String Too Short to Tie

Tapped Out

2012-01-28T04:00:00.000-05:00

Creative juices, limited as they are at most times, are simply not flowing at all today. Laundry: sorted, done, folded, put away. Lunch: eaten. Nap: taken. And now, a lazy evening. Life's good.

So, then. What of the blog? Well, someone stole someone's cartoon and posted it on facebook, so I cobbed it and re-release it here for your amusement. Though in some ways I find it less than funny, because I hate it when I find an undershot installation.

Have a great Saturday!

Citrus and Vinyl

2012-01-27T04:00:00.001-05:00

Oh, the birds and the bees in the citrus trees tempting me to juicy fruit (Wrigley’s does not own that term!). We have sampled oranges and grapefruit from outside our window; and today BBBH came in wagging a hatful of tangerines from the north end of the park. As you can see, these particular fruit are very small, about an inch-and-a-half in diameter, but oh, what juicy flavor is contained within!

Later in the day in the south end of the park, I plucked a lemon, one of the smaller ones on the tree, which is almost perfectly spherical and just a bit over three inches in diameter.

A trip to the flea market at DonWes netted me two vinyl albums, one by Bonnie Raitt, the other by Cat Stevens. Not a bad haul for an hour of roaming through the aisles of stuff. As I was standing in front of the junk pile that was actually the one where I found these albums, I remarked to Don that it would be a real favor to everybody if the entire pile of stuff were given a home in a landfill. This elicited laughter from passers-by, from the vendor not so much, and then I found these treasures there. Who knows what languishes in a heap of trash? The vendor knows!

137 Drops of Rain

2012-01-26T04:00:00.001-05:00

At four in the morning I awakened
My heart leaped with joy and was taken
with delight, for on the rooftop were drops
of rain! What a joyous night
that there should fall
this blessing for us all!
But one could almost count before it stopped
the raindrops as they plopped
upon the roof. 137 drops of rain
Would not ease the Earth’s pain.
We cry out, “Oh, Lord, give us water,”
But all is quiet now. Will it rain later?

We winter Texans love the sun,
Enjoy the warmth, have lots of fun.
But true Texans who wrest their living from the soil
Or feed their families by honest toil
Need rain most desperately, Lord,
Would you grant us, is our prayer,
A freshening downpour, we are in your care!

We Are Entertained

2012-01-25T04:00:00.005-05:00

Monday night’s entertainment was provided by the Edinburg Parks and Recreation program for youngsters. The Folklorico Dancers performed for an hour and kept the audience riveted every moment. These kids, aged eight to eighteen, perform authentic Mexican dances. They are internationally recognized, and have won both national and international competitions. They have performed in such diverse places as Los Angeles, Honolulu, and in two different Brazilian cities.
Apart from the energy level these youngsters display, the stamina and the talent they have nurtured, one has to reflect on the fact that these children also live ordinary day-to-day lives, attending school and doing what kids do. Participation is strictly voluntary (unless there is some parent with a cudgel in the background!) The practice time has to be an intense demand on each individual.
It was an hour well-spent; and it was the second time I have witnessed a performance by the group, though some individuals have moved on to adulthood since I last saw them perform, and some new tykes have been added.

The Year's Worst Day

2012-01-24T04:00:00.001-05:00

Dr. Cliff Arnall of University of Cardiff (Wales) calculates that this is the worst day of the year as it applies to people's feelings, I guess about themselves and life in general. The unfortunate thing is that any day of the year is a bad day if one allows it to be. Professor Arnall has devised a mathematical-looking formula which one suspects has less to do with mathematics than it has to do with his endeavor to support a personal postulalte; but what do I know? He evidently sells his wisdom and knowledge to people in the tourism business, because it is when people are at their lowest that they are most likely to splurge on tickets, presumably to take them out of their misery.

It has been my observation that one can buy tickets to different geographic locales, but in all likelihood, if one is miserable, he will take his troubles along with him.

Here is a link to the article I read. Do the math if you like.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6847012/ns/world_news/t/jan-called-worst-day-year/

Meanwhile, happy Doldrums! Now there's an oxymoron.

(As BBBH says, Find a need and fill it...)

Chupacabra, Palm Rats and Road Runners

2012-01-23T04:00:00.000-05:00

One of the challenges the Winter Texan is faced with is that of sorting out legend, fantasy, and nonsense from reality.

That it is a different world in South Texas from the world we are accustomed to in the Midwest is evident. A day's drive across the semi-arid mesquite and cactus-ridden landscape is more than enough to convince one of the truth of this.

But consider some of the strange "inhabitants" of this land. Following the title, I first mention el chupacabra, and that may be first because he has recently been in the news. Whether or not a thirteen-year old boy actually killed a chupacabra will no doubt be debated into the pages of history until it becomes a part of the legend. El chupacabra: legend or reality?

I learned of palm rats the first year I spent in this area. My skeptical nature more or less demanded that I believe the purveyor of the tale was leading me pretty much on a "snipe hunt." Over the years, I have come to be aware that in some parts of the country there are rats that climb palm trees to raid the fruit thereof, and that some may jump onto roofs; hence we have "roof rats." But of the "palm rats" of which I was first told, those that live in the dead fronds near the top of palm trees and never go to ground, I ask: fact or fiction?

Road runners appear in my birders' manual, so I am quite sure that they exist. I have been told that they inhabit this area; but as to the question as to whether they really do or not, I say, Seeing is believing. One morning while taking an early perambulation around the park, a road runner ran out in front of me and fled down the street on which I was walking! He soon sped out of sight around a corner. I did not see Wile E. Coyote. But I'm pretty sure he or his near-kin are close by!

Psalm 5

2012-01-22T09:09:00.002-05:00

To the Chief Musician. With flutes. A Psalm of David.

1 Give ear to my words, O LORD, Consider my meditation. 2 Give heed to the voice of my cry, My King and my God, For to You I will pray. 3 My voice You shall hear in the morning, O LORD; In the morning I will direct it to You, And I will look up. 4 For You are not a God who takes pleasure in wickedness, Nor shall evil dwell with You. 5 The boastful shall not stand in Your sight; You hate all workers of iniquity. 6 You shall destroy those who speak falsehood; The LORD abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful man ...

11 But let all those rejoice who put their trust in You; Let them ever shout for joy, because You defend them; Let those also who love Your name Be joyful in You. 12 For You, O LORD, will bless the righteous; With favor You will surround him as with a shield.

The Other Side of the Coin

2012-01-21T04:00:00.001-05:00

"Charlene, what makes you come so far in the winter?"

"Have you ever spent a winter in Minnesota"?

"No, but I was in Minneapolis once, first week of April one year. Went to the stadium to watch the crew paint the grass green for opening day. The snow mountains in the parking lot were ginormous."

"Was it cold?"

"A bit."

"Spread the snow everywhere a foot deep, put some ice under that, and drop the temperature to twenty below zero."

"I get the picture."

Oh, yeah. South Texas is the place to be.

The thing is, though, all these people are older than dirt. No kids screaming and laughing as their sleds fly down the hill; (no hill, for that matter) no teens lallygagging around with their semi-innocent PDsA. Not even any professionals or workaday people bustling home for a bite to eat and a bit of rest before rushing back to work at dawn. The social interactions are largely lolling in the sun or in the pool, talking about what once was.

But it's not cold.

I am sure there was no "accusation," but it has been hinted that I might be "rubbing it in." I present today's post as the other side of the coin. Enjoy your family, your work, your winter wherever you are.

Down in the Valley

2012-01-19T18:56:00.007-05:00

Thursday we successfully negotiated the highways between Rockport and Edinburg. No highway trip is without incident, but the good news is that the only "bad" incident we encountered had a happy ending.

As we drove from Rockport to Sinton, we encountered some pretty heavy misting which required the use of the wipers for a few miles. Long enough, as a four-inch strip of rubber flapped in the breeze, to remind me that I needed to change the wipers. In fact I should have done some time ago. So in Sinton we stopped at O'Reilly's Auto Parts. There a very pleasant young man named Ray asked if he could help me. I told him I needed new blades, but I wasn't sure that I could even remember how to change them. No problem, he said, let's go take a look. In a trice he had removed the blades, led me back into the store and matched the junk to the necessary replacement product. He rang up the sale and took my money. Then he took the new blades and headed for the vehicle, where he installed them, following which he offered me a big smile and a handshake!

Why have I related this apparently simple and routine vignette in the life in such detail? Simply this. It is truly refreshing to encounter a young person, for this genteman could scarcely have been more than twenty-one years of age, who is courteous, pleasant and makes one feel that he genuinely wants to help. Way to go, Ray!

Southward from Sinton along US 77 until we came to Texas Route 44 on which we headed west. This strip of road is designated "Cesar Chavez Memorial Highway." So now we arrive in the city of Alice at lunch time. And thus the incident.

We were in the restaurant next in line to place our order (no, it was not a burger joint) when I realized that I had no money and BBBH did not bring in her purse. So I told her what I wanted, then ran back to the RV to get her purse. (What? get my money? Get real.) Following the meal, we got back on the road, drove all the way across Alice and a couple of miles down US 281 where we stopped for gas. After filling, mention was made of the purse. Which was not with us. So, BBBH practically in tears, and I not feeling so hot myself, we drove back to the place where purse had last been seen. Beautiful went in. The hostess immediately brought her purse to her and said, I knew this was yours because I noticed your gorgeous yellow blouse when you were here. A lady brought this to me half-minute after you left!

This has gotten much too long, so I will conclude by noting that we have arrived in Edinburg, we have set up camp, and are planning to stay awhile!

Mac's

2012-01-19T04:00:00.000-05:00

Here we sing the praises of one of our favorite places in Rockport. We have never failed to stop at Mac's at least once each time we visit this village. One year, our plan to travel on southward without a stayover at Rockport, we actually drove several miles out of our way to lunch here.

Our schedule calls for departure Thursday, and Wednesday we realized that we had yet to frequent this place. So we fired up the scooter and traveled the short distance to a wonderful meal.

Domingo serves a great brisket plate, the meat abundant and melt-in-your-mouth tender, two sides. Today, BBBH chose potatoes and green beans, I selected potato salad and peach cobbler. You have your choice, with sauce or without. We recommend "with."

Our next report will be filed from somewhere near the southern-most tip of Texas.

What a Day!

2012-01-18T04:00:00.003-05:00

Since Monday was a sunny day, eighty-two degrees here on the Coastal Bend, and since we spent the day mostly outdoors on the scooter or walking on the Fulton Pier, we had occasion to note, as we were prepping for our night's rest, that our complexions were a good bit ruddier than they had been! Excellent, for what good is a winter in Texas if there is no tan when one gets back to the Midwest?

Tuesday was overcast, but again a good day for cruising around. Back at the park, we spent most of the afternoon sitting outside the rig further promoting the tanning. The neighbors to our left, Art and Sue, joined us for much conversation and laughter. A bit later Jim and Holly from across the lane came over, Jim with his guitar. We had our own private jam session right here on the lot! Picking, singing, talking, and a lot more laughter. Missouri, Kansas, and of course, Indiana, all coming together in camaraderie.

We all contributed solos, duets, loud and lusty singing all together. A special treat was a rendition by Jim who accompanied himself on the guitar. It was an excellent performance of Jim Henson's "The Train to Morrow."

You can not go to Morrow anymore today,
For the train that goes to Morrow is a mile upon its way.

We broke it up at dark and repaired to our respective abodes to rest up for the "morrow."

I Yam What I Yam

2012-01-17T04:00:00.003-05:00

Popeye first appeared full-grown in The Thimble Theater on January 17, 1929.
I yam what I yam.
I eats me spinach.
I'm Popeye the sailor man.

How could you not like a man with a girlfriend named "Olive Oyl"?
How could you not like a man who had an apodal ward named "Swee' Pea"?
How could you not like a man who tolerated his ever-mooching, hamburger gobbling friend named "Wimpy"? ...............Elzie Segar
How could you not like a man who could take a beating from Bluto, pop a can of spinach from his shirt, swallow its contents and beat the tar out of his adversary?

Except for the date, which came up as an "event" on this day in history, the rest of the above is cobbled from my memory. Yes, I enjoyed reading comic books as a youngster. They were not considered to be "edifying literature" in the home in which I was raised. Yet the parents tolerated a certain amount of foolishness, so long as the serious was tended to properly.

Foolishness or not, I think it interesting that the above trivia made a longer lasting impression than did, say, Ivanhoe. Why is that?

Well, Popeye, ye entertained us well. We don't know how old ye were when you appeared, but we do know that ye've been around now for eighty-three years!

Or Fish and Chips

2012-01-16T04:00:00.001-05:00

The post office is on vacation today, Federal holiday honoring Martin Luther King, Jr. But the RV repair shop is open. They are almost always willing to do stuff for money. So the rig is in the shop this morning. Need to get that new coach battery (remember Bowling Green, Ky?) and we need to get a tune-up for the generator, which we virtually never use. But the one time we wanted to use it, it refused to run longer than fifteen seconds at a time.

