Pursued by God

Life is a Fairway

2009-03-19T08:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday for the first time in at least 3 years I went golfing ..It was a wonderful Spring day , four men brought together in Gods purposeful way. Golf is a game that engages all the senses , the budding trees , the flags fluttering in the distance the sound of the ball going into the cup, the taste of fresh mud as your wedge cleaves into the soil , the smell of sun lotion and Ben Gay , The camaraderie was enjoyable , each person cheering each other on , and some good natured kidding and gamesmanship . Although the Starter Pistol gag was a little extreme. But considering this is the South I am blessed it wasn't a shotgun .

My only regret was the game I had planned to play remained in my mind and not on the fairways . When I was much younger I would frequently end up playing with these " older " golfers . It was not unusual for me to blast the ball far past their best efforts ...yet steadily they moved forward more often than not they actually played in the designated fairway , they hit it short but straight , simply by playing each long hole as one stroke more ( par fours became par fives , par fives became par six ). Mixing in some great short game play these old golfers would sail around the course posting scores in the low to mid 80's.

My game was usually more dramatic , turning 3's into par fives and par fives into threes as I would post scores in the low to mid 80's as well . When I was playing competitively in college I played to a solid 3 handicap , spending several hours a day working on my game , and while playing cursing every shot that was less than perfect . In those days I owned several club records including the greatest distance for throwing a Driver with no wind assist ( 123.5 yards ).

I wasn't much fun to play with in those days ...I was grouchy and my style of play left me alone in one distant fairway or another ...it wasn't until much much later that I started to enjoyed golf on a whole new level , this really started to happen when I actually had to pay to play . I had little or no time for practice , I started to put less pressure on myself and simply enjoy spending time on the course. I started to notice some interesting changes in my game . I was actually hitting the ball longer , much longer , due in part to the change in golf equipment ( metal woods, graphite shafts ) And a change in body weight ( I was no longer a slender Adonis , instead I had become a chubby wood nymph ..... Middle to long irons where just a little off , and the short game was unpredictable . But when I posted a score it was usually in the high seventies to low 80's . I found myself actually enjoying the people I was golfing with , especially my favorite foursome stubby , lefty and hoot. Not only an interesting group of nicknames but an interesting trio , these three guys had worked in the Portland Steel mills and were all now on disability leave since an unfortunate explosion in the foundry. Stubby had lost three inches off his left leg, Lefty was one armed , and hoot had no hearing and no balance . Suddenly I found myself wining more beverages than usual at the the 19th hole . Although in time Stubby became quite a good golfer when he learned to take advantage of uphill lies.

All good things often come to an end ..and this was no exception , married with child on the way...responsibility crept into my life , like a dust bunny under the couch ...for the next 13 years golf was pushed aside as I worked to provide for my family. I worked as hard on providing asI had worked on my youthful Golf game , I returned to grouchy and not being much fun to live with and in time I squandered the relationship , and watching my daughter grow up ...as quickly as a golf ball can swerve dead left and into a lake , I found myself alone with nothing but debt and set of golf clubs that had once ruled the Astoria Golf and Country Club Fairways ...

To take my mind off the failed marriage , I worked as a fireman at a local resort , Black Butte Ranch in the Foothills of the Cascade Mountains ..I had been very active with the local Volunteer Fire dept. and through this association I started also helping out at the resort , It was a busy department with a fair share of motor vehicle accidents , ambulance calls , forest fires and a few structure fires . We lived on site and that provided me with shower facilities since I had given the house to my former family. I also had golf privileges there and started playing regularly ...we couldn't play when we were on shift but we could hit balls and practice putting if we carried our radios .

It was at this time that I met Lori ...we met on the Internet , in a Christian Chat Room on AOL . In a short time I had found that special someone ...Lori and I were married in 1996 , by then I had once again put away the clubs ...I had actually sold my Ben Hogan Irons. left most of the rest at the fire department. Lori and I moved away from Oregon in 1999...we moved to Tennessee and I started working at the Opryland Hotel ...while in Nashville I tried to pick up Golf again , but I was surprised by how expensive it had gotten , and how humid it was in Tennessee..I couldn't understand why everyone used golf carts , that is until I tried to walk 18 holes on a pleasant July day . My golfing outings were few and far between. I found a public course that had a practice area which I could hit some and shag them , and as I moved up the ladder at the Hotel I started to play more often and thought about getting into some amateur tournaments ...And then came 9/11 .

After the attack I made a decision to move back to the Northwest ...In March of 2002 I drove to the Northwest with out a Job prospect but fully trusting in Gods Providence ..on the way I had a book on tape by M Scott Peck called Golf in the Spirit ...and it kept me company from Nashville to North Bonniville Washington . There my first stop was a Hotel Property called Dolce Skamania Lodge ...it was a great wooden building sitting above the Columbia River . the property had beautiful Golf Course carved into the mountains . After my first interview all I could think of was this is the Job I want , there are no others ...I was asked back for a follow up interview I was surprised , overwhelmed and blessed to have been offered the position .

http://www.skamania.com/lodge-photos.php

Skamania is about thirty miles from Portland in the Columbia river gorge ..it is one of the most beautiful places in the world ... Housing would be a problem , or not , in a matter of hours I had located a nice apartment in a wooded area just a few miles from the Hotel . Lori was in Nashville but it would be joining me in a few weeks ..the job at the hotel was a dream job , I was the front office manager and the weekend MOD at night , part of the Job included dining at the restaurant with my wife and critiquing the food and service , not to mention unlimited free golf.

Lori and I were close to friends and close to my daughter , we could drive to the ocean in a few hours or explore the Columbia River Gorge and its vast number of waterfalls and trails. My Golf game improved dramatically and it was certain I was going to do very well in the Senior golf tournaments in the area. I made it a point to visit some of the courses I had grown up on in the Portland area and set personal bests on most of them ...even though my game in many ways had suffered from the years , my attitude and enjoyment of the game was so positive and encouraging ...And then it all came to an end ...Just before Thanksgiving of 2002 I was downsized ...my position at the Hotel had been eliminated , low occupancy in part to 9/11 , forced management to eliminate some management changes and I was low man on the totem pole ...

This remote beautiful area I worked in which was at one time such a friend , became a liability ..and soon it became apparent that Lori and I would have to return to Tennessee where Lori's parents had suggested we could share their home with us ...We returned in June of 2003 and I went to work again at the Opryland Hotel ..assuming that with my experience I could easily work as a front desk manger ..I was humbled by a job offer for a front desk agent ...We needed the income and I accepted ..It was at this time that I received a small inheritance and we used the money to purchase a High end Digital SLR and I started reestablishing a relationship with photography ...soon I was passionately addicted and found myself also working for the hotel as what can be best described as an on site photographer. In time I was promoted several times. I was watching our income and found that I could either take photos or golf in my spare time . Golf was about $30.00 a game and photos were for all practical purposes free .. I choose photography. I played in two church tournaments. and twice in the Opryland employee tournament. These four tournaments were all a four man best ball format and in all of them our team did very well . The highlight round was at a local Lebanon Golf Course where my church team had three straight eagles ....and ended up scoring 59

I left Opryland February of 2006 ...and decided to reinvent myself as a Commercial/portrait Photographer ...I picked up a few weddings , some portrait work and some commercial work... but income was very scarce at one point to make ends meet I tried to sell my clubs ..but at the last minute held onto them .

One night as I was coming to the inescapable conclusion that I was going to have to give up my current " dream " job ..I was speaking to a friend of my wife , she was talking about her daughter's volleyball team and how disappointed she was with the quality of the photos she had of her daughter playing Volleyball , ..I offered to go to a game and take some photos, at the same time she told me of a company in Smyrna that had been taking the photos ..so I also decided to contacted them to see if they needed any Photographers.

I dropped off a resume at Micheal's Photography and a few days later I was contacted by a Dave Warren he asked me to come in for an interview ...Dave hired me and for a year and a half I worked for Micheal's as a free lance photographer ...I loved this job and it also became the glue that held our developing photography business together ...David and I developed a friendship based on our Christian faith , Photography and an Interest in Theater ...David even extended to Lori and I an invitation to come and see a production of Guys and Dolls at some place called Lamplighters theater ...Lori and I love theater , and we were involved with a theater company in Mt Juliet ...we loved the production and were really excited to find out that the Theater Company called Lamplighters was sponsored by a Church ...Lori and I had always wanted to start a Church based theater company . we had wanted to reclaim the arts for the Glory of God ..and here was a church doing it ! Only problem was we where very happy in our church home and we lived about 25 miles away from the Smyrna Church.

Lori and I went about our business we directed a play for the Mount Juliet Theater group and had great reviews ...in fact we shared some review space with a local blogger with another show at Lamplighters .."Much ado about nothing " .

That spring ( 2008 ) was interesting . I was on the board for the Local Community Theater , and was involved deeply in our local church ..Leaving Opryland had been very good for my Church life , Sundays could be spent at church regularly..we even had the opportunity to belong to a Sunday school class...with a modest but steady income from the Photography business , the ability to return to doing some theater and a developing church family ...everything seemed in perfect harmony ...

Then ...I started losing confidence in the Theater Company , who was in my opinion starting to experiment with titillating theater in order to build an audience ...one board member in particular was very uncomfortable to work with ...I choose to leave my board position , then I ran into some problems at the church I was going to and was asked to leave over theological differences ...

Lori and I decided to do some Church shopping and while preparing our list we accepted another invitation from my friend Dave warren and his wife to visit Smyrna Assembly ...the Church that sponsored Lamplighters .

We were simply overwhelmed by the Church service ...while we lived in Oregon we had gone to an Assembly of God and loved it , and we felt right at home ...Lori actually had tears in her eyes after the first service ...that was the first week of June ...and soon there was no doubt in my mind that this was the Church for us ... The worship filled such a void in my life , a void that I had tried to fill up with academic study in theology ...now I seemed much more at peace with myself and my relationship with God ...A few weeks ago Michael's Photography went through a " change " , I no longer have that account , but that has afforded me some " spare " time . I am in a play ( 12 Angry Men ) at Lamplighters. Ironically for the first time in years I am not angry ..I am feeling strangely blessed ..I look back down a series of fairways , of challenges , friends and opportunities all bringing me, a child of God born in Denver Colorado , with a wonderful woman , born in Pennsalvania to a town named Smyrna , with a set of golf clubs I should have sold several years ago.

Yesterday the day I started talking about I went golfing with my Pastor and two Church Members , I played horribly and left physically tired and drained , but it was without a doubt the best golf experience I can remember ...for me it was more than a game , it was an affirmation of Gods steady and mighty hand on my life ...A God who knows when to prune and when to graft , a God who knows how to knit and weave , and bring all things into harmony and unity in His time ... A God who bears us on wings of eagles and can even remind us in a great and ancient game of His grace and love ...

Looking back there has been no random actions ...all is part of a plan still playing out ...and I feel so blessed and so humbled to have been invited to the game .

It was a pleasant spring day , one day in a stretch of days that trail back to the foundation of time , a day purposefully and deliberately planned ...and I was so thankful to participate in it ...

Girdled for War and other memories

2008-09-02T19:32:00.000-07:00

After the great raid , ( the name I had given to our Grecian adventure on 35th street ) we returned back to the safety and comfort of our block . By any stretch of the imagination the raid had been a total success , we had destroyed the oppositions fort , turned over at least one lemonade stand and left the 35th street gang in a total state of disarray. This had come at little cost to us, Rex had ripped his pants , one of our bikes had a flat tire , my brother was lost , and worst of all I had lemonade stains on my mothers new Girdle.
There was a chance I might get in trouble over that Girdle in the first place and the lemonade stains almost guaranteed it . The cost of our victory might be higher than I had planned to pay.

It like so much and so many other its in my life began with a choice. In this case the choice was whether to borrow the Girdle or not to borrow the girdle. And this choice was a in fact a confluence of Choices going back well into the past.

There was one area in our house that was supposed to be inviolate , a place of refuge and safety for my parents and this area was their bedroom. IT was an unwritten law that entering the bedroom without permision was a crime. And while my parents did everything possible to assist me in being a criminal in this regard at some point I knew I would not be able to blame them with any conviction if I was caught breaking this law .

