End of the Year Message

Another full and blessed year .  Marked out with several Trips :  Oregon , Gulf Coast , Texas , Oklahoma , and Indiana  with stops in Arkansas , Washington , Kentucky , Ohio ,  Alabama  and New York .   Favorite Memories watching my Lori giggle and beam doing face time with her niece , enjoying my daughters videos , A new job with an amazing company , new friendships in the theater world . A bucket list trip to New York that included two Broadway shows watching the joy in Lori as she contemplated the Rockefeller Christmas tree ..and a ten mile walk from Ground Zero to Times Square for me . 

 

It was also one of the worse years for me as well ...perhaps its simply age catching up with me , nostalgia for Camelot  I do not know  ..but to be sincere this was an incredibly disappointing year for me  ...So disappointing that  my wanting to say something about it without offending friends and family has been a major stumbling block ....As believers  we are to seek " unity " ..and yet ...when even the idea of commenting on how disparate we are in these troubling times ...has the appearance of  divisiveness ?

 

I have been praying and meditating about this for some time ....this morning I found this post  on my wall from our Worship Pastor at Springhouse  .  And this was the answer to prayer .

 

THE IRONY OF DISUNITY
I’m posting this up to Christians – “born again” believers. It is not meant for or directed toward those who aren’t “in Christ”.
Please direct your attention to 3 key verses that deal with our calling as children of the Most High God:
Ps.133:1 says, “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for believers to dwell together in unity!”
Jn. 17: 21 says (of Jesus praying), “that they may all be one; even as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that You sent Me.”
Eph.4: says, …”being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”
Now, consider this: In 2 Cor.5:18-21, Paul addresses the church-at-large by pointing out two things which are major aspects of biblical unity:
He states that (as believers) we have been given the “ministry of reconciliation” as a charge in our service to our Lord (v.19c). Then he goes on to get very specific regarding the job description that we’re ALL given when he says, “Therefore we are ambassadors for Christ…” (v.20a)
Here’s my point: We are charged with offering the lost and dying world “beauty for ashes; the oil of joy for mourning; and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness (Isa.61:3). Those things incorporate the plan of redemption instead of rejection; healing instead of sickness; hope instead of despair; inclusion instead of exclusion; freedom instead of slavery; love instead of hate; righteousness instead of evil; forgiveness instead of condemnation; light instead of darkness; and unity instead of factiousness. The ironic thing is that we Christians are currently modeling the exact opposite of what we say we believe. We have become as dis-unified as those who have no citizenship in God’s kingdom. We have allowed ourselves to become re-culturated by the dynamics of a fallen world instead of upholding core biblical values in our day-to-day lives. (See Rom.12:1&2 / MSG)
In the chaotic daze of confusion ahead of humankind in this coming New Year, we should perhaps give a little more attention to how we practice the so called “Golden Rule”:
“Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you” (Mat.7:12).
Selah (pause & ponder)  Pastor Wayne Berry 

For me simply put  our Unity must be in Christ ...not the world . 
Praying for peace and reconciliation , that in 2017 we move closer to the Kingdom , by leaving the world behind ..as a boat on the ocean  we  float not by letting the water into the boat  but by keeping the water out of the boat  ..let us embrace all people as if in His time they may come to be our Brothers and Sisters .

Not of this world

When asked by Pilate If He was " King " of the Jews ..Jesus asked Pilate if that was Pilate thought of Him or if it was what he had heard .  Which might have been an interesting Dilema for Pilate who claimed to be Jewish and would thus have to put himself under Jesus Authority if Jesus was indeed " his king " .  Pilate said  essentially no I did not say it they did ...what have you done that would cause them to bring you to me ?  Jesus then said " my kingdom is not of this world "  . Most of us accept that at face value ..Jesus was Lord over another Kingdom , a Kingdom he frequently spoke about , and encouraged His followers to enter .  In his  encouragement and His  describing the Kingdom he was pretty specific , you cannot belong to two different Kingdoms ..you have to choose somebody .
After Jesus said to Pilate " my Kingdom is not of this world " He went on to say  " if my Kingdom were of this world , my servants would fight so that I should not be delivered to the Jews, but now my Kingdom is not from here " .  John 18:36 .