Have to have the faucet assembly for the shower replaced. Hoping against hope that that is the end of the list, because that will create a sufficient dent in the exchequer.

Meanwhile, BBBH and I will be on the little red scooter scooting around Rockport. Probably beach, maybe some fresh cold boiled shrimp for lunch. For me, that is. BBBH prefers her shrimp with "clothes," that is, breaded. She says the naked ones are, well, unappetizing. She's so wrong.

Thursday,

2012-01-15T05:02:00.003-05:00

or, We Are About to Return to Real Time.

Our resting place in Galveston.

The breakers were very small, but the wind was blowing against them, creating interesting spray pattern.

I found humor in this setting.. Bigify to read sign

I read yesterday's article to BBBH. She said it wasn't funny, had no pizzazz. I did not know what to do about that, since I called it as I saw it. She said, Okay, it's your blog.

In Galveston, we stayed at Dellanera RV Park, which is located quite literally on the beach. We enjoyed the early part of the stay, as it is always a thrill for each of us to be on the ocean. Well, next to it, not on it. Late in the afternoon, though, the wind started to kick up and by nightfall the RV was rocking in the breeze. Breeze, that is, with gusts up to fifty miles an hour. Nevertheless, I slept well; BBBH not so much.

Thursday morning we started on down Galveston Island toward Freeport. While we did note some properties that had suffered damage from Hurricane Ike in 2008, most houses were either repaired, rebuilt, or razed. Overall, the strip looked normal and we were both amazed, once again, at the number of people who apparently have more money than they know what to do with, for these abodes are not fishing shacks, or even, as they are more likely known, "summer cottages." "Mansions" springs to mind.

Off the island and back on the mainland, we went through Freeport, Texas's number one least scenic area. From that point southward, the route is quite familiar to us, as we have taken it many times over the past few years. One stretch of Texas 521 is quite desolate, but the road is good, if narrow, and we made that part of the drive without incident. We connected with Texas 35 at Palacios where we stopped to make and consume lunch while enjoying the scenery of a commercial parking lot.

I enjoyed the drive across Lavaca Bay into Port Lavaca while Beautiful dozed. Somewhat later as we were crossing Copano Bay just above Rockport, she awakened in time to take in that bit of scenery. Minutes later we were "back home again" at Ancient Oaks RV Park where we will stay a week while some repairs are done, the laundry is done, and some sheer enjoyment of Coastal Texas takes place by Yours Truly.

Wednesday,

2012-01-14T05:02:00.004-05:00

or, Wherein We Discover One Does Not Have to Look Out the Window to See an Idiot; The Mirror Will Do Nicely.

We left Frog City relatively early, that is about nine o'clock. We drove along I-10, passing through Lake Charles and entering Texas! Here it was that, our destination being Galveston, I relied on recall from years ago and chose to exit at Orange. (Proof of this idiocy above.) Thus it was that in order to reach our goal we found it necessary to drive through Port Arthur. (Texas's second-least scenic area.) Several miles farther along a "Detour" sign, but with no further information, appeared. 'Tis some French word, I thought, perhaps meaning "Don't you wish you were somewhere else?" (Idiocy proof number two.) I blithely drove on along the road for a good many miles, came to a right turn that paralleled the seaside, and though the road was now considerably narrower, continued on. Continued on, that is until suddenly and with no warning, the road ended in a salt marsh. (Idiocy: q.e.d.)

Sparing detail, I managed to get turned back along the pathway from which we had come. It was a dozen miles back to the highway which bore the number we wanted. Turned onto it and soon came to a notice that the road was closed "12 miles ahead." So we turned around, asked a service station attendant how to get to Galveston (Brief respite from idiocy.) This took us another dozen miles back to Freeport and the location of the "Detour" sign. We took the detour. Ultimately, and much later than planned, we boarded the ferry that took us across Galveston Bay and into the city where we found a place to park for the night.

Travel tip: If you are traveling along I-10, destination Galveston, exit at Winnie, not Orange.

Tuesday

2012-01-13T05:02:00.003-05:00

Along Gulfport's Beach

Tuesday we left Shepard State Park and started a leisurely drive along the Mississippi Gulf Coast. We had visited this area on our first winter escape to the South. We wanted to see the area as it is now, six years after Katrina. Much has been done to re-create and restore the area. Much has not been done. And much will never be completed, one suspects. A case in point is the development of "prime" beachfront property.

As we drove along US 90 in Gulfport and Pass Christian, we noted mile after mile of empty lots with "For Sale" signs adorning the frontage. It will take very nervy people with very deep pockets to create the change which would restore the area to the functional use of its previous life.

We crossed the new bridge into Bay Saint Louis and drove on in to Waveland where we had spent a couple of weeks, pre-Katrina. This area had been seriously damaged, and it was heartening to see that much of the town has been reclaimed. It was also the beginning of...

Reluctantly I report that things did not go well in Waveland, for it was past noon and we were both hungry. I pulled into a Hardees and BBBH strenuously objected that she was not eating at Hardees. Which did not deter me from the mission to get something to eat, but mostly I wanted a cup of coffee.

There was but one employee in the place, and he was in the kitchen. I stood, and stood, and waited and. And finally turned to go out the door when a young lady appeared from behind a door and asked if she could take my order. Torn between good sense and desire for caffeine, I went back and placed an order for burger, fries and coffee. She gave me a paper cup for the coffee. I went to the urn and drew a yellowy water which looked exactly like what you think it did. So I went back to the girl, showed her the stuff and she said, Oh, no problem. I'll make you a new pot. No, I said, just give me my food and I am out of here. And BBBH showed up in the lobby and chastised me for my rude and inconsiderate behavior, pretty much the last thing said for most of the day.

BBBH had her steak dinner in Lafayette, Louisiana.

The day ended in a campground twenty or so miles west of Lafayette, the name of which was "Frog City RV Park." We practically had to swim in, the roads were so covered with water.

A Quick Update

2012-01-12T18:00:00.002-05:00

We have arrived in Rockport, Texas. Adventures to share. Unfortunately, the internet server seems to select for me what I may and may not view. Guess what I cannot view. Yep, you guessed it: String Too Short to Tie. Because this is true, I will not know if this is posted to the blog unless you write me a comment, which I will receive by email.

If the posting is working properly, then I will work up a couple of stories for you tomorrow. Or soon. Or whenever, because it is supposed to be a sunny seventy here for the next couple of days, and I think the first priority may be enjoying that!

Wish I Could...

2012-01-10T20:06:00.002-05:00

...file an interesting report of the progress of the trip so far. A tiring day on the road and a suspect internet connection tend to prompt me to a very brief recap, ever with the hope that I may be able to share something interesting at some point.

Sunday we drove from Montgomery to Gautier, Mississippi where we stayed two nights at Shepard State Park. Beautiful park just across the bay from Pascagoula shipyards. No connection to the webs, though, and barely signals on the phone. But after all, isn't "getting unconnected" the point of a vacation?

Monday we dawdled around, drove into Ocean Springs for a Wally World fix and to get a flat repaired on the scooter. Tuesday, a very late start. Drove along the beachfront in Gulfport and Pass Christian. Never have we seen so much beachfront real estate that someone would desperately like to unload. Mile after mile of "For Sale" signs. Nice beach, too, with beautiful white sands.

We had supper at Lafayette, Louisiana, then drove a dozen or so miles on west to the campground where we are currently ensconced. Next report, if all goes well, will be filed from Texas!

Alabama, But First...

2012-01-05T21:28:00.003-05:00

...we will look quickly at our first day out. Drove to Bowling Green, Kentucky where we parked the RV on LaQuinta parking lot. Very nice people, no charge. But also, no amenities, other than use of the lobby. So, no problem. We will heat with the propane furnace.
We did.
Temperature overnight dropped to 29 degrees, tank ran out of propane, so at 2:30 in the morning, awakened to a serious chill. Additional covers, still too cold for BBBH who dressed and took her book into the lobby to read while I curled into a fetal position and went back to sleep. And though I did sleep, I was never completely unaware of the chill.

And the coach battery died. Picture this. The day before we left, I had the truck battery replaced and did not think to check the coach battery. No comments on that, please.

Then I tried to crank the generator. Oops. Needs battery power in order to crank. Can't start generator, can't charge battery. Vicious circle.

Time's up. Bought propane, cleaned and rewatered battery, made trip safely to Montgomery. Battery now charged, furnace now works, and we are parked where we have a land line for electricity. Life's good.

Where in the World are

2012-01-04T04:00:00.000-05:00

vanilla and Beautiful?

Here?

or Here?

North to Alaska!

2012-01-03T04:02:00.005-05:00

March 1867, the United States purchased Alaska from Russia for about two cents per acre. It was eventually organized as a Territory of the United States in 1912. On January 3, 1959, Alaska became the 49th State of the Union. Happy 52nd Birthday to this fine State.

Six rows of eight stars each on the field of blue had occupied the upper left-hand corner of Old Glory. Now, just in time for the beginning of my new career as a teacher, we had a "new" Old Glory with seven rows of seven stars on the blue field. Its tenure as our official flag was short-lived, though, because Hawaii was not far behind.*

*Hawaii was admitted to the Union August 21, 1959, less than a week after the start of the new school year. The new fifty-star flag became official on July 4, 1960. See "Flag Day."

A Tangled Web

2012-01-02T04:02:00.003-05:00

New Year's Day post quoted Job and addressed some of the complaints of the human condition.

Case in point. At about the very time the article was being posted to blogger, I was lying awake with ridiculous pain in the area of the right transverse tarsal. Inasmuch as this was preventing sleep, or rest for that matter, I used the time, trying to get my mind off the foot, by attempting to think of material for String Too Short to Tie. This was largely an exercise in futility, and finally at daybreak I got up for the day, the first day of 2012.

During the time of the mind games, I thought of many terms in my vocabulary which are seldom used by anyone, including myself. Many of them were the result of specialty studies or job-related cant. I dreamed up, in a manner of speaking, enough of these to fill a page in total randomness. Of course, when I was showered, dressed, and fully awake, I could remember practically none of them.

A few I do remember.
--adiabatic lapse rate --standard deviation
--lemma --top dead center
--ground fault --fundamental theorem of arithmetic
--flying buttress --boolean algebra
--matrix --isobar,
a sufficient sample to give you the idea that 1) the mind was disorganized and rambling; 2) the mind was engaged. in nonproductive activity; and 3) there is certainly little enough of interest to engage a reader of the blog.

Try as I might, I cannot seem to connect these in any cogent way. I have to say that I strongly desire to come up with more engaging material in future. Please bear with me.

Your assignment, if you should choose to accept it, use any two of these terms in the same sentence such that it reflects some sense of reality.

About the picture. During a couple of years in the past, we have had roses into December; but this is the first time I can remember taking a picture of a rose in our yard in January. I should have done a little dead-heading, snapped a better shot. But it was cold out there! Persistent little plant. There are five roses on this bush at about this stage.

Days are Swifter...

2012-01-01T04:00:00.006-05:00

When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone? and I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day. Job 7:4

I do that. Job continues on with his complaint that his skin is broken (I have that); that his days are passing quicker than the eye can see (mine, too); that his life is a wind and he shall no more see good. (I fear I might have that, too. I know I don't see as well as I once did.)

What is good? Do that which is right and good in the sight of the Lord. Deuteronomy 6:18.

Notice it does not say "Do that which is right in your own sight;" nor yet does it say "Do that which is right in the eyes of your fellow man." Interesting.

Bodacious thoughts on the beginning of a new year.

Story of My Life

2011-12-31T04:00:00.009-05:00

Should auld acquaintance be forgot...
Ahern, December 31, 1931

Two things Dad found reliable in the newspaper: Our Boarding House and Alley Oop.

Happens in the Best of Families

2011-12-30T04:00:00.007-05:00

Some of the best stories one finds like ornaments hanging on the family tree are tales that the old folks, meaning my parents and grandparents and their generations of relatives, tended to ignore. They involved people only spoken of in whispers, the pretense that they did not exist carried to the very kitchens and workshops of these elders.

I did not hear these conversations. I learned of these adornments on the family tree long after I was well into an advanced age of my own. It took my enlightened generation to be willing to accept and explore the darker recesses of our heritage. Yet my sisters say, No, you may not share these tales.

In Conclusion...

2011-12-29T04:00:00.005-05:00

...of another calendar year, I thought to list some of my personal favorites among the articles on "String Too Short to Tie" during 2011. There is no particular ranking in terms of my preferences. It is simply a dozen I particularly like. Obviously, I must have liked all of them or I would not have posted them in the first place!