On the other hand there was much to discover in their room . It all started innocently at first , I needed gunpowder ...and my father stored his ammunition in the bedroom, I wasn't supposed to know that , but in a two bedroom house there aren't too many secrets. I needed the gunpowder for my science experiments , in this case I was experimenting with gunpowder. I had found that a little bit of Gunpowder could add a little extra kick to my homemade bombs.

Latter I would find that gunpowder would also provide an extra kick to rocket fuel , but I am several years ahead of myself here. My father kept the ammunition in his dresser drawer which was right next to my mothers underwear drawer. Of course the first time I was pillaging the dresser I did not know about the underwear drawer nor did I have a really good foundational understanding of women's underwear, and that included my mother's.

Perhaps this is the time to also note that I do in fact realize that this is a " Christian " book and here I am telling a story about rummaging around in my mothers underwear drawer ...I hope in time to make all things clear and hopefully connect my curiosity with my mothers underwear with some great spiritual principals , but I am also severl years ahead of myself here .

The first time I discovered the drawer , I was somewhat confused as to what I had found , there was something deep down inside of me , something unexplainable that this was not my fathers underwear ..and with only the two of them sharing this room I was inspired to believe this must be my mothers ...there was some confusion after all these items were not made from sturdy cotton , they were silky and soft and ...well daintier ...and then I saw the girdle , I had no understanding of this device , at first I thought it was swim wear , but a careful look and I knew it was at best only half a swimmer . It was sturdy, it was white , it was quite long it looked to me like it would fit me and the pants leg part would almost extend to my knees , I gently placed the girdle back into the drawer and plucked out a couple of shotgun shells from my fathers drawer .

I preferred using the shotgun shells to the 30 06 shells he also had in his drawer . I learned form experience that it was easier to remove the gunpowder from the shotgun shells than from the metal jacketed rifle rounds ...you really know who your friends are when you ask them to hold a steel jacketed bullet in a pair of pliers as you try to use a hacksaw to open it up ....at one time I thought that if I heated the lead bullet part up with a stove top I could pry it loose easier , but it didn't work out the way I planned.

I has kept the discovery of the girdle safely tucked into my brain ..and then when we started planning the great raid and I was looking for the perfect costume I retrieved the information form my mind and decided that the girdle was just what I was looking for ...taking my dads socks was more of an impulse and I had already used the idea of the towel for a cape . The swim cap and feather was Rex's Idea ...he thought it would look silly on him so he suggested I wear it , and thought he was foolish for not seeing the possibility.

My plan was to wait for the right moment and slip into my parents bedroom , grab the girdle then run like all get out. I would change into my warrior uniform in the tree fort ...slid on a pair of jeans and slip away on my bike...for the most part the plan went well ...I was able to grab the girdle when my mother has walked to the store , changing was no problem , I ran into a little problem when I discovered my Bike was not going to make the trip , but when my brother rounded the corner with that " where are you going " look in his eye I decided to invite him into the gang ...At first Bob was somewhat skeptical , trust was always an issue with him , but I assured him he wasn't;t part of a science experiment. That he would be an important part of the foray , and the rope was definitely needed ...at one point he protested that since I was bigger I should pull the wagon , but I reminded him that I knew he had broken moms baking dish and I knew where he had buried it ...and he stopped protesting and let me lash him to the Wagon....A few blocks away we stopped so I could complete my costume and as I was putting the feather in the hat I heard some of the neighbor girls laughing ...I told them they shouldn't tease my brother like that then I gave a hearty giddy up and off we went ...cape flying in the wind and a blur of white girdle as we headed down 33rd street.
we were a group of hard driven neighborhood kids ..Led by Rex and myself we were also accompanied by Mike squirrly Hukins, Norm stinky Simpkins, Andy one hand ( after an unfortunate accident with a pair of pliers and steel jacketed bullet , and Linda beefcake O'mally who for a short period in the 80's was the lead blocker for the San Francisco Bombers roller derby team. each of us had dressed in their best fighting clothes. rex was wearing his coonskin cap and genuine Hop Along Cassidy leather vest and chaps, Norm who was part Nez Peirce indian was wearing war paint ( actually lipstick and eyeliner ) , Andy still had his hand in a cast which he had dipped in black paint , and Linda was dressed like Peter Pan with a Baseball bat . Of note was Norms Bike which had half of a Antler set strapped to the handlebars .
As we caravanned down Capital Highway we could easily see the looks of admiration and envy from the passing cars , and even a few noses pressed against the glass seemed to be weeping and convulsing as viewers seemed to instinctively understand the grand undertaking we were undertaking ...while I felt a little odd standing in a red wagon being pulled by my brother with a rope around his waist in mothers girdle I knew that most driving by would quickly see it was no girdle at all but the gilded armor of a dashing Greek warrior ...Anyone who had read the Iliad would instantly recognize the similarity.
Later I learned that Zane Grey's book the Broken Spur was the most popular read in the Northwest.
We traveled down Capital highway for two blocks then turned right on 35th street , enemy territory ...we had only peddled a few feet when we saw them gathered around the Karnes Kid's Lemonade stand ...they were surprised and terrified when they heard our shouts and screams Four of us were shouting my brother was screaming. Although to be fair our war shouts could have used some improvement. I had Asthma and when excited I wheezed better than I shouted , Rex had a lisp , Norm Stuttered and Linda hadn't decided on a good war cry so she just shouted Hey Ricky !!! ( she loved the I love Lucy Show ). My Brother was screaming because He couldn't swerve fast enough to avoid the lemonade stand. There are some images that don not fade away , they are etched , nay sculpted in to the matrix of the mysterious place where Memories are reside. Here the five of us dressed in our warrior garb , led by half naked chubby boy with lipstick and mascara smeared across his cheek , on a bike with half a deer head wired to the Handle bar , followed by a Greek warrior in his mothers girdle being pulled on a red wagon with his wide eyed brother lashed to it , several other s in distinguished gear following close behind , startled the 35th street gang scattered like watermelon Seeds at a Ghallager concert ....unprepared for this reaction my brother caught up in the moment and showing al the signs of a first time rookie , rushed forward and in the confusion I was thrown head first into the lemonade stand ...thank God for the Swimming cap ...I was soaked all over with fresh squeezed Lemonade ...I think it was the combination of the warm day and the sticky lemon drink but I could actually feel the girdle shrinking up and soon my " armor " undergarments were tight enough to kill my pet hamster and I was still in them ....the walk home was not as fun as I thought it might have been , I was walking because my brother had taken off ..and we were not sure where he went ...I was concerned about this because Bob still had the rope and it was my Dad's ...As I began the long walk home I was feeling a little discomfort , not only was the armor shrinking the wet lemonade was staring to chaff , by the time I got home I was walking bowlegged and with a definite hop ...

winding down

2008-09-01T07:25:00.001-07:00

So there you go I was a normal well adjusted young child growing up in Portland Oregon, the fifties were years of celebration and innocence , the sixties were in the future and few clouds could be seen on the horizon.
As my adventures escalated I was becoming more aware of the background noises , the static of the world I was growing up in. I remember listing to the radio in 1953 that the Koren war had come to a uneasy end. I was aware in the same year that we had a new President of the United States a war hero name Dwight D Eisenhower. Each year brought more and more awareness of the world I had been invited into During this period from 1953 to 1960. I didn't know it at the time but I was a Boomer, part of a great wave of children born as World war two ended and hundreds of thousands of young men and women settled down , after the brutal World wide conflict. The parents of the boomers were gracious and giving , no expense was spared to build schools and playgrounds. Boomer parents wanted above all else that their children live in a world that was better than the world they remembered before the War began. I think they also knew there would be a cost and they were prepared to pay it, roads were built , schools were raised , college's were getting record enrollments.
American Victory in World war 2 gave Americans a profound sense of moral certitude , good had triumphed over evil , and we were very good. There are a great number of books that explore this period in our countries History , this is not one of them , I care to note that growing up in Portland Oregon between 1953 and 1960 was not growing up in a vacuum ..the politics of the nation and the politics of the world were a backdrop to my life , my growth and my understanding of the world.
These early years were helping me to lay down a foundation that I would continue to build upon for the rest of my life. early in my life I was Diagnosed with Asthma which usually manifested itself in the form of severe Hay fever , from a very early age I was taking shots for this affliction, the shots were given to me at a doctors office about a mile and a half from where I lived so twice a week I would walk either with my mother or by myself to the clinic and receive two shots in each arm. While pretty annoying , these shots allowed me to participate after a few years in most outdoor activities. For several years I spent much of my time indoors and with little or no television available I discovered the magic of books , I read voraciously devouring books at an amazing rate. I was interested in science and nature and in the classics. I spent long hours at the Hillsdale Library which had recently opened. IN the third grade we were required to read at least one book per month and I was reading one a day. I was becoming a nerd and was unhappy with this development , I would hide my glasses when I went to school and I would try to excel in sports and and adventure often failing spectacularly. I quickly began a pattern of easily getting the highest grades in my tests and neglecting to turn in homework ...as a result I recieved the grades of an average student , and was also involved in several accelerated programs for above average students as well , I was in a speracil language class that taught German as a second language , and I was in the Seventh and Eight grade special science class which I was admitted to when I was in the Fourth Grade .
Both of these honors were readily embraced by my parents. Neither my mother or father had graduated from High School , yet both of them had a profound appreciation of education, My mother would spend long hours with both my brother and I using what were called flash cards , these flash cards were designed to assist us with Math and Language skills. Reading was encouraged and expected in our home , and both my Brother Bob and I were encouraged to have discussions with the adult friends of my parents. My father assisted both bob and I in our interests , he helped with Science fair projects and drove us to the Library even when bone tired and weary from his physically challenging job of lineman / tree trimmer for Portland general electric . My parents were not only concerned about our education they were also interested in our spiritual well being so they started taking us to the Hillsdale Community Church just a few blocks away. On Sundays we would go to Sunday School class , Bob and I went downstairs to the children's class , and my Mother and Father would stay upstairs. We would then meet together upstairs to hear the message sing songs and pass the offering plate.
In class we would talk about Jesus and the Disciples and the hero's of the Bible , Noah , we spent allot of time on Noah and Joseph. Our Church had lots of Youth activities and potlucks and seemed to be very pleasant. I have no negative recollections of my early Church life , and in fact learned to enjoy wearing my suit and tie to the service. If I had to choose I would say I enjoyed the later part of the service the most , espicially the songs ...even at a very early age I had several favorite songs that I enjoyed hearing . MY father had a pretty good voice and I enjoyed hearing him sing I come to the Garden alone , and the Old Rugged Cross . Years latter we would sing that song at his funeral.
My mother did not work outside of the home , when I came home from school she was there , and usually with some kind of treat , cupcakes , cookies , jello and kool-aide When we burst through the door mom would ask about our day and we would give her the highlights , sometimes we had friends with us and they would be welcome and fed as well. If we went to a friends house after school always let Mom know in advance that was our plan and where ever we went there would a mom there as well with cupcakes, cookies, Jello and kool-aide.

Lessons Learned ?

