson reflecting in Scout Lake. Bays Lake to our right was deeper and more scenic but had limited campsites for a group our size. Russell Lake to our left was shallower, but also with limited group camping sites. God wonderfully provided for our needs.

We immediately began setting up our campsite with tents. Fortunately, Josha and I had learned from our previous “scouting trip” that the appetite of the Jefferson Park Mosquito was voracious! So I had made a trip to REI, our local outfitter and purchased a Mosquito proof tent and packed it into the Park with my gear. We ran a cord between two trees and pulled it tight in order to hang our Mosquito tent directly over our campsite seating area that was comprised of two logs in an “L” shape. Campfires are prohibited in the “park” so the tent fit well with our immediate needs!

The tent skirted out about 11’ and tall in the center, adequate for our sitting needs. It was within this “cone of silence” that most of our interaction, sharing, singing and praying took place in our evening devotionals. We agreed that what was said “in here, stays in here”. During the daytime, it was used for a place of retreat from the pesky bugs that relentlessly hounded our very sanity!

Our first afternoon was spent setting up camp, exploring and resting. Our evening dinner, prepared by Josha Moss was a generous helping of Spaghetti with Meat Sauce; very fitting after a strenuous hike to the mountain. It was delicious and filling. Following our meal, we readied our night by securing our food and snacks in individual bags to hang from a rope between two trees to keep unwanted rodents (Chipmunks) from helping themselves to our food during the night.

We met under the “cone of silence” mosquito tent for our evening devotional. Greg Woods led us in a time of worship and sharing that turned out to be quite amazing, as it did every evening we were there!

Our sharing time was a spiritual highlight of our time together. Listening to our teens express their very hearts to each other was unlike any other Trek before. We listened to their hearts and prayed for each other’s needs. We could see God at work in the lives of these kids like at no other time we could remember. It was a wonderful time together this first evening.

We ended our devotional around 10:00 and planned tomorrow’s events. We then headed to our tents and warm sleeping bags for the night.

Morning came early on the Mountain. We boiled water for coffee, cocoa and instant breakfasts before we began an hour of personal time with God, praying and reading His Word from Paul’s letter to the Colossians. Each day we devoured a portion of the Book of Colossians, which became our center point of devotional that day.

The personal time began by having us go off alone to spend a moment in silence listening for God before starting the day’s study. We then read chapter 1–2:5 and answered the written questions: “What verse stands out to you and why? What is God teaching you through today’s study? Pray about how you will respond to what God is teaching you today”. It was thought provoking and helpful to focus our minds on spiritual matters that could help direct our paths for years to come.

Following our alone with God time, we assembled beneath the cone of silence for singing and discussion. Greg always had us focused on God for the day and provoked us to be aware of ways we saw God at work around and in us that day.

We packed our Day Packs with snacks, lunch and water for a long hike to the top of the Ridge, along the Pacific Crest Trail. The hike was through beautiful meadows, around beautiful Russell Lake and across streams of cold, clear water from melting snowfields. We often stopped to filter a new supply of the most delicious water you could imagine!

Patches of melting snow still dotted the area on this day in the middle of August, as we made our way upward to the 7000’ elevation level of the Jefferson Ridge. From there, we had magnificent views of Olallie Butte and Olallie Lake with snow capped Mt Hood to the north. To the south, Mt. Jefferson was magnificent! We looked down on Russell, Scout, Rock and Bays Lakes and an overview of Jefferson Park. In addition, we saw many other ponds of water. One in particular caught our eye. It was close to the Ridge on the south side, still mostly covered with snow, but with a crescent of blue and turquoise along the edge, giving it that appearance of glacier water. It was beautiful!

From the PCT at the Ridge, we proceeded to hike even higher along the ridge, attempting to get to Park Butte about 3 peaks towards the Southwest. The hike became difficult and most of us turned away from continuing that quest. Three of our teens, more young and agile than the average continued on to rock hop to the top. The rest of us decided to skate down the scree (loose rocky soil) and do a little “cross country” to connect with the PCT down below in the valley.

Soon, we were descending onto a large snowfield, braving our fears and having a lot of fun coming ever closer to our trail. Some of the teens were very cautious, taking their time trying not to slide into the imaginary abyss or tumble onto the rocks. It appeared to me that they were only mimicking Greg’s descent! Others came running and sliding on the snow as if skiing! It was so much fun; they wanted to do it again!

We followed a stream from the melting snowfield as it tumbled down hill through beautiful wild flowers and lush vegetation. Soon we were on the trail drinking from the cold stream of liquid crystal.

The day ended as did the day before with our evening meal (today was Mashed Potatoes with Chicken and BBQ) and a time of devotional.

We gathered beneath the mosquito net, our “cone of silence”, and shared together. We sang songs and then prayed for each other, especially to the needs we shared on the trail our first day. It was very warm and moving. Rodney Whiteside, our fourth adult leader, on his first Wilderness Trek with our Metro Teens, was very moved by the sincerity and spirituality in each heart.

The prayers from each of our teens was moving and uplifting. It was, perhaps, the most wonderful moment I have experienced in a long time. I thought, how rare it is that most of us adults never hear our teens pray, especially our girls. As an elder in our church, I have prayed many prayers and heard many others. But growing up in a church where women have no public leadership role, the prayers are usually by men, but occasionally a young man or teen will lead one publicly. My most memorable prayer was listening to Lindsay Tester pray specifically for me at Wilderness Trek 2008, as we went around in a circle praying for the person next to us. I was nearly moved to tears hearing her words.

As we concluded our prayer time and ended our devotional, one of the boys mentioned the name of one of the bright star clusters in the sky. We all turned our faces skyward and, at that moment, a Meteor, shooting across the night sky, brighter than any we had ever seen, screamed southward directly over our cone of silence, splitting the heavens in two! It was amazing! It was a very long, wide and bright streak of light that everyone saw, a very fitting end to a prayer and to our day! Thank you, God!

Day 3 began as we awoke and ate breakfast, as previously. We separated for our quiet time to meditate and read more from Colossians. We gathered back together after a while and shared our thoughts. Greg did an exceptional job of leading our thoughts as we all went around taking turns sharing our hearts. The “Cone of Silence” was there to prevent us from revealing to “outsiders” the things we shared beneath the Mosquito net. But the intent of our hearts was to get to know each other better and to help each other reach our personal goals.

We packed our day packs and headed out “lake hopping”; going around Scout and Bays Lakes to view the Park from various vantage points nearby. Following that adventure, we returned to camp to “do our thing”. Some relaxed, some talked and some went off to other adventures. I took a nap before taking my afternoon walkabout towards the north, cross country through meadows of snow, water, flowers and streams. It was a peaceful time for me to allow the thoughts of the world, the worries of work and the stress of life pour from me. I was able to pray for our kids and focus my thoughts on the kind of man I needed to be as a leader in our church.

I returned to camp at sunset in time for my share of Beef Stroganoff. Our evening devotional was amazing; even greater than the previous evenings. Greg was filled with the Spirit and provoked our thinking even more. It lasted well over two hours, and yet seemed to fly by. I grew more amazed at our young people; viewing deeper into their hearts. I am falling more in love with these young Christians than I thought I could.

Day 4 was Sunday, the Lord's Day. We arose before daylight, dressed and headed towards the east to greet the sunrise with a time of worship. We took our day packs, water and Bibles and began following Greg along the rocky trail. At one point we veered off the trail and hiked "cross country" to a knoll that Greg knew about. It was there that we began focusing on a time with God. Greg directed us through a time of singing, reading and praying. As the sun rose, we each participated in Communion. We were on Holy Ground. It was an amazing experiece to greet the first rays of sun on our faces, while lifting our hearts to God and communing with Him.

The afternoon was a day of “free lance”. We all did various things today. Following our morning’s alone time with God and reading the last chapter of Colossians, we gathered together for sharing. Greg directed us towards deeper Spiritual thinking. We shared our hearts with each other and learned even more. We discovered things about each other that were private, or buried away in our hearts so no one could see. We found out that we, young and old, were much alike; that years make little difference.

The afternoon was spent in Bays Lake. The kids went swimming in the cold glacier fed water; jumping from rocks into the frigid liquid, claiming it was “just right”. Uh-huh.

Our last evening together was intentional. It began with our final meal together; a hearty bowl of Beef Stew. I was just now remembering that this year, unlike any other previous Trek, we had no leftover food to go out and bury. This bunch was hungry!

Greg concluded our time together with a beautiful culmination of thoughts that inspired us towards greater faith. Rodney continued to be amazed at the Spirit of these young people. He, himself, going through some personal struggles, was encouraged and strengthened by these kids; moved by their words. It was, indeed, a time we all felt encouraged by each other. Josha proved, again, to be an excellent leader, organizer and writer of our study guides for this Trek. She is an amazing woman, filled with the Spirit and devoted to making these events meaningful to the teens. The evening was perfect.

Day 5 began with breakfast and our final session beneath the cone of silence.

Afterwards, we began packing our things in our backpacks; tearing down camp and preparing for the hike back down. Donning our packs with a grunt and a prayer, I led the team to a quiet spot along the trail where we took a group photo with Mt. Jefferson in the background; making a memory.

It was six miles to our van. We made it in two hours. We kept mentioning hamburgers and fries along the way to keep them moving; much like dangling the carrot in front of the mule to keep him walking.

We packed the van and headed into a place I knew of in Salem, where we would stop for a greasy meal of hamburgers and fries, and do our post-trek thoughts. It was a wonderful lunch! The sharing was good. The meal was great. It was very special.

Arriving at our church parking lot to greet parents, we departed, each to a different place. Some would be going off to college in other states. I feel a special bond to Lindsay who is going off to college in Arizona, as she has been with me on all of our Wilderness Trek’s. I will not soon forget her servant heart and how much she has grown.

We came home tired but very refreshed in spirit! Mike Thomas

2009-09-07T21:11:00.000-07:00

WILDERNESS TREK 2009

The backpacking experience offered to the high school teens in our church is designed to give our teens the opportunity to experience God in the wilderness. A combination of seclusion, fatigue, trail food, tents, less comfort and electronics fasting, coupled with a spiritual emphasis of scripture, journaling, prayer and focusing upon God’s working in our life, has immense value.

The very words, “Wilderness experience” not only means being in the great outdoors, away from the normal hustle and bustle of city life, but also confronting the moments of “wilderness” in our own spiritual lives; times when we are feeling insecure, less appreciated, pressured, tempted, inadequacy or emptiness.

The treking experience of the Metro Church is designed to meet all those experiences head on. The high mountains of Oregon and Washington offer much to experience. The high country brings to life the feeling of seclusion by seeing vistas unavailable to us in our everyday lives. Snow in the summertime; mountain Goats grazing on sparse vegetation along steep hillsides; Elk keeping watch from mountain meadows and valleys teeming with cold water and green grass; Deer quietly feeding among wild flowers of all kinds and colors; Marmot and the timid Pica busy keeping watch on their territory and putting away food for the coming winter; melting glaciers and snowfields falling hundreds of feet down ancient lava, through beds of pumice, connecting together with other streams to form rivers and lakes.

God is at work in us and we take the time to experience Him at work. Distractions are minimal; everywhere we look, we see Him working in His creation. We are the Sheep of His pasture; created in His image, nestled in the hollow of His hand on the high mountains.

The experience is not always one of scenic beauty, warm sunshine and astonishing sunsets. Sometimes, the weather turns sour and becomes unfit. Such was the experience of Wilderness Trek 2009.

We were taken to the parking lot of Timberline Lodge on the south side of Mt Hood. The parking lot was half full of vehicles; many of which had brought skiers and snow boarders to the mountain to ski the Palmer Glacier. The air was crisp, wet and windy. The temperature was around 38 degrees and heavy clouds covered the mountain top; visibility was limited. The forecast called for cooler than normal temperatures with moderate precipitation and occasional sunshine.

Our destination for today was a high place above the Pacific Crest Trail 2000 called Paradise Park; a vantage point that offered beautiful views of the west side of Mt Hood towards Portland and the Oregon Coastal Mountains. We began walking in heavy fog, blowing rain and chilling temperatures, hopeful to find warmer places. The five miles of good trail took us into the bottom of Zig Zag Canyon where we crossed a raging stream from the melting Zig Zag Glacier. The wind had diminished somewhat but the temperature and cloud conditions remained. We stopped along the stream to view a nearby waterfall and take a small break.

Soon we were climbing out of the canyon for another two miles to the Paradise Park trailhead. The steady climb kept us from getting cold, but taxed our high altitude breathing and stamina, especially for us old timers! The rain never let up.

As we reached our camping area, we found the place deserted and had our pick of camp sites. The hillside was socked in with heavy fog and cloud cover. Rain continued to fall. The wind was gentle enough, but still gave us a deep chill through our wet clothes. We encouraged the teens to quickly set up their tents, get out of their wet clothes into something warm and dry, and to get inside their sleeping bags to warm up. The last thing we needed was for someone to get hurt or come down with hypothermia, which was very likely in this weather.

About four hours later, Josha Moss braved the cold, wet outdoors and began preparing a hot Pasta meal for everyone. Greg Woods, Brian Simmons and I, Mike Thomas, had hunkered down in my two-man tent discussing the events of the day and the prognosis of what was to come, when one of the teens called us to dinner. Slipping back into our wet boots and rain gear, we took our plates to Josha where she gave us a generous helping of thick meat sauce, bubbling in a pan on the single burner stove, and hot Pasta from a second single burner stove. It was a meal fit for a King! There’s something wonderful about the taste of a hot meal on a chilly evening on the first night’s stay.

The teens slowly withdrew from their warm sleeping bags to brave the cold for their share of the hot meal. As each of us finished, we began shaking and shivering from the continuing cold, wet wind. We quickly headed back to the comfort of our tents, warming beneath our sleeping bags.

Darkness soon fell and we slipped away into a deep sleep, awaking often to the sound of the wind and the heavy droplets of water upon our tent.

The next morning wasn’t much better. The sun came out for a few minutes and then was gone. Brian pumped our water container full of filtered water and we began to think about breakfast. There was no organized mealtime for breakfast, as each of us took care of our own breakfast and lunches for the entire trip. Brian used hot water to make himself a hearty hot meal from a freeze dried package of Beef Stroganoff, claiming that he needed something “substantial”. Greg made himself a freeze dried meal of scrambled eggs and meat, along with a cup of hot chocolate. I made myself a double hot coffee and had Strawberries and Cream Oatmeal for my breakfast. As the kids got up, we kept the hot water coming for their use.

Following breakfast, the four of us gathered inside my tent, a brief respite from the wind and rain, to make plans for the day. The outlook appeared bleak to remain on this mountain. Most of our clothes were wet and the cold, overcast conditions continued to pound us. We decided to try to find a spot where cell phone coverage could get us in contact with our pick-up drivers and attempt a rendezvous at the Ramona Falls Trailhead parking lot for an evening pick-up. Brian and I took a walk along the trail to a vantage point out of the trees where we once camped during a previous trip with my daughter and her friend. The “no service” warning was steady and the prognosis appeared bleak. About to give up, the signal indicated 5 bars and I quickly made two calls; the first to Sue Tester, mother of one of our senior teen girls, Lindsay. Leaving her a message, I made the second, which was answered by Dawn, the wife of our driver, Mark Doberenz. I gave her the message as quickly as possible and she understood. No sooner than completing the calls, my phone signal went away and I saw again, the words “no service” on my IPhone. We thought it ironic that in our time of need, God came through for us once again!

We returned to camp and rousted the sleepy kids, telling them to get up and dress for the hike off the mountain. They needed to finish breakfast and then break camp; packing tents, sleeping bags and all they brought.

Water continued to drop from the treetops as we packed our backpacks. We joked with each other about having to carry an additional 5 pounds of water off the mountain in the form of soaked clothes and tents! At one point during the packing, the clouds cleared a view of Mt Hood and we quickly took advantage of it. Greg lined us up and snapped a couple of pictures before the clouds moved back in and obscured the view.

Soon on our way we stopped along a particular outcropping long enough to check cell phone service and get my messages. The only one I wanted was verification that our drivers would be waiting for us at the Ramona Falls Trailhead. Sue had left me a message assuring us they would meet us at the pick-up point this very evening. Reassured, we continued our downward descent along the Paradise Park Loop Trail and connected with the Pacific Crest Trail.

I was hopeful that one particular point of interest would be visible to the kids and we could drop our packs and enjoy the scenery. As we approached the overlook, we were pleased to be able to see snowmelt from McNeil Glacier cascading down the rugged lava gorge, producing waterfalls one after another. The canyon was deep and dropped off perhaps 2000 feet or more. I led the way to an outcropping; a “tooth of time”, down over the edge of the cliff and watched as the kids peered over the edge to see yet another amazing waterfall far below.

Off in the distance was another canyon, cut deep into the ancient lava beds; melt-off from the Sandy Glacier. These two streams, plus a few other small ones farther down the trail would come together and become the headwaters of the Sandy River. We were a little anxious about this stream, not knowing what to expect, as we had to cross it down below. The kids enjoyed the time relaxing on the “tooth”, having lunch, laughing and taking pictures. This was the first time we had real fun this whole trip! The sun was shining and warming the rocks; everyone was enjoying being warm for a change! About the time we started to leave, the clouds cleared the way for a good view of Mt Hood, dotted with snowfields and glaciers. It was near perfect, for a short time.

Continuing on down the trail, we approached the wide Sandy River wash-out, perhaps 100 yards across and followed the Cairns and trail flags to a location where we could cross the narrow river on a roughly made footbridge of three small logs and a few rocks. Bridges across the Sandy never survive the winter snowmelt when the high water clears away everything left behind from the previous year. This bridge was a welcome sight. I waited on the opposite side as each one carefully crossed the makeshift foot bridge. This location was about 4 miles from Paradise and about half a mile from Ramona Falls.

Ramona Falls was spectacular as always; a scenic waterfall, unlike any other we’ve ever seen, cascading down Basalt Lava chunks, creating a large mural of living water that many people photograph or watch. We dropped our packs and soaked in the view, taking photos and enjoying this beautiful creation.

It was 3 ½ miles to the Ramona Falls Trailhead parking lot. The walk was through cool forests and along the clear stream that was once Ramona Falls. The high, solid rock cliffs along the opposite side were unique. We found it impossible to photograph them and make the pictures come close to what our eyes saw. Nothing can ever take the place of the human eye; the clarity, the depth, the sharpness and the magnificence cannot be matched by any camera.

Again we crossed the Sandy River, much wider and more water this time, but upon a nice foot log with a matching hand rail to hang onto. About half a mile from the parking lot we were met by our drivers and Brian Simmons, who had gone on before our group to drop his pack and come back to assist anyone who needed help. We had made good time.

It was good to drop our packs into the trailer and sit down on soft car seats! We had taken 6 hours to make the 8 mile trip from Paradise Park. Everyone was ready to stop at a nearby “greasy spoon” and dive into a big, juicy hamburger with a stack of fries and a big cola…..and so we did!

Sitting around our table, Greg asked each of us to take the time to try to figure out why the trip turned out like it did. Our expectations before the hike were visions of planned, structured personal time with God, scripture reading and reflection. Because of the extreme weather conditions at Paradise Park, our expectations were never realized. Perhaps God had other plans for us. Perhaps He protected us from something that could have happened had our own plans been realized! Perhaps it wasn’t God at all; perhaps it was other forces at work in us. Whatever it was, we now have time to reflect and ask ourselves, “Why?”

We’ve already seen several ways that God has been at work in us. One of the most impacting was that we had returned in time to comfort our Brother in the Lord, and his two kids, who had lost a wife and Mother unexpectedly. When I told Greg about our Brother, he said, “That’s it! That’s why we’re back so soon!” Perhaps it was.

Mike Thomas

2009-06-09T09:54:00.000-07:00

PLEASANT VIEW SCHOOL, forever young!