Rocket Launch T+ The culmination of an experiment in space exploration by two very young scientists.
Cookson the Third A tribute to our little pet on his departure from life.
For God So Loved Outline of an excellent sermon by Pastor Mark.
Snake! A rambling, or is it a slithering, tale springing from someone's mention of snake.
Indiana Fall in Black and White Pictorial tribute to Autumn in Indiana.
Everybody Ought to Go to Sunday School An account of a Sunday morning during my childhood.
A Long Trek From childhood to... Journeys of three people's lives.
Freedom My take of FDR's "Four Freedoms" speech.
Ordinary Heroes Neighbors in the Hometown whose daily lives are heroic.
Jacob Bids for the Prize The first in a series on the life of Jacob as recorded in Genesis 26 - 31.
Euphemistically Speaking A rant about the use of euphemisms for "old age."
Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo A bit of American history, facts and speculation. This article was the most frequently "hit" for the year 2011.
And finally, this one was not one of my favorites, and yet it was the second-most often hit this year: My Plate.

No, No; Pick Your Veggies

2011-12-27T04:00:00.003-05:00

Boxing Day

2011-12-26T04:00:00.001-05:00

But, no. It is Monday after a Sunday Christmas; so in the good old US of A we celebrate this as Christmas. Yes, Christmas this year is December 26. Does that make December 27 Boxing Day? Silly person. We don't "do" Boxing Day" in the US of A. Our friends across the pond do; our neighbors to the north do, but short of smacking the someone around, we don't have a boxing day in the US of A.

Good thing, too, because if we push this calendar on down the road, 2012 may be half over before it starts. Oh, wait! January 1 is on Sunday, so then New Years Day must be on Monday. Hence the new year begins on January 2.

Oh, it is all so confusing.

2011-12-25T04:00:00.002-05:00

'Tis the Night Before Christmas

2011-12-24T04:02:00.009-05:00

'Tis the night before Christmas and all across the land
All the bloggers, a right hearty band
Are checking their pallies one last time
Before shutting down, going off-line
For Santa won't visit so long as he knows
That the light of the screen still glows.

The spouse is in nightcap, or perhaps having one
So it's time to hit “Start," strange way to shut down.
Through the list once more wishing the best
to each. To Chuck on his Secondary Roads
May happiness envelope all your brood.
A Quality Day in Michigan for Joan
This day and every day for her and Om.

To Lin, proprietor of Duck and Wheel
We wish blessings abundant and real
As you celebrate with Joe, and Col and Em
Chicago's best and brightest, joy to the brim!
A short hop by 'net, but miles away
We swing down Dragon's Alley.

For Grace and Hubby may they see
Beauty in this day, even in Filthadelphee.
While we're in Pennsylvania, too
I say, Heres's What Let's Do
Say, “Merry Christmas" to Mikki
and all her family.

To "Upstate" New York
Rebecca explains her work
On New York Traveler.
Blessings to you, Mrs. Mecomber
and to those whom you love.
Then we need to hurry, shove

Off to the eastern shore tonight
to greet Andrea at Arise 2 Write.
Prayer warrior, God bless you
and all creatures there, four legged and 2.
Marydon in Maryland, historian,
Decorator, Blushing Rose and
family "Merry Christmas!"

My, this tour is getting awfully long,
But we must sing a carol, or song
for John and Ginny at Rabid Fun
Before our trek is done!
Now up! up! away from Florida,
to Minnesota
Where we wish the best for Pearl,
Why You Little... Go, Girl!
Your writing fantastic,
Comes each day from your mind elastic.

To Colorado for a special shout out to Vee,
Very Verla, Joie d' Vivre.
Love you much, and the Mister.
Vee, that's my sister!
Back home in Indiana, must say "Hey"
To Down the Road creator, Jim Grey.
Travels with Jim always a pleasure.
May Christ be your greatest treasure!

And Hoosier Happenings, Indiana man
Respect your anonymity, wish you and
The wife and kids God's richest blessing.
Don't over-gorge on tofurkey and dressing.

This doggerel is about to wear me out,
So to these, too, I give a shout.
Captain of a Crew of One, Hometown Lad, USN ret.
The Church of No People, Mid-America pastor, teacher, thinker.
The Threadbare Couch, another hometown success! Texas pastor, mother, philosopher.
Crotchety Old Man, funny man in spite of not funny life.
The Old Geezer Blog, says it all.
John Deere Mom, farm mom.
Leigh vs. Laundry, funny mom.
Let's Have a Cocktail, Atlanta's answer to funny.
Hypergraffiti, Maritime resident, author extraordinaire.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
You keep me happy, grinning
from ear to ear!
Day by day, year to year.

Family Friday Colonial America

2011-12-23T04:00:00.011-05:00

Imagine yourself a young person residing in the sparsely populated woodlands of Eastern Virginia, Colonial America. One might speculate that as you approach adulthood you imagine the pleasures and responsibilities of establishing a family of your own. But the availability of suitable partners is somewhat limited.
Thus it is that you find yourself thinking more and more about your first cousin who lives on the neighboring plantation, a fine, upstanding, even attractive person of the opposite gender with whom you are well acquainted. Verily, a match made in heaven, or at least on the fringes of this New World continent.
Too, the happy young couple reflects, there is precedent within the family for just such a match, for our Grandfather and Grandmother Venable are first cousins as well!
Thus it is that my great great great great grandparents Jacob Michaux Venable and Mary Venable were wed on August 23, 1785. The Venable family would continue on another generation! Their grandfather, Abraham Venables II had married his first cousin, Martha Davis in 1723. They were grandchildren of Captain Hugh Lewis.*
Before you form a judgment about my heritage, reflect on these things.
1. If it is true that genetic similarities may magnify weaknesses, it is also likely that they may enhance strengths. Something must account for how we got so smart.
2. Careful about summary dismissal o0f other peoples' choices. It is legal yet today (2011) for first cousins to marry in exactly half of our states and the District of Columbia. There are some restrictions in six of those states.

Apropos of nothing: It is legal in two states, Colorado and Minnesota, for an uncle to marry a niece, if it is the tradition of the aboriginal tribe of which they are members. (And I believe there is just such a connection in my family, a good many generations in the past.)
*Genealogical assertion without documentation is like a horse with no legs. Nothing to stand on. Legless horse.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

2011-12-22T04:00:00.001-05:00

I had a seat in the doctor's office and awaited the call. Presently a young lady stepped through the door and called, "David." I was so startled, inasmuch as I am not accustomed to being called by my given name by persons at least two generations younger than I, that I did not immediately respond. Again she called, "David," and I got up and went along with her.

In the exam room, the young lady had written down perhaps three of my responses to the request to list my expectations of the visit when there was a knock on the door. Another young person entered. The two ladies compared charts and concluded that my interrogator had the wrong "David." I remarked that I thought it strange that they did not page me using my surname. "Oh," the Perky Young Thing said, "we aren't allowed to use surnames due to privacy issues."
I wanted to say "Poppycock," but I am a gentleman and held my peace.

There is no reason on this green earth, privacy issues, legal profession, inept or heavy-handed bureaucracies, why civility should not reign in the medical workplace.

This sort of tomfoolery needs to cease.

What say you to the "privacy issue" of my responses being recorded on someone else's chart?

December Spring

2011-12-20T04:00:00.002-05:00

One week before Christmas, a walk around the yard with Canon in hand.

Roses appear a little nipped, yet not bad for this time of year!

The columbine would be better off hiding beneath the earth this time of year.

The snapdragons may actually burst into bloom if this "heat wave" continues a couple more days.

2011-12-19T04:00:00.000-05:00

La Navidad - Jaime Domínguez Montes

Celebration

2011-12-18T04:00:00.007-05:00

Today we will be hosting Beautiful's Family Christmas party. Your best wishes for us will include in addition to the traditional "Merry Christmas!" the good thoughts that peace, amity, and goodwill shall settle upon this household, and that a good time will be had by all.

Thank you.

The Christmas Story

2011-12-17T04:00:00.005-05:00

John 1:1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made. 4 In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. 5 And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.

3:16 For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. 17 For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.
18 “He who believes in Him is not condemned; but he who does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God. 19 And this is the condemnation, that the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. 20 For everyone practicing evil hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his deeds should be exposed. 21 But he who does the truth comes to the light, that his deeds may be clearly seen, that they have been done in God.”

As I have mentioned in the past, December 17 is a memorable day in my life.

Family Friday 2

2011-12-16T04:02:00.016-05:00

When I was a college student on the West Coast, on occasion someone would ask me, "What part of Alabama are you from?" Well, the part that does not end sentences with a preposition. At the time, I had never been in Alabama in my life. That oversight has been corrected now with numerous visits to that great state.

The point is, if there is one, that I had grown up in Colorado, and yes, I was, and still am, rather slow of speech. It might be characterized as a drawl, but not at all as "Alabama," y'all. Why this rambling introduction to Family Friday? No particular reason.

As we discovered last week, my parents were married in Hartman, Colorado. Nineteen months later, I was born in that same town in the home of my grandparents. Soon after, our little family ofthree moved to Southwest Virginia. The move was precipitated by the terminal illness of my mother's aunt. That household was in need of assistance which Mama proposed to provide. And of course, the people of the hills were in need of the gospel, and Daddy was the very one to deliver it to them. We are not going to explore today the challenges of life for outsiders in a closed community. Leave that to the sociologists.

I, of course, being only a year old when we moved from Virginia, do not remember any of the experiences the family had while there; but dad was a wonderful observer and storyteller, and my sisters and I grew up on his tales.

Uncle Chris, Aunt Laura, daughter Iris

This impressed me. Over Clinch Mountain a matter of some miles resided the doctor who was charged with the care of Aunt Laura. In that time and that place there was little to be done for a cancer patient other than to make an attempt to keep the suffering to a minimum. When the medicine supply was running low, as Dad told it, he would walk over the mountain to obtain a refill from Doc Barrett. who in addition to being a physician, bore the given name "Doctor." Now there was a man whose parents believed in the power of the name! Using online resources for genealogical research, I have verified that the man's name was Doctor.

But what really sticks in my consciousness is this. Doctor Doctor Barrett was born in 1857. Thus, my own father, after I was born, had direct face-to-face dealings with a man who was born before Abraham Lincoln was elected president! Yet I am not old.

Laura Morrell died in February, 1935. We moved from Virginia to Nebraska in June.

This account qualifies as "family history" on the genealogical level, too, for Doctor Barrett married my maternal grandmother's father's sister. His daughter married my grandfather's uncle. You figure it out.

Uncle Chris was my grandfather's brother; Aunt Laura was my grandmother's sister.

Christmas Cheer

2011-12-15T04:00:00.004-05:00

What goes on here ten days before Christmas? Novelty. BBBH and I are engaged in cleaning the interior of the house. No, I don't mean "deep cleaning" that you fastidious ones are thinking. I mean attempting to make the house "presentable" for those who call and are more interested in us as friends and family than they are in the state of the housekeeping.

I spent the better part of two days getting my "office" straightened up. You have to understand the system. It works like this. Anything that needs to be "filed" or used in the office is taken upstairs when a trip that way is being made anyway. These items are stacked on top of the desk, and the pile grows, and grows, and grows until it takes most of a good morning to sort through and file the stuff accumulated there. The resulting packing of the file folders reminds me that it is the time of year to go through the folders themselves, discarding material no longer required to be kept. But that is for another day.

So, the desktop is clear and now it is time to get a wheat scoop and a dust rag. (The dust is layered so deeply on the horizontal surfaces that a scoop is required to get it down to a level where the cloth will be effective.) There are four bookcases, two tables and two desks in this room; so the job is not completed in one day.

Day two. Finished the office! And what, you might ask, has Beautiful been doing all this while. Too tedious are the tasks she has accomplished for me to enumerate them, but suffice it to say they have involved mops, buckets, washing machine and dryer. And she fixed my meals somewhere in the interstices of her busy schedule. ( I like to pronounce that "shed-yule" to emphasize the quality of the efforts we expend around here.)

Bring on the Christmas celebrations!

Disclaimer: BBBH says, Oh, Honey, people will think we are slobs. At least tell them about the kitchen. Okay, here it is. Neither of us will walk away from the kitchen while it is in need of attention.

Mary, Queen of Scots

2011-12-14T04:00:00.004-05:00

Mary was born December 8, 1542 and on December 14 of that same year she became Queen of Scots upon the death of her father, James V. She reigned until July 1567. It was a time of intrigue, arranged marriages, arson?, murder?, imprisonment, escape, imprisonment, execution of the principal, and, you know, the usual royal goings-on.

Mary was executed on February 8, 1587 at Fotheringhay Castle.
She was 44 years of age.

Image: Wikipedia

Joy to the World!

2011-12-13T08:51:00.001-05:00

In the spirit of the season of "peace and goodwill," I won't be offended if you wish me "Happy Holidays!" Please don't be offended when I wish you a "Merry Christmas!" Thank you.