2008-08-31T07:52:00.001-07:00

When I look back on the years between six and thirteen I have great difficulty squeezing it all in.In those seven years I have so many vivid memories. Our family going to the Drive Inn eating popcorn out of a brown sack that my mother had popped on the stove . We had a tree fort in the backyard that was the envy of our neighborhood that my father built, it was from this tree fort I first found that my brother would bounce at least twice if dropped from said tree fort .. I remember a green house on the vacant lot we owned and being told to stay away from it , and I remember Rex Riley and I sliding down the glass roof and dropping to the ground below each of us landing on a protruding nail butt first. Once I hit myself in the head with a brick while lecturing my friends about gravity This was before I realize it was easier to experiment with my brother. I remember the first time I met my best friend Lee when we were in the second grade by beating him in a feisty game of tether ball court have vivid memories of the Movie Theater in Multnomah Burning down. I have very fond memories of learning about the outdoors at two different cabins we spent time at on the Oregon Coast. .It was during this period that I learned to ride a bike and found that this gave me more freedom and a greater understanding of our neighborhood, from my association with Grade school and the ability to travel I found that there were indeed other blocks in our small part of the West Hills and these blocks had other kids on them , with other secret places and grocery stores and while the kids on these blocks looked like me somehow they were different and different meant going to war with them , Rex and I had gathered a few other willing kids from our block , and we would convert our red wagons into war wagons and fashion wooden spears and clumsy home made bows and arrows , we would make swords out of thin pieces of plywood and we would with our bikes tow the wagons into the enemy neighborhoods laying waste to their forts and knocking over their lemonade stands. I remember once my bike has been damaged and I tricked my brother into towing my Chariot byt tying a rope around his waist and attaching it to the wagon I rode in he wasn't as fast as the Rex's Scwinn, but with a little encouragement he was more maneuverable and he wouldn't get a flat tire.for these events I dressed offical Greek warrior mode ( having been inspired by the Illiad ) this uniform included a bathroom towel and my mothers girdle and my fathers dress socks with a rubber swim cap with a feather in it. I was nothing if not well dressed in those days . And quite fiercesome as I girldled myself for war.
I found out early that life can't all be fun , I had habits and I had to pay for them on my own, for awhile I received an allowance from my parents , but this allowance came with strings , I had to do chores , these chores got in the way of my new found freedom and were an insult to the growing Greek warrior that was consuming me . Washing Dishes was for sissy's I wanted man work. And I got it for several summers I joined up with dozens of other neighborhood children , who met very early in the mornings in front of the grade school grimly holding unto lunch boxes and canteens. We all had exchanged our allowance income and all of its strings and legalism for our own independence and real money earned by picking Strawberries and Beans and Blackcaps ...I became like many in our neighborhood a migrant worker. The work in the Fields was hard , the hours were long and the sanitary conditions were not very sanitary , but the rewards ! At the end of the day we were paid in cash ! Many of the kids who gathered at the school were the same ones my gang of Greek warriors had soundly smashed back in the day , and it was not unusual to have some defeated foe with tears in his eye ask meekly if I was the Girdle man ...All I can say is life was far less complex in those days. It must have been very difficult as well , for later as we grew up , we choose instead to allow other people to do this field work , then we ate the food they picked , and packed and stacked on our grocery shelves and told them they were not wanted in this country. there were several summers of Bean and strawberry picking , Newspaper route And the Cub Scouts. In school I was admitted to the Seventh and eight grade science class when I was in the fourth grade.the highlight of this association was putting a hand made rocket through the window of a National Guard Jeep. During these years my brother and I learned that Santa Clause wasn't real. The there was my first phone call to a girl , my first rejection, my first date , and my first Hospital procedure which came on the eve of my first date. Sometime in these seven years I found myself fancying myself as an outdoors man and took up fishing and hunting I still remember my first caught fish. And how clever I was to use my brother to drag my lure and line across a rain swollen creek so I didn't have to cast as far. There were family trips to Oklahoma , one or more to southern California ...Going to Sunday school . During this period I got my first suit and my first cowboy outfit , and thought I often got when to wear them Mixed up was able to always dress myself quite well. Wearing a cowboy outfit to Sunday school with six shooters plastered at your hip might have raised a few eyebrows in the 50's but I was simply way ahead of our times. Our Sunday School class was taught by a man who had a boat so I learned to water ski even thought it did take me longer to learn to let loose of the tow rope when your skies fall off.One of the truly great stories and high point of my my life was watching my brother fall like a watermelon over a cliff only to be stopped at the last minute by my father. while I am being somewhat brief in these recollections this requires ( demands ) some more explanation. The place was Ecola state Park near Canon Beach Oregon. This Headland area has broad picnic areas that drop steeply to a series of rocky pools that are filled with salt water fish, we had been told how good the fishing was so we set out to claim our share of the bounty of the sea. MY brother who had little regard for style was dressed in well used jeans and these thick clumsy looking shoes with reinforced steel cleats on the heel and toe. I was dressed more stylishly in white calypso pants , yellow rubber thongs. I Honestly don't remember much about the going down the cliff part , I know the slope was steep , and the fishing was not as great as it was advertised , my brother and father had not planned as well as I had and each had only one fishing pole and a small tackle box between them, I was much better prepared bringing two poles three reels and a sturdy tackle box about the size of a steamer truck. and a bucket to bring the freshly caught fish back home in. It was a wonderful day ..with only a few offhand comments from my Father after he had made the extra trip back up the cliff to bring me the rest of my equipment. My Brother had been smart enough to bring my tackle box with him on the first trip. I had found the trek a little difficult with my choice of foot gear but with my father carrying me part of the way all was ok. Like I said the day was wonderful , my father seemed to be not enjoying it as much as me , but I was guessing it was only because he was thinking about returning to work the next day, and he was a little bruised by my spare fishing pole that had fallen from my grasp and landed on his foot. Soon it was time to head back Bob started off first , I reluctantly agreed to carry his fishing pole as he lugged the steamer trunk up the cliff . I found his attitude to be a little annoying as I also had the empty fish bucket to contend with and my flip flops had suffered a separation fo the toe thingy and they were more flopping than flipping. The climb up the cliff was not going well at all ...I was having trouble with my footgear and my bare knees were brushing against the volcanic rock and boithering me some. MY father who was very gracious choose to help me as best he could and at one point I was holding on for dear life to the end of the metal pole I had brought and Dad was holding onto the other end , beneath me was the foamy waters of the pacific ocean about fifty to an hundred feet down we must have looked a little odd two people in the Chaos of life embracing the gentle curve of the cliff , My father holding onto a sturdy tree root in one hand , his other hand grasping a fishing pole which had attached to the other end his precious older son with hsi sparkling white calypso pants and his flopping flip flops, I was determined to hang onto the fishing pole al thought at one point I thought the Bucket might keep me afloat if I fell into the ocean. Then it happened ...slowly at first there was a little trickle of dirt and gravel from above , probably a seagull had dislodged it , then more and larger pieces of debris started falling our way ..I distinctly remember my father shouting gently to my brother to knock it off or he would beat him mercilessly , Dad did seem to be a little grumpy at this point. Then the Steamer trunk sailed past us ..I didn't have enough time to watch it hit the water because it was followed by my brother sliding down the cliff butt down and this rather odd quizzical expression on his face , one I had only seen once before when I dropped him out of the tree house, this time I was watching this expression from below and it was even more dramatic. This is one of those times when time does stand still , I am sure I could see my father weighing his options on one end of the fishing pole was his first child , the child who had burned down the forest , tried to burn down the grade school , the child who had failed to pay attention , who had stole a jar of pickled shrimp from Mr Colemans Grocery Store and hidden it in his Paper bag, all this and more , from above came hurtling the younger child who showed great promise in school , who had been injured once before in a fall from a tree fort and who had stayed home and raked leaves , and stacked wood and washed dishes ...two children one choice and with amazing reflexes my father while still holding onto me reached out with his only free appendage his left leg and stopped my brother in mid tumble , my brothers steel jacketed shoes dug into my fathers leg but the leg did not give and for a brief moment all three of us were firmly fixed to the side of the cliff all staring at each other , then with out even a word my brother turned and raced back up the cliff barely touching the earth ...a few minutes later we all gathered at the top, we were sworn to secrecy , my mother would never know about this. at least not for a few days.
This is how I remember it , I have to admit the story grows some each time I tell it , but it happened pretty much as written, we were held by angels on that day , a few inches made all the difference between a famous family story that would be told at reunions and late night conversations , and a moment of tragedy that would haunt the survivors forever.

...

7403 SW 32nd

2008-08-28T21:09:00.000-07:00

what follows , is a narration which is not confined by the usual boundaries of Chronology. From age six to thirteen my life was shaped by all that touched me in the house at 7403 SW 32.
The house was small, two bedrooms , kitchen , back porch, one bathroom and a living room with a fireplace. After the problems with the discolored screen in our upstairs bedroom in Sellwood we would never again live in a two story house.
The house was on the corner of 32 and Miles. I used to think of this as the command center for the bull. The bull was the block we lived in. The block was defined by Miles Street to the North , 32 street to the East , 33 street to the West , and Capitol Highway to the South. If you were facing the bull the right hand horn was the local Grocery Store two blocks away, and the left hand horn was the dark and mysterious forest we called the woods. In fairness the woods were actually an undeveloped sliver of land about two blocks square , until I burned down a portion of it with a homemade bomb.
On the North Corner of 33rd and Miles was the home of Rex Riley , my childhood playmate and the only person I have ever wounded with a knife. Across the Southern Boundary was Multnomah Grade School , which boasted four separated classrooms two of which were used for Kindergarten , the other two for some sort of Cold War intelligence gathering ( or so we thought ), a large paved area used as a play ground for the kindergarten. The upper school had an auditorium which coupled as the school cafeteria , so that when you went to the annual Christmas Play you could still easily smell the heady aroma of mac and cheese in the air. There was a Gym large enough to have a trampoline , and a basket ball court where we would also play dodge ball , and learn about the mysteries of life. IN fact it was in this very gym that several of us younger boys learned that not all was what it seemed...for several months we had noticed that one of the eight grade girls had been not only been growing up , but out as well , the out part was what had got our attention , and it appeared the envy of some of the other older girls as well ...that is until the poor girl was hit full in the chest by a hard driven dodge ball by Bobby Devore and the entire gym seemed to come to a standstill as her chest deflated with an audible whoosh and she ran crying out of the gym. In an instant her life had changed , no more dreams of High School beauty pageants and homecoming courts , she became an source of jokes and ridicule , the story grew each year until at one point I heard a version of it where the concussion of the escaping air from her brassiere was enough to knock over Mrs Hannah the third grade teacher who needed a cane to get around. Nature abhor es a vacuum and in she was replaced in the hierarchy of adoration by Tam ONeil who was much more natural , yet still nicely curved .
Where was I ? Oh yes Multnomah Grade School had sixteen classrooms , until my seventh grade year then fifteen usable ones after the unfortunate incident with the Bunson burner and Turpentine that seemed to have something to do with me.
Directly across the street from the school were three buildings on the right was the Masonic Temple , On the corner of 33rd street and Capital Highway was Verdemum Oil , the local gas station and fuel oil storage for the neighborhood , there were usually three of four service station attendants and mechanics out an about at this location all dressed in green coveralls , after the small disasters in the woods and the fire at the school a large fence was built around the Oil Storage Facility , and several armed guards were added ...I also was asked to no longer walk past the facility but I believe that was an overreaction.
There were two other areas nearby that figured into these growing years one was directly north of our house propped on top of the hill we lived on , and that was the air raid tower, at least once a week we were reminded of the ever present danger of the Communist aggression and were sent diving for cover under our school desks as the long and mournful horn from the tower would cover our playground with the sound of doom , the other area was west of that a new housing development that let me shave several minutes off my paper route until I was denied access to the area after building a small dam , which backed up and almost destroyed a house and its foundation.
This then was the area I grew up in in West Portland. It was the neighborhood and it was a place dear to my heart. In time my parents would move a new home unto the vacant lot next to our home on the corner ( 7415 SW 32 ) , I would enter High School from that house and I would be living there until my first marriage , my father would die in the house , after a short struggle with lung cancer , and my mother would live alone there for Abbot twenty years , never getting over his passing, After dad died the house got darker , often the joy of my childhood seemed far away , and moms sadness and depression evident through her struggles against it made it more and more difficult to visit ..little did I realize then that I was also contributing to this cycle of despair by my reluctance to confront it. I had no way to comfort my mother , and in my frustration I drew away from her , I had no way to comfort myself with the loss of my Father so I looked for distractions where I could find them , it was like I had no currency to pay the piper his due. I had chased the dog laughing and teasing and pulling on his tail and the dog had inexpicably bit me ...and I confess there was a time when this magical block , this land of my soujourn , the neighborhood I grew up in was ignored , and shoved out of my busy life , all that had given so much to me was ignored and foresaken I had put those pieces of the puzzel away.
Mom moved to Spokane as she neared the end of her life , though we did not know it was the end ...I still go by the house on the corner of 32nd and miles when I am in the area , and when I do I often sit quietly in front of the house , think of those years of running green in the sun , think of two wonderful and loving parents who gave so much in service to their children...my jaw gets tight , and it starts to ache and tears will invariably flow ..so much past , so much lost , so many thank you's un thanked , so much unappreciated in the headlong rush to being a grown up.
There are more stories to tell ...and now I am between the house on 32nd and Miles and Los Angeles and San Diego with far less miles to go before I sleep.