To this day, memories of my grade school days still linger in remote patches of my mind. Various thoughts come and go as if a random roll of the dice brings up another nearly forgotten memory. I do enjoy those moments because my grade school experience was good. We were all farm kids, bussed in from all directions and taught by teachers of all types; most were very nice to us.

That old yellow school bus turned around in our lane. We always had time to run out and get on when it pulled up. The Kings lived further down the road but it was steep, narrow and unfriendly for vehicles like our school bus. They would have to ride or walk up that old steep hill every day.

Pleasant View had a Dining Room in which we ate our sack lunches. The school provided milk and an occasional treat of some kind. I will never forget those little glass bottles of milk with the paper lid that was easy to pull off. Once in a while we had ice cream! We always had fun sitting around the dining tables on benches, talking and laughing and cutting up as if we had good sense!

We are all "Baby Boomers". Some have passed on from this life into the next. As I look at the old school photo, faces of my friends are forever frozen in time. I haven’t seen them since 1960, except one. So, to me, they are all forever young, just like I remember them!

2009-05-29T18:10:00.000-07:00

The Old Ice House

is probably gone; torn down or abandoned by now; not much use for those today. Most folks have means of making their own ice in their own homes. As a kid growing up in NW Arkansas, my folks used to make weekend trips to Ozark to buy groceries and ice for our Ice Box. Refrigerators were expensive in those days, but without electricity we wouldn’t get one for a few more years yet.

The Ice Box was an insulated wooden cabinet with two or three compartments; upper, where the lid opened the top to allow a block of ice to be stored in the metal lined compartment, and a lower, also lined with metal where food needing refrigeration was placed. This device was the predecessor to modern day refrigerators that use Freon to make the cooling work.

The old Ice Box worked by a process of “cold air falling”. With the upper compartment filled with ice, the closed door chilled the air and trapped in the cold, which fell from the top to the bottom compartment through slots, cooling milk, eggs, cheese and other foodstuff.

The chunk of ice in the top section never lasted long and would be completely melted in a few days.

I loved seeing the ice men at work cutting out blocks of ice! They would bring out a large, square chunk from the freezer; about 3 feet cubed, hung from an elevated rail with giant tongs and drop it near the dock. It would go skidding along the old wood slab flooring. They would then take an ice pick and start jabbing holes in the ice block in a straight line. This would break off a chunk of ice about 12 inches thick by 3 feet long. Depending upon how much Dad wanted they would cut it again.

I loved watching the ice chips flake off in the sunlight as the ice pick fell. I never thought much about where the ice came from; I just assumed it came from a room somewhere.

Also, ice tongs were very cool!

2009-05-06T17:25:00.000-07:00

MILKING COWS

Growing up on a farm provided us with many opportunities. Even the State slogan said it, “Arkansas, Land of Opportunity”!

Although we didn’t have much, we always had enough. The way I see it, the difference between “poor” and “dirt poor” is simply ‘the dirt’! If you were dirt poor….. YOU DIDN’T HAVE ANY! Well, we had 360 acres of Arkansas dirt under our feet…. More than we needed! We seldom had two nickels to rub together, but we had land!

We also had plenty of MILK! We milked Cows until we were blue in the face! Didn’t we, Pat?? Fresh milk EVERY day! We drank milk like nobody’s business! When we couldn’t drink any more, Dad started paying us 2 cents a glass to drink it! We thought we were in BIG MONEY! Ha! We still didn’t have two nickels to rub together…..but we had lots of pennies!

2009-04-10T22:04:00.000-07:00

NOW I KNOW.......

So my letter from the United States Department of the Interior simply said, “We could not get your reservation request to work using any of the alternate start dates and/or alternate camps”. It was signed by “Dan” of the National Park Service, Mount Rainier National Park, Tahoma Woods, Star Route, Ashford, Washington 98304.

This is my second year in a row to try for group camping rights on a particular section of the Wonderland Trail. The first time I ever tried to do this, we were approved! It was a Slam-Dunk! Two failures kind of put the “summertime overcrowding” into perspective.

Fortunately my uncanny organizational skills have already created two contingency plans to take the teens backpacking. Plan “B” is to do a stretch of trail from White Pass Washington, Southbound along the PCT and jumping off to take Lily Basin Trail to the end. Plan “C” is to do a stretch of the Timberline Trail, about half way around Mt Hood, Oregon.

The hard part will be getting in shape!! Wait! Isn’t “ROUND” a shape??

2009-04-04T11:10:00.000-07:00

MULBERRY, ARKANSAS

As a kid growing up in the 1950’s, Arkansas had a lot to offer. The drive from our country farm to the “big city” was about 25 miles down a dirt road and a narrow bridge across the Mulberry River. The hot summer months dried everything; thick dust fogged the road as cars passed by. Roadside bushes and trees would sit covered in fine Arkansas powder until the next hard rain fell.

Dad drove an old pickup with a cattle rack on the back. He would let us kids ride in the back when we went into town. I doubt Mom liked it much but we loved it! We often stepped up on the first rail; hanging on tightly to the top rail, chest and head above the cab of the truck, wind in our faces; hanging on for dear life! Mom didn’t like it when we hit the blacktop highway, where Dad could get up more speed. We didn’t stay up there long at those speeds, either. We couldn’t get our breath! Not only that, but to get hit in the face by a June Bug or a Bee at those speeds wasn’t much fun!

Can you imagine that kind of event happening TODAY?? WOW! Cell phones would be dialing 9-1-1 and reporting irresponsible parents to the Cops in a heartbeat!! CSD would show up and haul off the kids; parents would be cited and put on probation and all kinds of newspapers would write about it!

Sometimes Dad would stop by the old Millsap place on the highway and buy us a Watermelon to take home. We enjoyed stopping there and exploring around while the grownups talked. Mrs. Millsap was a First Grade Teacher at Pleasant View School where we attended. She was very nice. I will never forget her. She was a short, round lady with yellow hair, and most always had a smile on her face. Her and Mrs. Addy were my favorite teachers growing up. Mrs. Addy taught second grade.

I wish I had a picture of 1950’s Mulberry to show you, but I only have one taken in the 1940's, although the only thing that changed were the CARS. The whole town wasn’t 2 blocks long. Towards the end of town there was something in the middle of the street….. I can’t remember exactly what it was. Perhaps a large marker, or a statue…. Whatever it was, it was a natural place to make a U-TURN and head back the other direction to park on the other side of the street. The old stores looked like something out of Western days; General Stores, where you could find most anything you need…..nothing like today, of course! There was a Dime Store that sold stuff for as little as a Penny. Us kids were dirt poor and seldom HAD a Penny! But we liked going in there and looking at stuff. Mom once said that she didn’t mind taking us 4 boys into stores with her because we wouldn’t touch anything…..we just looked. (Have you seen kids in stores doing THAT today??)

Mulberry is where Dad would take us sometimes to get our hair cut by a real barber! We grew up with Burr haircuts so it wasn’t hard for him to give them to us at home. But once in a while he took us into “Gene and Shorty’s Barber Shop” to get us trimmed up proper, I suppose. One day he had Gene and Shorty give us Mohawks! Mom wasn’t too impressed but we kept them all summer long. It made it harder for us boys to play “Cowboys and Indians” because Cowboys don’t HAVE Mohawks! I don’t recall, but I suppose we just played “Indians” that summer!

But one of the coolest things to see in Mulberry…..and we usually ALWAYS saw him ….was the Cowboy! I wish I could recall his name, but I can’t. He was a grown man but with a mind of a 9-year old kid, so they say. He was all dressed up in a cowboy outfit; jeans, shirt, boots, hat and scarf. He looked a lot like the old cowboy pictures of Roy Rogers! Maybe that’s who he was trying to look like! He also wore two big guns in a holster on his hips. The holster was all blinged up with sequins, leather strings and baubles that shined in the sunlight! It was quite impressive to us cowboy-type boys! The two big shiny guns were only Cap Guns, but they looked very cool to us! Jimmie (I’ll call him Jimmie because I don’t remember his real name, and besides, this is my story), would always go around town, in and out of each business to say hello to everybody. Everyone knew him by name and greeted him when he entered and said goodbye when he left. He was like an icon, a fixture in a little one horse town with nothing else going on. Every day, so they say, he would make his rounds, greeting people.

I recall one day that stands out in my mind more so than others. Dad had some banking business to do so we were standing in the Bank when “Jimmie” came through the door; sunlight shining through the big glass door behind him in. He walked in like he owned the place, waving and smiling and greeting everybody he knew; bowlegged and cowboy suit and all. His Spurs jingled as he walked and his cowboy hat was tipped back on his head in a relaxed sort of way. He made his rounds and then headed out the door.

Can you imagine that kind of event happening TODAY?? WOW! Cell phones would be dialing 9-1-1, Swat Cops would be screaming up with guns drawn….and bank employees would be face on the floor praying to live through it all!

Well…..those days could only happen in THOSE days.

2009-03-26T18:14:00.000-07:00

LOST IN THE 50’S

Being a Codger Boomer, I must confess that, in my opinion there’s no music like 50’s music! To pin it down even closer, I’m drawn to the late 50’s music, from 55 and forward. Ahhhh, those were the days, my friend! (Oops …… 1960’s sneaking in).

Everything musical from Doo Wap to Bop Sha-bop meant a lot to me I suppose. I was almost 10 when it started for me. Music can make quite an impact upon a young mind. Even though I went to bed early in those days, I still heard Bill Hailey and The Comets “Rockin’ around the Clock Tonight”. Being nearly Hillbilly, I loved “The Ballad of Davy Crockett” and “The Yellow Rose of Texas”. Those were good’uns to sing along with! I remember my friend and I singing along (in our deepest 8 or 9 year old voices we could muster) “16 Tons”, as we rode the school bus to Ozark to get our (I think Polio) vaccinations. Ahhhh, those were the days, my friend! (Oops …… 1960’s sneaking in again!)

How could we EVER forget those songs that taught us more than 3rd Period English Class EVER COULD?? Songs that said, “Be Bop A Lula”, “Ooooooh Wah, Oooooh Wah Why Do Fools Fall in Love?”, “Dip Da Dip Da Dit Dit” and “Boogady Boogady Shoop”, just made the English language come ALIVE!

There are so many more…..too many to count. Great songs of the 1950’s! Great music of our times! I don’t hear it much on the radio anymore. There was a station here in Portland that used to be dedicated to 50’s music. Unfortunately, they succumbed to the next generation and moved on to more modern music, like the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s. It’s okay…..but nothing like the REAL music!

So what is your favorite kind of music? What’s your era??

2009-03-22T12:10:00.000-07:00

Goat Rocks Dreaming

So Brian comes up to me this morning and said he was thinking. Being eager to tell him what I was thinking, I interrupted him and said I was thinking about an alternate trail to take the teens if Rainier didn’t work out. I said, “How about the back side of Goat Rocks starting at White Pass?” Brian said that’s exactly what he was thinking about! So there you are! We think alike even though he’s much smarter than me!

So “Plan B” is to start at White Pass, Washington and hike South on the Pacific Crest Trail, making our way over the top of Old Snowy Mountain and connecting with Lily Basin Trail, hiking to the trailhead on the North end. Campsites are plentiful and will give us an opportunity to camp, once again, below Hawkeye Point and see all the sights of 2 years ago plus some! Brian, you HAVE to be on this one!

So, if The Wonderland Trail application is rejected we will proceed to Plan B and do the PCT from White Pass!

It’s a WIN WIN !! I like it!

2009-03-21T15:06:00.000-07:00

Wonderland Trail Dreaming

There’s no doubt that the Northwest has an abundance of great backpacking and hiking trails. The range of difficulty goes from “wheelchair accessible” trails to “Cardiac Hill – Call 911” trails. I love hiking. Getting out and about is a balm for the soul, for sure! Backpacking is tougher but more rewarding because you can stay out overnight or several overnights. Watching the sun set from a warm evening campfire is indescribable. To arise before the sun comes up and watch the light descend upon low valley clouds and fog, lighting up the protruding peaks, glowing snowfields in shades of yellow and orange as the darkness is chased away by morning, is a living painting! I am convinced that some of most awesome sunrises will never be repeated. I vow to never again let the kids sleep through those!

I made application to the US Forest Service a few days ago trying to secure our place on a very popular trail --- The Wonderland Trail on Mt. Rainier, Washington. Mine is only one of perhaps 700 applications submitted for their review. I wish to take 11 people with me for 4 days along 15 to 20 miles on the east side, skirting Little Tahoma, the hunchback on Mt Rainier. It is a beautiful trail with wonderful sights, group camping and an abundance of water and wildlife.

The way it works, every group submits an application to secure the group campsites (which are the only places a group of 12 can legally camp) beginning March 15. Every entry between March 15 and April 1 will be looked over in random order by the US Forest Service personnel, who decide which group gets the “draw”. I faxed in my request on the 15th hoping for a best chance. My application last year was not one selected, so we went to the Wallowa Mountains in Eastern Oregon.

So today, I am in the waiting period, wondering if my group will be selected. I am taking 8 or 9 teenagers and 3 or 4 adults, as we are limited to parties of 12 in the Wilderness areas.

It’s exciting to wait and think about the possibilities of spending an August week in the Mt Rainier National Park. But it’s soooooo hard to wait and see!

2009-03-20T16:18:00.001-07:00

Chiggers!!

My, how I HATED those creatures!

Growing up in the South has its good points. Warm summers (except for the HOT days) made going to the Lake or River to play in the water so much fun!

There were some little things, however, that weren’t much fun! And I do mean LITTLE! Who amongst us has ever REALLY seen a CHIGGER?? Maybe I should ask, “Who amongst us even KNOWS what a CHIGGER IS??? Well, I suspect a good Southern boy would raise his hand about now.

A “Chigger” (that’s its Southern name) is very tiny, who’s bite is worse than its bark! Anytime you venture into the grass, especially taller grass, or even lay down on the grass to enjoy the sunshine, you can always count on the mysterious “Chigger” feeding on you! Then for the next two or three days you sit around scratching like an old dog!

To look at one you need to look very hard. The best way to see one is through a magnification lens. The first thing you will notice is that they are “red” in color. I don’t know if that’s because they are blood-suckers or not, but they sure can bite!!

Chiggers are a lot like “No See-ums” in the Northwest, except for the No See’s can fly and they are black. Both of them are nasty little creatures; pretty much sharing the same value as a Seed Tick! Makes you wonder why God created such creatures!

2009-03-14T14:35:00.000-07:00

The Big Rock

For poor folks, simple things are very meaningful and memorable. Long time memories of far away places are as sweet fragrances to smell for years! In my mind’s eye, I can see plainly the things I want to recall. Pleasant thoughts permeate my mind as I recollect my memories and put them together as a scrapbook of things worth keeping.

The Big Rock on the Mulberry River in Arkansas was one of those memorable places. I can still recall the screams, the laughter and the joys of little brown bodies jumping from a large flat rock into the green water of the Mulberry River. All of us splashing around and having the time of our lives! Hearing shouts of “Watch this!” or “Look at me!” as we showed off to Mom and Dad smiling from the Big Rock.

We didn’t mind the snakes much, but they were there. The Cotton Mouth’s and the Water Moccasin’s were plentiful, alright, but we didn’t seem to mind much…..unless we SAW one swimming amongst us!!! Then it was different!!

I remember sitting in the screened-in area in the Big Rock Cabin to escape bugs and weather while we ate our picnic lunch of Spam sandwiches and potato chips! Ahhhhh, those were the days, my friend!

Going to the Big Rock after a hard days’ work of making gravel, or mowing our several acres of yard, or working in the garden trying to get it ready for growing our winter supply of food, was a treat! There was always a lot of hard work to do around the farm. I suppose Dad had the same problem getting us motivated to work as any other Dad today. The threat of discipline was our motivation, however. That seems to be the main difference with today’s kids as there isn’t much of that! But, there was, also, “treats and rewards” for a job well done. Looking back I believe my Dad enjoyed going to the Big Rock as much as we did! He always let Mom get everything together; clothes, shoes, everything, and food. If we were going to spend the night somewhere, she packed for that, too. I’m certain it was a lot of work for Mom, but we kids appreciated it so much!

The inner tubes we played in were a lot of fun. Going underwater to see who could hold his breath the longest was always challenged. One of us couldn’t wait to pick up a couple of river rocks while everyone was under water, so he could smash them together and make a loud clicking noise that hurt our ears! But we laughed about it and kept doing it, too!

We fished and swam and picnicked as often as we could. We were much too young to go there on our own; not to mention that it might be too dangerous. The Big Rock was a simple place at the end of a rough dirt road, a very large flat, Sandstone rock that could easily hold two dozen people or more. It became our playground! Good times. Good memories. Looking back, those days were more simple times than today; when one could find treasure in trash and invent games that had not yet been invented.

Mike Thomas,
Reminiscer

2009-03-07T20:14:00.000-08:00

SPRING WATER

It was very dark as I crossed the short field and slipped through the barbed wire fence. The old worn out flashlight I carried was shining but the weak batteries were dimming the light. Ahead of me loomed the Pine forest, marking the way to the old spring. As I eased into the tall Pines, the thick canopy blotted out the stars in the night sky and seemed to make the night even darker. The hair on my head felt like it stood straight up as I eased into the ominous woods and headed down the old wagon trail to the spring.

It was a quiet evening as we sat on the steps in back of our old home in Northwest Arkansas, watching a million stars shine in the night sky. It was one of those rare evenings when Dad was home. Thinking back, it must have been a Saturday evening as he was usually away during the week working in the mountains as a Pipeliner. I was probably 8 years old at the time; still a little afraid of the dark, yet always trying to tell myself I wasn’t. Dad and Mom were sitting together on the steps as I came outside. I can’t remember what was being talked about, but Dad made the comment that he would like to have a fresh cup of coffee. It must have been Mom who said she would make some, but I recall that Dad wanted it made from spring water.

I can’t remember if it was a challenge or not, but I do recall volunteering to go to the spring and bring back a bucket of water. It must have been for a “nickel”, a “dime” or a “quarter”; why else would I have volunteered? I do recall asking if I could take a light. I’m glad he said okay because I would not have been able to go in pitch blackness. There was no way I could save face and stay home, even if I had changed my mind! A real man would do the hard things! I was growing up! So grabbing the flashlight and bucket, I put on my brave face and set out into the night.

I think Mom was worried about my safety while I was gone. Actually, I was worried about my safety, too! The trip to the spring was about a quarter mile. It was covered over with leaves and twigs that fell from the Oak Trees. Somehow I managed to partially fill the bucket in spite of all my goose bumps, raised hair and glancing around in all directions with every noise I heard. I also managed to make it back home without running, tripping or spilling my prized possession.

Mom and Dad were still sitting on the back porch, right where I had left them. I handed Mom the bucket and told them about my adventure, except for the being scared part, of course! After sitting for a moment, I headed off to bed. I doubt if Mom actually made Dad any coffee from that dingy, leaf-filled bucket of fresh spring water. I’m certain the whole adventure was about seeing if I was too scared to go off by myself into the woods at night. I think Dad was impressed that I actually did it!

As my hair began to lie down and the goose bumps go away, I remember being glad to be home, in my own bed.

Mike Thomas

2009-02-21T15:36:00.000-08:00

MAKING GRAVEL

In the 1950's, growing up on a mountain on 360 acres of land full of wild fruits, nuts and berries, natural springs and where hunting and farming was plentiful; where one could, and we did, raise, harvest or kill most anything we needed to sustain us. An occasional trip into town would provide us with the “staples” like flour, sugar, coffee, etc.

We had all the farm animals we needed. We planted a huge garden full of everything we wanted. In the wild, we could find Blackberries, Muskedines, Plums, Mulberries, Black Halls, Hickory Nuts, and Black Walnuts. We hunted and ate Squirrel, Rabbit, and birds. We would have the occasional winter Deer hanging in the breezeway for several meals.

