LV 15 = Amicable Divorce #T

One mile south of town, and half mile east, lived the Deutch family. Chester Deutch and Donna Devore had been high school sweethearts. Sort of inevitable in some ways, as the alphabetic propinquity of their surnames dictated that they were often seated one behind the other in class. The development of their relationship may or may not have had anything to do with an incident that occured during their sophomore year. It was a hot, September afternoon and fifth period English class needed livening up, or so Donna thought. She therefore dropped just a pinch, a tiny pinch, of itching powder down Chet's shirt collar. The poor lad had a miserable afternoon. Donna and her best buddy, Jolene, had a near-uncontrollable snickering fit. The lad eventually discovered the antagonist who had provided the misery, and he more or less demanded a sit-down over cokes at the local soda fountain. Which he got, and the rest led to the altar, as they were married seventeen days after the high school commencement program, 1952. In May, 1953, Charles Donald Deutch was born to the loving young couple. Time passes. In the summer of 1959 the now not-so-happy couple decided that marriage was not for them. They opted for divorce, but they determined to keep things on an amicable basis "for the sake of the child." Their home place was eighty acres where they practiced part-time farming, as both had decent jobs at a not-far away GM factory. At the time of the filing, they started remodelling the two-car detached garage to make a small house suitable for human occupancy. At the time I came to know this "family" Chester had lived in these small quarters for seven years and Donna had continued to live in the main house with the boy. Each member of the family had some benefits: she no longer had to put up with the foibles of a husband; he no longer had to listen to a nattering wife; and the boy had the benefit of two parents in spite of the divorce. Every Sunday Donna prepared and served a family dinner for the three of them in her home. Every Saturday Chester took the three of them to some nearby attraction or entertainment, or they all went fishing together. Worked for them. So they said. © 2010 David W. Lacy

Happy Birthday, Ken

Today is Kenneth's birthday. Ken, Kenny, Kenneth, KD, is my youngest child. He had the misfortune of having three older siblings. He had the good fortune of having three older siblings.















Dawn and Ken





Ken is father to two adult children, and grandfather to their five kids. He and Dawn have four children at home, the eldest being thirteen.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KENNY

We love you.

Loonville continues tomorrow.

Mr. Nice Guy

When I poke fun at the foibles of my fellow man, I hope to do it in a spirit of fun. Yes, I may laugh at you. The jibes will be gentle. I hope you will laugh, too, or at the least, forgive me. Should I happen to inadvertantly stick a finger in your eye, I hope the sting will not last long.

It is ridiculously easy to make fun of each other, because we so set ourselves up for it. Often. And regularly. Thus, since it is so easy, I attempt to avoid it for the most part. But sometimes I just can't help myself. Hence, I find myself once again looking at the utilization of "social networking" via Computerland Express. The last time I wrote about Facebook, I was not in an amused state of mind. In fact I was a bit sore. This will be gentler.

Funny (amusing, odd, weird, what-the-heck?) stuff I've seen on Facebook.

1. Facebook games. How you use your time is your prerogative, and I don't fault you. Seriously. But when I play solitaire, I have no need for an announcement of my "score" to appear for all to see. "Farmville" seems to be some sort of let's-pretend-we-are-doing-something-productive thing, wherein weird and unexpected creatures wander in and out of the domain. One "builds" something, begging his friends for parts and pieces, boards, wire and what-not, with which to complete the project. If games are your thing, enjoy. Better yet, come on over! BBBH and I have a board game, Scrabble, Rummikub, or a deck of cards laid out on the dining room table all the time. We can play. We'll visit. It'll be fun!

2. It seems to be a "game" for some participants to see how many "friends" they can get. There are two acquaintances of mine whose "wall" I check each week or so just to see how they are doing. At last count, one led the other 2392 to 1672. Come on, Nellie. I don't even know sixteen hundred people and I had a thirty-plus year career in the public arena.

3. This one really knocks me for a loop. People seem to write whatever pops into their heads, posting their notions unfiltered and unthought. We have developed such a penchant for the protection of our "privacy" that we will receive pages and pages of privacy policy from the organizations with whom we do business, if not on a daily basis, certainly frequently. Then we will post the most intimate details of our day-to-day lives on Facebook? Surely, I will awaken from this nightmare. The ones who are most flagrant about it are the same ones who take umbrage if a "friend" suggests that they might reconsider the sort of thing they post. "It's my page. 'I'll say what I want to say." Pick up the phone, Sweetie. Call your mother.

4. This one is the champion, earning points for categories 1, 2, and 3. This character posts as many as 30 times in a 24-hour period. When does s/he sleep? Oh, wait: "3:12 a. m. I just woke up and hadda go pee." Here's the championship part: the posts are delivered from the subject's HHD. (HHD. I made that up. I think. It means 'hand-held device'. We can't call it a phone, because it is much more, nor can we call it a pda, which is passe; nor can we refer to it as a Blackberry or I-device, for those are brand names. Gooseberry, maybe, since the user is a goose, but I will kindly stick to HHD.) So, anyway, we know where and what s/he eats, how many gallons of fuel went into the tank, blah, blah, blah. No, we don't. We tuned out long ago.

I've got more, but the time/word limit has expired.

Yes, I am aware that I don't have to look at Facebook.
Posted from my Gooseberry.