Puzzeled by the past

2008-08-28T08:39:00.000-07:00

When I first sat down to write this portion of my journey out I realized that there was alot I didn't even know ...in fact so much I had contemplated taking a trip to Oklahoma to spend some time with my mothers sister , and asking her a few questions , I had some time off planned and it would be a nice road trip , but then things changed , calls were made and I ended up working most of this week. So now I am going to try to go forward with out the answers to some questions and as I write perhaps even more.
I know this much , I was born in Denver Colorado , at the time my parents lived in a mining town called Climax Colorado , it is true I was conceived in Climax. The mine was an open pit mine and the ore being extracted was Molylibdium , a metal used mostly for Jet aircraft because of its strenght and lightness ..I am reasonably certain that my Father worked on the sides of the pit , placing explosive charges into the earth. Probably suspended by thin cables and dangling several hundred feet in the air.
I vaguely remember my parents telling me of that Winter in Colorado with snow literally piled over the house we live in. The snow and the cold was probably why Mom and Dad considered moving to Portland , which they did within 19 months because that is when my brother was born in Portland Oregon ...I am not sure if he was conceived in Climax or not , and that is one question I probably would not want to ask Aunt Alice.
When we moved to Portland we lived in Sellwood , a small suburb south of Downtown Portland, and about three blocks from my fathers Parents. Elizabeth and Herman Sitlger. Herman was an immigrant from Germany and work for the Blitz Brewery in Portland , Elizabeth an immigrant from England. My best recollections of Elizabeth was of her crocheting and making coffee.
My mothers home was far away in Muldrow Oklahoma , her Father was Native American , and her Mother was an Irish Immigrant. In those days there was little talk of " Illegal immigrants " and more talk about the sins of the Native Americans . so when my Mothers Father " registered " with the US Government he fibbed and said He was 1/2 native. So now legally I am 1/8th .
My first recollection /Memory of life was living in Sellwood , this Memory is more like a composite of many memories , and is more likened to the debris at the bottom of a large cliff where deposits are all mixed together giving no indication of Chronology.
I remember a babysitter who lived across the street , neighbors who become famous when they got the first TV in the block and we would go over to vist and take a look at the new device. I remember my brother and I shared a room and I had the top bunk until it was determined that my bed wetting was making his life difficult , so I ended up with the bottom bunk.
At first I was troubled by this but two great benefits soon extended themselves to me. The first was I found that by tucking a sheet or blanket into the top bunk I could make myself a private cave ..a cave that was my own private and personal fortress. and that my being on the bottom bunk gave me ready access to the bedroom window that afforded me an opportunity to relive myself with out hiking downstairs to the bathroom.
The screen in front of the window was no obstacle to me but I do remember a slight changing of color that soon gave me away , that and the fact that one night I urinated on my father who was taking out the garbage. MY father was understanding and only used his hand on my bare butt and not the belt , something that at the time I was unable to appreciate the grace involved.
We lived in that house until I was six years old ...I went to Kindergarten early , and I must have had some problems because the next year when we moved ..I repeated Kindergarten ...I am not sure if you can say that life is up hill or down hill after you fail kindergarten , but somehow I survived ...my only memory of my first school experience is accidental hitting a girl with a jumping rope and then being so frightened , and scared of the sure and swift punishment I hid behind a tree until the class went back into the school , then I waited until school was out and pretended I had been in class when my mother walked down to pick me up. I am sure that in time the realization that my class had spent the rest of the day not missing me had some profound effect on my life , but I am not sure at this time what it was.
There was a park not far from where we lived ( Sellwood Park ) and my mother would take my brother and I there , and she would lay out a blanket and watch us as we played on the swings , and teeter toter . I have a picture I took of this place a few years ago and I swear that the teeter totter boards look like the originals we played on.
It was there that I first realized how much I could torment my brother , I would spin him so fast on the playground merry go ground that he was no longer merry , I would raise him far up on the teeter totter then let him fall to the ground ..all this seemed to accomplish two things , one he lived in fear of me , and two I learned to live in fear of my fathers belt when he heard about behavior when he came home.
It was at a very early age that I learned there were consequences to my actions , but learning that and stopping them seemed like light years apart ...I knew from a very early age what I should do , and what I should not do , but I was compelled and driven to do the opposite.
As my sixth year was winding down , I became aware that plans were being made to move away from this paradise ...boxes were packed , furniture stacked , and we moved to a Suburb of Portland on the west side called Multnomah..the new house was smaller , there was no upstairs ( this is fallout from peeing on your father ). but it had a garage , and a very large lot and an extra lot as well ...there was room to roam and explore and still be close to home. There were adventures to be had , friends to make and books to open , and it all lay ahead of me ...

What happened between Weed And Selma ( Looking back )

2008-08-20T07:51:00.000-07:00

What happened between Shasta and Fresno backtracking

There are two answers to this ..the first is I don't know where that part of the book went off too , I am not very organized and if it wern't for Lori , there would be nothing left of that project ... I believe I did at one time have a written record of that day ...but not now.
The second answer is I have a very good idea ....
It was early morning when I was in Weed at the gas station, the cold air would have kept me awake and I turned left just out of Weed onto Interstate 5 ...heading south..its a downhill ride from Weed and soon the temperature would have been warming , there was no evidence of the sun rising , but in a few hours I would be getting tired ...more than likely I stopped and found a place in Redding California to sleep ..I like sleeping in a car , it feels safe and cave like ...when you wake up you simply tilt your seat up and go ...Probably as I went to sleep then for the next several hours I owuld have started thinking , really thinking about the turns and twists of my life ...when I remove myself from all the distractions of life I start thinking about me. Selfish perhaps, but there are some times when you look back, you know how it is ...one day you are six years old , you are chasing dandilions and throwing tantrums when you are told to go to bed ...you feel the first startling twinges of independence , and every thing is new ...so much new you simply can't take it all in , so your mind stores up memories which come flooding back to you when you least expect it. I would have started to think about my life in terms of memorable periods ...The early years from six to twelve , High School years , Sandy and the serious dating years , First marriage and college , Divorce , college , and Diana , Karen , Kaisa , and the Store in Sisters . Once I had started putting my life into these spaces I would like putting together a beach cabin Jigsaw Puzzel begin to fill in the middle ...

Sunset Strip

2008-08-16T09:08:00.000-07:00

( Please note that there is a part missing between the Gas Station in Shasta and the trip to Los Angeles )
That evening I decided to drive into Los Angeles. I would be there very late, but I would miss the traffic. The conversation with my cousin had really started me thinking. I went back to the thought about our lives being a tapestry, and I was realizing there is not much difference between a net and a tapestry, and the difference between them. I wondered how many people were caught in nets of their own. When we enter life, we are a part of someone’s work - the life we weave is a part of a larger work and often just our past traps us before we even have a chance to start our own work. Nancy had grown up in Selma; a child of Dust Bowl evacuees, her entire world had been formed around a hub of grape farming. She had inherited her mother’s smile, her father’s laugh and her family’s religion.

I must admit that this has been a huge stumbling block in my Christian life. It has always seemed to me that Christianity does have a cultural component to it, that many people who are Christians in the United States would be Muslim if they were born in Iraq. It has always seemed to me that there are loving and gentle people of good heart who are associated with most of the world faiths, and there are people who love to condemn others in most faiths as well.

Well, the drive from Selma to Los Angeles takes abut three hours, and I was up and over the Grapevine by 2 a.m. I had an urge to Cruise Sunset Blvd. I grew up with television, and Sunset Strip was one of those great icons of my youth. I have seen so many car chases down Sunset Blvd., I knew I would be no stranger there.

Soon I saw an exit that proclaimed Sunset Blvd /Hollywood, and I took it - and for a little bit, I did feel I was in the wrong place. This road of my teenage dreams wound unimpressively through a residential neighborhood, then squeezed past UCLA. I craned my neck, looking for the famous coeds, but none appeared. I drove past the Hotel California, past the famous neighborhoods of star worship - but I saw very few people or cars. Then I surged out of Beverly Hills and into the Sunset Blvd. of my remembrance. It’s not difficult to find temptation on the Strip, and everywhere I looked there were girls: some quietly and some sheepishly offering themselves for sale to the men and boys who flitted like fruit flies on the Strip and the intersecting roads. I saw lots of police, but they seemed hopelessly outnumbered. The words of the Paul Simon song, The Boxer, found their way into my mind: “There were times when I was so lonely that I took some comfort there,” and I wondered what drove the men to circle and the women to offer themselves up to strangers with such ease. I thought, “Somewhere there is a wife sleeping, comfortably unaware; and someplace else, a girlfriend fretting. Somewhere, a family room with a picture of a pert young girl with a flawless complexion looking out over the mantle. How many faces did I see that where in some living room in a distant land, framed with love and remembered in adoration? I wonder how long it takes for a policeman on this beat to lose faith with his or her fellowman, and distill all of us into a caricature of these evening immigrants. They are explorers and inhabitants of a world that borders Suburbia. Sedans and station wagons replace covered wagons and sailing ships - but there is only bitter harvest here. No minerals, no lumber - only broken dreams and passionless passion. I’m sure both seller and customer each will bear the marks of the blows that cut them down. I admit that I was fascinated by this swarm of people – the furtive looks, the outlandish appearance, the men in cars darting from lane to lane. Police with stoic understanding, stopping, questioning. Lights glimmering neon; proclaiming billboards elbowing each other; while in another world, not too far away, families slept and college students worked into the late hours forming paragraphs about social justice and world change. I suspect every major city has their Sunset Strip. It’s always a place on the “other side of the tracks,” just outside our understanding - but close enough to point at. I think each of us has our own Strip as well; it’s a place were we can occasionally blur the line between right and wrong. It’s also a place we can easily recognize in others. And just as it seems that those of us in Portland and Sacramento like to point toward Sunset Blvd. and Times Square, in our own home towns there are streets that slither through the gardens we have built.

I wanted to see Grumen’s Chinese Theater before I left, and I finally found it a few blocks away on Hollywood Blvd. The sun was coming up; the tops of the buildings were soaking in the light. There was a relay going on, and the people of the night were handing the baton over to the people of the morning. The bus stops were filling up with tired-looking people, most of them Hispanic or black, and most seemed to be headed into the richer neighborhoods of Beverly Hills and Belair. I suspect these were the domestics, the ones who mowed the neatly landscaped yards, who tended the dogs and washed the cars and a thousand other menial jobs. Some of these people stared at me with fierce pride, but most simply seemed to be asleep on their feet , thinking of the last moment of love’s embrace or of bills to be paid .

I pulled into a Denny’s for a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast. I know I must have had a book with me; if I eat alone, I have to have something to read with me. I’m sure there is something Freudian about that, but I think I will save the money on the exam and use it to buy more books. I was probably in Denny’s for about an hour, and when I came out I saw a new crowd taking the baton. These were the secretaries and the young executives, some at the bus stops and some in their own cars, filling up the Strip once again. As I looked at these people, I saw some staring back defiantly and others asleep, thinking of last moments of love’s embrace or bills to be paid.

My next stop was Chula Vista, just South of San Diego. There was a dear online friend I planned to visit there; her screen name was Quietedone, and her real name was Cathi.