So to say we were poor folks was not entirely true, even though we seldom had two nickels to rub together (Buffalo Nickels in those days). Being ‘po folks had its merits. We found ourselves being frugal with what we did have; “waste not, want not” would be the kinds of words coming from our Granny’s mouth. But being poor also meant we couldn’t always go and buy everything we wanted.

Making gravel comes to mind as I reminisce in my rocking chair today. There’s no doubt that the old farm grew Sandstone Rock in abundance! Why, we could hardly plow a new field without carrying and stacking enough rocks to make a fence around it! Also, what does a Dad do with 4 boys full of energy? “Hey!! Let’s make GRAVEL!!” Being a pipeline welder and having all the tools one needed for that trade, Dad would bring out the Ball-Pein (or Ball-Peen) Hammers, set us down in the middle of our Lane, in a low spot that needed gravel and bring us a pile of rocks! The Sandstone was easy enough to break up as we smashed and bashed our way through the pile, venting emotions and working up appetites! With no TV, Game Boys, videos or other electronic games to detract us, we managed to produce something that only a Dad could appreciate! Looking at the opening scenes of "O Brother, Where art thou?", takes me back to the good old days of child labor in the Lane. The only thing different, besides our age, was the cool, striped clothing and the chains. I suppose we were too poor to afford chains!

Mike Thomas
Survivor of
The Good Old Days

2009-02-14T11:37:00.001-08:00

Whatever happened to “The Fuller Brush Man”?

As a kid growing up on the old farm in Arkansas, the Fuller Brush man was as local as most anyone! In those days, (and I’m trying not to mention that this was the 50’s) everyone had to make a living doing something. Dad was a pipeline welder and traveled a lot; gone most every week and occasionally coming home on weekends just in time to give us the swat we deserved. Grandpa did some farming, although, Mom says he was a very lazy man and would go out of his way to NOT do something, even for himself!

Mom worked hard around that old farm; nothing was easy and she had to contend with all of it! It was seldom that we had company. Most of our neighbors were busy trying to put beans on the table and there wasn't much time for visiting! It was usually during the most inopportune times that the Fuller Brush Man would come around; the traveling salesman selling goods of all kinds, door to door, country farmhouse to country farmhouse.

Although this man had (or could get) most anything you would want, the one thing we actually lacked was the money to BUY anything! I suppose Mom hated to confront these high powered salesmen, like most of us today, too!

Our old house set off the main road (should I say the “main DIRT road”. Our driveway was called a “lane”, as it was fairly long, but visible from the road. Somehow Mom knew when the Fuller Brush Man was coming! He would probably stop and open our gate, then drive his old klunker down our lane to get to our house. Mom somehow always knew when he was approaching! Perhaps it was the barking hound dogs! Anyway, she would grab us kids and have us be quiet as we hid somewhere. The old house only had a screen door on it; no locks or anything. One could see all the way to “outside” if you looked.

So as the Fuller Brush Man drove down our lane, Mom would gather us kids like chickens and head us off into a closet somewhere, while the man knocked and knocked on our door. Mom made us be very quiet and still so as not to let on that we was home or anything! Eventually he got tired of knocking and left; then we came out and peered down the Lane just to make sure he was gone!

Then Mom would smile; satisfied that she fooled the Fuller Brush Man once again.

Mike Thomas
Old Guy

2009-02-06T21:43:00.000-08:00

MARBLES.......A thing of the past?

As I recall grade school was fun. I suppose many of the not-so-fun memories have been suppressed, but I’m okay with that! Everyone likes to remember only the best anyway; I’m no different. One of my fondest recollections was the days of “shootin’ doogies” (pronounced dew -gies). Now if you know what a “doogie” is, I’m certain the word congers up some old memories of your past. Perhaps you had a favorite doogie; I know I did!

Another way to say all this is to simply say, playing marbles. Yes, marbles. This was a favorite game of many of us as we grew up through grade school. Things are much different today and marbles are pretty much history. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen kids playing marbles……probably in grade school, more than 50 years ago! Where has the time gone??

But for the sake of reminiscing, let’s go back in time and play a game. A small group of five or six of us would head out to an obscure corner of the playground, away from the runners and scufflers, so we had some privacy, then clean off a small area of the ground; removing the twigs, rocks, grass, leaves and any other obstruction. One of us would then draw a perfect circle in the dirt. This was our circle of play. The group would determine how many players would play at a time; perhaps three or 4, at the most. Each player would put three or four marbles into the circle. Each player would take turns shooting his marble; first, from the line, into the mass of marbles within the circle, trying to knock one out of the circle; much like shooting Pool. We all had our own method of shooting. My favorite method was to cradle the marble between the tip of my right index finger and the first knuckle of my thumb. The back of the hand had to lie on the dirt. For our first shot, the knuckle of the index finger was positioned directly on the line as the starting point. The tip of the thumb to the first knuckle was restrained by the second, or middle finger. Mustering my strength, I would use much effort to push my thumb against the middle finger; at the same time my middle finger would not allow my thumb to move!

With a burst of movement, I would quickly release my thumb, which shot the marble forward towards my target. It’s amazing how much force you can generate and really get that doogie moving! The doogie would rocket forward; hit the target squarely in the middle (assuming all went according to the plan). The target would then be propelled forward, hopefully leaving the circle! If it did, I kept the opponent’s marble, FOR KEEPS…..if we played for keeps. Sometimes we didn’t, but it was more fun if we did!

Another way I sometimes shot was to cradle the marble within the inside of my right index finger, curling it around the marble, with my thumb being restrained behind my middle finger, as in the first example. My knuckles would be down on the ground to steady the hand, I suppose. With a burst of energy, I would release my thumb, thus, propelling the marble forward.

Sometimes, we would allow the “over-sized” marbles to play. They were much larger marbles and difficult to hold, so they could also be rolled, as in bowling. However, the starting point was from the line and the knuckle could not cross the line without penalty! A penalty would generally mean “losing your marble”. Sound familiar??

The word “Marble” meant any type of round, glass or steel) ball, about one half inch in diameter. They could either be “solids” (a single solid color), a “Cat’s Eye” (which looked like a Cat’s EYEBALL, or even one with the textured swirl of real marble. “Steelies” were of similar physical size, but nothing more than a stainless steel ball bearing. They were more difficult to launch, but their weight could knock ‘em out! They were not always allowed in the game.

Assuming we knocked our target marble from within the circle, we would get a second shot, as a bonus. Wherever our doogie landed, that’s where we made our next shot. If we had landed outside the circle, we would then shoot from the line again. More times than not, the circle was large enough that capturing another’s doogie meant having a nice, hard packed dirt field, and some serious speed on takeoff! Ideally, hitting another’s marble dead center would tend to stop our own from traveling too far after impact, again, much like in shooting pool. Real planning could mean our second shot was within inches of another doogie, which greatly improved our chances of more wins. The game would continue as we kept shooting until we missed! Once we missed, we let our doogie remain where it stopped, hoping no one would pick it off for himself, and waited until everyone had a turn before it was ours again.

I remember keeping my marbles in an old tobacco sack. In those days, loose tobacco came in a small sack, or pouch with a pull string top that closed. The tobacco would be opened by the smoker, who rolled his own. One of his hands would hold the thin cigarette paper, forming a trough, into which he poured a small amount of tobacco from his sack.. Once he had the right amount poured into the paper trough, he would hold one string in his other hand and lift the sack to his mouth, biting down on the other string. As he pulled the string, the sack would close. Tobacco sacks made great marble sacks! Some kids had a small leather pouch to keep their marbles in. Those were very cool! We never carried all of our marbles around with us, just about enough to fill a tea cup, or so; and just enough to show the kids we COULD win once in a while!

When the game ended, our hope was that we walked away with more marbles than we brought with us! Trading marbles was also good. If my sack was running low, I could always pull out my favorite marble; that especially unusual marble and start the trading! If not…….well, tomorrow was another day; another chance to win!

2009-01-13T20:30:00.000-08:00

You didn't BELIEVE all that BALONY (BOLOGNA) about my relatives.......... DID YOU??

2008-12-27T15:05:00.000-08:00

The Thomas Family
Pioneers.

For those of you who know us, our family heritage, apparently, goes back to the early days of the 1880's, where Mule Skinners, Buffalo Hunters and Farmers were common folk. Life was not easy in the 1800's! We rose and slept with the Sun; educated our younguns at home; raised our own food and put away enough to get us by during the winter snows. Our womenfolk had long days making do with what they had. What with washing clothes in a hot pot on a wood fire and scrubbing them on a common rub board; the rinse cycle did not involve a machine, but a fresh batch of water and a lot of elbow grease. Preserving and canning food was endless; fixing meals on a wood stove and in the iron pot inside the fireplace lasted all day, with cleaning up way lasting after dark.

The menfolk were busy tending the livestock and farm animals that supplied us with eggs, milk and meat. The Pig was slaughtered in the Fall and prepared as Ham, Bacon, Sausage and other ways, hung up and smoked in the Smoke House to cure, or as Salt Pork for the breakfast table. Most of our meat came from the woods. There was no such thing as Deer Season in the 1880's as we killed to eat, not for sport! The Good Lord provided for us in season. Nothing was wasted as we kept our dogs and cats fed, too. From Blackbird Pie to fried Venison to Catfish, we took what we needed.

The Buffalo were becoming more scarce and trapping was hard. It was hard work but the sale of hides was needed to earn the money to buy flour and sugar and salt and such. Seed potatoes was not cheap but we had to have 'em. My family's favorite was in the Fall we made Sorghum Molasses. The neighbors from miles around would gather at the old Likens place and worked 'til it was done. Everbody took some home; we sold the rest 'ceptin what we kept for ourslelves. Mom would bake up a big pan of biscuits and when they was was done and hot out of the oven........why, there was nothing tastier than opening up one of those big hot biscuits, laying on a generous chunk of homemade butter and drowning it with that golden Sorghum! The kids loved that stuff! It satisfied the sweet tooth, thats for sure!

We didn't have much trouble with Indians in the 1880's. They kept pretty much to themselves and worked hard to make a living like everbody else. Why, most of us had quite a bit of Indian blood in us anyway. My woman still carries a card that gives her rights to Indian help. My side never signed up on the Indian Rolls because of the "shame" of it in the early days, but my granma's mom walked the Trail of Tears. That was a bad time for our Nation. We were overpowered and out-numbered by Europeans who wanted our land. We were hunted down and killed or herded up like cattle and sent off to unwanted lands to try to live. Our old and our children died in great numbers. It was a bad time for us. Our kinfolk was taken in marriage by kind and unkind alike. Our children were sold or taken by those stronger than us. WE were the ones called barbarians, can you believe it?

Not all stories have unhappy endings. We worked hard at trying to be like the other white men so we would fit in. My Aunt's family used to tell tolks they was Black Dutch, just so they wouldn't be treated like Indians, even though they was. All we want to do is just to be left alone. With so much white blood in us now, we don't look much like Indians. Sometimes we ain't too sure what we are! But one thing is for sure.....my kids are growing up and need to eat. I taught 'em what they need to know to live. They can blow the brains out of a wild Turkey at 200 feet! That comes in mighty handy for dinner!

2008-12-25T21:03:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year
Even though this has been a roller-coaster year for our family, we want to share with you some of its highlights. It seems like we always end our year with a longing to have spent more time with so many of you than we did. Each year flies by so quickly! Where does the time go??
Eric has been enjoying the year working for Kodak. He is a photographer, in Branson, Missouri at Silver Dollar City. Go and have your picture taken with some saloon girls! He also works part time as a waiter in a local Mexican restaurant. Stop in sometime and give him a nice, fat TIP!
Matt lives in Oklahoma City and works for a promotions company called Red House, http://www.thisisred.com, and also for a company that matches employers with potential employees, http://www.talentmax.net, as a “head hunter”. He just returned from taking a trip to Japan.
Teresa & Kevin still live here in Portland, not far from us. They are doing okay…could be better… but okay. Kevin works for the school district and Teresa does part time work cleaning houses. Emily, 16, is, and has been a run-a-way for quite some time. She dropped off her baby girl for mom and dad to take care of (more about that sweet girl in a minute). Thank you for your prayers for Aaron. He is now in his 3rd year of Chemo treatments. Although they are hard on him, he is doing quite well. He’s making mostly “A’s” in school and stays in shape by riding his new bike and bench-pressing his Tuba!
Evan is Evan. He is a busy boy! He loves video games and cutting up. He’s a bit hyper but he’s a good boy!
Melody Rose came into this world March 12th. She is a wonderful baby! We totally adore her! She is just now starting to crawl….well, mostly “scoot”. It won’t be long before she’s walking. I am her Great-Papa but Debby is still just “Grammy”, as she is in “D-Nile” about the “Great” part.
Debby is still the greatest teacher at Columbia Christian School. She really is! Her class is full….it usually is. Parents love to have their kids there for Deb to teach.
I just took on a new job as HVAC Service Manager with another company. I have been very pleased with it so far. My job is to build up the service department with work and manpower. I’m excited about it.
We didn’t take any stupendous vacations this year, but doing vacation planning for next year, perhaps to China. Debby & Ami took an educational trip to class Denver this summer. Debby also went to a class in Houston, Texas. I flew down to meet her and we spent some wonderful time with our friends, Bill & Debbie. I also took a group of 12, mostly Teens, from our church, into the Wallowa Mountains in August for a big backpacking adventure.
Our Grandson-of-the-heart, Dawson, is growing so fast! He’s 4 already! We just went with him and his family on a POLAR EXPRESS train trip in Hood River, Oregon. It was fun!
Natasha, our Daughter-of-the-heart, is in her last year of school at Cascade College. She “walks” in May. We are excited for her! She has been a great addition to our home these past 3-1/2 years.
Many more things have happened but that’s a taste of who we are.
May the joys of the Christmas holidays be yours to enjoy this year. We realize many families are fragmented and some are going through some hard financial times. The really important things, however, are free whether you are rich or poor, sick or healthy. THOSE are the things we wish for you!
Perhaps our paths will cross this next year. We can HOPE!
Happy New Year!

2008-11-26T21:52:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving
is my favorite HOLIDAY!
I can remember back a very long way!
The holiday that stands out in my memories the most,
is Christmas (of course!!).
As I have matured beyond Christmas stuff, as when I was a kid,
I have come to understand that THANKSGIVING is my favorit-est one of all.
Since I can remember, the whole house was filled with amazing smells of cooking.
The Turkey was always HUGE! The table was spread with the most delicious things imaginable! Home-made golden brown, extra puffy, hot rolls just waiting for a generous pat of home-made butter and jam; perfect dressing made from day old corn bread, green beans, sweet corn off the cob, red jello filled with fruit and nuts (always a crowd pleaser);
Cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and gravy; and home made pies……lots of pies!

There was always much more food….too much to list and too much to eat! Nevertheless, we ate and gorged ourselves like there was no tomorrow! Not much has changed in that department. Sure, I can’t eat ALL that I would like, but I get plenty! The smell of THANKSGIVING will be forever etched in my memories. Every year those smells come alive on Thanksgiving Day!

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. The house will be filled with those memory-making smells again! We have a HUGE Turkey that I will be preparing in the morning. We have my daughter’s family coming over, bringing my sweet Great Grandbaby Girl so her Great-Papa can hold her. All in all, we are feeding about 20 tomorrow afternoon! It will be fun! We are excited! You know, the next best thing to eating all those delicious foods is anticipating the SMELL!

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you, especially you whom I love!

2008-11-19T21:25:00.000-08:00

Hill's Health Care Plan

2008-11-10T17:54:00.000-08:00

THE OLD FARM HOUSE

…..is a lot like people.

We spend our lifetime growing old from birth to death. We change so much that our childhood friends don’t even recognize us anymore. Why, we could actually rub shoulders on the street somewhere and never know “who the stranger was”. We spend our life failing to take care of ourselves, letting our body “go”, thinking we are invincible, or something. We fail to do much maintenance like eating healthy foods or exercising. We grow thin on the top and thick in the middle.
The old farm house is much the same. We “let it go” and do the minimum. We don’t know the meaning of the word “maintenance”. Like our body, we fix it if it needs fixin’ and “don’t fix it if it ain’t broke”! It begins to show major signs of wear and tear. Like us, it begins to sag in places where we rather it wouldn’t. Like us, any old barn looks better with a new coat of paint. But we don’t ever get around to doing much more than that.
As we give up and desert the old place, the deterioration really sets in, then! Next thing we know, it falls apart and just can’t be fixed anymore! Then we are either buried or cremated. In this life, that’s all that’s left!
The old farm house where we grew up isn’t standing anymore. As kids, we spent a lot of time there running in and out of that old screen door, climbing the trees and playing “Annie Over”. It’s quiet around there now. The kids have grown up and gone away; the house fell in and apart from lack of use and upkeep. Only the memories remain.
Mom nearly worked herself to death keeping things alive. There was always wood to chop to be used for cooking and heating the house. Later, when we "modernized", Propane brought a whole new way of cooking!

We had a fireplace on each end of the old house, with a roaring fire to try to keep warm by. We had 360 acres of trees that we could cut, split and stack cords of firewood. There was always water to boil for 6 kids to take baths in and to wash the laundry. That old ringer washer still sets outside in this picture.

There are many good memories in that old farm. Life was much simpler then. As we moved on and sold the old homestead, we still go back into our memories and pull out the good times we remember, growing up in Northwest Arkansas.

The really only good thing about “the good ‘ol days” is that they are good and gone!

2008-10-21T21:58:00.000-07:00

So how many colors are there in a small waterfall?
I snapped this picture on a recent trip along the Timberline Trail on Mt Hood. The reflections of the surrounding vegetation, the sky and light, and the old tree root giving images of unusual color. This reminds me of a water color painting.

2008-10-07T19:43:00.000-07:00

McNeil Point....

was a vista, for sure.

It also offered a couple of unusual sights to photograph.

This towering chunk of Lava makes one stop and think about the tremendous power required to lift molten earth more than 10 miles straight up!

Equally powerful is how some of it cooled around what appears to have been a misplaced Arkansas Razorback!

I'm only guessing,
but judge for yourself!

Now, looking through an age old hole in the tree..... one can see through to the other side!

I suspect this might have been a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Life is hard in the high mountains!

On the way to McNeil Point, we came across this unusual fungus,.... or bear puke,....or elk slobber, ....or whatever it is enveloping this bear grass! I've never seen anything like it!

Heading back down you can see McNeil Shelter.

I find that in hiking the mountains there is always something to see!

It's no Bed & Breakfast
but you can have it for a song!

It's no Hilton
but the price is right!

It's not much,
but in a WHITE-OUT
it would be a good friend!

HAPPY TRAILS!

2008-10-02T20:28:00.000-07:00

Mt Hood
at
McNeil
Point

A new discovery this summer was McNeil Point on Mt Hood.

Here is a 360 view.

2008-09-24T21:19:00.000-07:00

CODGER WANNABEES

You gotta love ‘em!

Sneakers we call

Codger Wannabees,

Scruitinizin'

Takin' notes

Mimicking,

Waiting for their chance

Their time

When they, too

Become

The Revered Codger!

2008-08-29T12:34:00.000-07:00

C A U T I O N

CODGERS

on the Trail

Wikipedia defines Codgers as "the plural of Codger".

I WISH I HAD THOUGHT OF THAT!!

But Wiki also defines the Codge as "An amusingly eccentric or grumpy and usually elderly man".

Then it delves deeper into the word itself and concludes that it's, "Possible abbreviation of coffin dodger, though likely to be a folk etymology."

I neither consider myself as eccentric or elderly. I do sometimes fall into the "grumpy" catagory when I don't get my way or someone steps on my selfish side! But "coffin dodger"??? I don't think I'm there yet! Sometimes I FEEL like one, but I don't make it a habit to dodge coffins just to avoid the inevitable!