Tragedy in North America's Oldest Capital

2011-12-12T04:00:00.006-05:00

On the night of December 12, 1942, the poison of war permeating the entire world, a fire in the Knights of Columbus Hostel killed 99 and wounded an additional 109 persons who were attending a “barn dance," an activity welcomed by the hundreds of service men stationed in St. John’s.

St. John’s harbor was a staging area for transport of materiel and personnel to the European Theater.

The Canadians had set up military bases at Gander and Torbay. The Americans had leased Fort Pepperrell, and the Newfoundlanders, who at this time were not a part of the Canadian confederation, had an operational base at Shamrock Field. In addition to these varied military forces utilizing St. John’s facilities, the city was a hotbed of intrigue and was apparently overrun with foreign agents with allegiances to many interests.

And so it was that people, conditions, and ideals converged on a fateful night. A saboteur took advantage of a volatile situation and in an act of arson created the worst disaster by fire in Canadian history.

Honor and Recognition is due those who died here, for they also served in Freedom's cause.
A rather detailed but very interesting account is given here, Newfoundland’s Grand Banks Site.

Must Be the Time

2011-12-10T04:00:00.002-05:00

Looks as though this is the weekend for decor-ation. *sigh*

Family Friday

2011-12-09T04:02:00.011-05:00

Mr. Chuck who lives on Secondary Roads has challenged us with a "Family Friday" meme. Although I have posted many family stories on this blog, they have been scattered at random. This is as you would expect, since this is a random sort of blog. Please don't let me hear you mutter "undisciplined."

Here is the first of the family stories on "Family Friday."

Spring 1932 on the high plains of Eastern Colorado, twenty-one year-old Delbert Lacy was working in the northeast corner of Bent County. He felt strongly the call of God on his life, knowing with certainty that he was to preach the gospel of Christ. Long before daybreak on Sunday morning he would rise and walk ten miles to a schoolhouse which was his preaching station. He would conduct the services, then trek the many miles homeward. It was while thus engaged that he was able to obtain a Model-T coupe, and thus expand the horizons of his life.

Delbert had heard of a revival which was being conducted in the next county to the north. He made the trip to Haswell where he met a young lady, Vera Morrell, who with her sister was providing the music for the meetings. When the evangelist felt it time to move on, Miss Morrell stayed behind to establish and conduct church services on a regular basis. Thus it was that the young preacher lad heard this preacher girl from her own pulpit. A correspondence between them was started in which they shared accounts of their endeavors in the Lord's work.

Eventually, these young people found their letters to include more and more endearing salutations, and finally a visit by Delbert to Miss Morrell resulted in an invitation to meet her parents in Hartman. Long story short, the wedding took place in Hartman on December 24, 1932. It was the beginning of a life-long love affair with each other, and with their Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, in whose service they labored together until Vera exchanged her earthly life for her heavenly home in 1991. Delbert followed in 1999.

Delbert and Vera Lacy were known to me as "Daddy" and "Mama." It was a blessing from the Lord to me that I was allowed to be born into their home. I have a packet of letters that they exchanged with each other during the year 1932, the last one written four days before the wedding. I have pieced the above paragraphs together from verbal accounts I remember as well as from material contained in the letters.

Rocket Launch, T + _

2011-12-08T04:00:00.009-05:00

The echo of the blast rolled around the hills that surrounded the campus. Both youngsters were stunned. Miraculously, neither suffered physical injury beyond the ringing in their ears.

Just as the smoke started to drift away, the grounds keeper came pushing a wheelbarrow up the hill. He had witnessed the spectacle from a mere thirty yards from ground zero. As his path crossed the boys' trek toward the scene of the blast, he said, in a very calm and controlled voice, "I wouldn't do that again if I were you." You think?

At about that moment the window of the president's office flew up and the glass flew out and fell crashing to the ground. The Man himself poked his head out the window. Ho, boy.

The upshot (so to speak).
It is not known to either of the lads, nor was it ever discussed, how much the fact that the father of one of the boys had been the predecessor to the now-sitting president who was prepping for his first academic year in the post had to do with the conclusion to this story. It is not known what discussion took place between the two gentlemen. It is known that the boys were held responsible for replacing the window, notwithstanding that they both ever after believed that they did not cause the breakage, but rather that ~~Tubby~~ the president caused the glass to fall from its frame when he threw the window open with excessive force.

The younger boy's father took the lad and the window frame to Madsen's Paints and Wallpaper on North Tejon Street where the window was repaired at a cost of $5.25, which to the boys was a veritable fortune. And they did have to pay it.

Epilogue
The day following the explosion, the two genii (geniuses?) returned to the scene of the "crime." Isn't that always the case? They observed that in the center of the parking lot there was not a pebble of gravel to be found in a circle approximately sixteen feet in diameter. They searched for some time for fragments of the "rocket" and ultimately found it south of the road and about twenty feet up the side of the hill. The can appeared to be intact! That is, it seemed to be of a piece, but it was completely flattened.

The Lord was watching over those idiots.
[The End]
© 2011 David W. Lacy

Pearl Harbor Day + 70 Years

2011-12-07T09:00:00.000-05:00

Today' assignment: In memory of those who died December 7, 1941, select at least one item from this page and explore it.

Cookson the Third

2011-12-06T14:04:00.007-05:00

Over the past few weeks we have watched him go down the hill into the valley of the shadow of death. Today he crossed the stream and is no longer with us. But he will never be forgotten; he will always be an important part of who we are.

Cookie was born in Clinton County, Indiana January 2, 1993. He departed his life December 6, 2011, aged 18 years, 11 months.

Following a stint in his early life as the long-legged rat terrier stud, he exchanged his role as sire for the comforts of a leisure life as JoAnn's companion. He later accepted David as part of his pack. He has been faithful and true to his people, in a word, Good Dog.

This beautiful seventeen-pound package of fun, enthusiasm and love will be sorely missed

Rocket Science, Launch!

2011-12-06T04:00:00.007-05:00

Rocket Science, Stage 3

2011-12-05T04:02:00.006-05:00

This is the day! It is another hot and lazy summer day. The boys walked up the road to the parking lot, kicking the gravel as they went. Beautiful! There were no cars in the lot this afternoon. They quickly moved to the very center of the lot, about forty feet south of the storage shed. The boys ever so carefully set the rocket at just exactly the right attitude to achieve maximum flight. The fuse was carefully installed in the engine port and cut to a two-foot length, which they calculated to be just right to allow them to move to the shelter of the shed before launch.

They lit the fuse. It burned an inch, sputtered and went out. They lit it again and headed for the shelter. As they turned to watch, they noted that the sparkling had stopped and the smoke was no longer rising from the string. The younger of the boys (younger by six weeks) cautiously approached the vehicle. It was clear that the fuse was not going to achieve its end, so the lad tilted the rocket carefully and spilled a string of fuel about three feet in length. The rocket was restored to its proper attitude and a match touched to the extreme end of the make-shift fuse. Man! Did that ever burn quickly! As the fire began to puddle around the nozzle of the fuel tank, the ~~perpetrators~~ scientists noted that it began to glow a cherry red. The lad more distant from the contraption yelled, "Run! she's gonna blow!"
[to be continued] © 2011 David W. Lacy

The Great Commission

2011-12-04T08:35:00.002-05:00

Pastor Mark's message is based on the words of the Master found in Matthew 28:16-19

Four truths from Christ's last words.

1. There is power in Jesus' command. "All power is given to me," but power is given to His followers: the Holy Spirit baptism with power from on high. The problem with many Christians today is that they are satisfied to live powerless.

2. We see people in His command. "Go ye..." He is addressing us, His followers.

3. We see a plan in His command. a) "Go" b) "Win" converts c) Baptize d) Teach, that is make disciples of them. We cannot improve the plan. We need to follow the plan. Don't try to reinvent the wheel; get the wheel moving!

4. We see a promise within the command. "I am with you always, even to the end of the world." Go, implement the plan. You do not go alone!

Acts 1:8 But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth. --Jesus Christ

An Ethicist on Deception

2011-12-02T04:00:00.004-05:00

Sissela Bok was born in Sweden, December 2, 1934. Both her mother, Alva Myrdal, and her father, Gunnar Myrdal, were Nobel Prize winners in two different disciplines and a decade apart. Her brother, Jon Myrdal, is a well-known writer and journalist. Sissela Bok is married to Derek Bok who was a long-time president of Harvard University. She herself was professor of philosophy at Brandeis. Her daughter, Hilary Bok is a philosopher as well.
(Sissela Bok image: Harvardsquarelibrary)

I include this snippet about Ms. Bok as a reminder both to myself and to you that while we share space on the same planet we are definitely from different worlds!

A few lines from Ms. Bok:

Liars share with those they deceive the desire not to be deceived.

We are all, in a sense, experts on secrecy. From earliest childhood we feel its mystery and attraction. We know both the power it confers and the burden it imposes. We learn how it can delight, give breathing space and protect.

While all deception requires secrecy, all secrecy is not meant to deceive.

Happy Birthday, Ms. Bok. 1934 was a very good year!

Rocket Science, Stage 2

2011-12-01T04:02:00.008-05:00

The boys ambled home. It was late in the afternoon; they were tired. They got the comics book stash from beneath the bed and selected a few titles. As they lay under the cottonwood tree thumbing through the pages of "Buck Rogers in the Twenty-fifth Century" and "Mickey Mouse" and "Plastic Man" they gave very little further thought to the scientific endeavor they had launched this day. Perhaps how little thought will become evident with the dawning of a new day.

Wednesday morning broke, bright and fair. Another lazy summer day. The boys departed their respective homes to meet by the lilac hedge* with the ingredients gathered the previous day, along with a mortar and pestle from the chemistry set and the two near-empty adolescent heads they carried with them everywhere.

The first order of business was to build the rocket. A scavenger hunt was the order of the day. Passing up and down the neighborhood alleys the boys scrounged for necessary parts. They did not know what they were looking for, but they would recognize it when they saw it. Eureka!

Just there, in Mrs. Nordyke's ash pit, was a cylindrical object about nine inches in length and two and one-half inches in diameter! Verily, a rocket! and with so little need of modification, for it was made of steel, completely sealed except for a quarter-inch orifice on one end.

Ailerons and stabilizers? Pffft! it is to scoff, for the launch platform will so perfectly aim it that it cannot fail to go airborne. All that remained was to grind and mix the fuel, and fill the fuel chamber, which, as it turned out, was pretty much the entire interior of the spent bug-bomb, for that was what the can was, an early 1940s aerosol can, one of the very first.

The preparation was much more tedious than this account, if you can imagine that. For they also had to devise an ignition device. This was accomplished by mixing a "secret" ingredient in water, soaking a length of kite string in the solution and allowing it to dry. Overnight. So it is back to the library for more adventures with Mickey, Goofy, Pluto, and perhaps Captain Marvel.
[to be continued, with apologies to Chuck] © 2011 David W. Lacy
*The lilac hedge and Nordyke's are on the map.

It Was Inevitable

2011-11-30T04:02:00.000-05:00

but we are not amused.

Well, okay, amused enough to step outside for a couple of snapshots.

It rained like Noah's deluge throughout the morning. Shortly afternoon it changed to snow. And it snowed, and snowed; and the wind ~~blowed~~ blew and blew.

We didn't even make it through November. But almost!

Happy Birthday, John Mayall

2011-11-29T10:00:00.000-05:00

Born November 29, 1933

Father of Brit blues.

How does a Brit musician know if he's any good? Can he play with John Mayall? Check it out.

Rocket Science, 1948

2011-11-28T04:02:00.006-05:00

Above the main building on the west side is the parking lot.* It has a gravel surface. It is the scene of an escapade of two boys who shall remain nameless in the interest of protecting any parties who may be in need of such protection.

The boys conceived the idea of building and launching a rocket. The power source was a matter of serious discussion. Having no access to liquefied gasses, and the concept of atomic power just now being mastered by Oppenheimer and others, the boys concluded that a solid fuel propellant was required.

But how to obtain the "solid fuel"? Resourceful as these young minds were, it did not take them long to realize that three substances would suffice to provide sufficient force to propel their rocket into suborbital flight. The reader would do well to realize that the V-2 rocket only three or four years before this tale unfolds had been used to attack the British from the European continent. Also realize that it was yet a matter of more than twenty years before anyone launched an orbital foray from Earth.

Stage set, on with the tale. One of the chemicals required was "in stock" in the boys' chemistry set. Another was readily available with a little work around the dregs of a recent "campfire" in their backyard. The third item, however, was not easily accessible, but a little thought brought them to the realization that every drugstore in town had a supply of this magic ingredient. Thus, it being a lazy summer afternoon and with nothing more productive to do, the boys ambled to town and assayed to purchase the item at Walton's Pharmacy. The druggist questioned the boys as to their need of the material, found their answer unsatisfactory, and refused to sell it to them.