ROAD TRIP

2008-08-15T06:52:00.000-07:00

Most business have cycles , in Sisters Oregon , the months of January and February are very slow , we would get a little surge on the weekends , and a nice bump on Presidents day weekend ..but other than that it was very very slow. Having survived Christmas , and having done better than I suspected. I looked at the money situation , I was able to pay another months Rent on the store the mortgage on the home that my wife and child lived in , I seemed alittle ahead , and the bills I should be paying seemed much smaller than those big bills and I could make them up during Spring break..so I did the only responsible thing for a financially irresponsible person, ROAD TRIP....
The Datsun which before seemed like it could barely make it to the Pioneer Market , now was perfectly suited to making a 3000 mile journey to California , How it made this change I don't know , it might of been the sun striking it on the dusty hood just right , or the little bit of rubber I managed to lay down when I peeled out in front of a speeding Log Truck , because I couldn't wait 5 seconds longer to get in on the wseeklong sale of frozen dinners at the Market ...no matter what, the car now looked fit to head South.
Sisters Oregon is near Highway 97 which is a North South route which pierces the High desert plateau of Oregon and somewhere near Shasta Mountain connects with the big asphalt river ..Interstate 5 , the drive takes you along side of the Cascade Mountains sitting on your right hand side ..the tall peaks were snow covered and at some place I would cross them , but far enough south that snow should not be a factor.
A journey of that length demands some careful planning ...I got the idea to go south around six pm on January 2nd, made a few calls to my employees, and by seven PM I was packing the car ... I decided against maps because well I knew which direction South was , and I just threw in the few clothes I had with me at the time , considered putting a Frozen dinner on the engine to thaw as I drove , but decided against it ..probably the wisest choice I made in those few hours of planning.
My first stop was in Bend Oregon where I filled up the tank , and provisioned myself with ample Coca Cola , Coffee, Beef Jerky and a few Snickers bars ...my philosophy on road trips is travel light and don't stop expect for bathroom and gas breaks. As I left Bend it was very late , the roads were snow covered , My snow tires would be sufficnent and would soon be clacking away on the Southern California Streets.
I had no real reason to head south , I wanted to meet an Online friend in San Diego , I needed to clear my head , take some time for me , I was concerned that Beverly and I were getting too personal and too close , I just wanted to go somewhere else ...I wanted an adventure , or escape ...
As I headed south I realized it might be a good time to decide where to stay along the way ... In the morning I would call my Mother and get phone numbers of my cousins that lived near Fresno California and at least stay there the next night , for this evening all I planned was to just keep driving . Five hours later I was in Weed California ..looking for a gas station , behind huge bearms of snow ..
in Oregon you do not pump your gas , there are attendants who actually do that for you ...California forces you to pump your own gas, and this required understanding the pumping mechanism which I discovered later was different with each pump. I didn't realize this at first , instead I waited in my car for the attendent to come out and pump my gas. I could see the attendent but he seemed to have no interest in comming out he was chewing on adonut adn c=kept looking out at me , but made no movement to the door. finally i forced open the car door , which has been frozen shut by road slurry .. I slipped across the icy parking lot , and politly asked if the pumps were oppend. The guy with the donut in his mouth mutterd "yeth" I looked quizzically at him trying to nicely say " well I need gas " when it suddenly dawned on him and me there was something wrong ...After a few moments of awkward silence the donut chwer swallond and said ..this is a self pump station ...and suddenly that light went on and I heard myself say " you mean self ? as in I pump it myself ?" Now I remembered so I gave the guy a sheepish look and tramped out to fill up my car I tried to pump but nothing happened , I was standing out in sub freezing weather with a thin shirt on and I needed to pee , I was squeezing as hard as I could for gas and other reasons , and nothing was coming out ! well nothing I wanted to come out ..I was doing this little dance trying to forget that really insistent feeling and alsotrying to pry my fingers off the frozen nozzle so I could go back in the gas station and find out what I had overlooked . Back in the Gas station the attendant has plugged his mouth with a maple bar I asked him for help and he said " how muth " " I don't know" I need a fill up ..." you have to pay futh " he saids ...now my mind was racing at the speed of discomfort and I realized that I needed to pay in advance , but how much should I pay .. if I paid too little I would just have to do this all over again , sooner, if I paid to much I would have just tipped the guy with maple frosting smeared over his chin, I reached in my pocket ..shoved a twenty dollar bill on the counter and walked out to the car ...then it hit me I had forgot to pee...there are times that life can overwhelm you ..I had already paid for the gas , that pump was sitting there like a ripe melon , anyone could use my paid for gas if I raced back into the Gas station , yet there was no denying the insistant cramps that where now making my entire body convulse ..I had no choice I had to find the bathroom and I had to trust that no serial gasoline thief would be watching this from a distant perch on a snow berm ...I went back in to the Gas Station , the attended was chugging chocolate milk from a carton ... " bathroom" I squeaked out ... " in back" he said with a mouth filled with uneated maple bar and chocolate milk...I squirmed out the door choose right , should have choose left when I arrived , the door was locked ...I just about crawled back the the Gas Station , I Looked the guy full in the eye and noticed he was having a Snickers bar he said " you need a key " ..He handed me a key which was attached to a Car license plate which was in turn teathered to a 40 foot chain wrapped around a beer cooler ...at least it seemed that way ..and again I struggled out the door turned left and entered the bathroom, I should have got a clue when I noticed that the Bathroom also doubled as the Ice storage locker ...it was cold very cold , so cold you would want to go out side to warm up ...It was four AM and I just left the door open ... sometimes you just have to go native .

New friend on AOL Part 2

2008-08-14T06:48:00.000-07:00

The letter was friendly and warm , Beverly said based on our IM conversation she had already figured out I was not as young as I said I was , she also indicated she might be a little older as well , she was gracious and understanding and her letter was filled with grace and forgivness ..all of which I soaked up like a cheap paper towel soaks up spilled coke ...For the next several weeks Beverly carried on an ongoing conversation , sharing our dreams , our desires and our failures , after we got the age thing sorted out we realized we were very close to the same age , I was going through a divorce and she was contemplating one ..she had two grown children both heading off to college and a husband who as she explained it was very demanding , overbearing , non communicative.
We both realized that in another place and in another time we might have had a go at each other and based on the openess of our Compter conversations we realized that in fact we might make a very good go of it , but several thousand miles apart , and more hurdles than you find on a High School Practice field we were mature enough to understand having a go would have to pass ... I was hurtling toward the holidays , and I had started to dread them ...Thanksgiving would be the first holiday alone for me in some time ...Since the day after Thanksgiving is a huge shopping day I couldn't leave the area , so I planned to dine in alone and try one of the Marie Calanders Turky Dinners , spend some time on AOL , and putter around the store getting ready for the next day...I called my mother , wished her Happy Thanksgiving and called my Daughter and wished her the same ...Karen and Kaisa were spending Thanksgiving in Portland with her parfents.
AOL was kinda quiet with most of the people even the lonely ones having a brief interlude with real people ...the Frozen dinner was ok , just seemed odd eating your thanksgiving feast off of an aluminium plate ...somehow the meaning and vibe of Thanksgiving was lost , it became just a quiet day with little human contact , the local grocery store was closed , the tavern was closed and as the snow piled up it was a possibility that the mountain passes would be closed as well , meaning a poor sales day and even more worries ...somehow I stumbled into sleep late into the night or early into the day , not sure which.
All the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas became a blurr , buisness was doing ok , not great but better than expected considering the weather and my all nighters on AOL ...about this time I got my first bill from AOL ...I am not sure of the exact amount ..but I remember it was over $600.00...and that was the month woth all my free minutes ...I was a little shocked but so addicted to the chat rooms that I knew I was just going to have to find a way to keep online...bottle collecting, selling blood or other fluids , a host of ideas some good most bad ...
What I feared most about Christmas was simply being alone ...I needed to keep the store opened and I couldn't drive to Portland to be with my Mother , my brother lives even further away, Kaisa would be gone to Portland , and no one had offerd to take me in on Christmas ...partially because I was letting everyone know just how miserable I was and while they understood I am sure they wanted no part of my cynical , crankyt whiney , self to darkend their Holiday ...so as I watched Christmas sneak up on me I planned , and I hoped I had planned well
I had planned the next two days very well. I had food and treats and a new book to read, and several videos - all designed to keep my mind off what my mind was really on. I was lonely and I was desperately sad and I was not even sure if I would make it through the next two days.

I fixed dinner - roast beef with baby reds - and decided to pick up my mail from Beverly. I knew it was there; she had sent both letters earlier, and had marked them Do not read till Christmas Eve, and day. I opened Christmas Eve’s; it was a wonderful letter, heartwarming and encouraging. It ended with this exercise: Beverly asked me to describe myself in ONE word and then write why I chose that word. Looking back, I think this simple exercise was a gift from God. It helped me focus and helped me to take a good look at myself; after discarding COMPLEX, LONELY, and many others, I settled on TAPESTRY. I realized my life was a tapestry, woven together with the threads of many people. This is an image has never left me. Our lives are a measure of not only what we contribute to our work of art, but what others add to it also. Some of our tapestries are vibrant with dazzling contributions from ourselves and others. Some of our tapestries are bland from lack of color.

While working on my homework from Beverly, just on a lark I started exploring AOL. That’s when I found the Religious and Ethics Forum. This area was a multi-faith chat and message board area. I started to look at the message boards, and was amazed at the diversity of thought and, unfortunately, intelligence. The boards seemed to be dominated by far right Christian types, and it was not long before I was entering the cyber fray.

A New Friend on AOL

2008-08-13T12:59:00.000-07:00

It did not take me very long to lose interest in the chat rooms, but before I slipped totally away, I did meet a person who would become one of my very best friends and confidants. It happened this way: One night I was in my favorite chat room when I got IM’d. An IM is short for instant message. What happens is you can actually talk to someone in private with others knowing. I believe the IM is the greatest invention of online chat; it makes it possible for more “honest” friendships to occur, and keeps the level of tension at a minimum in the rooms because you can vent through IMs. Anyway, I was minding my own business; my screen name was Scott for Hugs, and I got this IM.

BEVERLY: Is this the Line for Hugs???

SCOTT: Well it’s a very short line

BEVERLY: that’s because I pushed them out of the way...

Beverly and I had a thoroughly engaging conversation. To me, it was clear immediately that THIS was a person I wanted to know more about. The problem was I had gotten off to a bad start. You see, I had panicked and had adjusted my age slightly; instead of 48, I had told her my age was 24. Now, I do believe that a few years are simply trivial to God, and very early into the conversation I managed to come clean and tell her I was really 27 (sometimes coming clean requires lots of scrubbing). After our initial conversation, this slight misrepresentation of my age began to gnaw on me. I realized that this was a person who could become my friend for life, and I had started our friendship by lying to her. She, on the other hand, had cleverly avoided how old she was; women can be so sneaky. I decided at that moment that, from that moment forward until the end of all recorded time, I would never be anything else than what I really am when I am talking online, and except for one brief angry moment when I posed as a Christian Cowboy called Stud for God I have been true to that promise.
All this is very nice in theory but here I was left with the reality that I misrepresented my real age to a person who I really wanted to know better ...and in knowing that person better eventually it would become obvious I was not 27 as I told her ...but much much older ...at least old enough in what might be one of the few brillant ephanies I can lay claim to ...choose to do the unimaginable ...I Immeaditaly emailed Beverly and told her the truth...Not only did I tell her but I begged for her forgivness and understanding. Then I waited for her to reply to my Email ...and waited , and waited ...I beleive I was at first concerned that she did not write me right off , then I was concerned that it was my Computer not working properly so I wrote myself an email , which I got then I wrote me back which I got again..It was nice having someone to write too and for a moment I forgot what I was really interested in , then when I checked for the email which wasn't there I admitt I got a little cranky , after all why wasn't this lady whom I had just had a wonderful conversation with , who must right now be racing back and fort to her computer to see if the dashing young man of 27 had written her back ...writting me back ..well the reason was obvious ..I had fibbed ...twisted the truth alitte bit ..
and Beverly had no more use for me than a tripod without a camera ..than a Bottled bear with out a bottle opener ( although since this was writted the twist top bottle cap was invented , heloing as it were to build up the wrist and tendons of frequent drinkers ) .
As I waited for the Email reply it was becomming obvious that my short lived relationship with this woman was , very short lived ...the wait became unbearable , beads of sweat appeared on my forhead , no easy task in the Winter weather of the Cascade town I lived in which was now buried in snow ...the minutes ticked by , the wait crushed my psyche , like a dead whale could crush a rose ..after the first five minutes ticked off the clock on the wall I was in total despair ...after ten minutes I was wondering if you could take an overdose of Marie Calander pot pies and end it all ...then as I pounded on the keys to check the mail for the umpteenth time there it was ..the reply from Beverly ...I took a deep breath , with trembling fingers I clicked on the Email ..and ...the computer crashed .
In the early days of AOL this was not unusual , being bumped off AOL was as common as being overcharged for frozen dinners ...it didn't last long , usually required rebooting the computer ..waiting a few minutes then starting over again, but when your whole life hangs in the balance , when every nuron, muscle , and fiber in your body is aching from the unkown ..then rebooting takes much longer ....much longer ...finally I was ready to read the letter ...