I do believe that some of us are beginning to step into the role of "codger". We're the old guys huffing and puffing up the trail with our tongues hanging out like an old dog tired of running! I try to keep mine in my mouth as I have been known to step on it while "sailing" up some of the high mountain switchbacks!

Some of us codgers love the mountains. We try to impress ourselves by taking backpacking trips and getting our heart rate up into dangerous levels. The younger bucks on the trail aren't sure what to think about us.

When they see us gasping for air (not because we're TIRED, mind you, but because the air is much thinner in higher elevations), they appear confused and uncertain (not because we're showing them how REAL MEN hike, but because they're wondering where they can get phone service to dial 911).

So when you see us on the trail,

MOVE OVER AND LET US PASS!

Don't hold us up!

We don't have that much time left!!

2008-08-27T17:43:00.000-07:00

The Call of the Wild

The soft forest trail, carpeted with years of falling needles and leaves was behind us, giving way to fewer trees and open vistas. The dusty, rock strewn trail wound its way higher and higher. Patches of late summer snow hugged the bare mountain slopes in nooks and gullies as if trying to hide from the hot August sun.

As the trail zigzagged up the mountainside, drawing us ever closer to the top, each switchback offered increasingly awesome vistas of higher peaks and endless mountain ranges. Words like breathtaking, awesome, beautiful, amazing and spectacular never seemed to really capture the essence of such an experience! Photographs paled beside the movie held captive in my mind, captured by the brain and human eye.

The lure of the mountains is a strong force. It is energy, relentlessly drawing my very soul to bask in the solitude found only in the high country. Every mountain offers a unique portrait of its Creator. Geologically, only in my imagination, in my mind’s eye, can I get a picture of the tremendous forces that gave birth to the mountains. What unimaginable power it must have taken to begin in the bowels of the earth and push once layered rock to create peaks of great heights. Such is the trail upon which I walk in the high country.

Spectacular vistas are nothing, however, without color and light. From the quiet of an early morning sunrise watching the illumination of high peaks and valley fog to the evening sunset dancing ever changing color upon evening clouds, each day never repeating itself.

What satisfaction there must be in the Creator Who made all things and said, “It was very good”. Indeed it was!
I was not always enthusiastic about strapping on a heavy backpack and hiking into the mountains. It was not until the Fall of my life did I really begin to appreciate the high vistas.

Now, as I struggle to find the physical stamina needed for high country adventures, I am filled with an insatiable desire for more. Is there no end?

2008-08-25T20:13:00.000-07:00

Gnarly Old Men of the Mountains

Ancient Sages of the Forest

Guardians of the High Country

Sentinels of time

Pose with Gnarly

Old Men of the city.

Stalwart; Tenacious; Vigilant; A testimony of determination.

Glacier fed streams, Liquid Crystal

create clear lakes

with names like

MIRROR

.........Moccasin,

and Glacier,

coexisting with flower-filled meadows.

A time

to rest a

weary frame.

Good friends to share Nature’s abundance and God’s glory.

Beside warm fires and high mountains

Filling mind and soul in meditation;

Giving honor and homage to God,
our creator.

Only in the Mountains can one find peace like no other.

2008-08-19T18:58:00.000-07:00

MIRROR LAKE

EAGLE CAP WILDERNESS

OREGON

August 2008

An early morning hush falls over this small lake below the 9,527 foot Eagle Cap, allowing the first rays of sunshine to reflect a sight to behold.

It isn't always easy to come here.

Time constraints...

A long drive....

A long hike....

A heavy load.....

But well worth the effort!

This is only a small piece of the beauty to be found in the solitude of the Eagle Cap Wilderness.

There are only two ways to come to this place......on horseback.....or walk.

Whichever you chose, it's well worth the effort!!

2008-08-03T19:35:00.000-07:00

It’s about time…..

I introduced my Great-Granddaughter.

She was born on March 12.

Not a lot of time has passed by since then, but she has changed a lot in such a short time.

She smiles a lot….
She’s a ham in front of a camera…..unless her diaper is soiled, or she’s hungry, or tired or otherwise cranky.

Her name is Melody Rose.

These are her Uncles, Evan and Aaron.

Being a Great-Grandfather has been great!

2008-07-23T21:20:00.000-07:00

Just Wondering....

I was just sitting here wondering what are the most important issues about our day and time that we want to see our new President focus on? While all the talk is about Iraq and "change" (whatever that means), I was wondering what a candidate's platform would be like if he focused on those things that the American people want the most.

People say that people say McCain wants more war and that, with him, we will have 4 more years of "Bush". Other people say that people say that Obama wants change, including beefing up our troops in Afghanistan and doing more war. Hillary, on the other hand, wants Health Care changes......I kind of like that! Now that I'm getting older; drifting closer to retirement; health care is an issue for me! A decent health care plan can cost me $600-$900/month ....just ME!

So I was wondering.....

What kind of things do YOU want to see? What do YOU think our country needs?

I have recently heard advertisements by T. Boone Pickens, paid for by T. Boone Pickens, talking about alternative energy for our country; how we could harness wind power to produce electricity which would free up 20% of our Natural Gas resources, which could then be used to power a lot of vehicles, reducing our dependance on foreign oil.

I'm sure there are a lot of things to consider when venturing into this untouched world and that details would have to be worked out, and all. But this sounds REALLY GOOD to me! I could buy into that with no problem! I would love to see us develope Nuclear Power and be able to harness it to run our homes and cars! I would love nothing more than to see our dependance upon foreign oil, diminish completely!

So here are some of my things....

Develope alternative energy for cars.
Vacate our troops from Afghanistan and Iraq.
Lower the high cost of health care; make it available for everyone.
Shore up our economy.
Drill and bring up oil from within our own borders.
Restrict overseas "bail-outs" to countries who simply "use us".
Buy back our country from foreign interests; our land belongs to US.
Tighten our borders from illegals and terrorists.
Show little mercy to countries who send terrorists into ours.
Create jobs.
Get serious about the drug war; harsh sentences to those who manufacture, smuggle, and sell drugs in our country.
No more "Hilton" prisons! Turn off the air conditioning; soup and bread meals...three times a day; no smoking; no TV; no Gyms; hard work for hard time! Keep it simple...make it unfun!

Well......dreaming is fun. Do you have any ideas??

2008-07-18T22:48:00.000-07:00

When Pigs Fly....

Obama’s platform of promising “change” has been rhetorical, at best. Thus far, we have learned little about these Obama "Pie in the sky” changes. Hopefully, more details will follow and the pie in the sky will change to meat on the table.

Politicians always promise something, but seldom follow through with their promises. We never know any of that until after the election; naturally it’s, then, too late for us to change our vote.

Wouldn’t it be nice that instead of giving us empty promises, perhaps we could get a “plan in the hand” instead!? For instance, tell us exactly what you mean, "change"! The word “change” can mean a lot of things, like…

Changing our Heritage?
Changing our Religion?
Our diet?
Diapers?
Spare Change?
Changing our minds?
Our socks?
Our take home pay?
Tax level?
Rhetoric?
TV Channels?
Or changing tactics, like, taking the focus off an empty promise by attacking your opponent?

Meanwhile, our boys are dying in foreign wars while people are hungry and homeless right here in our own neighborhoods and millions of dollars are wasted on cheap talk, empty promises and character assignations. How many mouths would that amount feed? While we spend billions on a stupid war, to rescue a people who sit on multi-trillions worth of oil, yet not offer to reimburse us our investment into freeing them is unacceptable. It’s time to bring our boys home and take care of our own people in need.

It’s time we rescued our own country and stop trying to be World Police!

----Your Friendly Registered Independent

2008-06-09T21:39:00.000-07:00

The Little Things

Mountain flowers dot landscape;

An flurry of life in times of plenty.

Cool water flows in abundance;

Giving flowers full life on the Creator's easel.

Fall folliage signals the end of Summer;

A brilliant display of dancing colors.

The Pica hurrys among the Lupine
To put away for the long Winter.

High country seasons are short;

Harsh storms waiting their turn.

Hailstones and early snows;
Blankets that hide living gardens.

The Bear scurries to his Winter Den;

The great Shaggies seek lower ground
Avoiding deep snows that hide their food.

Summer lakes hidden by Nature
Are covered and chilled until Spring.

Our final excursion until the Spring thaw
signals the approaching Summer.

2008-05-31T12:03:00.000-07:00

CLASSIFIED INTELLIGENCE
BRIEFING, MAY 31, 2008

Yesterday, in broad daylight, the Taylor brothers were quietly intercepted by operatives from the dark side as they did their homework in the public library. It was a quiet evening. The computers were not being used and were available for the taking. The brothers had no supervision. The operatives grinned as they planted illicit thoughts into the pliable minds of the two boys.
**********************************

At about 2100 hours yesterday, an explosion rocked the world of Thomas Lance, one of our long haul drivers, when a disoriented driver in a motor home cut him off in heavy traffic. Mr. Lance found himself enraged so much that he sped up and went around the motor home, swerving and cutting him off. The motor home rolled down a steep embankment. The driver has not yet recovered. Two dark figures were reportedly leaving the scene.

Watch your backs out there today.

2008-04-21T20:04:00.000-07:00

Call of The Mountains

A crisp August morning;
Wispy clouds, warm sunshine;
Unknown places; anxious faces,
Young and old on a Wilderness Trek

March along dusty trails;
Stumbling across ancient stones
Strewn randomly from Volcanoes
Drawn from the bowels of the Earth
in another time.

Heavy packs strain backs; a reminder of burden,
Grow heavier in thin mountain air.
Cool water, a gift for a thirsty soul
Abundantly flowing from melting snow.

Wildflowers, tamed by God
Adorn His creation in garden-like fields.

Snowfields, a reminder of winter
Paint barren mountains with color.

A quenching rain
Dampens all but spirits,
Giving birth to anticipation
Of warmth and hot food.

Smoking fires warm huddled bodies
And spark laughter in the evening chill.

Vistas from Mountain Perches;

Standing room only

to witness morning's

creation.

High camps offer front row seating
For Meteor showers in star filled skies.

Golden sunsets settle upon mountain tops
As God displays His handiwork.

In August, a smoking volcano, St Helens....

In October, the people are gone;
Campsite fires have been quenched
With a new blanket of snow
Welcoming the coming of Winter.

The beautiful, ever changing, Goat Rocks Wilderness, in the southern Washington Cascade Mountain Range is one of my favorite places to go.

2008-04-02T22:47:00.000-07:00

PROCESSING GRIEF:

As I attempt to process the events of the passing of my friend and brother-in-law, Bob, a myriad of thoughts dart in and out of my mind like Swallows returning to the nest. It isn’t easy for me to gather all the things I would like to say and put them on paper in an organized way. The thoughts on this paper come from my own mind, in my own way, unsolicited, but still, nevertheless, genuine.

Bob, a friend, a father, a grand-father, a brother-in-law, or whoever he was called by people, was a wonderful man! As I think about him, the thoughts that come to me are seeing him emotionally mixed with pain, restlessness and joy. For the most part, Bob had a love for joy and he spread it around to everyone in unselfish abundance. I recall his laughter! I loved to hear him laugh! His grin was priceless! It was real. It was warm and friendly.

The lives of those who knew and loved him have been blessed beyond anything we could have imagined. He will not soon be forgotten!

Bob lived through some very difficult times in his short life. Having his children torn from his heart left a gaping wound and a scar that was too difficult to hide and too painful to think about. My hope in this life is that none of us will ever be required to bear the same burden or experience the same pain.

Bob never once threw in the towel! No matter how badly he felt beaten, he never quit. What a powerful example!! He never quit trying. He gave…and gave …and gave; never complaining about himself; yet always making certain his kids were being taken care of. I doubt if we are fully aware of just how much and how often, and for how long, this great Dad provided for those he loved so much. It went farther, beyond mere child support. He would often go the “the extra mile” whenever it was in someone’s best interest. He was just that kind of man.

Even during the times when people would let him down, or take advantage of him, he never quit. He never quit having hope that things could be worked out between him and those he loved and he could get back on track with his life.

As the years went by and the light of the hope of restoration was snuffed out, I watched him begin to sink into himself. Much of the joy receded down deep inside of him, where not even the light could escape. He wandered, unsettled, pushing away those who were nearest to him. There wasn’t much joy or many smiles during those days.

One day a young lady came along and somehow made a difference. The old joy came back and the grin was as priceless as ever! They were a very happy couple for a while. I enjoyed going to their home and spending time with them. She was a wonderful lady and loved Bob immensely! They enjoyed some very happy times together.

I realize there were those who didn’t care much for her but I believe perceptions of her were made before they even had time to get to know her. I stand firm to say simply that she was the best thing to come along in his life for a long time. I saw them touching each other. I saw the way they looked at each other. It was clear to me that they had a very loving connection of the heart.

So what happened? They divorced. What was once there was snuffed out again. But you must understand that it was not by her doing. He became restless. He began to take his eyes off of the very one he loved, and focus inward. He indeed had some medical reasons for his condition, but there are no miracle cures for some things. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t break through the hard shell that Bob had built around himself. The more he focused inward, the thicker the shell grew, and the thicker the shell became, the more he focused on himself. He would not take his medicine, or take care of himself. He let himself “go”, even to not taking care of his own personal hygiene. He spent days in bed without getting up. He would not talk or interact with her; not even come to the table for dinner.

Some knew about his abusive tone; the guns; the threats, the insanity of it all. She could not bear to see him destroy himself and he would not allow her to help him get better. He was dragging her down and she couldn’t take it anymore. They divorced and Bob continued his spiral downward. His depression grew, and yet, he still wouldn’t try to take care of himself.

Having heard that he was contemplating suicide, I made a point of stopping by to see him. I wasn’t surprised to find him home, even though it took a very long time for him to come to the door. He apparently, had been in bed. I had to invite myself in. I tried to be “upbeat” and light-hearted. Nothing I said made it through the wall built up around him. He never smiled and seldom looked at me. He looked beaten down; lower than anyone I had ever seen. He slowly started talking as I asked him questions.

He said he couldn’t “run away” because the Police would pick him up and bring him back home, telling him that if he didn’t stay home, they would be forced to lock him up. He talked to me about just ending his life and getting it over with. The more I talked to him about his value and how much we loved him and how people were pulling for him, the less he seemed to buy into it. After an hour, I had to leave. I told him that I didn’t want him to hurt himself. I told him that he should try hard to turn his life around; that I would be there to help him, if he would let me. He never spoke after that.

I felt as if I had exhausted my resources and my strength. I had no other options. It was time for me to leave. As I got up, I hugged him and told him I would be praying for him to make the right decisions. I also told him that no matter how much I want to see him live, that choice was in his hands, not mine. I told him that if he decided to end his life, the rest of us would be there to pick up the pieces and move forward. I told him we would mourn for a period of time, but that afterwards, we would move on. Then I turned and left. As I drove away, I wondered what he would do. How can I stop him anyway?

Somehow, Bob did turn around and make changes in his life. I had lunch with him one day and he seemed happier and more joyful than I had seen in him in a very long time. Later, the more we wanted to get together, the less it seemed to happen. I spoke with him a few times afterwards. He would talk about what he was doing and that he was doing okay. On one occasion he told me that he was taking up “Line Dancing” and really enjoying himself!

He didn’t talk much about his health concerns. He kept all that to himself, I suppose.

In his last years, Bob frequently sent out emails that had to do with love of God and Country; more upbeat emails with joyful messages. I took them for granted. Perhaps I should have listened closer to what he was trying to tell me.

Those who loved him should be proud of him! He was a great Dad! I loved and admired a lot about him. He was an excellent example of reliability. He loved his kids a lot, and his grandkids even more!

There was no one like him.

My Niece recently reminded me of how we should all get along and treat each other with love and respect. I suppose if we all treated each other like today was our last day to see each other perhaps that would draw us closer together. The Bible reminds us that we do not know the day or the hour when the end will come. It does tell us that the end will come “as a thief in the night”. In other words, we don’t know.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda; three possibilities spoken in the failed past tense.

I will remember my friend, Bob for a long time. I, too, grieve his death, Megan. It is a hurt that cannot be rubbed away. It is a memory that cannot escape us.

2008-03-10T22:05:00.001-07:00

I NEED SOME ADVICE.

As my friend and I talked, it became quite clear that we were not on the same page. We were both raised with moral values and love for family. I had difficulty understanding why we were so far apart on core values. My friend was raised in what appeared to be, a normal family situation; two parents and siblings. The parents did expose their kids to the religious experience; attending church on a regular basis.

About the same time, on “the other side of town”, I was also raised with moral values in a family with both parents and siblings, as well. We were not spoiled with too much, nor were we starved with too little; pretty much middle of the road riches, I suppose.

In a recent discussion about moral values and where we stood on certain issues, my friend made the statement that even though we can differ in our thinking, in my friend’s mind, to go and sin, or be with sin, is discounted in their circle of friends. As we know, this is a promiscuous world where a couple living together outside of marriage is quite common. In fact, it frequently occurs prior to marriage so as to “try it out” before the “I do’s” are said.

As we discussed the moral implementations; whether or not this was right or wrong; acceptable by God, or not, my friend’s values seemed to drift towards trying to convince me that God was okay with that. Their circle of friends has the same opinion, so it’s not surprising to hear what I heard. The majority rules….right? If all agree, then it must be so.

The Ten Commandments are certainly not the Ten Suggestions. God doesn’t say “Be Holy because I am Holy……..if you want to”. He doesn’t say “Love your neighbor as yourself…….unless he’s a Jerk!” He doesn’t say, “You shall not have sex outside of marriage….unless it’s with someone you really care about!”

Somewhere along the way, this particular circle of friends has either gotten the wrong message of how to live a holy life, or they have simply compromised their value system and decided FOR GOD how He should rule. It seems to me that tempting God is a no-no! He does make that quite clear in His Book!

Is this really a big deal, or not? It seems clear to me that sin is sin no matter how we slice it; no matter what color we paint it! We can call a Duck a Chicken…. But it still quacks!

So my dilemma is to figure out how to deal with my friend without hurting the feelings too much. I fully realize that God gives Grace to the Humble. Am I “humble” if I continue to commit the same sin? I know He can forgive because he forgave the “Woman at the Well”……although He DID tell her to “go and stop sinning”! What if she didn’t stop??

I love my friend and I know my friend loves me. I really feel like this is a bad sin and my friend is in jeopardy of condemnation. It’s like watching a little toddler walking out towards a busy street between the shrubberies, not suspecting the danger lurking ahead, as I sit in a wheel chair unable to get up and run to get him. It’s a helpless feeling.

So I’m just trying to figure this out.

What advice would you give me??

2008-03-02T22:34:00.000-08:00

CLASSIFIED

INTELLIGENCE BRIEFING for March 2, 2008

For those of us fortunate enough to have been assigned to guard duty, last night was a very long and busy evening!

Apparently, every sector of our Compound came under heavy enemy fire during the night. Fortunately, during the battle, our Prayer Warriors responded quickly to our call for Back-Up. Their prayers spurred on our Forces to greatness and chased the enemy back to the front lines. This was perhaps the most powerful exhibit of teamwork we have seen in a long time!

Causalities were, however, heavy. The Wilson’s claimed “Foul” and have stopped participating. The Clifton’s…..well…..bad news about the Clifton’s: They have defected to the other side. Joe Bailey, the Smith’s, Angie Que and the Paul’s have been reported as missing in action. We have not seen them and do fear for their safety. Search teams are to begin looking for them at first light.

My order for you is to remain at your posts. Maintain confidentially. Keep your eyes open. We will make it through this rough time. We are confident of victory!