As servants of  the most high God ,   Jesus is our Lord and Master . We fight  ( if ordered ) for the Kingdom of God , not for the Kingdoms of men.  NO earthly Kingdom can ever be a partner  with the Kingdom of God . No American flag ,  No British flag , no Israeli  flag , no flag will be flying above or in the presence of God .  The  Kingdom of God is so different from the Kingdoms of men , that they cannot be bound together ,  Like  trying to use your Mac with PC software , or mixing oil with water .  These actions cannot work because their natures are so completely different .

I do not know about other countries first hand , but I do know that Christians in the United States frequently confuse Patriotism with Christianity .  For over two hundred years  we have been given a foundation built on American exceptionalism , that we are  a chosen nation , that we have a manifest destiny , that we are the torch of freedom for the world , that our  might makes us not only right but Servants ready and willing to fight for the Kingdom .  And yet  Jesus is still saying to us " My Kingdom is not from here "  . The truth is the United States is just a country , a country in this season , whose influence will eventually end . We may print our money with the words  " in God we trust ..but our trust is in our  Bombers , our Aircraft carriers , our nuclear arsenal , in our  Savings and loans , our IRA's  ...None of these things will last either .  Ironically Jesus in His ministry told us to give up ( If we choose to follow Him ) all of the things we wage war over .  These things do not last ..but Gods Kingdom is eternal .  For us it is an Indiana Jones Movie  :  Only God is reaching out to us as we dangle from a cliff , holding unto a bag of treasure ..we need to let go ..to grasp His hand ...

Him only

 The devil led him up to a high place and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world.   And he said to him, “I will give you all their authority and splendor; it has been given to me, and I can give it to anyone I want to.   If you worship me, it will all be yours.”

  Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God and serve him only.’

^{"I will give you ALL their authority and splendor : it has been given to me and I can give it to anyone I want to..If you worship me , it will all be yours "   This is a pretty audacious claim ..one that could have been immediately been called into question by Jesus ...but Jesus never questioned the veracity of Satan's claim ...instead He simply told Satan that  He  was to only worship God alone.   Satan had no response to this  .}  

^{Bright lights ...Moth to a flame . Not long ago I read a blog post by a well known Christian Business man , who was giving financial advice .  He was saying  if you follow his  steps , not only can you have financial security later in your life , but you will be in a better place to serve the Lord .  This is  not that much different from the offer of Satan .  As followers of Christ ..we have been commanded to Worship God and Serve Him only .  I do not believe we  Serve Him only by serving ourselves first .  This is a hard lesson ...and one so many of us ( included )  miss because so few of us are  actually doing it .  The bright lights of financial success , of the worldly pleasures and temptations ..are not seen as temptations . But rather as blessings .}  

^{In a elegant sleight of hand Satan has convinced us that he has given us Authority , and the proof of that Authority is the Splendor we surround ourselves with .  And then we  take the Splendor and thank God for it ?  Did God give us wealth and Prosperity , through the force of arms ?  Through subjection of other peoples ?  Through our Military might ?  Are not everything we fight for ..that we  shed our blood and the blood of innocents for ..those things that Jesus told us to abandoned to follow Him...this Jesus who  rejected  the Kingdoms of the World to Worship His Father and Serve Him only ?}  

^{As we celebrate the Birth of our  Lord  and savior today let us meditate on ...How we  can best Worship the Father and serve Him ..} 