Dating AOL Style Part 2

2008-08-09T21:29:00.000-07:00

I did have enough time to sit and ponder the next move; should I be waiting for her, or should I let her wait for me? Each had their attractions and reservations. If I was waiting for her, the attraction would be my dependability - and I could of course orchestrate the best possible posture for her to see me in. First impressions are so important! However, if I was waiting for her, she might spot me and slip quietly out into the eroding evening, leaving me all alone in the winter of my discontent (and Mrs. Williams, my English teacher, thought I was not paying attention).

On the other hand (Have you ever wondered about that expression? Life is generally NOT ambidextrous; there hardly ever is another hand!), if she were waiting for me, she might first meet that airline captain, or think I’m a flake. She might also become so exhilarated by the anticipation she would fall into my arms in a swoon. I settled on being first (Was there ever really any doubt?).

So there I sat, looking as sexy and alluring as a short, pudgy, thinning-hair person could possibly look (did I mention I was getting older also?). Within a matter of seconds, it seemed that everyone knew what was up; I could hear whispering and murmuring.

“See that short pudgy guy over there?”

“...ahhhh, yes?”

“He’s meeting a known axe murderer.”

“No kidding! That’s horrible!”

“Well, that’s not the worst part! For one thing, he got here four hours early,”

“and his pants are wrinkled.”

“And I don’t know if I can tell you this, but...”

“...Yes, go on.... Come on, you can tell me!”

“...Well, OK, but don’t ever tell me I didn’t warn you....”

“Yes?”

“They met in a computer chat room!”

I’m not kidding you; the man fainted dead away. Pausing in reverie, I looked up just in time to see the woman I thought I was supposed to meet walk right past me and, before I could mutter anything, she strolled right up to a very elderly gentleman who was adjusting his teeth and said, “Are you Ken???”

This caused my little heart to soar; I mean, there was no comparison - unless of course the guy was a millionaire. I sauntered up and said, in my best trembling squeaky voice, “Are you _____?” She was.

We sat down and ordered our food, trying to make a good impression. I put a lot of thought into my selection, nothing that would be smelly, nothing that would leave stains on my hands, and nothing that would leave stringy bits of food stuck between my teeth. I think I ordered soup with a straw. We talked and shared brief life stories, we gazed into each other’s eyes. I guess we must have seen no one was home we wanted to get to know because we have never spoke again. Must have been like two passing ships on a stormy sea; both of us lonely, looking for answers and not even sure of the questions. We were polite to each other, but I suspect our real-life expectations did not match up with our online fantasies. We parted in that wet parking lot, me going my way and she going hers.

I drove back to the motel room to get the rest of my stuff; I had no desire to spend the night alone in an unfamiliar town. Somehow, it felt much better to spend the night alone in familiar territory. As I left the room, I took one look in the mirror. I wondered where that obnoxious but clever kid had gone. I looked closely and thought I could see a sparkle in my left eye, but the old guy in me just reached out, turned off the light, and went out into the parking lot and slid behind the wheel of a dirty green Datsun. As the engine klubbered away, I eased out into the road and pointed the car towards home. I passed the old man walking down the sidewalk, his hand clasping a well-worn coat. The coat belonged to the woman he was with, and as we passed, our eyes met - and I realized he was a millionaire.

The return trip was uneventful. I got home early enough to go online and see who was on; by this time. I had started to meet a few people and, even thought they were miles away, there is a comfort to having friends to chat with. A few of my friends were on, and we joked and kidded and (with cyber palms) slapped each other on the back and gave each other comfort.

Interlude Lori

2008-08-09T21:00:00.000-07:00

Usually when I tell my wife Lori that I love her , she asks "why " I mutter something like , because you' re cute , or because you are adorable , because of the way you smile ...something I say , just to buy me time , time while I truly try to answer this question because I understand that Lori is sometimes genuinely puzzled about my love for her ..
And the truth for me is cannot fully explain it ...its like explaining gravity. I know it exists I can experience the effects of Gravity and my love for Lori , but I cannot fully explain it ...on the surface it seems easy ..you drop an orange and it falls to the ground ...simple ...yet consider that everything we know is formed by atoms ...what holds the Oranges Atoms together to form the Orange , but lets the Orange drop to the Ground...what holds two people together in love ?
Lori is not my first wife , she is my third , but she is my last wife of that I am quite certain. What attracted us is complicated ...two lonely people reaching out to each other , discovery , need , ? Its uncertain , what is certain is that across a great expanse we found each other , courted , fell in love , married and have spent the last 13 years on a roller coaster .
Its certain that our love is not the young love of the High School sweethearts , its not the exploration of love of the twenty somethings ...Both Lori and I without saying it realize that in time , one of us will stand supported by family and friends as the other is buried and put to rest. One of us will carefully pack away clothes that will no longer be used or worn , a shirt that visited the OK Corral ( our local restaurant ) , a blouse bought in Portland Oregon, Sweat pants worn to bed hundreds of times , One of us will gaze at Loris carefully and lovingly prepared photo albums and scrapbooks ...pausing as the tears swell and the mouth trembles ...remembering a distant Anniversary trip to San Francisco , or a Sunset on the Oregon coast with dear friends..One of us will suddenly and acutely be aware of stored treasures , and the comon place items that touched the living now useless.
We know that day will come , and I suspect that each of us wishes , prays that it is not us left behind ...The promise of Heaven seems such a better trade , than the loneliness and sadness of life with out our helpmate and soul mate ...
It is unbearable for me to imagine life with out my dear Lori , and I suspect she holds the same feelings close to her heart ...
what is Love ...why do I love her , why does she love me ...we may never know ...but we know we love ...and to help us on when the end comes ...we know we are loved , by one who's love endures forever ...

Meeting a Stranger

2008-08-07T07:31:00.000-07:00

People who have never been online see any online activity as a perversion at worse, and a silliness at best – while meeting a woman in the appropriate manner (In Sisters this involved getting drunk and having her drive you home while you pretended to be simply tired from being such an extraordinary worker) is viewed as appropriate civil behavior, the idea that you might actually meet someone you have never even seen was considered flat-out foolishness. It kinda bothered me that my “friends” were more concerned about this part of the meeting than even venturing a, “You’re a damn fool for trying to drive that piece of crap over the mountain.” I suspect if I were driving that piece of crap to the local saloon, they might have mentioned that to me. They were triaging the whole thing and, as friends, I suspect they had my best interest at heart. And as friends, I could count on them to tell everyone in the town what a fool I was.

I was not going to be dissuaded, so I loaded up the Datsun and headed out .It was my plan to check into a motel and freshen up before I met this woman who would suddenly fall for me like a ripe coconut. Although a few more erotic fantasies slipped passed my moral sensors, I sincerely had no plan to use this room for anything but a staging place. Dinner was to be at 8 and, in an effort to be punctual, I arrived at the Motel at 4pm. The drive was more or less uneventful; only twice did I see fear on the faces of the drivers of oncoming cars as I slid and careened my way over the mountain pass. (I think that God shows God’s mercy by shutting off the lights early in winter, so we don’t have to see the contorted faces of those people who think they are about to die as a dirty green Datsun does a 360 directly in front of them.)

While some may think that arriving 4 hours early may be a bit eccentric, for me it’s normal. I hate to be late; I will leave early from places so that I won’t be late for the next engagement. Someone told me this was anal behavior, which was a nice way of telling me I was being a butthead, I suspect, for forcing them out of bed two hours early just in case.

But that’s another story.…

So, with four hours to go I did the responsible thing: I panicked !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I mean, I suddenly thought, “Hey, my friends might be right! This person might be a homicidal maniac! She could be an IRS agent - or she might even be a HE!!!!” Believe there is nothing on cable TV that can prepare you for a moment like this. Nothing – zilch! I thought I would use up some time taking a shower, but the water ran cold after fifteen minutes - I was on a budget you realize. So I shaved, and shaved and shaved. I prepared as well as I could, and still had about 3½ hours left. I pulled out a book to read; it was about some true life horrific murder and it helped put my mind at ease. I watched the digital clock click away. Fifteen minutes later, I had still 3 hours and fifteen minutes left to go. Another responsible reaction: I shaved again and checked my deodorant (you can never be too careful about deodorant these days, especially if you’re going to meet a homicidal murderer who can smell fear a hundred yards away). Then I cleaned my fingernails, thinking that if I did turn up dead that maybe that would help some fledgling forensic assistant to better find out the identity of the mysterious woman. I checked my pants and my shirt, I adjusted my belt, and thought about shaving again and I debated on when to put on my cologne: too soon and it would have no affect, too late and it might be overpowering. These are important decisions and, if nothing else, good reasons to be four hours early. Decisions should not be made in haste; I suspect that decisions also should not be made while in a strange motel room lying in your underwear while reading a book on a homicidal manic, while waiting to visit a stranger. By the way, I was lying in my underwear so as not to wrinkle my pants. If I would have sincerely thought I was going to get “lucky,” I would have laid nude so as not to wrinkle my underwear. Talk about anal.

Well I could keep you on the edge of suspense and prolong this part; the thought of millions of readers caught up in the whirlwind of suspense, waiting to see if I get lucky at Denny’s almost makes me cry. It’s great to be an American!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Soon the hours had drizzled into minutes (in Oregon, we use rain metaphors a lot), and it was time to go.

And time for my next panic attack: I DIDN’T KNOW WHERE DENNY’S WAS!

I had totally forgotten to locate it. Now I knew that, after arriving four hours early, I might possibly end up being late. A scenario flashed in front of my anal-retentive retinas: The woman who would soon bear my children was going to walk into Denny’s and meet another man - taller, with more hair, and younger. I would be left eating alone in a booth, trying to decide on a nature burger or a Swiss cheese sandwich. Life, at times, is simply not fair. As luck would have it, as I was in a mild spot of despair, I passed right by the Denny’s - and with a squeal of bald tires and a rather large horn blowing in my ear, I dove into the Denny’s lot. It was 7:45 I was almost LATE!

Dating AOL style

2008-08-06T16:02:00.000-07:00

Jesus said that the Greatest Commandment was, “To Love God with all your heart and soul and mind, and the second is like the first, love your neighbor as yourself.” I really believe that Jesus told us this not because it would first please God, but rather because if followed, it would give all of us much happiness.

Just to make sure we understood this message, we have that great definition of love by Paul. I’m sure that if you closely look at those whose lives are lonely, who have no friends, you will see that this message has not reached them. I am not talking mumbo jumbo here, I’m talking good, practical sense. Let’s consider two passages here; the first is 1st Corinthians Chapter 13:

If I speak in the tongues of men and angels but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud, it is not rude, it is not self seeking. It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not believe in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes always preserveres.

WOW, WOW, AND DOUBLE WOW! There it is, all the Masters and Johnston, Dr. Ruth and Playboy advisor all rolled up into one easily-understood passage. Really, it should go on the back of the wedding license and on the Trojan box (remember: men and women of the married variety). I can practically guarantee you romantic happiness if you and your spouse follow this advice - and why stop there? This is simply great advice for a lifetime of great friendships and success, and it costs you nothing that you shouldn’t already have to give.