Operation FIREFLY begins tomorrow night at 1900. Remember to wear appropriate clothing as this could become intense. Bravo and Delta Forces will be on the front lines at 2100 hours. Remember, put on the whole armor as everything will be needed for this encounter. Don’t forget to sharpen your swords this evening. We ARE ready for this! Do not fear! Do not be afraid! This is what we have been studying and planning for. I am not at liberty to share with you the details of this operation, but I will say this, “We have direct access to a Divine Weapon that will surely bring us ultimate victory”. Unfortunately, there will be casualties. Any questions? Yes, helmets ARE required.
Alright then……..Keep your eyes open out there!

Ever feel like you are in a battle with an unseen enemy? The Bible tells us about the forces of evil in the spiritual realm. Satan isn’t at full liberty to do anything that he wants to do with us, but he does his best to take advantage of the footholds we give him. Because of Job’s faith, Satan asked God to let him “sift him as wheat”. Satan would have had no power to “sift” Job if God had not allowed it.

There is no doubt our enemy is “out there”, prowling around like a hungry Lion looking for his next meal.

Keep your eyes open! Don’t be a casualty!

2008-02-26T19:52:00.000-08:00

CLASSIFIED

INTELLIGENCE BRIEFING February 26, 2008

During Wartime when we battle against the dark powers, the followers of the Evil One, we may feel over-run within our own borders. It’s natural to feel defeated before the battle starts if we have not spent time on our knees talking to our Commander in Chief. Many of our own kin, or friends, or neighbors don't even know the battle is raging because they have been duped into believing only in themselves.

Today’s Intelligence Briefing highlights a couple of incidents last night.

Last night, under cover of darkness, the Bailey perimeter was breached by the Dark Forces. Larry and Martha were spending a quiet evening at home when the attack began. Martha had just gone to bed with a good book and Larry went into the Study to get on the Computer. In an instant there was a bright flash of light and the Porno site filled the screen.

Meanwhile, across town the Harris family narrowly escaped real tragedy when their teenage son, Richard, at a school basketball game, was offered drugs by a local gang member. Fortunately, at that same moment, Richard’s mother and father were spending time in prayer and were on their knees praying for their son.

How did you compromise your morality today??

I used to tell people, “If Satan isn’t on your back making things difficult in your life, perhaps he doesn’t need to. Why should he go after someone he already has?”

Be careful out there!!

2008-02-25T19:40:00.000-08:00

CLASSIFIED

INTELLIGENCE BRIEFING February 25, 2008

The SPIRITUAL WARFARE began in The Garden and has escalated well beyond those borders, encroaching ever closer into our own borders. Satan, himself, prowls about like a roaring Lion seeking whom he can devour.
“…For even Satan masquerades as an angel of light. It is no great thing therefore, if his ministers also masquerade as servants of Righteousness, whose end will be according to their works.” II Cor 11: 14-15

Landing Zone Charlie came under heavy fire last night when two enemy forces compromised the northwest perimeter and forced their way into the Infirmary. Four Schoolers were overpowered. The battle was short; little resistance was given. The four schoolers are currently MIA. Along with that, an unknown amount of drugs and cash was taken. These four will not be easy to recover, so keep your eyes open out there!

A Communiqué was intercepted last night at 0127 by our Operatives in Gresham. Our Intelligence reported there were no friendly causalities. However, much damage was inflicted upon the unseen enemy. Jehovah’s Rangers, during the heat of the battle, dropped to their knees and quickly routed the Axis Forces, driving them back to their Perimeter. A special debriefing session has been called for this Wednesday evening at 1900 hours. All Prayer Warriors are required to attend this debriefing.

What is it in your life that convinces you to compromise your morality?

I find it interesting that Satan continues to convince people to join his army and fight against the Lord. How can he not know that God will be the winner at the end of time, binding Satan and his army and casting them into the darkness? In the same thought, how can people not know? I have relatives who continue to convince themselves they are doing just fine without following God.

One thing is for sure and certain: In the last day everyone will be a believer; many wishing for a “do-over” that will never come.

2007-05-26T18:53:00.000-07:00

Memorial Day , May 30, 2007

This is the day we remember and honor those who have fought in foreign wars to keep this country free, as well as to protect the cause of freedom in other places. The ideals of freedom ring different tunes for different people. Like a pendulum swinging from left to right, we have extremes when it comes to war and our perception of how far we should go to protect those freedoms. Many are ready for battle at a moment’s notice while many others would beg for another peace pipe to discuss the issue further, again and again.We are not always given the time to wait and talk terms of peace. Oftentimes we are dealing with an opposing team who has opposing values. The street bully is not easily convinced that he should not get his way. Dictators and little generals out there are nothing more than glorified street thugs who enforce “their way or the highway” in the only way they know how. When their way invades America’s turf, they may find that the Paper Tiger has teeth.It is a sad time when our Nation stands divided by politics and is more obsessed with whose side is in power. When the floodwaters rise, many are quick to point blame and make excuses. When the Hurricanes blow and destroy, instead of assessing the damages, pitching in and helping, we are politicking, blaming and hindering.The street value of freedom is diminished in a divided nation. Those of us who put our lives on the line to preserve freedoms understand what it means to be fragmented. Many came back from Vietnam to find an uncaring nation. They looked for the tickertape parades and found the streets empty. They looked for the “welcome home” signs and found “no trespassing” signs instead. They looked for jobs and found theirs had been filled by those who avoided enlistment and “stayed on the porch”.Many of us came home with no anticipation of fanfare at all and were not disappointed. It is a matter of perspective. Those who are “part of the team” of protecting this Nation can find peace within. It is good to wake up each morning in a Nation waxing free of the violence that disturbs the sleep of those in other places. To be vigilant is who we are and we can be proud of that. But we could be so much more as a unified Nation.I take my hat off to all of the men and women who have put their lives on the line to preserve our freedoms. Those of the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave are a blessed group of people. When tested, this nation has come together like no other, pushing back the violence to whence it came. How unfortunate it is that the unity we share during catastrophes dissipates like fog under the noon sun, and we find ourselves back at each other’s throats by evening.May we stop to reflect upon our great fortune of living in such a great nation, as we celebrate Memorial Day, 2007. May we also shake the hand of those who helped to shape our country. God HAS blessed the USA. But it has come at a cost. Some paid the ultimate price and never made it home to pick up their life after laying it down for our freedoms.

Today I want to honor the memory of my friend. He was ordinary; nothing special in life; loved by family and friends. He was a good man all the time I knew him. With a new wife, and a baby son on the way, he was filled with much joy; living on top of the world. Then came Vietnam.

Etched in black granite, his name will be always before us, along with thousands of “Michaels” who never made it home.Remembering my friend, Michael Ray Conner, Pleiku, Vietnam 1970.
posted by Mike at 6:00 AM 0 comments

2007-05-01T16:32:00.000-07:00

Tragedy is “a strange…”, (as Paul Harvey would say).

We seldom think about tragedy striking us. It’s usually something that happens to someone else. But I suppose we are all susceptible to anything that anyone else is susceptible to.

A few weeks ago my (ex) brother in law passed away. He was one of my favorite people. Because of a divorce he became a man separated from the connection we had before it. We used to kid around with each other; laugh at dumb stuff and just have a good time when we were together at some family event or something.

Bob was a good man. Life has a hard way of handing out unfairness but I suppose we have to play whatever instrument life hands us. There was a time when he was full of life and love; a time when we could laugh together, or talk about more serious stuff, like “who’s winning?”. I recall a time when Bob, Rick and I went out one evening and listened to a band somewhere and just cracked up at their antics. I recall Bob’s laugh like it was “yesterday”.

So what do you do with all those memories that seem to fade away with time? The more I try to recall them, the more evasive they appear to become. Faded memories are incomplete, yet nagging, trying to make us recall the specifics.

Recently I’ve been trying to recall more of them because there will no longer be any new ones. Bob passed away a few weeks ago, in the quiet of his home. No one was around. Several days passed by until friends went to check on him. Bob had been quietly dealing with some issues with cancer and diabetes. Apparently, perhaps, one of them got him.

Being nine years younger than me, it’s hard to comprehend that he has already reached the Pearly Gates while I’m still trying to reach retirement. But, as some say, “life’s not fair”. The Holy Scriptures talk about dying and the afterlife; that it will come “as a thief in the night”. In other words, you will never know the day and time…perhaps, only in the moment, will we be aware of what’s happening.

Things happened to Bob after his divorce, and the rest of his life had a few roadblocks and dead ends in it. He was just beginning to pull out of it all when the Death Angel showed up. I’m sure there was much more to it, but this is the way I see it.

All I know is that he will be sorely missed. He had many challenges in his life, but he also had many victories. That’s how I want to remember him…
...........for the victories!

2007-03-23T23:20:00.000-07:00

A REAL LIFE HERO...

Honoring Clinton Witter……

I’ve often wondered how someone can be a hero. How do you go about studying for that? How do you place yourself in a circumstance that calls for heroism? Rarely in life does one meet a real “hero”, someone who has surpassed the ordinary, and walked among the “extra ordinary”.

One such man lives among us at the Metro Church. To look at him, you would see a small, bent over, well dressed man with graying hair, dimming eyesight, diminished hearing and wrinkled skin. His voice is quiet and unassuming. His demeanor is timid and giving. He has no enemies….only friends. To look into his eyes you would never know the horror of life they have seen. To talk to him is nothing more than ordinary, yet his past life is everything BUT ordinary. He is a wonderful man who will be sorely missed when his time comes to meet his Maker. My regret is that many people will never get to know him.

This is his story:

Clinton was born in Oregon in 1918. He will turn 89 this year. He was much like you and me in his early life; going to school and finding adventure more appealing than sitting in a classroom. He decided to quit college in his second year and travel, which he did for almost a year. Upon returning home he enlisted in the Army.

Clinton’s first assignment was for a 2-year hitch in Hawaii, leaving there in April 1941 just 6 months before the Pearl Harbor attack. He was assigned to the 3rd Infantry Division. As the war escalated, Clinton achieved the rank of Staff Sergeant.

In 1942, his Division participated in the invasion of French Morocco, West Africa. He then received orders to be a part of the security detail at the Casablanca Conference in Morocco, January 14 to 24, 1943. This was a high security event called to plan the European strategy of the Allies. In attendance was, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Winston Churchill and Charles de Gaulle. Stalin had been invited to the conference, but declined to attend. Also present was Henri Giraud of France. One of the topics of discussion was to agree to invade Sicily.

After the conference, some of the members of the 3rd Infantry Division were sent to replace casualties that the 1st Infantry Division had suffered in their invasion of Algiers. Clinton was among those sent, and remained in the 1st Infantry Division under General George Patton for the remainder of his time in Military service.

Following the invasion of Africa, his Division participated in the Invasion of Sicily. Clinton said he had been lucky to this point not to have had any injuries.

From Sicily, Clinton participated in the Normandy Invasion and was in the second wave to cross the beaches and push into France.

I cannot but imagine the horror of storming a wide, sandy beach, overrun with dead bodies of our first wave fighting men; the air filled with screams of pain, odors of dying and burned bodies and the unforgiving noise of exploding ordinance.

During the Normandy invasion, “my luck ran out”, he said. “I received the first of three injuries”. His next wound occurred somewhere in France, and the third, which ended his military career, occurred in Germany”, at the Battle of the Buldge.

He was discharged in 1945, having lost one eye and being classified as legally blind in the other. He married in 1947 and has outlived his wife and daughter.

So how do you honor a man like Clinton Witter? To me, he is a hero of times past, when defending freedom was the order of the day, and a way of life. Today’s generation has all but forgotten men like Clinton. Many of our younger generation cannot fathom what he has done and are afraid to go up and talk to the “old man” with the gray whiskers and cane. But if they DID………. Well, they would find a great story!

As a Veteran of the Vietnam era, I feel a great sense of pride in men like Clinton. I appreciate what he did. When the Flag goes by, I stand a little bit taller knowing men like him bled all across our world to defend our country. I have no place in my heart for those who disrespect and desecrate our Flag, if only because of men like Clinton, who gave themselves for it.

I want to honor this man by writing about him. He would not want me to, because he is a humble man who does not look for notoriety. I did honor him at a school function one year by telling the audience of parents and students his story, with his permission, of course. I wanted to show the kids....

a REAL LIFE HERO.

2007-03-15T17:13:00.000-07:00

B U S Y....

I have an update for all my friends..........BOTH of you, actually!

I did start back to work and have almost finished my second week. I took a job with one of the companies who had courted me to come to work for them over the past 3 years. Besides, they gave me the best offer, not to mention that I CAN BE BOUGHT!!

I am doing exactly what I want to do in sales and service. I make the same money and work less hours. It's closer to home and that cuts 1 1/2 hour off of my drive time each day.... so that's like a pay raise, too!

So.......... I say, God is good!! He is amazing! I solicited jobs from 3 places and had 4 job offers before it was over. I was very pleased. They gave me a new van to drive and several other perks. All in all, this was a good move and a great place to work!

Thanks for all the prayers out there!!

2007-02-28T18:21:00.000-08:00

TEST ME AND SEE....

The joys of job hunting aren’t what they are cracked up to be! I find it’s rather tiring to negotiate for everything, even if I am in a Union, where the Union is supposed to fight for me. Ironically, the Union isn’t even going up to BAT for me! I’ve been doing that on my own!

I have been in contact with 3 Mechanical Contractors; trying to sell myself. I suppose I’m like every other “Joe” out there who thinks he’s worth more than the offer. If they would just put me on the payroll and try me out, I could prove to them what I’m worth. Apparently, they aren’t biting today!

This reminds me of the passage of scripture in Malachi 3:10 that talks about our responsibility to “tithe” to the Lord. He says, “Bring the whole tithe into the store-house, that there may be food in my house, and test me now in this”, says Yahweh of hosts. “if I will not open you the windows of heaven and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough for.”

I know many Christians who have little faith to believe that passage and actually put it to the test in their lives. I have been saying to potential employers, “test me and see…”. I am NOT God who can most certainly “deliver”. I am but a man who can only do his best.

I say, “try me and see”. I bet you have thought this of yourself, also. Right? I am convinced that God will supply me with a blessing.

So, how is your giving??

2007-02-23T07:01:00.000-08:00

A QUICK POST for those of you who want to know......

My job search is going well. I have contacted two potential employers and both have offered me a job. The second contact gave me the best offer that amply matches what I have had for the past 10 years. I have also had a third offer that is the best of all, except that it pays much less into the change purse and would not add to my retirement....however, it would be the most fullfilling of anything I've ever done.

So, because of my financial obligations, I am very likely to take the second offer as soon as the paperwork is processed and I take a look at the details. If all goes well I will be working there next week.

CHOW!

2007-02-20T07:27:00.000-08:00

Make A Wish …

To Orlando, Florida

My grandson, Aaron, received his “wish” from the Make A Wish Foundation for a trip to Disney World. It began with a kickoff luncheon Saturday the 3rd of February. His pick was The Mongolian Grill, one of his favorite places.

The Wish Coordinators presented Aaron and his family with everything they needed to enjoy a week in Disney world. The limited edition ball cap for Aaron would identify him as the recipient of the wish and the large blue buttons would give them preferential treatment in all Disney Theme Parks. He would be treated like a King! Virtually anything he wants will be given to him, including unlimited rides, free food, lodging, medical treatment if needed, and all the frills that go along with this special vacation.

The day began Saturday morning, February 10, 2007, with a big, white stretch limousine pulling up in front of the house and a tall, older gentleman, dressed smartly in a suit and smiling like he had won the lottery, stepped out to greet Aaron. He and his younger brother, his Mom and Dad, were taken to the airport for their flight to Orlando, Florida.

Deb and I we privileged to be a part of this adventure. We bought airline tickets several days ago, arranged for our stay in a Worldmark condominium and purchased Disney Theme Park Tickets in downtown Portland. Our youngest son will be flying from Dallas, Texas to join us in Orlando. This would be an exciting adventure!

Their stay in Orlando was at a facility called “Give Kids The World”. It was an amazing place! The Duplex was very roomy, the food was excellent, the volunteer staff members were extremely nice, and everything was perfect. It was also, ALL FREE!

The Theme Parks were not overly crowded as this was school season and the weather was rainy. We grandparents joined them Sunday morning and rode together (as they had free parking passes). We spent the day at “Animal Kingdom”. It was great! We came back in the early evening and had a Devotional together in the Duplex. Afterwards we enjoyed a free dinner (Pot Roast with mashed potatoes, gravy, rolls, salad, etc…..).

Monday we parked at Epcot and rode the Monorail to the Magic Kingdom and enjoyed a myriad of rides and stuff. As evening fell, we hopped onto the Monorail again and went to Epcot to catch a few rides and the Laser Light Show on the Lake. It was amazing!!

Tuesday we returned to Epcot to enjoy more rides and a little rain. We loaded up in the afternoon and went to MGM Studios for more rides and their Laser Light Show that evening.

Wednesday came early as we headed for the airport for our trip back to Portland. The kids would remain behind enjoying 3 more days in the Theme parks, where they were treated even better than before.

The very cool thing about all of it was that Aaron and crew would be ushered past the crowds waiting in line for rides, to the front of the line! Yes! No Waiting!! That was pretty cool!

We are very grateful to Make A Wish for their generous gift to our grandson’s family! It was a very special treat for him to go to Disneyworld. It was a trip of a lifetime! Aaron had a wonderful time and enjoyed himself immensely. He remained in fair health during the whole ordeal and was able to make some great memories.

Thanks to everyone who played a role in this event, especially to those of you who are faithful to keep him in your prayers! They did work!!

May God bless all of you who give to kids!

2007-02-17T07:08:00.000-08:00

Job Security II..... The Axe.

There's an old saying that says, "Today is the first day of the rest of your life". I suppose that's true for the most part. Some people, however, soak their whole life into being somebody, or something, and when that comes to an end, so does their life. It reminds me of investors during the big crash of the stock market in the 1930's. They woke up one morning and found their entire fortunes were gone. Everything that they "were" was no more. Many committed suicide by bailing out of upper story windows because of their great "depression". Others would hang in there and make a go out of what was left. Still, others who had no $fortunes simply found that life was a little bit harder now and food was more scarce.

The Vice President of the company I worked for came upstairs yesterday afternoon about 3:00 PM and handed me my final check. I suppose I could have been fired for commiting a crime against the company, had I committed a crime. I could have been fired for insubordination, if I had been. Perhaps I could have even been fired for failing to meet "quotas". But, it was really none of the above. I was fired because the company eliminated my position, because it wasn't profitable.

I find it interesting that there was no prior discussion of my job with me. No one took the time to tell me that they were considering eliminating our department, and me. There were no options proposed; no questions asked. They have no problem with what I do in my "warranty" department, except that I make no profit. Duh!

Prior to my position as Service Manager, I was a service technician who went about doing the same things I have been ordering my employees to do since 1999. I was a good mechanic; good enough to be paid top dollar by the owner for what I do. I was "loyal". I received no pay increase when I became manager, but I was okay with that part.

I guess my question now is, why does it have to be "all or nothing"? I am content to go back "to the tools" and do hands on work; in fact that's what I will probably do. The VP asked if I was willing to take a cut in pay and go out on jobs and work like everyone else. I told him that was exactly what I intended to do with any other company. So he said to hold off until Monday, keep the cell phone and he would talk to the other VP. I said okay. I will do that for now because I know that "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush". If I can continue to work for this company, I will have ample time to locate another company to go to work for without having to be off work for a short period of time.

Now, the really interesting thing is that after I was fired, I still had the duty to lock up the out buildings, making sure everything was secure for the weekend and "set the alarm". I went inside and said goodbye to Katherine, who was crying. Most everyone had left by now, but the VP was still there, talking to someone in his office. I waited around for him to give me a ride home, but he was "too busy". I told Kat that I should just take my company van home and the VP could come and get it. I thought about that for a second and decided that was a good ideal.

So I did. Now I have the weekend to decide what I want to do.

2007-02-09T06:49:00.000-08:00

This is Dawson….
my Grandson of the Heart.

I’ve been holding him since his birth.

We have grown very attached to each other.

I can’t imagine my life without him in it.