Not discouraged, the boys applied what they had learned as they strolled to another drug store a few blocks away. This gave them time to brainstorm the solution to another interrogation. They formulated a brilliant scheme, probably involving such things as "My mother needs it..."

or, "His dad uses it for..."

So we they entered the store, and actually found a half-pint jar of the substance on an open shelf near the rear of the store. They took it to the lady at the cash register who rang up the purchase and for the sum of twenty-nine cents, our heroes were in business, no questions asked.

*refer to map here, if you need memory refreshed.

V-2 missile development: http://www.centennialofflight.gov/

For God So Loved

2011-11-27T08:45:00.004-05:00

"Tell me the old, old story of Jesus and His love." -Katherine Hankey (1866)

Pastor Mark's message is based on John 3:16 For God so loved the world, that he gave His only begotten Son, that whosover believeth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

November is missions month and each Sunday a missionary is featured and the sermon is missions-oriented. Missions started in the Heart of God. God is a mission-minded God.
We serve a compassionate God.

The three fundamental truths about God's love.
1. His love is extravagant. He loves us with everlasting, unceasing love.
2. His love is exhaustive. He loves the world. Text, also II Peter 3:9, I Timothy 2:4
3. His love is expressive. He gave His only begotten Son.

Missions work is hard work; requires sacrifice. Why engage in missions?
1. Compassionate act, even as God is compassionate us-ward.
2. Compelling message. Romans 1:14 - 17 The gospel is a distinct, dynamic, particular message; a powerful message.
3. We are a commissioned people. Mark 16:15 - 16. Jesus said, "Go."

And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.

New May Not Be Better

2011-11-26T10:53:00.007-05:00

What do you suppose this means? Yes, it means that vanilla got a new computer. After the nine-hour transfer of documents and stuff, he has a new computer he hates.

The new operating system begs the question why is it necessary to rework and jimmie up what already works well? To provide employment for software engineers perhaps. This is maybe a good end-in-itself. For someone, anyway.

Then there is the keypad. I expected it to take some time and practice to get used to the keypad. And time it is taking. Primarily because there is a numeric calculator pad which my old machine did not have, the alpha keyboard is offset to the left of the machine. Thus, I always feel off-center. Oh, dear. Perhaps I am. I always seem to place the fingers, not in home position, but rather om yjod swlstf doyisyopm/

Not to mention the fact that, yes, the data transferred, but I cannot access it. I can find it but can't open it in many cases.

This is going to take some getting-used-to.

Sorry about the photo. It was correctly aligned when it downloaded, but when I transferred it to blogger this is the result. Oh, joy.

THEN I went to publish this post, and nothing happened. javascript void. Had to go to old computer to get this online. Growl.

Oh! Look what Sharkbytes did for me. I used the code she put in the comments. Thanks, Joan. But. To get it to post, I had to copy the code, paste to an email, send to self, open in desktop computer, then copy and paste to blogger. Isn't this fun~ Hmmm. Now how do I smallify it?;

Good Friends, Good Food, Good Day

2011-11-25T04:02:00.003-05:00

Thanksgiving Day roses, chez vanilla, Perfect, Indiana,

Black and white dog, and would you believe black and white shoes.

The turkey and all its wonderful gustatory accompaniments have been "put away."

Fun, games, good conversation completed the perfect day!

We are Thankful!

2011-11-24T13:18:00.003-05:00

Ellie

5/1/26 - 11-24-98

Thanksgiving Wishes

2011-11-24T04:02:00.006-05:00

It is time once again to prep the turkey and dressing. I was advised last year that this bird was much too scrawny to feed the gang, so I kept him on the premises in an attempt to fatten him up for the next Thanksgiving. Clearly, my efforts have failed.

This is one smart old bird. He has figured out that eating just enough for sustenance and the daily chore of obtaining enough provender against the next day, he has a much better chance of survival.
As, I might add, would we all.

He has so frustrated me that I am tempted to wring his scrawny neck purely as the vengeful treatment he so richly deserves. But I won't. May I have another slice of that "tofurkey" please?

I wish you enough. Be thankful.

Doctors, Art and Wearing Out the Car

2011-11-23T04:02:00.008-05:00

Between the two of us, we have visited entirely too many doctors' offices in the past sixty days. This is not a plea for sympathy. We get our entertainment where we can find it.

Monday, though, we drove the thirty-five miles to visit a specialist for BBBH. This office is in...
Hospital name on banner over atrium.
(Click on the blue "B" to bigify.)
And the interior of the waiting room is shown in the other two photographs. I am not an interior designer, interior decorator, or otherwise involved in selections of decor for any place outside my own home; and BBBH does that

I nominate this as the most hideous waiting room, medical professional category. The design in the carpet, beige on gray, is enough to give the steadiest of individuals a migraine. The odd chair is less an accent piece than it is a nightmare waiting to be dreamt. And the other chairs are nothing to look at, either.

The tiles on the wall are someone's nod to "art" or "decor" or whatever. Pretty stark, overall. I do not know if this was chosen by medical staff, or if it is standard "hospital" selection. I'm guessing the latter, for the people in the office all seemed normal.

As you read this, we are taking or have taken the thirty-five mile journey yet again, as we did Monday and the previous Thursday, for I am getting a 60 thousand mile, I mean 60 day checkup on the plastic surgery. Sigh.

November 22, 1963

2011-11-22T04:00:00.001-05:00

November 22, 1963. The very thought of the date evokes a string of memories surrounding the assassination of a young and very popular United States President, John F. Kennedy (Profiles in Courage).

It is of some interest that on the very same day two other personages of considerable fame and influence passed from this mortal coil. These men were Aldous Huxley (Brave New World, Point Counterpoint) and C.S. Lewis (Chronicles of Narnia, Mere Christianity).

John F. "Jack" Kennedy 1917 - 1963 Writer, Politician, President, Died too young

Aldous L. Huxley 1894 - 1963 Novelist, Philosopher, Essayist, Dramatist, Poet

Clive S. "Jack" Lewis 1898 - 1963 Novelist, Philosopher, Christian apologist, Professor

Snake!

2011-11-21T04:00:00.006-05:00

A while back, my sister related to me that they had had a snake on the premises. I wrote the following to her.

"Seeing your snake yesterday prompts me to ask you if you remember Dad's story about killing Uncle Chris's bull snake?

Dad, of course, growing up on the High Plains, had an aversion to snakes, because rattlers were everywhere. One day while living in Scott County, Virginia, he went to the corncrib. Snake! which he killed. Uncle Chris was quite upset, for it seems the snake was a pet, and moreover a working member of the family, for it kept the rat population under control.

Once upon a time when I had the little Volkswagen camper, we were traveling through Nebraska. On a dirt sideroad there appeared in front of us a very large bull snake. I pulled up very close to it, but did not run over it, waiting for it to clear the road. It, however, was annoyed at our presence, turned and struck at the front tire. I was watching, head out the window. He bounced pretty good, but struck again before slithering off! Yours for snake-free living." End of note to Vee. This is the rest of the story.

Many miles down the road, but still in Nebraska there lived at that time my Uncle Ellis and Aunt Velma. Naturally we stopped there for a visit. During the course of an evening, the snake story was related. This got Uncle going on snakes in Eastern Colorado back in the old days.

Uncle Ellis was, of the eight Lacy brothers, closest to my father in age. Thus as boys their exploits often involved both, or one might say mischief multiplied itself when they worked together. Anyway, Uncle regaled me with stories of Delbert (that would be "Dad") grasping rattlesnakes by the tail, shaking them to straighten them, and snapping their heads off.

On my next visit to the male paternal unit, I confronted him with this tale. "Pshaw," he said. "Ellis always was one to embellish a tale. It only happened once, and it was a bull snake, not a rattlesnake."

Well, whatever. It was a snake, wasn't it?

Image, texassnakes.net

Salvation to the Gentiles

2011-11-20T08:45:00.005-05:00

Preacher Joe
Acts 10:1-6 There was a certain man in Caesarea called Cornelius, a centurion of the band called the Italian band, a devout man, and one that feared God with all his house, which gave much alms to the people, and prayed to God alway. (More)

Cornelius is a very important character in the Bible.
1. God has chosen to use man to demonstrate the need to turn completely to Christ. The Angel could have told Cornelius, but God uses a man to communicate the message.
2. God will orchestrate the opportunity to communicate the message. II Corinthians 5:20 Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God.
3. God does not look at any man as unable to receive the grace of Jesus Christ.

Cornelius was the first non-Jew to be saved. The door is opened to gentiles. Acts 10:45 The Jews were "astonished" i.e., "out of their minds" in amazement.

God gives privilege and responsibility: the privilege of membership in God's family (I am a child of God); the responsibility to carry the message of hope and salvation to others.

II Peter 3:9 The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance.

Earning My Keep

2011-11-19T04:00:00.003-05:00

Here's the map again. I call your attention to the area immediately surrounding the red brick school building. On the east side, the area labelled "5" is all lawn, enclosed on the south and east sides by road, on the north side by a lilac hedge, and on the west by the building itself.

Also, there is lawn to the west of the building, enclosed by a fairly high wall on the west side and by lesser walls on the south and north sides, because of the slope of the terrain. These two pieces of land, then, is what I mean when I refer to "the lawn."

My summer job on the premises was to mow the lawn. This was during the years I was 12 and 13. I don't recall for sure whether or not I started when I was 11. Anyway, for this task, remember heavy, steel-framed reel-type push mower, I received the munificent stipend of twenty-five cents, U.S. Yes, one shiny quarter!

What could be obtained for a quarter? The price of Mechanix Illustrated was fifteen cents. That was a monthly expense. A bottle of pop was a nickel, as was a full-size candy bar, bigger than you get for a buck these days. Clausen's used book store consumed much of my time and financial resources. Good titles and interesting reading could often be obtained for ten to twenty-five cents, though occasionally one had to ask Mr. C to put a title back while he saved up enough to cover the 75 cents or a dollar. Used comic books at Sol's were usually a nickel apiece, six for a quarter. New titles were a dime, and avoided because of the profligacy of spending enough to get two books in order to get one. Moreover, if one didn't damage them too severely, they could be exchanged, three for one.

Now focus on the "gravel parking lot" in front of Building #9. Should I gain sufficient courage to do so, I may in a few days relate a story, the culmination of which is set in this lot.

Walter Tell

2011-11-18T04:00:00.007-05:00

Turtle duck turtle duck turtle duck duck duck!

We all recognize instantly the phrase from The William Tell Overture. But this article is not about opera, or music, or Rossini.

Today, if our legends are to be trusted implicitly, is the 704th anniversary of the famous cross-bow shot in Switzerland by one William Tell. It is a story that casts William Tell as a larger-than-life hero. I am of the opinion, however, that the real hero to be memorialized on this date is Tell's son, Walter. In case you need to brush up on your fifth-grade lessons, Tell refused to salute the hat raised on a pole which represented the Habsburg authority in Altdorf. Gessler, Austrian ruler of the dorf, was a harsh and unforgiving despot. He had Tell arrested, and because of Tell's fame as an archer, he required that Tell shoot an apple from his son's head, or both would be executed.

My father never earned any medals for it, because he never entered any competitions. But he had a clear eye and a steady hand which enabled him to be a crack marksman with a rifle. Prior to hunting season each year, we would go to the range to "sight in" the rifles. I have seen him shoot, and he was good. And yet. And yet I think that to persuade me to stand before him with an apple on my head-- oh, no. No, thank you very much. And thus I nominate Walter Tell as the hero of the tale to this point.

At any rate, Tell's shot cleanly split the apple. This is pretty much the end of the school-child tale as I recall it from my ten-year old experience. But Gessler had noted that Tell had taken two bolts from his quiver prior to the shot, so he asked, Why the second bolt? Tell replied had he killed his son, he would have put the second bolt through Gessler himself. Irate, Gessler had Tell arrested. One might like to read the rest of the tale, for it ultimately cost Gessler his life, and forever immortalized William Tell as a Swiss Hero.

Indiana Fall in Black and White

2011-11-17T04:00:00.001-05:00

A long time ago, another time, but in this place, I shot a lot of black and white film. I processed the pictures myself. I never got really good at photography, but occasionally I got lucky and came up with a decent picture. This one has long been a favorite of mine. It serves here as a header to "Indiana Fall in Black and White."

This was the vechicle which I drove back and forth to work. It is already twenty-six years old at the time this picture was taken.

Hangers-on. The leaves don't all fall at once.

Hmmm. If we rake now, we'll have to rake again. Decisions, decisions.

Falling leaves. Serendipity, for one cannot simply "order" the leaves to fall in front of the lens.

My daughter's car in the driveway. If you can identify it you are a true "car geek."