But I am being premature here. I have several months to go before I can really get into that conversation.

I was very surprised when I got my first IM (instant message); it was from some woman (I hope), whose name is forever lost. I remember she was from California and recently divorced; she had two children who occupied a lot of her time, and her only social outlet was talking to people on AOL. I’m not sure what attracted her to me; perhaps it was my typing (who knows), but she IM’s me and asked me if I was single. On my profile I left the “single/married” line out because I wasn’t sure. I mean, it was pretty clear that I would not reconcile - or more accurately that Karen would not reconcile - so while technically I was married, in the libido department I was definitely single; and the only single women in town ( both of them ) were still busy.

This nameless woman and I chatted for some while, and she aided me in my understanding of how to use AOL. We got to be reasonable friends and, as luck would have it, she was going to be visiting a girlfriend within a few hundred miles of where I lived. Plans were made to meet each other at an exotic restaurant (Denny’s). After we made arrangements to meet, I did a great version of a short and chunky high five and thought to myself, “I’m going to survive this!” Little did I know of the trickery of the Smiling Mortician. First of all, it was winter - and that meant several hours of driving in a less-than-reliable car under what could best be called “miserable conditions.” The lonesome town I lived in is lonesome for good reason: it’s tucked neatly into an area where the Army should conduct its cold weather maneuvers. Calling the car I had borrowed, “less than reliable” is like calling Jimmy Hoffa “definitely on the never gonna come back list.” Not to be deterred, I gathered up my warmest clothes, a flashlight, a blanket, some soup (forgot the can opener), and told a few friends of my plans in case I would never return. I did consider calling up a creditor - they always seem to know how to find me.

My friends reacted predictably; “You’re WHAT?!?!?!?!?!??!” seemed to be a consensual reaction. There is a gap between the reality of people who do not use the chat rooms and those that do.

People who have never been online see any online activity as a perversion at worse, and a silliness at best – while meeting a woman in the appropriate manner (In Sisters this involved getting drunk and having her drive you home while you pretended to be simply tired from being such an extraordinary worker) is viewed as appropriate civil behavior, the idea that you might actually meet someone you have never even seen was considered flat-out foolishness. It kinda bothered me that my “friends” were more concerned about this part of the meeting than even venturing a, “You’re a damn fool for trying to drive that piece of crap over the mountain.” I suspect if I were driving that piece of crap to the local saloon, they might have mentioned that to me. They were triaging the whole thing and, as friends, I suspect they had my best interest at heart. And as friends, I could count on them to tell everyone in the town what a fool I was.

AOL and the first time

2008-08-02T19:41:00.000-07:00

THE FIRST TIME

One thing can be said about the *first time* online: it’s not quite as terrifying as a first date, but it’s certainly filled with anxiety.

The first anxiety of course is: is this going to work? I mean, am I really going to be able to have a meaningful discussion with someone all the way across the country in Bangor, Maine? Well after two years, the verdict is in yes its possible to have an intelligent conversation with someone all the way across the country, although I have yet to have an intelligent conversation with any one in Bangor, Maine. I think people who have grown up with computers take them for granted; what a miracle of thought, invention, and ingenuity! (That’s just the packaging….) I remember the first handheld calculator I ever saw; it belong to one of the (successful) agents in the life insurance company I worked for. It was black and very expensive - it came with its own security guard; the agent had mortgaged his house for it, and I think had sold his son in bondage. No big loss; I remembered the son from an office picnic (he was the one with potato salad stuck to his cheek). Little did we realize that calculator was the beachhead of a major technological invasion destined to dent our pocket books, release us from our working bondage (it’s past 2 a.m. here as I write) and give us consumers a new enemy to deal with: the manual writer.

So, there I sat in my darkened cavern of a living space, hearing for the first time the sound of a modem being put through its paces.

Finally, alone in my little cave, I finally have my modem working and have gone through the paperwork necessary to begin AOL. I watch as the screen on the computer changes and whirs and makes lots of interesting noises, and suddenly I am at the AOL welcome screen, and a voice booms out, “You have mail!” This voice, which would soon become my best friend, really startled me. My first thought was “Wow! this works fast! I’m already getting attention.” It was, however, a welcome letter from Steve Case - the owner of the company and soon-to-be new yacht owner all because of me - or so it would appear.

In the early days of AOL, there was a cost attached to AOL - and the cost did add up. If you ever noticed people in the early 1990’s walking along the roads collecting bottles, there was a good chance they were AOL members trying to collect enough money to keep them online. As I understand it, AOL would actually, in some cases, provide you with your very own cart. I still remember what a great deal I got with my first AOL signup: I got 10 free hours. That is a lot like getting a “Free Fishing Trip to Alaska” - free after plane fare, licenses and lodging, but you can fish free.

I have to stop for a minute and do a little information sharing. AOL allows its members the opportunity to create what are called “screen names”. These are most often an extension of the member’s personality, and can range from the basic “Tom Smith” to clever, well-thought-out names like “Mr. Stud”. Hopefully, later I will talk more about the psychology of screen names (a relatively new discipline in the psychology field), but let’s just say here a good screen name can make or break you.

The problem is, unless you get some advance knowledge about this, you often are forced into coming up with a really stupid name right off the bat. AOL has anticipated this and provides members (members are what AOL calls those people who become addicted to the service) five more screen names. Its a fact that very few members end up using their original name; after they get online they can see what the really clever members are doing and adjust their name accordingly. In my case I went from the banal name of Musiken to resevoirtip in only thirty minutes , ( thinking fast is not always a good case for thinking right). Fortunately, AOL allows its members to delete a screen name - and I suspect it was God’s plan for me to choose reseviortip so that name could no longer be used by any other person. Out of all this was created my new screen name which would last me for the next six months. Scott4hugs was born that first night. Why Scott and why Hugs will forever be a mystery to me; my name is Ken, and I am perhaps the least tactile person in existence; but there it was, my first real screen name and the will to use it.

AOL is HUGE - you can practically find anything you want in the whole world in the area of information: from complicated instructions for building sled dog warming huts, to government documents, and the latest news and weather. I am equally sure there are at least three people using these functions - the rest of us were in the chat rooms.

Chat rooms are electronic rooms where people gather to insult and proposition each other; they can also be used for uplifting conversation and creating friendships, and I suspect there at least three people doing just that also.

I believe at the heart of the success of companies like AOL is the inescapable fact that there is A LOT of lonely people out there. (There being the real world) I know this to be true because I was one of them, and the fervent hope of all these people is to find someone to talk to and encourage them and make them feel wanted.

SO to that end the options are incredible. There are rooms for people to talk about just about any subject you care to think about, from sewing circles to pagan tea houses, from leather interests to Gun and Bun Chats (usually not together). For a new person being online, it’s simply overwhelming. It can also be hard on your ego. I remember feeling very rejected because the “onlinehost” would not talk to me. And in fact it took me several days to find these other rooms. I kept going into what’s called People Connection and ended up in the Lobby. I did not realize this was the door to other rooms; instead I stayed in the Lobby and was battered with rejection as hundreds of other people came into the room and left. In my mind, most likely because they thought I was a wuss. It wasn’t until several nights later I actually figured out how the whole thing worked, and found myself in a room called “Water Sports.”(It was not about surfing, and I felt compelled to leave after getting an education I didn’t suspect I ever needed to know about in the first place.

At last I found a home; the room was called “Thirtysomething,” and it was filled with bright intelligent conversation, with all kinds of people that were of course under thirty and incredibly successful. The first thing I noted was that, based on the profiles of these members, if they were a man they were over six feet tall and very Aryan and very successful (there was once three brain surgeons in the room at the same time), and, if a woman, very successful and blonde and former cheerleaders.

About profiles. Remember that I said a good screen name could make or break you? Well, the same can be said of an onscreen profile. This is a place where you can tell vital information about yourself, (we will look at a few from time to time) in such a manner as to get the attention of the six foot blonde brain surgeon, or the 5’ 8” blonde vogue cover girl.

Frankly, it’s in reading the profiles of members that you begin to see the difference between the sexes, and in the subtlety of the members: men tend to be very direct, kinda like, “I WANT YOU NOW, WOMAN!” whereas the women tend to be more poetic and romantic. Anyway, here are a few screen names culled from the member directory of AOL; what some of these names lose in creativity they gain in just plain silliness or worse.

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Well, here I am looking at this screen whirring by and trying to make sense of all the conversation going on. I tell you, it’s not easy. I am a poor typist; I have to look at my fingers when I type, so when I type I cannot read what is being “said” in the chat room. It gets a little complicated at times, but the very first thing you realize is that it’s complicated for everyone. I plowed right in and said hello. Now, at first this seemed to have very little impact. I began to notice that those who were saying the most outrageous things were the ones getting all the attention. So I started to be outrageous and I fibbed a little. At this point I’m so lonely that if getting someone to like me means taking a few years off my life (and a few pounds), I can be what someone wants me to be - or so I think. It strikes me that if all these lonely people just used life’s little instruction book they wouldn’t be quite so lonely. By that I mean the Bible. STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I promise you I’m not going over the top here; I’m not going to get “ewwey-ewwey” on you. I just think that people could do a whole lot better in the relationship department if they studied their Bibles! (Why do you think they have them in motels?) Let’s face it: as the Stage Manager said in Our Town, people are meant to go through life two by two - and believe it or not the best sex manual I have run across is the Bible. A few disclaimers here: it’s not illustrated, it’s not specific, and it will require your first sexual experience to be with your wife or husband, And for very good reason, But that’s a very small price to pay for a lifetime of happiness. However, we are getting ahead of ourselves here. Before marriage, you have to meet the person of your dreams - and there is no better way to meet people and have them notice you than to live by spiritual principals.

Interlude 2

2008-08-01T07:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday , Lori and I met at a local mall after I got out of my photo shoot. She had wanted to see a movie on her own we planned meet after the movie and have diner together. I located her car in the movie parking lot and found out that I had about 50 minutes before her movie let out.

Almost an hour , and I had left my Camera and Laptop at home ...luckily I had this book I had been reading and decided to actually spend longer than the usual five minutes I can usually focus on a book and sit down and read ..it was warm outside but a nice breeze and a passing shower had cooled things off very nicely.

I found a bench with a view of the Theater so we could spot each other and started reading the book. The mall was busy , it was a Thursday evening but it felt like a Weekend ...Couples strolling together , young people cruisng, small groups of teens attracting each other like atoms and lint .

The movie was slated to get out about 8:15 and it was now about 7:30 ...after really diving into the print I took time to check the clock and it was 7:35 ...this was not going to be easy .

The book was called " Blue like Jazz " by a Portland Artist named Donald Miller , I was enjoying it on several levels , his approach to spirituality , and the fact he lived in my former hometown of Portland Oregon, much of what he was saying was resonating with me , He was talking about the overwhelming oresence of God in all we do , and while he was doing that he was talking of places that I was very familiar with.

ON one of my it must be time but really only five minutes have elasped breaks I looked up and noticed the sky was building up quite nicely for a beautiful sunset. As a Photographer I have become an " expert" on looking for the signs of a wonderful sunset and here I was a Photographer without a camera watching one unfold..and this looked like it could be good. So I reasonably decided best to keep myhead down and not torment me with the view of a sunset I could not take a photo of.

As I was reading I noticed the color of the Paper in the book was changing and so was the reflection on the pavement , I couldn't bear it any longer and I looked up. There are sunsets and there are SUNSETS ..this was a SUNSET. It streatched out all across the sky the Providence 14 Theater right in the middle of its expanse ..The theater colors actually complimented the Sunset. This beauty was comprised of several differfent cloud types , our weather in Nashville is sometimes quite complicate as the warm air from the Gulf of mexico and the cold air from Canda often perform this meteroligical tango in the sky. There were clouds that looked like angel hair long whisps of vapor reaching out to the moon , and rolling clouds full of motion and fury , and great mushrooms of clouds building on top of each other , and all these clouds where collered in soft pinks and corals ...against a pale blue sky.