We have a lot of fun together.

He comes running to me...

through a crowd of people for a hug.
He loves Multnomah Falls

And helping me build a fire in our Fireplace.

He loves to read.

He giggles when I pretend to “bite his ear”.

He sits on my lap and falls asleep in my arms.

Love is about relationship.

I am his “Papa”.

2007-02-02T06:50:00.000-08:00

Job Security……

There are many things in life that are fleeting; life, love, property, freedom and security, just to name a few. We aren’t guaranteed to have anything last forever on this earth. We certainly do enjoy being secure in something because it gives us a feeling of…..uhhh…. uhhh….well…security! Oftentimes we go through periods of enjoying various securities, yet they seldom last long.

Financial security is important to us because we look ahead in life and see a lifestyle that we want or need. But, we can’t have financial security unless we have job security to go along with it (unless we are independently wealthy, of course!). So, in a sense, everything works together and when something breaks down, it seems to shoot us down in other areas, too.

I have been in battle with my feelings the past three days about job security. At my age, I value job security because it’s harder to find new jobs if I lost mine. In the back of my mind I feel secure because I know my skills. Yet, I’ve heard many stories about old people trying to peddle their knowledge and skills to a new potential employer, only to come up against a stone wall and a, “We’ll keep you in mind when we need someone with your skills”.

Three days ago the boss came into my office and wanted to meet with me “this afternoon” to discuss my role with the company, making comments that we need to get rid of some overhead and “we aren’t making much profit”, etc. He wanted me to get my paperwork together to justify my position and meet with me later. So I skipped lunch to do that and pulled it all together and waited. Each time I went to him to talk, he was too busy. Soon the end of day came and he left the office. I guess today would not work out to talk. That aggravated me because I had put off some important work to make time for him.

The next day I had a job to look at and yesterday’s work to do, so I did not get to the office until the afternoon. He was here but was “busy”. The next thing I knew he was leaving. I guess today would not work out, either!

So now it’s “today” and he isn’t in.

My attitude of having to justify my position within our company annoys me in the first place! Three years ago I told the management that my department was set up for failure if they expected a profit, because, I was told at that time, to get rid of all of my clients that were not associated with the main part of our company. Well this meant thousands of dollars worth of business. But I’m not the owner, so I reluctantly agreed and did as I was told. My new duty assignment would be to do commissioning of new equipment for the construction side of our company. Also, to maintain that equipment (warranty work) for a period of one year from start-up, and to do technical installations when our installers couldn’t. So here we are, three years later and not making a profit. I don’t know of any “warranty department” in the world that makes a profit! So why do I feel the need to justify a position that I was told to create?

I don’t know. I’m still working on that.

But it sure messes with my “job security”!

2007-01-22T12:40:00.000-08:00

Today I did a search for “missing climbers” and a site popped up with the headline, “climbers missing since November are feared dead”.

“HUH??”

I was waiting in the Lounge in the Tulsa, Oklahoma airport, to board my plane for Portland, when a Southwest Airlines announcement over the intercom said, “Now Boarding non-stop to Phoenix, LA and Oakland.”

Say, “WHAT??”

Radio announcement: “The ice storm has created slick conditions. Please drive carefully.”

“REALLY??”

In this era of Political Correctness you have to be very careful what you say. For instance, one little slip of the tongue can buy you a few hours of classroom time on “sensitivity”. But the really funny stuff comes from the news media folks! It’s amazing to me how people communicate, especially in the mass media!

The scene is the approaching “cold front” from the North, and the warm, moist air coming in from the ocean. An hour before the first snowflake hits the ground the live news crew is “on the scene” in the West Hills, an area of higher elevations than downtown Portland, where the first flakes will most likely fall.

The “live coverage” starts with the Reporter standing on the street as traffic flows in the background with no “apparent” (another favorite media word) impediments. He tells us that nothing is happening, and then has the camera swing down and around to SHOW us that nothing is happening. Then it’s “back to you, Tracy”. Then Tracy says, “We’ll go back to Billy Bob for another live update in a few moments, but first, news from Hillsdale on a failed bank heist with a big shoot-out….”

So, Billy Bob comes back on in half an hour to show us the “near blizzard conditions” by turning the camera on the nearby stop sign, where three tiny icicles are beginning to form…..

Is it just PORTLAND…..or, are there others out there?? Where else, but PORTLAND, do lame reporters find jobs?? Hours later, the same lame reporter is showing us the same three icicles, now grown to 4 inches in length! But not just HIM! We now go live to 3 other lame reporters watching a few flakes fall to the ground from various vantage points across the city! The end result was after several hours of first class reporting, the winter storm dumped “more than an inch of snow” on Portland.

Are there DARWIN AWARDS for lame reporting??

2007-01-19T12:45:00.000-08:00

Bill of Rights: Don’t Mess With Mom

(Note: Having raised 3 kids, I have memories that have remained with me for a long time. I am reminded of the time that my daughter was convinced by a friend of hers that being raised under the jurisdiction of CSD (as her friend was) would be much better than having to obey Mom & Dad’s rules. I read this poem one day and laughed over it because it hit so close to home.)

My son came home from school one day,
With a smirk upon his face.
He decided he was smart enough,
To put me in my place.

“Guess what I learned in Civics Two,
That’s taught by Mr. Wright?
It’s all about the laws today,
The ‘Children’s Bill of Rights’.

It says I need not clean my room,
Don’t have to cut my hair.
No one can tell me what to think
Or speak, or what to wear.

I have freedom from religion
And regardless what you say
I don’t have to bow my head
And I sure don’t have to pray.

I can wear earrings if I want
And pierce my tongue and nose.
I can read and watch just what I like
And get tattoos from head to toes.

And if you ever spank me
I’ll charge you with a crime.
I’ll back up all my charges
With the marks on my behind.

Don’t you ever touch me,
My body’s only for my use;
Not for your hugs and kisses
That’s just more child abuse.

Don’t preach about your morals,
Like your Mama did to you.
That’s nothing more than mind control,
And that’s illegal too!

Mom, I have these children’s rights,
So you can’t influence me,
Or I’ll call Childrens Services Division
Better known as C.S.D.”

Of course, my first instinct
Was to toss him out the door.
But the chance to teach him a lesson
Made me think a little more.

I mulled it over carefully
I couldn’t let this go.
A smile crept upon my face
He’s messing with a pro!

The next day I took him shopping
At the local Goodwill Store.
I told him, “Pick out all you want,
There’s shirts and pants galore.

I’ve called and checked with CSD
Who said they didn’t care
If I bought you K-Mart shoes
Instead of Nike Airs.

And I’ve canceled that appointment
To take your driver’s test.
The CSD is unconcerned
So I’ll decide what’s best.”

I said, “No time to stop and eat,
Or pick up stuff to munch.
And tomorrow you can start to learn
To make your own sack lunch.

Just save that raging appetite,
And wait till dinner time.
We’re having liver and onions
A favorite dish of mine.”

He asked, “Can I please rent a movie,
To watch on my VCR?”
“Sorry, but I sold your TV,
To put new tires on my car.

I also rented out your room,
You’ll take the couch instead.
All that CSD requires
Is a roof for over your head.

Your clothing won’t be trendy now,
And I’ll choose what we eat.
That allowance that you used to get,
Will buy me something neat.

I’m selling off your Jet Ski,
Dirt Bike and Roller Blades.
Check out the ‘Parents Bill of Rights’,
It’s in effect today!

Hey, hot shot, are you crying,
And why are you on your knees?
Are you asking God to help you out,
Instead of CSD”?

2007-01-19T12:15:00.000-08:00

Jungle Survival School

Prior to landing on Vietnam soil, the Air Force needed to teach us how to survive “in case….” “In case of what?”, I asked. “In case you are shot down”, they said.

My first school was 6 weeks in Amarillo, Texas, where we learned all kinds of things about survival, in a classroom setting. We learned about survival techniques from the steamy tropics to the frigid arctic weather; how to evade the enemy soldiers AND their bad dogs!

The second school was in Spokane, Washington where we went through some classroom work, then ran a night-time obstacle course to “evade the enemy”, which culminated in getting “caught” at the end of the obstacle course and thrown into a POW camp. We were “tortured” in the POW camp and we learned how to deal with mental and physical fatigue, POW organizational structure and non-cooperation with the enemy. From that we were sent out into the wilderness for a whole week with only 3 days food rations and were instructed to “survive off the land”. (I am here today to tell you that “I made it”.)

The third school was in the Philippines at Clark AFB. We learned jungle survival and how to “live off the land”. The whole idea of survival was to assume that our airplane was going down and we would crash land easy enough to survive the crash. We would have limited food supplies, weapons, ammo and other gear. We did have waterproof maps of Vietnam for survival purposes. I still have those.

The final day of Jungle Survival school was instruction to “fan out”, alone, unarmed, without anything except our clothes and a Poncho; it was Army green, like you remember seeing soldiers wear in the movies. We had 30 minutes to find our hiding spot before the military superiors “released” the enemy. The enemy was native Filipinos called Negrito. They were told they could hunt us down and if found, we gave them a “chit” that would be worth 2 or 3 pounds of rice to them. We carried 3 chits.

We could not move from our spot once darkness fell. The terrain was much too dangerous and soldiers have died from doing such things. My night alone was spent off of the “trail” about 100 yards in the trees on a sloping hillside. I positioned my feet against an old Banana tree so I wouldn’t slide down the hill much. The Poncho came in very handy when the heavy rains came. It seemed to rain all night! Water ran down the hillside and nothing was dry, except me inside the Poncho. I was curled up in the fetal position all night with my feet planted against the Banana tree so I wouldn’t slide down the now very slick, hillside!

I can’t explain much of how I felt because there are no words for it! Alone, in unknown territory, with unknown sounds, fighting my own imagination of all the evil things that were lurking just outside my Poncho, played tricks on my mind. I just KNEW I was about to be “eaten” any second by a Panther or something. I also felt insecure about sharing my Poncho with a large snake! All I can say is, it was a LOOOOOOOOOONG night alone and I wouldn’t EVER do that again!!

2007-01-12T06:50:00.000-08:00

Memories....

With the approaching winter weather and my mind riding fresh upon the coattails of a recent ski trip to Timberline Lodge, thoughts of snows past come to my mind. I love beautiful snowfalls that are wet and heavy. To watch the big flakes falling to the ground, thick and heavy is perhaps one of the most awesome sights I know!

My fondest memories of beautiful snowfalls occurred as I was growing up in NW Arkansas in the 50’s. Our farm of 360 acres would take on a coating of snow that transformed the landscape into something only imagined in a storybook. Pine tree branches would be heavily covered, bending low beneath the weight of the snow. The cattle pen, thick with “muck and yuck” was covered by a pure white blanket of beauty that made you forget you should put the BOOTS on before crossing the pen!

Stacked snow was everywhere to be seen; fences and fence posts piled high, limbs of trees had all they could balance, clusters of Black Walnuts still hanging were now covered with a white cap of snow, as was the framework above the Well where we drew water. Today there would be no wind to blow away The Master’s handiwork.

Bundled up in warm clothes, coats, gloves and boots, double socks and caps, we boys were the first to disturb the undisturbed covering. We made tracks and snow angels and followed our own footprints back to the house, one adventure after another. We threw snowballs at each other and anything else that moved or sat still. We rolled up giant snowballs and made snowmen taller than we were, attaching hats, sticks, scarves, and anything else we could find to make them come alive. We hunted snow birds with our Daisy BB Guns and fed our kill to the cats, who eagerly dined on the fresh food.

We explored everything and left nothing unturned. Even the Barn was inviting and cozy. The cows and chickens were warm and dry in their stalls and nests. The hay was dry and offered a place to sit and play. It wasn’t long until we were back outside exploring and using our imaginations at being better Cowboys than the real ones!

I particularly remember us venturing way out on our property to select the perfect Cedar Christmas Tree to bring home to Mom. The longer we walked, the more beautiful each tree looked! At last, we decided and lay down in the snow to saw it down. We each helped or took turns at dragging the tree home across the snow, like we were pulling a sled. Mom would always tell us how pretty it was and there was much joy as it began to look more like a Christmas tree. We had fun decorating it with tensile, lights and bells. We popped Popcorn, threaded it like beads on a string to make a garland for our tree. At the top, a beautiful Star crowned our tree, and we rested.

Being poor folks, the grownups took few pictures; even then they were black and white prints from a Brownie Camera. But the pictures we took with our minds, with our imaginations, are still, today, just as vivid and clear as the day we snapped them. They will forever remain, unfading, unblemished and in full color!

Occasionally I reach back into the archives of my mind and pull forward those memory shots of beautiful snows and rolling hills covered by Jack Frost. I feel certain that all of us have a place in our hearts reserved only for our fondest memories. To those of you, who are young, or young at heart, probe the minds of your parents and grand-parents and I believe you will be surprised at the stories you hear. Ask them about the good old days in their lives. Record their thoughts and pass them down as a heritage of adventure to your children.

2007-01-09T12:36:00.000-08:00

It begins: “Once Upon A Time”….

Being a Newlywed takes on a different meaning in the context of the following story:

"A little known fact is that it (newlywed) was named after a handsome man named John Newly, a devout bachelor from Atlanta in the 1800’s. For a long time, he had quite a chasing of lovely ladies vying for his hand in matrimony. Years of chasing passed by like a barefoot race along a rocky trail, until one day, a beautiful young lady from Iowa in Atlanta for a Corset Convention, accidentally bumped into John on a hurried trip to the Powder Room. Capturing his heart, they were soon married at his Grandfather’s mansion and moved to Iowa to become a corn farmer. For years, the lovely ladies of Atlanta continued to look for John, often coming to the mansion to inquire of him. Grandpa would always simply reply, “Newly wed”.”

Stories like this one are often times hard to swallow due to their ambiguous nature and from an often “suspect” source. It got me to thinking about how much we take for granted in life. Occasionally, we will be talking to a friend or acquaintance and hear things that are questionable. Choosing to believe everything we hear labels us with gullible, while disbelieving sometimes labels us just the opposite. Perhaps the answer lies with having a trusting nature. People we are close to might be easier to believe than strangers with a gift of gab. But not always.

I write this because I have recently dealt with a friend who has chosen to sharpen his “gift of gab” and tell some whoppers that seem genuine and honest. I am somewhat known as a "skeptic" and tend to analyze a lot of things that I shouldn't. But I believe that one cannot be too careful. First Thessalonians 5:21 says, “Test all things, and hold firmly that which is good.” Perhaps we should be better listeners.

The above story is certainly ambiguous because I made it up entirely. So remember…. some sources are certainly “questionable”!

2007-01-02T10:20:00.000-08:00

36 Years

Today my wife and I celebrate 36 years of wedded bliss together. Yes, it’s our 36th Anniversary! Some say the traditional gift suggestion is Bone China. That doesn’t sound very good to me, however. It congers up thoughts of eating off of china made from the hind leg of a mad cow somewhere in India or something. Perhaps, renaming that piece of china with a name that could “whet” the appetite instead of “churning” it would be a better option.

Instead, I went shopping with one thing in mind, and two thoughts of possibilities; the second being an Emerald, her favorite birthstone.

Last Sunday, our preacher talked about the “Pearl of Great Price”, found in the Good Book, that says: “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it. (NRSV) Matthew 13:45.

Armed with pearls on my mind, I set out with two “surrogate daughters” for the local Lloyd Center Shopping Mall to search for my pearl of great value. The parking lot was crowded but we managed to park nearby the “MACY’S” entrance, entering onto the main floor nearby the Jewelry Department. Following the scenic walkway, we couldn’t help but notice the brightly lit pearls in the glass case and the flashy 40% to 50% OFF signs. A very nice, more mature, lady (my wife’s age)….and just as charming….came over to ask to help. She showed me exactly what I was looking for; at “half off” it appealed even more so! I told her that I was going to go think about it and would return.

We stopped into 4 or 5 more Jewelry stores, always inquiring about pearls, and always finding smaller lengths and higher prices. MACY’S was looking good! One young lady in one particular store was showing us their line of pearls, named MIKIMOTO. These are supposed to be the ultimate heirloom quality of pearl perfected by Mr Mikimoto in the early 1900’s. They also boost a proud price tag! I asked the young lady about “sale prices”, as were common in other stores. She said theirs were very special pearls and no discounts were offered because of the “name”.

Now, being from backwoods Northwest Arkansas, uncouth, unrefined, and often unappreciated for my humor, I said, “Mikimoto….I’ve heard of that name! Don’t he live in Disneyland”? The previously nice saleslady quickly straightened up, turned her mostly artificial head sharply to her right side and said, “Oh my god!”

Well, in the first place I was only making a wisecrack; certainly not serious! In the second place, I don’t appreciate anyone using that kind of disrespectful language to my God….so I was definitely finished with her at this point! But it was the funniest thing of the day!

So, two more stores later and I was on a pearl trail back to MACY’S, where the same nice lady asked if I was ready. I told her I was and bought the necklace, as well as a pair of earrings for my honey of 36 years. Add to that, 3 dozen of her favorite flowers and I went home, invincible!

2006-12-29T06:55:00.000-08:00

MISSING CLIMBERS ON MT HOOD, OREGON…

This headline is not new news. These guys have been missing for several weeks. The three climbers, from Texas and New York, were experienced at conquering mountains much larger than Mt Hood, at 11,243 feet elevation. It was unusual that they should attempt to climb the north face of Mt Hood in December, as we frequently have many ice storms and high winds on the mountain in December. One man has been found deceased. Apparently he had dislocated his shoulder and his two buddies left him in an ice cave about 300 feet below the summit, to strike out for help. They have not been heard from or found. It is an unforgiving mountain.

This Wednesday afternoon, my son and grand-daughter-of-the-heart made our way to Timberline Lodge to go skiing. Timberline Lodge is a beautiful place, located at 6000 feet elevation on the South slope of Mt Hood; www.timberlinelodge.com.

At a place less than 4000 feet elevation we had to stop along the road and install tire chains on my 4WD, 2004 Dodge Crew Cab, before we could proceed. The traffic was heavy. Apparently, most everyone else had the same idea to ski that we had!

As we neared the top, the snow was falling heavily. The wind had picked up on the upper East side of the mountain and was whipping up the snow so bad that we could barely see the road. The parking lot was crowded, but we managed to find a spot as far away from the Lodge as we could. We put on our ski pants, sweaters, coats and gloves to protect us from the cold. The ski goggles came in very handy because the hard blowing snow stung our faces like tiny needles.

The near “white-out” conditions made it difficult to see very far. At times, visibility was only a few feet. Naturally, we chose not to ski under these conditions as we could become disoriented or “lost” (it’s hard for a guy to say that word!). Instead we walked up the hill to the main Lodge and went inside to look around, opting to “wait out” the storm until it cleared a little or to go back home without ever skiing at all.

The white-out got me to thinking about the missing climbers and how the search parties looking for them could have been within only a few feet away and never saw them. The conditions were much worse on the North face, with 80 MPH winds blowing into their faces. The searchers must have been roped together in order to not become “lost” themselves! What courageous men they were to confront the odds and brave the elements in order to help strangers!

We did manage to find a window of opportunity and ski for a couple of hours before the lift closed for the night. We had a great, but short, time skiing!

After turning in our rented equipment and hiking back down the parking lot to the ice covered black Dodge truck, we proceeded to warm up and clear the windshield. As I started the motor and warmed the heater, I looked up and noticed my outside temperature gauge read 18 degrees. No wonder Alyssa’s cheeks were rosy!

2006-12-26T06:08:00.000-08:00

What can you say about the “DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS”?

* It’s GREAT to be back to work!

* We can stop listening to Christmas Music and go back to the same old beer drinking, trailer stealing, bar hopping, divorce dealing, gutter girls and who done me wrong songs we so much love to hear!

* Huge sales on valuable stuff we forgot to buy last week!