Out of Focus .....over time

Several years ago I had the opportunity to spend several months out West ...Oregon is my home state and I try to visit almost yearly :  I had planned to take  a lot of photos on the way ..mostly to build up my stock portfolio ...I took several thousand photos on this trip .  Lori was able to join me for several weeks and we had a blast hanging out and exploring the Central Oregon Coast , and of course  a few photographs along the way.  In time we returned to Nashville ..briefly , then it was up to Louisville for a wedding .  The night before the wedding at the Rehearsal my main on camera lens  stopped focusing .  I was unable to focus in either manual or Automatic focus .  Fortunately I carry several lenses and was able to  use some of my bench players for the wedding .  when we returned to Nashville I sent the lens into Canon for repair .  in less than a week it was returned to me and I started using it again .  I was surprised at how well the photos looked with the repaired lens ...there was a crispness and clarity there I almost did not recognize ...I started looking back through many of my galleries and noticed that over time the lens must have been going out of focus ..The worst shots were those I taken in Oregon just a few months ago ...comparatively they were almost unusable ..all that time and effort and I had thousands of photos slightly out of focus .  This happened very easily ...it wasn't an over night even  , until the lens finaly gave out completely it happened over time ..and over time I simply accepted the out of focus images as normal ..losing more and more clarity with each day , each month ...I do not want this to happen again so I belong to a service where I can send my lens in once a year ( same with the cameras ) to be re calibrated .  I find its very easy to accept an out of focus image as  " normal " if you do not have a point of reference . 
I have begun to realize this is true of our spiritual lives as well ...and its a pattern that you can see as you read the Bible .  Just look at Judges  for the very best examples .  We succeed because of God and once we suceed we thank Him and ourselves ...we lose focus and we drift away from His commands and suggestions ....sometimes so slowly we  actually think we are still doing His will .  This year like all the other years Lori and I have been at Spring house we will hear our Pastor tell us to read our bibles   ..from cover to cover ...its not only a good idea ..I believe it is essential ....His Word is our calibration ...As Human beings our tendency is to drift  ...As His children we need His commands to keep us on the Path . 

Girdled for war ---the Great Raid

Also know as the Day I stole my mothers girdle !

Girdled for war ---the Great Raid

For several years the family slipped into a pleasant pattern. Some weeks our family would be staying a few miles inland from the Pacific ocean ...Fishing , hunting exploring the woods and hills . Back home I was enjoying the popularity of my neighborhood gang . This was a " gang " in the " Spanky" sense of gang . Most of the time we spent playing amongst ourselves . building forts in the woods , and in our backyards ..but every once in awhile we turned our attention to the encroachment of other neighborhood gangs on our terriritory..One of these times became the stuff of legend ..we referred to it in hushed tones as the " great raid .