As I watched I realized I seemed to be the only one watching ..the couples, shoppers , movie goers , the atoms and the Lint , the cruisers and the wannabes ..were so involved in the daily act of living they were indifferent to the wonder above their heads .

It struck me that there fully visible to all was the majesty of an Everlasting God , all they had to do was look up...SO many people who what an experience with God a tangible relationship with an Invisible creator God and here , God was waving a banner that stretched across the heavens saying " HERE I AM " . and they wouldn't look up.

The Poet Walt Whitman in his epic work Leaves of Grass ..wrote that GOD leaves letters for us on the ground for us to pick up and read and then leave for others ...and here was this HUGE banner painted across the horizon for all to see , but few were seeing it ...And yet it was there for all to see ...God is with us , we may not always notice Him nor admire His Handiwork ...but I don't think he is going to take these Sunsets away...Sunsets like His love will Endure forever ...I Love the way He paints ...

As the Colors fade away and gave way to night I felt blessed , and was comforted to be so aware of HIS presence It was Providence I thought ..then I grinned as I realized the " Caption " under this Sunset had been written on the building Lori was in PROVIDENCE 14 ... and I thought hmmmm 14 that's my Birthday October 14 ..Just for fun I counted the letters in Providence 10. 10 /14

I Just had to whisper and prayer and thank God for His presence and present .

2008-07-30T22:22:00.000-07:00

CALLNG THE COMPANY

If anyone was to look back at what happened to the American economy from the year 2020, they will no doubt immediately realize that the principal problem with sales in this country was caused by companies who were not really wanting to sell anything to you. While that may seem contradictory, think about it: when was the last time you ever called a major company to buy a product and actually got to talk to a real person who really wanted to sell you something at all?

More often than not don't you get the feeling that if you do manage to actually talk to a real human being , they act more like you are interrupting them, than a person who actually might be helping to pay their saleries ?
( I wrote this 13 years ago and it actually seems to have gotton worse , despite millions of dollers in Customer Service programs , most of us are learning to accept poor service and a persistant drumbeat of " its not my department " )

So now I make the call , it went something like this: Ring Ring Ring Ring "Hello. Welcome to Zeos, a division of Meos. In an effort to better help you, we would like you to listen carefully to the following menu, in order to better serve our customers this call may be monitored... "If you are using a touch tone phone, please press *1*. If you are NOT using a touch tone phone, forget it." (I Press *1*) "Welcome to Zeos. For our mail order catalogue, press *1*. For our Customer Service, press *2*. For accounts payable, press *3*. For Mindy, press *4*. For Sales, press *5*." (I Press *5* while wondering who Mindy is.) "Welcome to Zeos sales. If you are an institutional buyer, press *1*. For office computer needs, press *2*. For home sales needs, press *3*." (I Press *3*) "Welcome to Zeos home computer sales. For computers, press *1*. For monitors, press *2*. For software, press *3*. For accessories, press *4*." (I Press *4*) "Hello. You have reached Zeos accessories. If you are calling from the Eastern Time zone, press *1*. From the Midwest, press *2*. From the Rocky Mountain time zone, press *3*. From Pacific Time zone, press *4*." (I Press *4*) "Hello. You have reached Zeos Pacific Time zone accessory salesman Bob Bumble. I'm not at my desk at the moment, but if you care to leave a message no my voice mail, please press *1*...." This goes on for the next week, at least. Bob, I suspect, is also lost in the elevator (Press *2*), and I eventually have to pretend I'm a huge institutional buyer just wanting to sample a modem. FINALLY, it's on its way to me.

NOTE: I think a great business could be founded on just contacting these companies that thought it was good business to get rid of the person we used to call a receptionist who knew everyone - and where everyone was, you know, the person back in the cave days of early American business who could put you in touch with real people who were sincerely interested in talking to you and finding out what you needed and helping you get it. What I would do is this for those companies who have modernized in such a Fashion I would go into a meeting with these people and hand them a cellular phone, pass it to the chairman, or CEO, and say, "OK. You call and order something from your company on your advertised number." Of course, the executives all have a private number that is unavailable to us. My prayer is that when some of these decision-makers lose their jobs to falling sales and loss of revenue, they start their job search by calling the job placement agency and get, "Hello, and welcome to Acme Personnel. If you are using a touch tone phone, please press *1* now...."

OK. Now, the modem is on its way. Life is still good and the local store has restocked Marie Calendar. I bond briefly with the FedEx guy, exchange a few pleasantries, and stare at my new modem.

It needs to be installed.

( yes another note in the old days ...Computer Modems were add-ons and about the size of a small suitcase )
Now, next to the phone systems I think SAR (some assembly required) is the next worst blight on American industry. I mean, everyone is complaining about not having enough work for his or her employees to do. OK, then, have them assemble the darn things - I'm kinda funny. I like to take things out of a box, plug them in, and see them work IMMEDIATELY

Interlude

2008-07-30T17:31:00.000-07:00

This may or not be a good time to do this ...of course as usual im not really sure what I am doing. if you have read the first two posts on this blog you should kinda sorta understand that this is a project I started about Thirteen years ago...so I am finding it very interesting as I edit the older manuscript ( that which I can find ) I am realizing just how much has happened to me in the past 13 years ...some good , some great , some not so great ... There is this song that says " I wouldn't take nothing for my Journey now " and I agree with that ..but I am pretty sure I wouldn't take it again if I had the choice to.
The great parts , my marriage to Lori, watching my daughter walk to the alter for her wedding, trips to San Fransisco , and the Oregon Coast , the overwheling excitment of landing a dream job in a dream location ...exchanging ourt ten year wedding vows with an Oregon Sunset as a backdrop ...I could put those on program and relive them day after day.
But there are other days , days that if I knew I was going to have to go through I would not know where to claim the strenght to relive them...its a good thing this is only an " academic " excercise , and God in His wisdom has withdrawn from us the gift of seeing into the future , to be honest for most of us it would be no gift at all.
I guess the point of all this is that as I write about the past few years and the years that came before the book started to find its way into print. All the days and all the years just push forward regardless of how they will turn out. we don't get to pick good days and keep them and throw away the bad days ...we live each according to His will.
Yet I sincerly beleive that each day no matter how painfull , no matter how dark , is a gift from God. The Scriptures say to be " Thankful for all things " That " all things " embraces a very large universe.
Its not easy to say Im thankful when you are curled up with a Kidney stone that feels its as large as a kiwi fruit, its not easy to say goodby to your mother in a hospital room knowing you will not see her alive again. Its not easy to be thankful when you have been arrested and find you are just one miracle away from being led to jail with your wife , Its not easy to be thankful when you watch on your Ten Year Anniversery trip a plane being flown into the world trade center.
But God in His wisdom asks us to be just that.
He says life will hurt , and we will have troubles and then He asks us to be thankful for them...and He His love for us is everlasting. His mercies are new every day ...
Lori and I often try to look back at the past 13 years and fit the pieces all together , sometimes there just doesn't seem to be enough time to account for the times we have had...
The phone is ringing I am calling the Computer Company for that modem ..

The Book Gets underway 13 years ago

2008-07-29T15:53:00.000-07:00

Like all Books, this has a beginning. This book really began with the Purchase of a Zeos Pantera Computer , a compnay that I don't even know is in buisness now, Since I began this book over 13 years have passed , and a lot of High Tech Companies have now become extinct. Some of the comments I make may sound odd by the standards of today ( 2008 ) but I have reason to believe that todays standards will soon join the list of extinct standards , practices , and companies. Anyway ... The purchase of a new computer began with an ending - after fifteen years, my wife and I separated and divorced. The sum of our relationship was: a wonderful daughter, a large house, a car of the Toyota variety, and a store with bills that were rapidly filling up that Zeos Pantera's disk space. After the separation, I took the store, the debt, and the computer. Karen took the rest.

At first it did not seem like the best of trades - moving from the large house to the back of the store did not seem quite fair. But, there was no other way, looking on the bright side I found myself with a very short commute.

The store was located in a small resort town in the West - so small that there were only two single women in my age group in the entire town and they were booked until 1999. There are no movie theaters. There are a couple of taverns that specialize in customers hooting at the various sporting events on the television.

I remember feeling that I would need something to fill my time and take my mind off the separation. It's funny how your mind lets you sometimes inch into tragedy - at first it, it seemed like camping. Being now single and alone, I decided on a clever course of action: I would drive 150 miles to the town of Eugene and get some computer games to go with my Zeos Pantera. After all, it had a CD-ROM and a 256-color monitor - it made sense to me.

Looking back, this may seem a little pathetic: 47 years old, living in the back of a store. I, with what I thought was good reason, decided that Sim City, Return to Zork, and Leisure Suit Larry would provide me with the companionship I craved for the rest of my life. These were computer games in the early years of gaming no serious blood was shed and most of the action happened as I typed instructions to the Characters in the role playing games.

I remember that night snuggling up in the sleeping bag, the heady aroma of a Marie Callendar's roast beef dinner hanging in the air, and the Leisure Suit Larry manual in my hand and a smile on my face. Life could be bliss - who needed relationships?

This phase of my life lasted about two days. The Sim City needed more RAM, Zork wouldn't configure to my system, and Leisure Suit Larry never seemed to get the girl. Cable was still a week away, and I was bored, lonely, and out of Marie Callendar's roast beef dinners. bliss had bailed out.

It was time for a little introspective look at my life, this was my second marriage I was beginning to wonder if marriage was such a good idea. A line from the play Our Town kept running through my mind something about going through life two by two. This time it felt more like a 2x 4. If I was going to get into another relationship it had to be special, what I really wanted was someone who would love me for who I was who would delight in me and yet encourage me to be better, someone who was always there for me and knew my every need, but I was old enough to recognize fantasy and just left my self content with finding a few good friends

It was at this time that providence entered my life. While searching for answers to the RAM problem I stumbled across the computer magazine with an AMERICAN ONLINE start up disk in it. AOL had been thrust into my life. Vaguely, I remembered an article I had read about cybersex and with trembling fingers I installed the disk. I was ready for whatever came my way. I had my life back. America Online was just what I needed...

Almost, seems like I needed a modem.

Life is way too complicated. Why can't you just run down to your local grocery store - the same place you buy the Marie Callendar's dinners - and throw a modem into your cart? Instead, you have to go to a place that sells modems.

If you remember the town was very small. Modem outlets were nonexistent. In fact, I suspect we just got outlets last year. Anyway...I stumbled across the information from Zeos that they had sent me with the computer and remembered that I could call them and they could FedEx the modem to me. Life went back to being simple - or so I thought...

Prolouge

2008-07-28T14:44:00.001-07:00

Several years ago , almost so long ago that word several seems severely stretched I started a book project about how I had come to Christ after 47 odd years of wandering in what I thought was a spiritual wilderness. After a promising start the "Book " was shelved. MY wife Lori has always encouraged me to finish the thing , but something has kept me from it ..I had several good excuses , and a few irrational ones ...but now it seems as if the best reason and the true reason was it wasn't time yet.
I believe its time ..I believe its time because I believe that it is in Gods time that it be revived ..I have no rational reason for this decision , I just know that the decision is right and that God is involved , and when God is involved , well God is totally involved.
I am going to start writing this book again based not on my own well formulated plan but on the faith that God will take what I have bottled up in my head and heart and let it pour out. It may also spill out and at times it may more closely resemble the actions of a warm soda bottle kicked across a ninety foot lawn , then hurriedly opened.
Realistically for a while this last scenario seems more realistic.
For awhile the story may look like one of those 1200 piece Jig Saw puzzles you find at the Lake house you just rented for the Summer , and like the puzzle at the lake house there may be some pieces missing ..at least for a while.
I am so disorganized in my flesh that I don't even know if I am going to work on the edges, corners , or specific form or color...I simply know its time to both start and finish.
I do know that all these pieces are a gift from God ...and that as the Scriptures say He has plans for me , and He has prepared me for these plans .
And as the scripture also says He has prepared me for these plans ...and as well Gods ways are not our ways ..He has given me this puzzle and will reveal it , its not alphabetical, nor is it Chronological .. it is waiting to be reveled .

Psalm 139:13

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.