The Steadfastness of Jesus

Sermon by Pastor Mark
Scripture The Gospel According to Luke

9:51 And it came to pass, when the time was come that he should be received up, he steadfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem,

Jesus Christ is the Son of God; He is the only Way to heaven; He never sinned; His blood sacrifice atoned for our sin; He is seated at the right hand of the Father.

Christ's will was to fulfill the will of the Father.
Challenge: As a Christian, be steadfast in what God has called you to do.

1. In his steadfastness, Jesus carried the message of His divine love to all men. (Luke 4:43, John 10:15,16) I must tell others.



2. He was steadfast in His suffering. Can we suffer with and for Him?



3. We must be steadfast among ourselves as saints of God.

Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord. --I Corinthians 15:58


Puzzler: Why do we have such difficulty finding workers within the church? 80% of the work is done by 20% of the people.

The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few. --Jesus Christ

Image, historylink.net

fall 2

Following the completion of yesterday's post and a bit of rest, I took Canon to the yard again to see what we could see.

The petunias greet you at the front door, just after you pass the baby roses beside the walk.

The catalpa is losing its leaves. Fortunately, with their sail area and the prevailing SW breeze most of them wind up in the neighbor's yard. [chuckle]

The butterflies were playing around the clematis. Notwithstanding that I am showing no open-wing shots, I discovered that they are much more colorful in this pose!

Captured two of them together in a couple of instances.

fall 1

Notwithstanding that it is yet several days before the autumnal equinox, the weather and the condition of the yard tell me that it is fall. I went out to do a few chores, such as cutting back the foliage of the lilies and hostas, camera on belt loop, of course.
The first picture shows the present "look" of the hidden garden at the back of the property. If you see any flowers (there are some!) you have a good eye.
The second picture gives you a pretty good idea of what the lawn looks like. Yes, that is the lawn, not a gravel driveway.

Several cute little butterflies looking for a treat. I tried numerous shots, attempting to catch one with its wings open. This is as good as it got.

Above is a picture of a pile of "hay" that I created by swinging my little sickle through the day lilies, all of which had to go, except for stella d'oro which is still faithfully, if feebly, offering blooms on a daily basis. She was the first of the lilies to bloom, and yet the last to give it up.

Oh, Lily, little Golden Star

May I live my life as you are.

You blossom where you're planted

And yet you are quite unda'nted

Through wet of flood

And you've now withstood

The long heat and dry of drought.

Your gaudier sisters have had their day.

They no longer bloom, their foliage hay.

And yet you soldier on.

May I keep at it 'til I'm gone.

May of me, as of you, it be stated

He started early and finished late and

Through it all, he kept the faith.

Consider the lilies of the field-- Jesus

© 2010 David W. Lacy

Award Redux

Back in February, the very beautiful Sitka over at All God's Creatures granted this lovely award. Now I discover that my friend, Chuck, over at Secondary Roads has also bestowed this award on me. It must be true. In spite of my best efforts to cut down on blogging, I continue to do it. Compulsively, it has been suggested. My BBBH concurs.

To whom should I pass this lovely badge of honor? These prolific bloggers whom I read and enjoy come to mind.

1) Pearl, Why You Little, regaling us with the hilarity of life in Minneapolis.

2) 100th Lamb, meditations on the Christian life.

3) Off the Sanctuary Wall, exploring Christian faith.

Thank you, Chuck. All y'all go on over to these sites and get a laugh or have your faith lifted.

LV 14 = Toronado's Military Turns #T

Wilbur was the local auctioneer and real estate agent. One might say he had his finger on the pulse of the community. Well, except that he was using his fingers to count the money that flowed into his coffers. In short, he engaged in many enterprises.

Wilbur, known by all as "WT" always wore a white felt Stetson, always, winter and summer, spring and fall. Notwithstanding that he might be described as "portly" he dressed meticulously, was never wrinkled or spotted, and the wide ties he chose were first-cousin to the ascot.

In 1966, Oldsmobile Division of General Motors introduced a huge, heavy but sporty vehicle called "Toronado". This 5000 pound behemoth was powered by a 425 ci quadrijet carbed V-8. It was the first American-built front-wheel drive automobile produced since the demise of the Cord in 1937. WT was one of the first proud owners of a Toronado.

One sultry evening, humidity-laden air hanging heavily over the village as WT and I were standing at the curb following a Lions' meeting, I remarked that that was a beautiful wheel he was tooling around in these days. As he lovingly caressed a front fender, he went into a rhapsody of superlatives, praising his machine to the heavens. "Oh, man!" he said, "Get in; you gotta feel it." I got into the passenger seat, not really expecting to get the ride of my life. But I did. We had a seldom-used airport a mile west of town, fully equipped with a thousand-yard concrete runway. We were there in a minute and I was already semi-terrified. WT wheeled onto the runway and ripped off about a quarter mile, hit the brakes and spun a 180, hitting the accelerator again, we were seven seconds later in dead decelerating mode as he stood on the brake pedal to avoid flying through the fence onto the highway. Back down the runway at about 40, he spun the wheel to the left and shot onto the access apron. As he stopped he enthused, "Oh, man. How d'ya like that military turn?" Not so much, but I didn't say so.

© 2010 David W. Lacy

1937 Cord 810

Note: Next week's "Loonville" will run on Wednesday. Special post on Tuesday.