. By any stretch of the imagination the raid had been a total success , we had destroyed the oppositions fort , turned over at least one lemonade stand and left the 35th street gang in a total state of disarray. This had come at little cost to us, Rex had ripped his pants , one of our bikes had a flat tire , my brother was lost , and worst of all I had lemonade stains on my mothers new Girdle. There was a chance I might get in trouble over that Girdle in the first place and the lemonade stains almost guaranteed it . The cost of our victory might be higher than I had planned to pay.It like so much and so many other its in my life began with a choice. In this case the choice was whether to borrow the Girdle or not to borrow the girdle. And this choice was a in fact a confluence of Choices going back well into the pastfew months before the raid..There was one area in our house that was supposed to be inviolate , a place of refuge and safety for my parents and this area was their bedroom. IT was an unwritten law that entering the bedroom without permision was a crime.Oddly it was this secrecy that pulled me into the downward spiral of guilt , remorse . On one hand the possibilty of being caught in this sanctuary was almost enough to keep me from gently pushing open the door . On the other hand there was much to discover in their room. It all started innocently at first , I needed gunpowder ...and my father stored his ammunition in the bedroom, I wasn't supposed to know that , but in a two bedroom house there aren't too many secrets. I needed the gunpowder for my science experiments , in this case I was experimenting with gunpowder. I had found that a little bit of Gunpowder could add a little extra kick to my homemade bombs. Latter I would find that gunpowder would also provide an extra kick to rocket fuel , but I am several years ahead of myself here. My father kept the ammunition in his dresser drawer which was right next to my mothers underwear drawer. Of course the first time I was pillaging the dresser I did not know about the underwear drawer nor did I have a really good foundational understanding of women's underwear, and that included my mother's..The first time I discovered the drawer , I was somewhat confused as to what I had found , there was something deep down inside of me , something unexplainable that this was not my fathers underwear ..and with only the two of them sharing this room I was made the connection that this must be my mothers ...there was some confusion after all these items were not made from sturdy cotton , they were silky and soft and ...well daintier ...and then I saw the girdle , I had no understanding of this device , at first I thought it was swim wear , but a careful look and I knew it was at best only half a swim wear . It was sturdy, it was white , it was quite long it looked to me like it would fit me and the pants leg part would almost extend to my knees. Somewhat confused I gently placed the girdle back into the drawer and plucked out a couple of shotgun shells from my fathers drawer .I preferred using the shotgun shells to the 30 06 shells he also had in his drawer . I learned form experience that it was easier to remove the gunpowder from the shotgun shells than from the metal jacketed rifle rounds ...you really know who your friends are when you ask them to hold a steel jacketed bullet in a pair of pliers as you try to use a hacksaw to open it up ....at one time I thought that if I heated the lead bullet part up with a stove top I could pry it loose easier , but it didn't work out the way I planned.I has kept the discovery of the girdle safely tucked into my brain ..and then when we started planning the great raid and I was looking for the perfect costume I retrieved the information form my mind and decided that the girdle was just what I was looking for ...taking my dads socks was more of an impulse and I had already used the idea of the towel for a cape . The swim cap and feather was Rex's Idea ...he thought it would look silly on him so he suggested I wear it , and thought he was foolish for not seeing the possibility.My plan was to wait for the right moment and slip into my parents bedroom , grab the girdle then run like all get out. I would change into my warrior uniform in the tree fort ...slid on a pair of jeans and slip away on my bike...for the most part the plan went well ...I was able to grab the girdle when my mother has walked to the store , changing was no problem , I ran into a little problem when I discovered my Bike was not going to make the trip , but when my brother rounded the corner with that " where are you going " look in his eye I decided to invite him into the gang ...At first Bob was somewhat skeptical , trust was always an issue with him , but I assured him he wasn't;t part of a science experiment. That he would be an important part of the foray , and the rope was definitely needed ...at one point he protested that since I was bigger I should pull the wagon , but I reminded him that I knew he had broken moms baking dish and I knew where he had buried it ...and he stopped protesting and let me lash him to the Wagon....A few blocks away we stopped so I could complete my costume and as I was putting the feather in the hat I heard some of the neighbor girls laughing ...I told them they shouldn't tease my brother like that then I gave a hearty giddy up and off we went ...cape flying in the wind and a blur of white girdle as we headed down 33rd street. we were a group of hard driven neighborhood kids ..Led by Rex and myself we were also accompanied by Mike squirrly Hukins, Norm stinky Simpkins, Andy one hand ( after an unfortunate accident with a pair of pliers and steel jacketed bullet , and Linda beefcake O'mally who for a short period in the 80's was the lead blocker for the San Francisco Bombers roller derby team. each of us had dressed in their best fighting clothes. rex was wearing his coonskin cap and genuine Hop Along Cassidy leather vest and chaps, Norm who was part Nez Peirce indian was wearing war paint ( actually lipstick and eyeliner ) , Andy still had his hand in a cast which he had dipped in black paint , and Linda was dressed like Peter Pan with a Baseball bat . Of note was Norms Bike which had half of a Antler set strapped to the handlebars . As we caravanned down Capital Highway we could easily see the looks of admiration and envy from the passing cars , and even a few noses pressed against the glass seemed to be weeping and convulsing as viewers seemed to instinctively understand the grand undertaking we were undertaking ...while I felt a little odd standing in a red wagon being pulled by my brother with a rope around his waist in mothers girdle I knew that most driving by would quickly see it was no girdle at all but the gilded armor of a dashing Greek warrior ...Anyone who had read the Iliad would instantly recognize the similarity. Later I learned that Zane Grey's book the Broken Spur was the most popular read in the Northwest.We traveled down Capital highway for two blocks then turned right on 35th street , enemy territory ...we had only peddled a few feet when we saw them gathered around the Karnes Kid's Lemonade stand ...they were surprised and terrified when they heard our shouts and screams Four of us were shouting my brother was screaming. Although to be fair our war shouts could have used some improvement. I had Asthma and when excited I wheezed better than I shouted , Rex had a lisp , Norm Stuttered and Linda hadn't decided on a good war cry so she just shouted Hey Ricky !!! ( she loved the I love Lucy Show ). My Brother was screaming because He couldn't swerve fast enough to avoid the lemonade stand. There are some images that don not fade away , they are etched , nay sculpted in to the matrix of the mysterious place where Memories are reside. Here the five of us dressed in our warrior garb , led by half naked chubby boy with lipstick and mascara smeared across his cheek , on a bike with half a deer head wired to the Handle bar , followed by a Greek warrior in his mothers girdle being pulled on a red wagon with his wide eyed brother lashed to it , several other s in distinguished gear following close behind , startled the 35th street gang scattered like watermelon Seeds at a Ghallager concert ....unprepared for this reaction my brother caught up in the moment and showing al the signs of a first time rookie , rushed forward and in the confusion I was thrown head first into the lemonade stand ...thank God for the Swimming cap ...I was soaked all over with fresh squeezed Lemonade ...I think it was the combination of the warm day and the sticky lemon drink but I could actually feel the girdle shrinking up and soon my " armor " undergarments were tight enough to kill my pet hamster and I was still in them ....the walk home was not as fun as I thought it might have been , I was walking because my brother had taken off ..and we were not sure where he went ...I was concerned about this because Bob still had the rope and it was my Dad's ...As I began the long walk home I was feeling a little discomfort , not only was the armor shrinking the wet lemonade was staring to chaff , by the time I got home I was walking bowlegged and with a definite hop ...