* Standing in lines to return valuable stuff we got for Christmas presents!

* Saying goodbye to all the visiting relatives!

* Recovering from “O-D-ing” on Fudge, Peanut Brittle, sinfully chocolaty layered cakes, stacks of pies, brownies and sweets of all colors and flavors!

* Preparing for the annual New Year’s bash!

* Getting a head start on our New Year’s Resolution List!

* Dieting………seriously dieting!

* Trying to figure out how we’re going to pay for last week!

* Dreading the arrival of the 4th of July when they start playing Christmas Songs all over again!

Yes, it seems like it comes earlier and earlier every year. I dread to hear the first advertisement of the Christmas season when they start singing their products to the tune of Christmas Songs! Fortunately, there is much time to pass before we reach that day and it’s time to focus in other holiday directions!

But, it is UNFORTUNATE that much time will pass before we can get another paid holiday off! Valentine’s Day, for some reason, just can’t muster the clout needed to become a National Holiday! Totally a Bummer (to mix two generations of slang).

For now, all we can do is pray for a deep snow where everything closes down for a day or two!

2006-12-21T16:19:00.000-08:00

All I want for Christmas is a Root Canal….

Wednesday afternoon I reclined in the Dentists’ chair while a masked man with noisy tools began working inside my mouth. He kept saying, “Open wider….wider….wider” as if I could actually DO that! It appeared that my lower jaw tooth was “dead”, as he had previously tested it with an instrument that did electrical prodding. He wasn’t certain his prod tool was working until his lovely masked assistant told him to try it on a good tooth; which he did! As I came down off the ceiling I said, “Yes, the tool is working!”

So with the tooth being “dead” the masked man thought he would try the drilling part without pain killer; which he proceeded to do. We were fine the first couple of inches; then he struck a nerve! Yes, a live nerve! He said, “Okay, so there’s some life left in that one…but I can’t understand why”. At the same time, his lovely masked assistant was preparing a syringe of Cobra venom, or something, which would paralyze my face.

The needle was looooong and ominous. He began telling me to do the “open wider” part until it cut off the air supply to my lungs and I had trouble breathing. He went away and soon returned to inquire about the tingling feeling. I could still feel my face but my ear was beginning to hurt. As I rubbed my ear he asked if it hurt and what about my lip. I told him my lip still had feeling, but I had lost it to my ear lobe. I told him that the needle went so deep that it came out in my ear. He didn’t think that was possible. I told him I had no feeling in my ear lobe and asked if he could go ahead and pierce my ear and sell me an earring.

After more drilling, the masked man struck another nerve and, of course, I jumped like the weenie that I am. He said “whoa” and removed the drill, only to pick up a small sharpened probe and poke the uncovered nerve. Another, more serious, jump this time confirmed his suspicions that a second nerve occupied the “bad” tooth. At that point the lovely masked assistant handed him another syringe of Cobra venom and we waited some more.

By now my face was so numb a rat could chew it off and I wouldn’t feel a thing! A few more days of drilling and another 3 or 4 inches of excavation and we had arrived. He took a couple of X-rays along the way, packed the long root and smoothed it over. He told me it looked good and sent me on the way by telling me to be sure to call him at home if my face started swelling up.

I’m pretty sore today but my face looks like mine.

2006-12-11T02:21:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas 2006

Dear Friends & Family,
Each year I am amazed at how the past 12 months have flown by. It’s December already! Now, you know what that means!? Yes, the coveted, Christmas Letter. It’s the way to communicate, often because we didn’t communicate!
Debby & I celebrated our 35th Anniversary in January, rather quietly, with a few friends. She was very busy planning our 3-week trip to Europe! So following the intensive planning and creating an itinerary, we flew out of Portland just before school turned out. We met up with Ron & Nancy Pinkerton in NYC and shared a plane to Rome, Italy for 4 days in a Villa. We visited many wonderful sights in Rome, Florence, Venice, Munich, Garmisch-Partenkirken (German Bavaria…you know, oom pah pah, lederhosen, Wiener Schnitzel, bratwurst, yodeling, etc.), Frankfurt, Darmstadt (where I spent 2 years in USAF), a quick day trip to Innsbruck, Austria, then a week in Paris with a visit to Normandy. Flying back from Paris, we stopped in NYC for 2 days to enjoy the sights, sounds and graffiti. You can read about it in my blogs.
My daughter, husband and the 3 are doing okay, although it’s been hard for them. Our grand-daughter continues to run away, often gone weeks at a time before she is found and returned. No one seems to be able to “fix her”. Today she is home (I think). She is only 14.
Our youngest grandson is 11 and is doing okay. He has been out of school so much this year that I’m thinking about giving him an application to work at Taco Bell !
Our heartbreak this year is worrying about Aaron, our oldest grandson (13). He was diagnosed with Leukemia this year and has been undergoing Chemo Therapy treatments. The treatments have been hard on him but he has a great attitude and stays positive. The treatments will last another 2 ½ years. Please keep him in your prayers.
Eric moved to Texas to work for Sherwin-Williams in an assistant manager training position. He has an apartment, car and freedom! Matt continues to work for Oklahoma Christian University; still travels a lot. He recently returned from a cruise with several friends and had a great time. He is also coming home for Christmas. The Lord willing, all of us will be together for Christmas this year.
Debby is sharing her First Grade teaching responsibilities at Columbia Christian School with her co-teacher, Ami. They each teach half a week. It’s a great working relationship and frees her up to do other interests. She loves Columbia Christian School and will have a hard time retiring someday! She’s not ready yet, because she wants “Dawson” to be in her class! She flew back to the mid-west a couple of times this year to be with her Mom & Dad as they were going through some health issues. Debby & I enjoy traveling to various places and enjoying our “empty nest” time together.
I am still working for a Mechanical Contractor as Service Manager. I turned 60 this year and plan to retire in 2 more! Yea! I am still active and healthy. I enjoy the great outdoors and find time to do plenty of hiking and backpacking in this part of the country. We have lots of friends and are very busy with extended family and friends. Dawson, our grandson” (Ami’s) turned 2 this year! Whoa!! He’s BUSY! He’s also a wonderful blessing to us. They have 3 other boys.
We continue to be very active in church. As an elder, I am busy with more things than I can talk about. We have been having a Bible Study in our home. We facilitate a “Homebuilder’s” marriage class of 6 of the most amazing couples! We also host a wonderful “Care Group” of 12. We meet nearly every Sunday at noon. We all bring food and share together, family style. We spend time writing encouragement cards to people who have expressed a need for prayers at church and for those going through family health struggles. Our “Fellowship Group” of 6 meets monthly, inviting 6 others each time to join us for dinner. Our “Leadership Group” of 24 (soon to be 26) meets monthly to fellowship and eat together. We are very encouraged! We both teach classes and serve at church in many ways. It’s all good! We have no family out here who wants to share in our life, so we supplement with those who do!
My backpacking venture on the Wonderland Trail around part of Mt. Rainier this summer was the most amazing trip I’ve ever taken! (See my blog). I had a crew of 8 backpackers this year. We had a wonderful experience.

Natasha, a local college student has “adopted” us and lives with us while going to school. She is a lot of fun and keeps us entertained. We have been chosen to be her guardians while she goes to Cascade College. We’re proud of her! She breaks up the silence when it gets too quiet around the house and we try to encourage her in her school work.
God has been gracious and we are filled with an abundance of His blessings. Even with all the “not so good” things that happen, we can always open our eyes and see “the blessing” that God gives us. We hope your hearts are also filled.

May the Spirit of Christmas dwell in your hearts. May the gift of Blessings be yours in abundance. May God hold you in the palm of His hand, near His heart, as He cares for you and blesses your children.

2006-12-04T16:06:00.000-08:00

Insect Repellant…

Growing up in NW Arkansas on a 360 Acre farm provided 5 kids with plenty of land to run around on. The Ozarks is an area of rolling hills, small mountains, lakes, streams, caves and cool stuff like wild Plums, Muskadine Grapes, Persimmons, and Hickory Nuts. We loved to explore the old abandoned homesteads, weathering farm implements, and natural cold springs while searching for animals, birds, reptiles and every sort of living creature we could find. As we grew older, it was common for us to hunt Squirrels and Rabbits and to have Mom cook them for our supper table, as we lived rather meager lives. We never had much money but we did raise most all our food supplies on that land.

The one thing I remember the most; the single most things that stand out in my mind were the biting insects; the Ticks and Chiggers. We hated those critters with a passion! The Seed Ticks were a serious infringement upon our comfort! It was very common to brush our leg against a single blade of grass and be set upon by a few hundred Seed Ticks in a bunch! The ticks would attach themselves together in a big ball and transfer themselves in unison from the grass to our leg as we brushed by. At that point, they would begin crawling in all directions to find themselves a place to dig in and start feeding!

Someone told us about a certain plant, a “magic weed” that grew on our property in a certain location that was great at repelling insects. Once we learned that, we would make that our first stop on the way to hunting or exploring. The plant was a certain style, one we could recognize if it was to grow anywhere else. But, it didn’t seem to grow anywhere else than down the hill from our house, next to the big Oak Tree, not far from the Barn.

We would pluck some of the leaves, crush them in our hands, and then rub that on our pants and all over us. We used to “test” the leaves by brushing against a glob of Seed Ticks and letting them get on our pants. They would immediately crawl off and drop off our pants very quickly. Large Ticks would do the same. With this “poultice” on us, we never concerned ourselves with Chiggers, as well. Chiggers are small, tiny pin-prick-size of a red colored critter that loved to suck blood like the ticks! These things were so tiny that you could barely see them if you had GOOD eyes! They lived in the grass and loved to bite. They would itch us like crazy!! So we were never able to lie around in the grass and relax, or wrestle with each other, or pick the sweet, juicy Blackberries without ending up with a few dozen itchy bumps.

Over the years I’ve often thought about that “magic weed” and how it was a naturally effective insect repellant. We have long since moved away from the old homestead. The new owner built a Turkey raising empire on the old place. Turkey’s tend to pick the vegetation clean, as so many are raised in such a small enclosure. I don’t know if they have picked the ground clean around that old Oak Tree, but I’m certain so much has changed with the land; trees have died off, new ones sprout up and take over in a few years and alter the land so much that this old guy would never be able to go back to find the “magic weed”. Perhaps a marketing fortune awaits a young entrepreneur who, someday, discovers the secret of the “magic weed”.

2006-11-30T09:23:00.000-08:00

NATASHA...

It sounds like a Russian name, doesn’t it? I tease her about “Boris” and “Rocky and Bullwinkle” (young folks might not know who they are). But Tasha lives with us and goes to college. We are her guardians and take an interest in her welfare.

Our church had a Family Retreat recently at Camp Yamhill. One of our fun activities is “Campfire”. We have kids and adults who perform skits, just to entertain and have fun together. Tasha and I did a skit called “Generations”. She speaks a language of today’s young people, using slang terms unusual to my generation. Even some of my slang terms have a completely different meaning in today’s slang, so we have to be careful what we say!

I conceived an idea for our skit because I strain to understand her language sometimes; words like “snap”, “stellar”, “what’s up”, “chillin’ like a villain”, “stoked”, “tight” and “whatever”. So we wrote a “Talk with Tasha” skit…..she wrote her part and I wrote my part, to try to show the audience how much differently we are, yet, in our own era, the same. She spoke in “her language” and I spoke in the slang of the 50’s and 60’s…my era. I don’t have her part to share with you, but here is mine….

“The word from the bird is you are cool for an ankle biter. Sometimes you’re such a bug, but I know it’s only a bit. I know we have issues about your locks and threads but that’s not always close. Your nest is okay and for the most part you are unreal. You razz my berries when you go ape and flip over a flick. Sometimes you’re nuggets, but you’re earthbound and classy. You don’t play the sounds too loud and you take care of the sides….I like that. You’re not a wet rag or take part in submarine races like some nosebleed; I’m hip with that.

I appreciate the fact that you like killing time with me; I think you are a kick! I don’t have to worry about you hanging, or making out with some groady greaser in the backseat of his jacked up machine, or screaming down the street doing wheelies in some ivy leaguers rocket rod looking over his shoulder for the heat. Stay away from those shucksters! I realize my tank don’t always agitate the gravel, but she’s cherry. I can still blow off most of the Clyde’s on the block. We fire up a mean bent eight; she goes flat out on the stretch and we collect the pinks! My chariot can still lay a patch like a make out. My mirror warmer might look kooky, but it’s the most and she don’t nod. When I pop the clutch and punch her, she’s off the line like a Deuce; cookin like a dolly; it’s fat city to cream the jelly rollers out there, for sure!

It’s great to shoot the breeze with you. I get smog in the noggin sometimes, but you’re a gas to chew the fat with and I don’t have to be pretentious. We’re tight. You don’t have a cow or freak out when I ground you for hanging with some hodad gremmie on the sand patting his pomade and coming home after dark thirty! You’re in the pad on time; not playing back seat bingo like your hoodlum friends. That puts me on cloud 9. Once in a while I have trouble understanding what you say but you’re a big tickle with more jets than most! I think we dig each other enough to have these great father/daughter talks and come to a full understanding of how we feel about things. Do you need any bread?? I can always spare a couple of skins or even a fin for my little paper shaker. What do you say? Wanna split?”

2006-11-27T06:35:00.000-08:00

English language is HARD!

I live with a teenager college student who loves to talk. I do believe that her niche in life would be in advertising. I can easily picture her as the one who reads the disclaimer paragraph at the end of each advertisement. Those people have to be very fast as the company can afford to waste money on airtime!

I oftentimes deal with people who are not from my neck of the woods and clear conversation becomes an issue. I was reminded of that this morning as I met with an inspector to discuss an issue relating to the installation of a water heater. This particular inspector has been doing this line of work for the State Department for several years. In his mind, communication is not an issue. His native country is Russia, as is his native language. His use of the American language is limited and, I must admit, oftentimes, frustrating to those of us trying to understand what he’s talking about!

Learning to speak American English is not the complete issue. It is necessary for us to deal with the accent and the proper use of the language, at the same time. It’s intriguing to listen to his choice of words to describe his thoughts, as he mixes them with broken English.

I got to thinking about those who teach English as a second language. Doing some research, I discovered how hard it must be for a foreigner to learn our language, especially to attempt to use it properly. Here are some things to consider:

We must polish the Polish furniture.
He could lead if he would get the lead out.
The farm was used to produce produce.
The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.
The soldier decided to desert in the desert.
This was a good time to present the present.
A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.
When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.
I did not object to the object.
The insurance was invalid for the invalid.
The bandage was wound around the wound.
There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.
They were too close to the door to close it.
They sent a sewer down to stitch the tear in the sewer line.
To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
The wind was too strong to wind the sail.
After a number of injections my jaw got number.
Upon seeing the tear in my clothes I shed a tear.
I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.
The singer had to record the record.
Will you be able to live through a live concert?

Now, if you think that’s hard to understand, try this one:

Let's face it - English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple.

English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat.

We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham?

If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices? Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend?

If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it? If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?

Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm goes off by going on.
English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn't a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.

Sometimes I can’t understand what people are saying. After this research, I’m convinced neither does anyone else! Why don’t ‘everbody’ just ‘talk Southern’?

2006-11-22T06:29:00.000-08:00

The day before Thanksgiving, 1969
11/26/69: “I’m sitting inside a dirty room in Cam Ranh Bay. It isn’t the greatest place in the world but it is quiet, at least as far as a war is concerned. The night sounds consist of the singsong voices of the South Vietnamese mingled with restless GI’s, and a howling wind. It’s very sandy in this part of the country. The base sits on the edge of the South China Sea and it seems as if it’s sandy beaches stretches inland for miles. The wind continues to carry the sand along with it! It’s even inside the rooms and our beds! It’s very uncomfortable. The night air is very cool, almost cold. I doubt very seriously if my single sheet is sufficient. My friend and I are stuck here for the night because we weren’t able to get a plane farther north. There’s a chance we can get one tomorrow noon, but a slim one! What a way to spend Thanksgiving Day!
Note: An interesting thing happened here. I arrived in Cam Ranh Bay pretty much completely broke…barely had a dime to my name. With my Pay Records going to Phu Cat it would be hard to get the AF to give me some money to tie me over until payday. But I decided to take a chance and see if they could do something. I went to the finance office and told the guy behind the desk what I wanted. He asked my name and service number. I gave it to him. He made a note of it and then went to a large file cabinet to check my pay records. I reminded him that I was just traveling through here and that my pay records would be in Phu Cat. He didn’t listen much and said even less. All at once I was surprised to see him pull out a file on me and go through it. It contained my pay records! I couldn’t believe it. He said the records shouldn’t be here but they were. So it seems as if I really lucked out on this one because my pay would really have been messed up in Phu Cat come payday! Without records it’s hard to get any money out of them. Also, I was able to get my money to tie me over. In fact, I got a whole month’s pay because the last time I had any money was before I left Germany in August!
11/27/69: “I arrived in Phu Cat this afternoon about 5:00.
I went to the mailroom and already had mail!! I hear the sound of small arms fire off in the distance. Today is Thanksgiving Day. It’s about to come to a close. It didn’t seem like much of one, even though I did have a turkey dinner. Phu Cat is a bit different than Cam Ranh Bay. There’s no blowing sand here. It’s much cooler here; in fact it’s too cold. As I look over my right shoulder I see flares going off in the distance. Even though I hear the sounds of rifle fire in the same area, it’s kind of quiet here. The base hasn’t been hit for about 2 months now. I hope it continues to be quiet. It’s a little foggy tonight. I hear the rain starting to fall on the tin roof of our barracks. I hope the wind doesn’t start to blow in.”

I can identify with our men in Iraq; being far away from home during the Thanksgiving holidays. They would love to be home with their families; perhaps in a room full of family, with a cozy fireplace and the smell of wonderful food cooking in the oven.

I ran across this funny quip I want to share with you. I realize that war isn’t funny (perhaps more than you do) but where there’s no band, sometimes you have to make your own music…

AC NEWS: Redneck Special Forces....

The Pentagon announced today the formation of a new 500-man elite fighting unit called the United States Redneck Special Forces. These Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Kentucky, Mississippi, Missouri,Oklahoma, North and South Carolina, Tennessee & Texas boys will be dropped off into Iraq. They have only been told the following facts about terrorists:
1. The season opened today.
2. There is no limit.
3. They taste just like chicken
4. They don't like beer, pickups, country music or Jesus.
5. They are DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE for the death of Dale Earnhardt.
We expect the problem in Iraq to be over by Friday.

May the joys of the Thanksgiving Holiday be yours! May you be comforted as you bask in the safety of a free Nation, protected by young men serving our Armed Forces at home and in foreign lands.

2006-10-31T06:39:00.000-08:00

Ragged Old Flag

......a poem by Johnny Cash (and me).

I walked through a county courthouse square.
On a park bench, an old man was sittin’ there.
I said, “Your old court house is kinda run down”.
He said, “Naw, it’ll do for our little town”.

I said, “Your old flag pole is leaned a little bit,
And that’s a ragged old flag you got hangin’ on it”.
He said, “Have a seat”, and I sat down;
“Is this the first time you’ve been to our little town?”
I said, “I think it is”.

He said, “I don’t like to brag,
but we’re kinda proud
Of that Ragged Old Flag”.

“You see, we got a little hole in that flag there,
When Washington took it across the Delaware.
“And it got power burned the night Francis Scott Key
Sat watching it, writing, ‘Say Can You See’.

It got a bad rip in New Orleans,
With Packingham and Jackson tugging at its seams.
And it almost fell at the Alamo beside the Texas flag,
But she waved on, though.

“She got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville
And she got cut again at Shiloh Hill.
There was Robert E. Lee and Beauregard and Bragg,
And the south wind blew hard on that Ragged Old Flag.