Two gables. Bearnaise gable; straight gable.

Sixth Grade Party Protracted

2011-11-16T04:00:00.004-05:00

August, 1959. I walked into my classroom in an old school house in Brown Township. For the very first time, I walked into a classroom as the teacher, the teacher of the twenty-four sixth graders who would presently fill the seats in front of me.

November, 2011. I have been invited to a dinner party at a home in a village about fifty miles from my residence. Of course BBBH and I will be there, for the invitation came from one of the ladies who had been a student in that class fifty-two years ago.

The hostess, Sherry, had invited some of the other students whom I had taught at Brown Township School. Present at this wonderful reunion were Gloria, as I knew her, who is now called "Jeanie" and her husband, Craig; Jan and her husband, Dennis; Kathy; and Sherry. My spouse and I completed the group.

Sherry had prepared a wonderful meal which was enjoyed with much gusto! Kathy provided a marvelous dessert, two desserts, actually; and naturally I had some of each.

The catching-up, the tales of children, grandchildren, achievements, "what ever happened to" went on well into the evening. But we eventually had to take our departure. After all, we had an hour's drive to get home. And we really aren't as young as we used to be!

Skunky Prequel

2011-11-15T04:00:00.005-05:00

Yesterday we shot the skunk. We retrieved a shovel from the shed and interred the carcass below the ditch bank. We went home and related the evening's doings. Which reminded Dad of his youth, and so he regaled us with stories from the "early days" on the high plains.

The most memorable account of the evening was a tale concerning Dad and his brother, Carl checking their live traps before going to school. One of the traps contained a skunk, so Carl opened the gate and the critter crawled out. But instead of running off, it stood its ground. The boys knew that so long as the skunk did not have its forefeet planted that it could not spray them, so Carl quickly grabbed the animal by the tail and hoisted it into the air. They went merrily along the way, thinking it might be fun to release the beastie in the school yard.

But of course to get out of the field and onto the road, they had to go through a four-strand barbwire fence. "You go on through," said Carl, "and I'll hand him to ya." So Delbert crawled through the fence. Carl lifted the skunk to pass it over, but as Delbert reached for it, the skunk grabbed the top wire with its front paws. And Carl was the recipient of the angry animal's expression of displeasure!

Chicken Thief

2011-11-14T03:58:00.006-05:00

Our last visit to the neighborhood involved the egg gathering and the milking lesson. Today, we will focus on the same vicinity. Just below the chicken house (12) there is a little drainage ditch which goes through a twelve-inch culvert under the road. We had been losing some chickens to some feral culprit, the most likely guess being a skunk.

One evening while my mother's Aunt Bessie and her family were visiting us, there arose a clamor in the hen house. Dad said I should get the .25-20 down and take care of the situation. So mother's cousin, Phil, and I headed up the hill to the scene of the supposed carnage. Not that it makes any difference to the story, but though he was my mother's first cousin, Phil was a year younger than I.

Anyway, as we arrived at the henhouse, there ran from beneath it a critter. It headed down the hill and dived into the culvert. It was a skunk. I lay down in the ditch and shined the light into the tunnel. Placing the barrel of the rifle in the culvert, I pulled the trigger. It was a direct hit: in fact, it would have been impossible to miss. We got a length of bob warr from the shed, stuck it in the pipe, twisted it into the carcass which we retrieved. The wound in the side was big as my hand (remember we are talking twelve-year old kid here).

This resolved the chicken-theft problem. Fifty years later, Phil was visiting me in Indiana and said, "Do you remember the night you shot the skunk?" Well, yes; but I probably hadn't thought of it in many decades.

Postprandial Productivity

2011-11-12T04:02:00.004-05:00

Pretty pal, Joann, picked pears from her property, put them in a poke and plopped them in our pantry. Preparing pears, spouse peeled and I pared and parted them into pieces, put them in a pot.

Sparing details, we processed them and packed them into jars, part of them pints, and part quarts. Lids !pinged!; we are pleased. Partaking of pears later will be a pleasure.

Picked and packed a peck of pears. Pleasing productivity.

Vanilla and BBBH: What a ~~pear pare~~ pair!

11th Hour, 11th Day, 11th Month

2011-11-11T04:00:00.003-05:00

In previous years I have written about Armistice Day, and Veterans' Day. The important thing today is to remember that our past is filled with heroes who made our present possible. Remember them, honor them, particularly those who in service to their country defended our freedoms, many of them giving their all.

At 11:00 A.M. I will be on the courthouse square, along with as many of my fellow citizens who will brave the elements for a brief ceremony honoring those who served in the Armed Forces. The local high school will have a contingent from the band to provide patriotic mu

sic. It does my heart good to see that the next generation is learning about their past, and it ge

nerates hope within me that our future will be bright!

Update: We assembled on the courthouse lawn.

The Tipton High School band plays.

Judge Jack Richter honors Veterans.

Riflemen, 21-gun salute.

Trip to the City

2011-11-10T04:00:00.004-05:00

This. This is one of Beautiful's favorite places. Anywhere. You may take my word for it, you really don't want to stop here with her. Unless of course you've nothing planned or hoped for for the rest of the day. Seriously. She. Will. Not. Leave. Until she is ready, and who knows when that will be?

Some women, I am told, can spend hours in a boutique or shoe outlet. Not BBBH. She wants to be in the home improvement store. (An antique shop will also serve on occasion.)

Then should you pass this place after she has finally decided to leave the Big Box, you can plan on stopping again. The blessing here is that you get to wait in the car. Watching the ladies entering and leaving this establishment makes you hope, fervently hope, that the store has an abundant "supply" of "beauty" for it is much needed. Well, except in the case of BBBH, who, well, er, ah-- I seem to have dug myself into a hole here.

Always have a camera at hand, for one never knows when he may hap upon a train wreck. I most assuredly assure you that no matter what business I might be engaged in, I would not spend my neon budget in this manner.

Shucks, pleasant aromas wafting from a bakery or eating establishment can be quite enticing. But this sign evokes, well olfactory "images" that are not necessarily appetizing.

Let the aroma advertise for you. Spend your neon money on, say, an "OPEN" sign.

Picture Box

2011-11-09T04:02:00.002-05:00

Pawing around in the loose pictures box yields not only images, but memories. This may be the principal reason for taking photos and snapshots of people. The examples here were taken in the fall prior to our marriage in February. The little lady checking her watch there in the kitchen may have wondered why I had yet to arrive. Well, as you can see, the refrigerator has morphed into a Dodge Caravan, against which I am leaning. I am enjoying a beautiful fall evening and who knows what I am thinking? I don't even remember.

This may have been the very evening during which she asked me to marry her. At any rate, it is all the beginning of something good, something exciting, and so far, something lasting.
Might I say it is all good? I might, but is there such a thing as any marital relationship in which it is all good? In this instance, it started out good and just gets better and better!

To Decorate, and When; or Not

2011-11-08T04:02:00.004-05:00

He won't be squawking about this, or anything else, after the twenty-third.

When should the Christmas decor go up? There are about as many opinions on this as there are households that celebrate Christmas. My sister commented the other day to the effect that too early and too long were both wrong. A niece commented that they were putting up their trees and decor as they removed the Halloween stuff. Also, she indicated that her Hubs required it to stay up until the end of February. Yes, I see that, what with the veritable fortune they have invested in the decorations.

I rather leaned, at least while my kids were still at home, to putting up the tree on Christmas Eve and removing it on January sixth. I am leaning now, strongly leaning now, toward no decoration at all, save possibly one eighteen-inch tree on a table in the entryway.

We'll see how that goes over with the Missus.

What is your tradition in this regard, or your preference if you don't follow a specific routine?

Collateral Reading
Yesterday I read an article by Marybeth Hicks which is well-worth the time, probably three minutes, it takes to read it. I have posted it over on Retrotechnocracy.
In this article, Ms. Hicks deals with five things she believes mothers should have taught their children who are now involved in the OWS fiasco.

1. Life isn't fair
2. Nothing is "free"
3. Your word is your bond
4. A protest is not a party
5. There are reasons you haven't found jobs

Fortunately,

2011-11-07T04:00:00.008-05:00

these ads won't be published again. My friend, Larry, sent me a collection of old advertisements that he asserts will not be used again, ever. Okay, except that I will use them here as a reminder of how far we have come in the past eighty to one hundred years

My grandma started me on coffee when I was five, but I probably never had cola until I was seven or eight. Today, I will drink fifteen cups of coffee a day, but maybe five colas in a year.

Note that the organization which ran the ad resolved the issue of whether the stuff should be called "soda" or "pop."

They opt for either and/or both.

The notion of raising a Blatz baby just seems way beyond the pale. Of course, the idea of coming home to a "Blatz Mama" isn't all that appealing, either.

Oh, yes. Eat, drink, be merry-- and smoke; for tomorrow we die.

This one rather gives a different point of view on the "coke baby" thing, doesn't it?

What ads that run now will be shocking, nay, horrifying to a future generation? Among others, perhaps this one, if the food police have their way. Maybe sooner than you expect. Bon appetit.

God is Good All the Time

2011-11-06T08:28:00.001-05:00

Pastor Mark's sermon emphasized one attribute of God, namely His Goodness.
Reading Psalm 34
In John 10:11 we find Jesus saying, "I am the good shepherd."
Pastor asked, "What does 'God is good' mean?" His message was the answer to this question.

1. God will always meet my genuine needs. This is not to say God will meet your wants. Phillipians 5:19, Matthew 6: 25-30

2. He will always forgive me of my sins. I John 1:9 "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

3. He is always up to something good for my life. Romans 8:28, Jeremiah 29:11

4. He will always love me personally. Jeremiah 31:3
I cannot do anything that will cause God to love me more than he already does. He loves me with perfect love. He cannot improve on His love. I cannot do anything that will cause God to love me less than he does. Grieving God does not diminish His love. God's love is everlasting. Jeremiah 31:3

5. He will give me the grace I need all the time. II Corinthians 12:9
Grace = God's riches at Christ's expense.
Why does grace show up in my life? Because God is good, all the time.
Grace abounds; in His mercy we do not get what we deserve. God is good.

Because God is good, He will lead me to repentence; I will live for Him; I will be with Him eternally.

Heroic Police Officer

2011-11-05T04:00:00.001-04:00

November 1, 1950 this man, Leslie W. Coffelt, gave his life in service to protect the President of the United States from an assassination attempt.

Two Puerto Rican nationalists, Collazo and Torresola, undertook to breach security at Blair House where President Truman resided at the time. Torresola approached Coffelt at his station and shot him three times, the wounds proving fatal. Torresola continued on his mission and shot two other agents, Donald Birdzell and Joseph Downs. Coffelt, who had a reputation as a marksman, managed to rise and fire one shot at the gunman, striking him in the ear and killing him instantly.*

"I was the only calm one in the house. You see, I've been shot at by experts and unless your name's on the bullet you needn't be afraid – and that of course you can't find out, so why worry." So said Harry Truman.

The three agents shot in this episode and Tim McCarthy, shot during the attempt on Ronald Reagan's life, are the only agents ever shot in presidential assassination attempts.

Collazo was convicted and sentenced to death. President Truman commuted the sentence to life in prison. President Carter more than two decades later commuted the sentence to time served. Collazo returned to Puerto Rico and died in 1994.

Leslie W. Coffelt 1910 - 1950 RIP

*Distance of shot, 31 feet.
Source: Wikipedia

Right Here at Home

2011-11-04T04:00:00.003-04:00

Waving Grass

Catalpa on Blue; Vignette on Front Stoop; Holly

I wrote a beautiful post in thanks and praise for the blessings I have. I lost the whole thing. I've no idea where it went. Enjoy the images; I enjoyed the stroll around the yard. The bonus for me was that Cookie walked with me. He has become such a slug that lying around is about the most activity he gets. This evening, though, he seemed to enjoy the walk.

Who am I to be calling my pooch a "slug"?

The Awful, Terrible (Start to my) Day

2011-11-03T04:00:00.002-04:00

Stumbled out of bed, walked across room and stepped on the dog who had decided to get out of his bed and sleep on the floor.

In the shower, dropped the soap, banged head on "product" rack as I bent to retrieve it. Very little blood.

Eyedrop in eye. No, missed eye, stained clean shirt.

Slopped coffee onto counter. At least I didn't spill it on my shirt-- like I did the day before.

Computer locked up before all the email was in the inbox. Just the first of probably five times today.

Frost all over the windows of the car. Scapeity, scrape, scrape, scrape.

Stepped on pebble in front of post office, twisted ankle.

Mail? Junk, junk, bill, junk, bill, bill, junk, junk. Magazine BBBH reads. I don't.

Good news! Home safely with no car accidents.

Raisin bran with banana. Oops, milk is blinky. Fortunately, discovered this before I put it on cereal. Eat "dry" breakfast, wash down with coffee.