I think Lori hit on a Key point with her response to my last post. Why is it that Hundreds of Thousands of people will follow the advice of a TV personality ? How is it that Television and movies seem to have so much impact on what we think and do. And Conversely why do so few people pay attention to what their Christian Neighbors , Family and Friends have to say.

Maybe we should be asking ourselves ( including myself ) what do we say ? and perhaps more important just how do we act ?

Do we act like non Christians , do we speak like non Christians ? This is a question I have started asking myself and looking at my personal walk . I am afraid I am part of the problem. I started by asking myself Just how should we act ... If we are being as the Bible says transformed in the image of Christ just what does that image look like ?

IN the Bible Jesus uses just two words to describe His personality. " I am gentle and humble in heart " . That's a good place to start.

Humble and Gentle.

Websters Dictionary Defines humble as:

Etymology:
Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Latin humilis low, humble, from humus earth; akin to Greek chthōn earth, chamai on the ground
Date:
13th century
1: not proud or haughty : not arrogant or assertive2: reflecting, expressing, or offered in a spirit of deference or submission 3 a: ranking low in a hierarchy or scale : insignificant, unpretentious

Consider that this is How the Son of the most High God described Himself. If anyone would have the right to be arrogant , the right to be assertive it would be the Son of God , and yet He says just the opposite . We claim to be proud after a hard days work making oyster crackers , Gods days work included the cosmos , the oceans and the bountiful life that covers the earth. I am part of Gods days work , and yet I brag over a reasonable picture of a Sunset.

Jesus was saying he was humble to us ,His people and as His people our goal is to be Christlike.