“On Flanders Field in WW I
She got a big hole from a Bertha Gun.
She turned blood red in WW II.
She hung limp, and low, a time or two.
She was in Korea and Vietnam;
She went where she was sent
By her Uncle Sam.

(Added by me:
“She flew high across Desert Storm.
When 9-11 hit, she carried a new form.
Across Afghanistan, in a whirlwind of fire
She waved on for freedom
As we held her up higher.

“Now it’s Iraq that’s taking its toll
With the terrorists’ struggle,
But she calls, ‘Let’s roll’.)

“She waved from our ships upon the briny foam
And now they’ve about quit wavin’ her back here at home.
In her own good land here she’s been abused,
She’s been burned, dishonored, denied and refused,
And the government, for which she stands,
is scandalized across the land.

“And she’s getting thread bare, and she’s wearin’ thin
But she’s in good shape, for the shape she’s in.
‘Cause she’s been through the fire before
And I believe she can take a whole lot more.

So we raise her up every morning
And we take her down every night.
We don’t let her touch the ground
And we fold her up right.

“On second thought, I do like to brag;
‘Cause I’m mighty proud of that
Ragged Old Flag."
***************
As we approach Veteran's Day 2006, I feel a sense of patriotism swelling up inside of me. I wanted to repost this poem because I take pride in our American Flag and our Country. I know we have many problems; many people are dissatisfied with the way things are, yet, at the same time, many of us adapt and make the best of things.

It pains my heart to hear the roar of change. Thousands of new people come into our Country every year. It seems like many of them want to change our land into their "old country" ways. The winds of change appear to be driving dark clouds in our direction.

Where is the pride in protecting "our ways", that were established by our forefathers?

2006-10-30T14:38:00.000-08:00

SASSAFRAS TEA

As a kid growing up on a 360 acre farm about 25 miles from nowhere, there wasn’t a lot of things we could do to get into much trouble. Naturally we had the usual brother-bickering back and forth but brothers do that, you know. Three of us grew up together, stair-stepped 2 years apart, so we had plenty of opportunity to scuffle with each other. But other than that, we stayed pretty mellow; not having much free time to get into mischief; unless, of course, you consider that my older brother by 6 years found ways to make it hard on the rest of us. For instance, him and his hoodlum buddies bringing in cigarettes and teaching me how to smoke ‘em. I definitely got into trouble with Mom on that one! I don’t know if she ever told Dad or not, but I do remember pleading with her not to tell him! I promised I would never do it again……..and I didn’t until I turned 19.

I do remember a lot of things about the hot summer days; the way we used to play in the grown-up thickets and pastures. I recall the times we would take a roll of Binder Twine and use it to make a fort in the Sassafras thickets. Now, Binder Twine was a fuzzy cord of sisal rope material that was used in the process of baling hay. Later, Baling Wire was more common due to its increased strength over the twine. Apparently, we had a few rolls of the twine left over from Grandpa’s hay baling days, or perhaps it just found its way home from someone else’s farm. At any rate, we found a use for it.

Sassafras was a plant/bush/tree depending upon when you saw it. It could grow as high as 70 or 80 feet. The trees would send out root runners along the ground and occasionally send a small shoot upward to form a new tree. These plants grew wild and thrived in the Arkansas climate. We would find 4 or 5 growing in an area and that’s what we used for the 4 corner posts of our Fort. As we encircled the posts several times, similar to building a fence, we created a support for our “poles”. We would cut small bushes and limbs and weave them vertically in the twine fence and thus, give us an enclosure that kept us “safe” and free from being seen by the “enemy”. Ironically, our nearest neighbor was over a mile away. Their son, Paul, was my age. He wasn’t really the kind of kid who would hike over a mile to “spy” on me in the hot Arkansas sunshine.

We didn’t know much about Sassafras, except that the older folks made Tea from its root bark after a drying process. Sassafras Tea was popular, although I can’t recall Mom making it. She was always making Lipton tea. It sure tasted good in those days. It wasn’t the tea bags like we have today. It came in a box with the Lipton label; inside were sealed dried tea leaves, chopped and crumpled, waiting on a boiling tea pot of hot water to bring out the smell and flavor we remember.

But little did we know about Sassafras. Who would have thought that all that time we played amongst the bushes of death? The FDA banned Sassafras oil because it was a high cause of cancer in certain tests they performed.

In the 16th Century, Tobacco and sassafras (two cancer causing death plants) were the most important early medicinal plants in America. The plant takes a while to fruit, but when it does dark blue, pea-size berries rest atop a bright red peduncle. From the profile, the fruit and peduncle looks like a small ice cream cone.
Sassafras is aromatic, giving off a fragrance somewhere between that of oranges and vanilla. The fragrance comes from safrole. Safrole is highly concentrated in the roots. The Cherokee Indians used it to cure anything from VD to being overweight. In 1963 it was determined that it caused cancer in rats. They claimed that just a few drops of the Safrole oil could kill a child. I guess we shouldn’t have been sniffing and chewing on the dried roots!
I find it ironic that living on a remote chunk of land in Arkansas, assuming that we were out of harms way, except for an occasional deadly snake encounter, that what we thought to be harmless, was just as deadly, yet provided hours of peaceful entertainment for 3 boys with imagination.

2006-10-25T06:42:00.000-07:00

Funny

thing

about LAUGHING…….

You can’t help yourself!
It’s impossible to hold back!
It stretches your face!
Your eyes squint half closed!
You make this weird cackling sound!
Sometimes your eyes water so much you start to cry!
You jiggle like jelly!
Often makes you bend over!
Sometimes you do the knee-slapper thing!
Sometimes you lay down and roll over like Rover, holding your belly like your insides are coming out while your roar with joy.

Laughing is supposed to be good for the soul. It’s like a healing balm to the inner most parts of your body. Some say that those who laugh often are physically healthier. There are those serious faces out there who seldom laugh at anything. If they do, it’s usually something they say themselves!

People who laugh are more fun to be around. Who wants to sit there and visit with “sour grapes”? People are drawn to the crowd over in the corner who laughs out loud. They want to see what’s going on and to be a part of the joy!

I always enjoy a good laugh. I’m not what you would call a “belly-laugher” so much. I do enjoy funny jokes and stories, as well as the next guy. Sometimes my humor is dry and you have to be listening closely to “get it”. I think I got that from my Mom’s side. My Uncle Dean was always funny! His son, Mike, inherited his Dad’s wit and humor. I suppose that’s my source, but I’m not sure. It’s certainly not from my Mom or Dad or Grandma or Grandpa on Dad’s side.

I was trying to download a Permit Form from the City of Longview, Washington the other day and ran across some funny reasons to tax people! It has always been intriguing to see inventive ways that Cities and Counties across the country have made laws that affect our lives in a funny, but costly, way. This is dry type humor that makes me smile.

Did you know that in the City of Longview, to have a school auction you have to get a License ($30) and the teacher who is the Auctioneer must pay $25?

If you want live music at your Cabaret, you must pay $10?

Dance Permits are required within the City Limits, including Teenage Dances. $10 per dance.

You must have a Circus License if you want to have a Circus……I wonder if this applies to the City Government….?

You have a Jukebox? The Jukebox Tax is $30.

Your political sign in your yard will cost you $50, but you get it back when you remove the sign!

How about a Sound Truck License for $5? I wonder if that applies to Rap Music from the kid in the car next to yours.

Want to have a Tupperware Party in Longview? Get a Special Sales License!

Want to be a Taxi Driver in Longview? It will cost you $3 per year!

I think Longview should vote on a Bureaucrat Tax and gig ‘em for $10 for each event, each hand wave, and each time their lips move!

That’s the way I see it……..

2006-10-19T06:09:00.000-07:00

I love to hike...

I wish I had discovered the joys of hiking and backpacking years ago! I remember hiking around the Mt Hood area and Lost Lake years ago. Somehow I failed to be impressed with how much fun it was!

I am not a "loner" hiker. Where's the fun in hiking by yourself? Things discovered need to be shared with others. I enjoy the backpacking adventures with my friends, no doubt about that! But I really enjoy hiking with my woman. She's beginning to work towards more hiking adventures. Although we need to keep them short and fun, (there are no "potties" in the woods), she manages to impress me with her strength.

We conquered Lost Lake Butte this summer. I admired her for doing that one! I also think she was proud of herself for not giving up when she thought about it! I was!

Last week for my birthday, she booked us a 3rd floor suite at Bonneville Hot Springs Resort. Our balcony had a Hot Tub on the deck that looked out towards a secluded wooded view of the Fall colored hills. The Hot Tub was filled with hot springs water that felt wonderful. I spent a lot of time soaking in that swirling 104 degree bath of mineral water.

We came in on Friday. She had booked me a 50 minute Swedish massage in the resort spa at 4:00. I emerged from that onslaught, I could barely walk! My body was like Jello! From there it was into the Hot Tub a while. I was so relaxed a bomb could have gone off in the courtyard and I would have barely noticed!

From there, I began to open the 60 gifts she bought for me! Yes....60!

Dinner was great, then back to the suite for more Hot Tubbing. I slept like a baby. Breakfast came after two more Hot Tub soakings. They had the BEST Bacon......

We checked out at noon and drove West on Highway 14. We stopped at Beacon Rock where we decided to hike to the top! Yes, my woman and I hiked to the top of Beacon Rock! Fun times!

We returned home to find a surprise birthday party awaiting for me! All my "daughters" were there to surprise me with very nice cards, hugs and food!

That evening we went to a leadership dinner where I received more "pats on the back" and great food!

It was a fine weekend......a fine day!

Oh, and yes, I turned 60.

2006-10-13T06:10:00.000-07:00

....The best-laid plans of Mice and Men....

Have you ever had your eyes set towards a goal, only to find “roadblocks” in your way? I think back upon my life and envisioning what I wanted to be when I “grew up”. Naturally, as a kid, I wanted to be the “Fireman” or “Forest Ranger”, and even “The Lone Ranger” because that was “flashy” and seemed exciting to me. As I grew and gained much wisdom, it changed to “Mechanical Engineer”. At the time, I had no earthly idea what ME was, or why I wanted to be one. But it seemed to be the thing during those high school years. Unfortunately, I did not prepare for becoming one; yet choosing instead to bask in the warmth of the “idea”. Thus, my mental competency was a roadblock.

College didn’t work for me. I couldn’t sit still long enough to learn and I was wasting my $90 per semester tuition (big money back in those days…..or so I thought). So I decided to enter the Military and joined the Air Force. Naturally, they tried to brainwash us into thinking the USAF would make a great career. That didn’t work out too well, either! My energy was spent and I couldn’t wait to get out. I put up my own roadblock with that one! So I was honorably discharged and rejoined the civilian life. I soon found myself back in college where I quickly found that my “brain” was my roadblock. That didn’t work out, either, so I took a detour.

The single life wasn’t for me so I tossed up another roadblock, took my detour and fell in love, got married, had kids, and now I’m old. WOW! That sure went FAST!

Trying to find a career became a challenge. I worked part time in a grocery store during my high school and early college days. After the Air Force, I went back to the grocery business but found a roadblock of boredom facing me. I decided upon a Trade School to learn the building trades and enter the same skill that my father-in-law was doing. I soon found the “bridge was down” and I liked it.

People say that a person changes jobs about 7 times during his life, spanning, I think, 3 careers. I’m not sure about those numbers but it’s something like that. I’ve had 3 careers. Actually, I’m on my third one now and at my age, looks like I’ll stick it out to the end. I have worked for more employers than 7, but that’s okay.

Have you thought about your life? At what point are you in this process? Have you found roadblocks that made you turn and send you down another path? Some of us tend to bog down and try to “wait” it out. When the bridge is “up”, it’s okay enough to just sit there in our job and collect our paycheck, waiting for the bridge to come down. Sometimes it comes down; sometimes it doesn’t. How do you like your career? Would a roadblock or “bridge up” disappoint you? During my military days, I was told to “bloom where you’re planted”. I look back over my last 40 years and can confidently say that “I have”. I bloomed in all 3 of my careers. But that’s another story….

2006-10-10T09:47:00.000-07:00

Baptized in Goat Lake

This past Saturday was a remarkable day! Austin is a senior in high school. I have been praying for him as his “Prayer Warrior” for 4 years. Two weeks ago we talked about baptism and what it means. Austin wanted me to take him into the Cascade Mountains to be baptized in a cold, snow melt fed lake called Goat Lake.

Goat Lake is located in the heart of the Goat Rocks Wilderness at almost 6,000 feet elevation. The lake appears to have been naturally created from a volcano that blew out one side and died. It is entirely filled with fresh snow every winter. Every year, from 1994 until 2002, I had never seen this lake thaw. My annual August trek to Goat Lake was usually the same sight; a thin crescent line of blue water showing along the southern edge of the lake; the remainder was snow.

The morning began at 5:00 am with a 3.5 hour drive to the trailhead near Chambers Lake in Washington. Trail 95 to Goat Lake went across Goat Ridge, through forests and hills, covered, today, with heavy fog that kept everything dripping wet. The temperature was hovering around 40 degrees and the sun peeked in and out through the dense fog to feel warm upon our faces. The higher we climbed the more sun we felt. The 12 mile round trip venture was amazingly beautiful.

Once we crossed Goat Ridge to come down the east side towards the lake, the fog disappeared for the rest of the day and we enjoyed warm, sunny weather. The October sky was clear, the air was fresh; patches of snow dotted the mountains and the Fall colors of vegetation were brilliant hues of reds, yellows, green and orange. It was beautiful!

The water was about 38 degrees! Snowmelt continued to flow into the lake creating a waterfall at the outlet that dropped several hundred feet to the valley floor below. It is always a beautiful view to see majestic Mt Adams shining in the sun.

Austin was baptized by his father; a beautiful sight. He will never forget this experience! The water was very cold, but the warmth of the Lord brought joy to both dad and son.

We began our return trip along Trail 96 for about 6.5 miles, through amazing colors on the carpeted hillside. The 3 ½ hour trip home gave us time to think about today’s event and to drift back into time, viewing events in our own lives.

I began to think about my own baptism. I was baptized in a baptistery in a little church in Kansas. I dressed in a gown, walked up the steps, down the steps, dunked in the warm water, then back up the steps and out to dry off. The end result was the same as Austin’s but his was so much more exciting!

Do you remember your baptism??

2006-10-09T08:38:00.000-07:00

TODAY, DO ONE BRAVE THING….
THEN RUN LIKE HECK…..

I don’t consider myself a brave man. Even spending a year in Vietnam failed to do it. I was there for a reason, somewhat like I’m here for a reason. It was a job, a duty, a place to be for a period of time in my life.

Taking on certain tasks in life don’t make me feel brave either. Sometimes, following some daring feat, I look back and would, perhaps, consider it as being “stupid”, but never brave.

I believe that the brave were ordinary people, placed in a position of responsibility that, under extreme circumstances, caused them to rise to the top instead of cutting and running. In certain situations, where bravery is required we could find ourselves doing things that, even we don’t understand. Sometimes the mind becomes cloudy and the adrenal gland kicks in causing a reaction that amazes the best of us! Next thing we know, someone is patting us on the back and saying what a brave thing you did!

Looking back on my life, I can’t actually think of one brave thing I did. In Vietnam, I was awarded 4 Air Medals and the Distinguished Flying Cross. I found out that the DFC is the 8th medal from the top in the rank of importance. But what I did to receive that was ordinary work that I did everyday. It wasn’t like saving a child from the mouth of a Lion or the claws of a Bear. I never jumped into the semi-frozen river to rescue a drowning victim. I never foiled a kidnapping attempt or tackled a shooter bent on killing innocent people. I never rescued anyone from the path of an oncoming car or truck. I never saved any comrades under enemy fire or rescued a distressed child in a burning building.

I believe that most of us are in the category of doing non-brave things; going about our lives, being ordinary, sometimes being stupid, yet remaining outside the spotlight, doing our thing that we call “normal”. I do love to hear about brave things that people do. Like the lady in the news around here a few weeks ago…..

A woman, a nurse, returning home from work, at night, walked into her house and was confronted by a man with a hammer, bent on using it on her head, I suppose. Apparently, the woman’s husband had hired this man to kill his wife. However, she desperately fought back and ended up strangling the man.

It’s interesting how adrenaline can kick in so powerfully that it enables us to become stronger, braver and better than a normal person. The killer became the killed in this case. It seems like a brave thing to me, but on the other hand, she was fighting for her life; thrust into a position of doing something beyond the ordinary.

Perhaps YOU have been thrust into the “bravery spotlight” in your life. I, for one, enjoy hearing about those things. I also believe you deserve a medal.

2006-10-03T06:43:00.000-07:00

Vehicle purchase update…..

The “politics” of car buying became frustrating to the point that I gave up on salesmen. I tried working with “internet sales” and they weren’t much better. I’m not too keen on smoke and mirrors business anyway. It becomes so confusing and makes a sensible purchase become “suspect”. I didn’t know if I was getting a good deal or not.

I finally figured out the best way to purchase a vehicle. It was very simple. The answer is to not use a car salesman to make your purchase! I decided to investigate the market and spent a few weeks looking through “cars for sale” flyers and newspaper ads. First of all I decided on the kind of vehicle I wanted; make, model and year, as well as price range. Then I went on the internet and did a search of the vehicle I wanted. I poured over several ads, looking at the options for the price and came up with an appropriate price range for the vehicle I wanted. From there I began searching for the same thing closer to my home so I wouldn’t have additional shipping or driving expenses to get it home.

My favorite place to go back to, over and over, until the one I wanted appeared, was “Craig’s List”. I discovered that http://www.portland.craigslist.org/ was the best place to look. I found the very truck I wanted at a price of $4,000 less than I had thought I would pay because the owner was anxious to sell and the truck had higher miles than usual, but fine for me and my occasional use. It was a 2004 Dodge 1500 4x4 Quad Cab, black, loaded for $14k.

I also discovered that Craig’s List is nationwide and appears in most major cities. It might even be in yours! Check it out! There’s much, much more than autos at this site. A friend of mine got a big, above-ground, rectangle, 4 feet deep swimming pool, complete with a Redwood Deck around 2/3rds of it……FOR FREE!! It was only 2 or 3 years old and in perfect condition! If you are looking for something specific, it’s a great place to start.

So now, I’m a truck owner, driving a big truck that friends say, “Boy! That’s a big truck!”

Well, I guess it is.

2006-10-02T06:19:00.000-07:00

It’s OCTOBER

I have not posted anything for a while for a number of excuses. One day runs into the next so fast that a long time passes in a short amount of time.

I do want to give an update on Aaron. He is in good spirits for going through such difficult times. The chemo therapy treatments have been extremely hard on this little guy, but he’s been a Trooper! Through the nausea, the shaking, the dizziness, the pain and all of the other physical abnormalities that come with having your body injected with gallons with Leukemia killing chemicals, his spirit of joy still comes through and shines brightly.

This particular day, a Clown came through the Ward and stopped in to visit with Aaron. He showed him a new card trick and gave him some gifts. The clown hat covered his bald head and the “red nose” gave him an air of distinction associated with the trade. As he put them on and began to “clown around” I snapped his picture and made it “wall paper” on my Cell Phone.

The Clown gave him a long Peacock feather and showed him how to balance it on the end of his finger, which Aaron took delight in showing us.

He was quick to show everyone his new card trick as they came into his room. Even though his eye lids remained half open, he managed to work up a few smiles and amuse those of us who needed to be amusing HIM.

He enjoys kidding around with his nurses. While I sat watching, a nurse came in and started giving him pain killing injections into his “port tube” and something to take away his nausea. Aaron asked to listen into the Stethoscope she wore around her neck. He put it on and she showed him his heartbeat…..he wanted to listen to hers. She showed him his bowels working, the growling noises of the gastric intestinal noises, and he wanted to listen to hers. She let him. He told her that she might be “busy” in a couple of hours and chuckled about it.

He is in his third month of 36 months of chemo. May God give him strength to continue….

Grandpa