It's nine-thirty now. Have you had enough of my day?

Auction!

2011-11-02T04:00:00.001-04:00

Saturday we had the last CCF meeting of the year. This one is different. Instead of camping somewhere in Indiana for four days, we meet in a sort of central location (Marion, this year) and have a pitch-in dinner, or pot-luck if you are from those parts. The food is always fantastic, for everyone brings her, or his, best.

After we eat, there is an auction, for we have all brought a bunch of white elephants which are sold to raise funds for the activities of the group. I have been to four or five of these now, and it seems to me that some have a collection of items which they buy and resell the next year, rotating these around from home to home. But it is for a good cause. And a good time, as the saying goes, is had by all.

My best purchase was a baggie containing six chunks of homemade peanut butter fudge. I did a stint at "crying the sale" and a pretty poor job of it I did, too, notwithstanding my enthusiasm and strong-arm sales tactics. Oh, it must be that I was stuck with trying to sell the least desirable items!

The best part is visiting with friends, some of whom we saw a month ago at a camp-out, and some of whom we haven't seen in a good while. Most we will not see again until April, or even May if we don't get back from Texas in time for the April outing.

Sixty and Counting Down

2011-11-01T04:00:00.007-04:00

November First. There are exactly sixty days left in 2011, and in those sixty days will be crammed:

Daylight "savings" time is over. Rejoice! 11-6

Municipal and off-year elections. Be sure to vote. Politics is local. 11-8

Veterans' Day: Remember those who served. I plan to be on the courthouse square at 11:00 A.M 11-11

Thanksgiving. Don't forget to praise and thank the Lord for blessings everyday, but celebrate on this Thursday. 11-24

Black Friday: For those of you who care, and aren't smart enough to stay in bed, well, the stores will be open way too early. 11-25

Pearl Harbor Day: It is important to remember our history. 12-7

Advent: Pay attention to the reason we celebrate Christmas.

Winter: The official calendar beginning of winter, no matter what weather we've had so far. 12-22

Christmas: Many people's favorite holiday. For some, as a celebration of Jesus's birth; for some the getting-and-giving of gifts; for some, just the "getting." And yes, for some a time to put on the "Grinch suit" and rain on everyone's parade. Christmas: you have to love it; something for everyone. 12-25

Boxing Day 12-26

New Year's Eve: Closing out another year, a year we hope has been joyous and satisfying, even if difficulties have been encountered along the way. Be thankful for your blessings, and be careful how you celebrate. 12-31

It's going to be an exciting sixty days!
(Print out and enter your own special days and celebrations, stick on refrigerator.)

Halloween

2011-10-31T04:00:00.004-04:00

Last year, I posted what I still consider to be the world's funniest Halloween cartoon. This year, we'll all stay home and eat pumpkin pie!

"Everybody Ought to Go to Sunday School"

2011-10-30T04:00:00.002-04:00

Sunday morning, 9:10. We exit the parsonage via the front door, down the steps and turn left. We walk half-block to Walnut Street, turn right. From here it is a two-block walk to the church at the corner of Walnut and St. Vrain. It is imperative that we arrive by nine-twenty, so that we can smilingly greet the people as they arrive for Sunday school. There will be two services this morning, for Sunday school begins with a mini-worship service, mirroring almost exactly the routine that will be followed later in the "real" service. The Sunday School Superintendent conducts this service. He says an "invocation" then announces the hymn to be sung. (Hymn sung.) Then he calls on someone to "lead in prayer." (All kneel, someone prays. Maybe everyone prays.) Announcements are made and we are "dismissed" to our Sunday school classes. My teacher is Tom Frase, big Tom Frase, whose hands could envelop my head and still have room between them for (another) coconut.

Tom once sent his son, Hershel, to the store to buy a pair of work gloves for him. The proprietor asked the boy how big the man's hands were. Hershel grasped all four of the fingers on his left hand in his right hand and said, "One of Dad's fingers is this big." the storekeeper said, "Sonny, we don't have gloves for elephants." The really funny part of this tale is that Tom's fingers really were that big.

Anyway, back to Sunday school. The class consisted of, give or take on any given Sunday, about nine boys aged ten to twelve. And a more riotous bunch of boys would you seldom find in Sunday school, which may account for the "assignment" of Tom to shepherd the class.

Wow! Here it is 10:20 already and the bell is ringing, calling all classes to reassemble in the sanctuary. The superintendent rehearses briefly any highlights worth mentioning ("Sister Bland's class had four visitors this morning. Be sure to make them welcome," etc., etc.). Then he prays a dismissal prayer, whereupon the minister (that would be Dad) and the pianist immediately take their places and we swing directly into the Sunday Morning Worship Service.

And we sing.

And we pray.

And we sing.

And Dad preaches.

And we pray.
Amen.

We go home.
(But we will be back at 6:20 for two more services, even if we are also back at 2:30 for a "special" service, which, thankfully, doesn't happen all that often.)

Red Hen, Red Cow

2011-10-29T04:00:00.005-04:00

The lad is carrying two pails as he walks alongside his dad, footsteps crunch, crunching in the gravel as they walk. One pail is the milk bucket, the other the near-gallon lard can for collecting eggs. Daddy insists that this is the day the boy will "learn to milk the cow."

When they get to the chicken coop, the boy sets the milk pail down and goes in to collect the eggs. For the most part, this is an easy job. Forget the squawking, the feathers flying around-- pft! pft!-- and the dust the birds kick up. Just go to the nests and gently lift the eggs and place them carefully in the bucket. But of course Old Broody will not get off the nest, and when the youngster attempts to reach beneath her, a quick and painful peck on the wrist encourages quick retreat. David steps out of the enclosure with his bucket of treasure and Dad says, "Did you get Old Broody's eggs?" "She wouldn't let me have them." "Get in there and throw her off the nest." You see where this is going-- caught between the mad dad and the angry hen. "Pkawt! pkawt!" That was not a hen. So back into the coop, grabbed the hen and threw her across the house.

Now we take the pail and enter the milking stall, where the "little Jersey" patiently awaits the relief she so richly deserves. She places her head in the stanchion, the boy gets the stool and places the bucket beneath the cow, all the time thinking, "There's no way I'm going to milk her." David sits on the stool and tentatively reaches for a teat. The tail whips around the back of the boy's head. He flinches and complains loudly. "Get your head up in her flank. Don't let her push you around." The boy obeys, reaches again for a teat. A bit of fumbling around with no visible result, unless one counts an increasingly impatient cow and ever more impatient "instructor." Finally the mentor gets down and demonstrates the proper finger motions, starts a stream. The boy again fumbles around with the resulting trickle further irritating both animal and parent.

"Get away from her," says the parent, "I'll do it myself." And he did.

The Neighborhood

2011-10-28T04:00:00.005-04:00

Again, nostalgia, memories, boyhood. The "map" drawn from memory is the neighborhood into which we moved the summer I turned ten. We lived in the house marked "15" second house west of Bristol School where I enrolled that fall as a fifth grader. Out the back door, down the alley, over the wall, and there I was, in prison. I have written about some of my experiences at Bristol here and here.

One year after this move, we moved one block north to the residence marked "17." It was about the same time that the Buttram family bought the store on the corner. They were from Chicago, and thus a whole other kind of people from any I had previously known. Nice people, you understand, just from a different land. They had a girl about my age, and a boy a year or so younger. This was the store where a dime would buy an RC cola and a bag of Planter's naked, salted peanuts, which, after a couple of swigs on the bottle, one poured into the RC. Nom-nom. Of course, you drank it in the store, else you needed two cents for bottle deposit. Incidentally, a good stroll through the neighborhood and a bit beyond would often yield enough bottles (five) to purchase the pop and peanuts.

While we were doing kid stuff in the environs, Dad was engaged as the president of the school marked "1" on the map. It was during his tenure that the huge old house labelled "7" was moved a block down the hill and relocated next to the house we occupied for two years. We finally moved to house number 15 where we lived until Dad left the position.

The next episode will take us to the immediate vicinity of the cowshed and chicken coop (12) directly below the irrigation canal.

(So that you don't have to toggle back and forth, I plan to reproduce this map occasionally for easy reference.

Wait. Where's the Duck?

2011-10-27T04:00:00.001-04:00

.........Mallard Fillmore.......

In the Paper

2011-10-26T04:00:00.003-04:00

Tuesday morning when I went to the post office I found the demolition had progressed to this point. Two days in a row we made the front page of the local paper, this time below the fold. No, I have no journalistic aspirations, but I will continue to carry a camera with me.

About two in the afternoon I made a couple of grilled cheese-and-ham sandwiches, after which we decided that since, in all likelihood, this would be the last warm day we would have until, oh, until we go to Texas, we would take a nice scooter ride. We put in about twenty miles and scared ourselves only once.

It was a fantastic afternoon, mid-seventies, wind from the south. Oh, why can this sort of thing not last for several months? And then spring could come. (That might even save us the cost of moving south for the winter.)

Open Wide!

2011-10-25T04:00:00.001-04:00

Monday morning the demolition crew set to work on the recently vacated city office building, another "gap" in the architectural landscape in the making.

This building during the years I have lived here has served as a bank, or technically a building-and-loan facility, the police department, and most recently as the city offices and the offices of the utility department.

This move leaves the entire east side of Court Street void of buildings. The courthouse now has the street to itself.

I snapped this picture on the right about 10:20 in the morning. I sent it to the local newspaper, which published it on the front page Monday evening. They published the full shot, three columns wide, front page, directly under the banner. This example is cropped for effect.

Eat Your Breakfast!

2011-10-24T04:00:00.002-04:00

BBBH and I were each enjoying a bowl of frosted mini-shredded wheat when nostalgic flashback overcame me. I said, "Do you remember when Nabisco made Shredded Wheat and packed the
biscuits in layers in the box?

There were coloring cards* separating the layers." Yes, she remembered that. Then in my mind's eye, I envisioned the photo of Niagara Falls which graced the ends of the box.

One thing led to another, and I started to think about the ninnies, idiots, and daredevils who attempted or accomplished various stunts involving this natural wonder. Over the years I had heard of a number of attempts to go over the falls and I wondered who was the first to accomplish the feat.

Of course with an entire library at my finger-tips, so to speak, it was a simple task to discover that one Annie Edson Taylor was the first. She designed her own barrel, padded it with a mattress and took with her a pillow when she was launched from a rowboat on her sixty-third birthday, October 24, 1901.

Ms. Taylor was nobody's fool. She was a well-educated, well-traveled woman. She had lived well, but now a widow, she felt she needed to find a way to enhance her finances. Long tale from this point until her death twenty years later, but in the end she died with virtually no resources.

Annie Edson Taylor 1838 - 1921 RIP

Image of Mrs. Taylor: Wikipedia
Additional reference:
Daredevils of Niagara Falls
*Some of you may remember the "Injun-uity Manual" series.

Bringing in the Harvest

2011-10-23T04:00:00.002-04:00

For the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear.
But when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come. --Mark 4:28,29

I love the fall season for many reasons, not the least of which is the bringing in of the harvest. I have lived in an agricultural community for the past fifty-some years, and I am always amazed at the bringing in of the bounty from the fields.

While it is true that "harvest" is much more than the produce grown in this area, it is essentially the corn and the soybeans that capture my attention. They, along with some wheat which is a summer harvest, are the grains grown here.

Tomatoes, yes, we will see many loads of tomatoes on their way to the cannery. Apples are grown in the area, but the orchards are a bit far apart and apples are not a major crop. Well, they are, of course, to the people who have apple orchards.

No longer do we see the "check-rows" in the corn fields, but rather such tightly-woven stands of corn that one wonders how so many plants can thrive in such spaces as are allotted to them. The thrill of seeing the greens disappear from the fields as the plants yellow, then turn beige or brown is enhanced by the knowledge that soon the wagons will be rolling past with their bounty on the way to the terminal.

Truly, the harvest is great.

Famous Hoosier...

2011-10-22T04:00:00.005-04:00

before we were "Hoosiers."

Little Turtle was born in northeastern Indiana about 1750.

The trouble with calling your kid "Junior."

Chief of the Miamis, Little Turtle was named "Turtle" (Mishikinakwa) after his father. He was often called "Little Turtle" to distinguish him from the parent. Thus in spite of his prowess as a warrior and leader, he was ever after known as "Little."

October 22, 1790 Little Turtle defeated the USA at the site of present-day Fort Wayne. He engaged successfully in other battles as well, but he later pressed for peace with the United States.

More about Little Turtle's military prowess is related by Richard Battin here.

I had a friend who passed away recently at age 92. He was known as "Junior" his entire life.

October 22, 1844, the Millerites, followers of William Miller, await the Second Coming of Christ. The next day is known as the Great Disappointment.