I suspect there are very few of us who would claim to be humble , humility is not a word we would readily use to describe our selves or our culture .

Just a drive down the road will revel the worlds best hamburger ( at five different locations ) the fastest car , the best phone service , the best football team, the greatest nation on the earth. This is not only the way the world acts but its the way we act as well ,,,the greatest church , the largest congregation, the best sermon. As a Churched group we routinely compare our little Worship place with others and the others usually come up short.

What would a picture of a humble Christian look like ? How do we start to learn to be humble , and why is it necessary for us to be humble ?

I think a starting place would be scriptural as well , an understanding of Servant hood. Servant hood is very closely aligned with very nature of love. After all can't we define true love as a condition when someone Else's needs become more important than your own ?

Now there is a topic ...For it seems that for most Love has now been redefined as What must I do to satisfy myself ? Its all about me , me first , my needs first , its my body. These all come from the same common root , its difficult to criticise the person choosing to abort when we are ourselves placing our needs first and the needs of others in the distant background.

Servant hood means doing for others with no anticipation or desire for reward for ourselves. There is alot to be said on this and the hour is late ... I am going to end tonight by challenging myself and any who are interested in taking a small baby step ... each day I wish to provide without benefit to myself a random act of kindness to another ...since reporting this would in a sense be a benefit I also choose to simply do it and not then seek praise for reporting it ...