October 22, 2011, is again, I guess, the Great Disappointment for the followers of Camping. --

Kern

2011-10-21T04:00:00.005-04:00

Ever heard of kerning? Me, neither.

You graphics artists and typesetters out there will think this silly, because I am sure this was one of the first things you learned as you started the pursuit of your art. I stumbled across this concept on the internet, and as I was pursuing it a bit, just to satisfy the curiosity, you know, I found this website done by Mark McKay in which one can practice kerning skills.

I hope you don't find this too addictive.

btw, on my first attempt, I hit 100% on three of the ten examples, though my overall score at 78 was less than stellar.

Eyeball update: Yesterday the surgeon officially pronounced my vision "better than it was before we started." I already knew that. Also, he removed the stitch and said he would see me in a month.

Saturday Night Massacre

2011-10-20T04:00:00.001-04:00

An angry President Nixon on October 20, 1973, a Saturday, ordered AG Elliot Richardson to fire Watergate special prosecuter Archibald Cox. Richardson refused and tendered his resignation. The President then ordered DAG William Ruckelshaus to drop the axe on Cox. He refused, and also resigned.

This chain of events left Solicitor General, Robert Bork as acting head of Justice. Thus it is Bork's turn. Nixon submits the order to him. Bork believed that the President was within his rights to place such an order, but not wanting to be perceived as "The President's Man" he also considered resignation. However, Richardson prevailed upon Bork to stay in office, for if not, there would be no one left in Justice who knew how the Department worked.

Hence, "Saturday Night Massacre;" and the rest is history.
"I am not a crook."

Washington Post, October 21, 1973

Modesto Bee, October 22, 1973

Descemet's Stripping Automated Endothelial Keratoplasty

2011-10-19T04:00:00.007-04:00

About a month ago, I wrote here on STSTT that I would be having a corneal transplant.
Wednesday, a week ago today, Richard drove us to Camel for the procedure. Since we were told to arrive there at 6:30 a.m., all three of us found ourselves up and on the road well before time to rise from the comfort of our respective beds.

A well-organized facility which had "preregistered" me by telephone the previous day completed the intake process very quickly. Then it is sit in the waiting area until a nurse comes to collect me. During this interval, Beautiful fell into conversation, as she is inclined to do, with a young woman. It turned out that at age 47 she was having cataract surgery. And then she asked my wife, "What is your father here for?"

Now, I could laugh and handle this, even consider that, okay, BBBH does look to be a generation younger than I in spite of her being in her mid-70s. So then as the nurse is taking me to the operating arena, she asks me who is driving me today. "Richard," I say, indicating the gentleman seated to my right. "Is he your son?"

Now wait just a dogbone minute!! Richard is older than I. Maybe more stress and terror showed on my visage than I thought I was feeling in my heart.

Begowned now and lying on the gurney, the anaesthesiologist came in to talk with me about her role and what she was going to do to me. Then the surgeon came in to verify that we all agreed it was the right eye which he was going to cut on. (This was verified numerous times with everyone I encountered, and someone wrote "YES" in indelible letters above my right eyebrow.

So now I am in the OR with the 95 year-old anaesthesiologist and the 17-year old surgeon in whose hands I have placed my life and my eyesight. As she had promised, the little old lady knocked me out while a local was administered to the eye, then awakened me so that I could communicate with the team during the procedure.

At one point, probably an hour or so into the thing, I said, "The left side of my nose itches." Doctor Deitch said, "I'm busy over here with the donor cornea. Can't help you." Which I took to mean, Suck it up; you'll live. Which I did.

So on Thursday, Dick took me to Carmel again. The physician examined his work and pronounced it good. I see him again tomorrow. I am told that the healing process is quite lengthy and not to get my tidy whiteys in a knot.

Meanwhile, the good news is that I can already see with better clarity than I had before the surgery, so I am hopeful that things will be well in the long term.

Thank you, Dr. Deitch and all the team at Midwest Eye Institute!

I am looking forward to reconnecting with my readers, so comment away! I have already been spending some time trying to catch up with my friends on their blogs. It is good to be back.

Labor Relations

2011-10-18T04:00:00.001-04:00

My friend, Larry, sent me this one via email. I like it, and thought you might enjoy it, too.

The Montana Department of Employment, Division of Labor Standards claimed a small rancher was not paying proper wages to his help and sent an agent out to investigate him.

GOV’T AGENT:
“I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them.”

RANCHER:
”Well, there’s my hired hand who’s been with me for 3 years. I pay him $200 a week plus free room and board.

Then there’s the mentally challenged guy. He works about 18 hours every day and does about 90% of all the work around here. He makes about $10 per week, pays his own room and board, and I buy him a bottle of bourbon every Saturday night so he can cope with life. He also sleeps with my wife occasionally.”

GOV’T AGENT:
“That’s the guy I want to talk to – the mentally challenged one.”

RANCHER:
“That would be me.”

Retrotech in the Shop: Tools

2011-10-17T04:00:00.000-04:00

I am not a handyman. Oh, I have managed to provide some home maintenance over the years. I even worked for a few building contractors from time to time. I learned a few things. But I am grateful that I do not have to put bread on the table today using the skills of carpentry, woodworking, masonry, plumbing or mechanics. I know enough about most of those fields to be a danger to myself and any inattentive bystanders; although I can drive a nail or a screw. I can measure a board and cut a pretty straight line.

My father was a craftsman. He could do more with a pocketknife and a pair of pliers than most guys can do with any tools that might be at their disposal. I let most of my dad's equipment go at auction, but I kept a few handtools, mostly for sentimental reasons. But I still use them from time to time.

I have a crosscut handsaw which may be the first saw I ever used as a child. It is small, easily carried in a handy-man tool kit. The upper ear is missing and has been ever since I can remember. I have a brace and several bits. These virtually never get used. I kept a pair of forceps (dental) which belonged to my maternal grandfather and which my dad used to pull teeth-- mine, from time to time, when I was a child. Squares, wrenches. I regret a little bit that I let all the hand planes go, but I hope someone is giving them the use they deserve.

The most modern of Dad's tools which I have is a 7" electric Skilsaw which I use in preference to my own much newer and very expensive high-end brand name saw.

This article was first published in the blog, Retrotechnocracy. I am trying to ease back into the blogosphere. I hope by Wednesday to be able to file a report .

Visit This Patch of the Blogosphere

2011-10-11T04:00:00.002-04:00

Bob Warr will be commenting on current events and stuff this week while "String Too Short to Tie" is on hiatus. Check it out!

Battle of Tours

2011-10-10T04:00:00.004-04:00

October 10, 732 Charles Martel leads his Burgundian and Frankish forces against Abdul Rahman Al Ghafiqi's Moorish forces at Poitiers, France. I recall to this day teaching my students fifty years ago that this battle was the turning point in the religious conflict between Islam and Christianity. The spread of Islam into Europe was halted.

While this point of view was generally held by historians well into the twentieth century, there are those today who are reevaluating and rewriting this position. That this battle had great significance to the development of Western history is unquestioned.

Charles the Hammer consolidated the power of the Carolingian Empire, and the Franks dominated Europe for the next century.

The Battle of Tours, or the Battle of Poitiers is known in Arabic as the Battle of the Court of the Martyrs. 732 A.D. is a date that should be remembered by all. The battle, at least, was won. The war, nearly thirteen centuries later, in the opinion of some, is not over.

2011-10-09T04:00:00.003-04:00

Washington Wants a Say Over Your Minister

The Supreme Court weighs whether the feds can decide which church employees are clergy and which aren't.

By MICHAEL W. MCCONNELL

Today, the Obama administration will invite the Supreme Court to open a new front in the culture wars. Hosanna-Tabor Evangelical Lutheran Church and School v. EEOC concerns a commissioned minister, Cheryl Perich, who taught elementary school and led chapel devotions at a small Lutheran school outside Detroit. Ms. Perich became ill and was replaced in the classroom by a substitute. In the middle of the school year she sought to return and then, instead of attempting to work out the dispute through the church's reconciliation process, she threatened to sue.

As relations broke down, the church congregation voted to withdraw her "call" to the ministry, and she ceased to be eligible for her prior job. She sued under the Americans with Disabilities Act, with the support of the federal Equal Employment Opportunity Commission.

The federal statutes outlawing employment discrimination based on race, sex, age and disability contain no express exception for church employers. But for 40 years lower courts have applied a "ministerial exception," which bars the government from any role in deciding who should be a minister. Courts have reasoned that the separation between church and state protects the ability of churches to choose their own clergy just as it protects the state from any control by churches. The Supreme Court has never spoken to the issue.

But who counts as a minister? Cheryl Perich's duties included leading students in prayer and worship, but she also taught secular subjects, using ordinary secular textbooks. The sole disagreement in the lower courts was whether her job was sufficiently religious to be considered ministerial. The Supreme Court will consider, for the first time, how to make that determination.

But the Obama Justice Department has now asked the court to disavow the ministerial exception altogether. This would mean that, in every future case, a court—and not the church—would decide whether the church's reasons for firing or not hiring a minister were good enough.

But the government, including the judiciary, is not entitled under the First Amendment to decide what qualifications a minister should have, or to weigh religious considerations against others. Is a secular court to decide, for example, whether confining Catholic priests or Orthodox rabbis to males is a correct interpretation of scripture, or merely a vestige of outmoded and stereotypical bias?

James Madison famously declared that the civil magistrate is not a "competent Judge of Religious truth." Yet every discrimination claim about the hiring of a minister necessarily comes down to the question of whether the church had a bona fide religious reason for its decision. That places the courts squarely in the business of adjudicating the validity of a church's claims about its own religious practice.

The Justice Department's brief grudgingly concedes that there may be an exception for employees performing "exclusively religious functions," but this is an illusory protection. Every church officer—even the pope—performs at least some nonreligious administrative duties. If the government's position were accepted, the courts would be embroiled in disputes about the selection of clergy at all levels and in every denomination. This would be a radical reversal of our nation's long constitutional tradition.

In the colonial era, with an established Church of England, the government controlled who would preach the gospel. The royal governor of Virginia licensed ministers in the colony, and Madison's first known writing on religious liberty was a letter protesting the jailing of Baptist ministers for preaching without a license.

When the First Amendment declared that "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion," it meant that churches would support themselves and control themselves. And the separation of church and state is a two-way street: It protects the autonomy of religious institutions from governmental interference no less than it prevents advancement of religion by government power.

That tradition of church-state separation has continued to the present day. After the Civil War, for example, the framers of the 14th Amendment, which applied the Establishment Clause to the states, voted against legislation to subject churches to antidiscrimination laws, concluding this would violate the First Amendment. The Supreme Court has held (Bishop v. Amos, 1987) that religious organizations must be "free to select their own leaders, define their own doctrines, resolve their own disputes, and run their own institutions." Even EEOC guidelines a few years ago reaffirmed the ministerial exception.

Perhaps American churches should be more open to female clergy and more accommodating toward elderly pastors or disabled chaplains. But if the separation between church and state means anything, such changes must come from within.

As a lower court judge, Justice Sonia Sotomayor wrote: "Federal court entanglement in matters as fundamental as a religious institution's selection or dismissal of its spiritual leaders risks an unconstitutional trespass on the most spiritually intimate grounds of a religious community's existence." It is unfortunate that the Department of Justice does not see it that way.

Mr. McConnell is the director of the Constitutional Law Center at Stanford University. He wrote a friend-of-the-court brief in this case on behalf of major Protestant denomination.

Unblocking Writer's Block

2011-10-07T04:00:00.004-04:00

I am a regular reader of Pete Wilson's blog, Without Wax. A few days ago he challenged his readers to offer techniques for juicing up creativity in writing. Yesterday he posted "55 Ways to Be Creative" in which he shared his readers' suggestions.* It is quite an interesting list!

One suggestion I take to heart for I am blessed. The reader said one should keep a "gratitude journal." What a great idea. It surely should trump the grumbling about the little annoyances that creep into day-to-day living.

Just for this moment and in this place, I am grateful for the October sunshine and the eighty degree temperature accompanying same. On a subnote, I am grateful for the colors that are presented me outside my window by way of the turning of the leaves.

As I am each day, I am grateful for the health and well-being I possess in sufficient measure to be able to arise from bed and dress for the day. Any day one can stand upright is a good day. Do I have aches and pains? That's not the subject of this document, yet even those remind me that I have lived a long life, and I am still alive!

I have a truly deep gratitude for the wife that lives with me, prepares my meals, yea, even fusses at me on occasion. Well, because I know she cares.

This list would be virtually endless were I to attempt to list all the blessings for which I am grateful. But this, in the spirit of "journal" is for the blessings of this day, right here, right now.

I am in awe, and gratefully thankful ever to my Redeemer, Jesus Christ, who lives today and cares for me most of all.

*I shall keep a copy of this list in my TTK folder for frequent reference.