Easy as Falling off a Cliff

Easy as Falling off a Cliff

When I look back on the years between six and thirteen I have great difficulty squeezing it all in.In those seven years I have so many vivid memories. Our family going to the Drive Inn eating popcorn out of a brown sack that my mother had popped on the stove . We had a tree fort in the backyard that was the envy of our neighborhood that my father built, it was from this tree fort I first found that my brother would bounce at least twice if dropped from said tree fort .. I remember a green house on the vacant lot we owned and being told to stay away from it , and I remember Rex Riley and I sliding down the glass roof and dropping to the ground below each of us landing on a protruding nail butt first. Once I hit myself in the head with a brick while lecturing my friends about gravity This was before I realize it was easier to experiment with my brother. I have very fond memories of learning about the outdoors at two different cabins we spent time at on the Oregon Coast. I found out early that life can't all be fun , I had habits and I had to pay for them on my own, for awhile I received an allowance from my parents , but this allowance came with strings , I had to do chores , these chores got in the way of my new found freedom and were an insult to the growing Greek warrior that was consuming me . Washing Dishes was for sissy's I wanted man work. And I got it for several summers I joined up with dozens of other neighborhood children , who met very early in the mornings in front of the grade school grimly holding unto lunch boxes and canteens. We all had exchanged our allowance income and all of its strings and legalism for our own independence and real money earned by picking Strawberries and Beans and Blackcaps ...I became like many in our neighborhood a migrant worker. The work in the Fields was hard , the hours were long and the sanitary conditions were not very sanitary , but the rewards ! At the end of the day we were paid in cash ! Many of the kids who gathered at the school were the same ones my gang of Greek warriors had soundly smashed back in the day , and it was not unusual to have some defeated foe with tears in his eye ask meekly if I was the Girdle man ...All I can say is life was far less complex in those days. It must have been very difficult as well , for later as we grew up , we choose instead to allow other people to do this field work , then we ate the food they picked , and packed and stacked on our grocery shelves and told them they were not wanted in this country. there were several summers of Bean and strawberry picking , Newspaper route And the Cub Scouts. In school I was admitted to the Seventh and eight grade science class when I was in the fourth grade.the highlight of this association was putting a hand made rocket through the window of a National Guard Jeep. During these years my brother and I learned that Santa Clause wasn't real. The there was my first phone call to a girl , my first rejection, my first date , and my first Hospital procedure which came on the eve of my first date. Sometime in these seven years I found myself fancying myself as an outdoors man and took up fishing and hunting I still remember my first caught fish. And how clever I was to use my brother to drag my lure and line across a rain swollen creek so I didn't have to cast as far. There were family trips to Oklahoma , one or more to southern California ...Going to Sunday school . During this period I got my first suit and my first cowboy outfit , and thought I often got when to wear them Mixed up was able to always dress myself quite well. Wearing a cowboy outfit to Sunday school with six shooters plastered at your hip might have raised a few eyebrows in the 50's but I was simply way ahead of our times. Our Sunday School class was taught by a man who had a boat so I learned to water ski even thought it did take me longer to learn to let loose of the tow rope when your skies fall off.One of the truly great stories and high point of my my life was watching my brother fall like a watermelon over a cliff only to be stopped at the last minute by my father. while I am being somewhat brief in these recollections this requires ( demands ) some more explanation. The place was Ecola state Park near Canon Beach Oregon. This Headland area has broad picnic areas that drop steeply to a series of rocky pools that are filled with salt water fish, we had been told how good the fishing was so we set out to claim our share of the bounty of the sea. MY brother who had little regard for style was dressed in well used jeans and these thick clumsy looking shoes with reinforced steel cleats on the heel and toe. I was dressed more stylishly in white calypso pants , yellow rubber thongs. I Honestly don't remember much about the going down the cliff part , I know the slope was steep , and the fishing was not as great as it was advertised , my brother and father had not planned as well as I had and each had only one fishing pole and a small tackle box between them, I was much better prepared bringing two poles three reels and a sturdy tackle box about the size of a steamer truck. and a bucket to bring the freshly caught fish back home in. It was a wonderful day ..with only a few offhand comments from my Father after he had made the extra trip back up the cliff to bring me the rest of my equipment. My Brother had been smart enough to bring my tackle box with him on the first trip. I had found the trek a little difficult with my choice of foot gear but with my father carrying me part of the way all was ok. Like I said the day was wonderful , my father seemed to be not enjoying it as much as me , but I was guessing it was only because he was thinking about returning to work the next day, and he was a little bruised by my spare fishing pole that had fallen from my grasp and landed on his foot. Soon it was time to head back Bob started off first , I reluctantly agreed to carry his fishing pole as he lugged the steamer trunk up the cliff . I found his attitude to be a little annoying as I also had the empty fish bucket to contend with and my flip flops had suffered a separation fo the toe thingy and they were more flopping than flipping. The climb up the cliff was not going well at all ...I was having trouble with my footgear and my bare knees were brushing against the volcanic rock and boithering me some. MY father who was very gracious choose to help me as best he could and at one point I was holding on for dear life to the end of the metal pole I had brought and Dad was holding onto the other end , beneath me was the foamy waters of the pacific ocean about fifty to an hundred feet down we must have looked a little odd two people in the Chaos of life embracing the gentle curve of the cliff , My father holding onto a sturdy tree root in one hand , his other hand grasping a fishing pole which had attached to the other end his precious older son with hsi sparkling white calypso pants and his flopping flip flops, I was determined to hang onto the fishing pole al thought at one point I thought the Bucket might keep me afloat if I fell into the ocean. Then it happened ...slowly at first there was a little trickle of dirt and gravel from above , probably a seagull had dislodged it , then more and larger pieces of debris started falling our way ..I distinctly remember my father shouting gently to my brother to knock it off or he would beat him mercilessly , Dad did seem to be a little grumpy at this point. Then the Steamer trunk sailed past us ..I didn't have enough time to watch it hit the water because it was followed by my brother sliding down the cliff butt down and this rather odd quizzical expression on his face , one I had only seen once before when I dropped him out of the tree house, this time I was watching this expression from below and it was even more dramatic. This is one of those times when time does stand still , I am sure I could see my father weighing his options on one end of the fishing pole was his first child , the child who had burned down the forest , tried to burn down the grade school , the child who had failed to pay attention , who had stole a jar of pickled shrimp from Mr Colemans Grocery Store and hidden it in his Paper bag, all this and more , from above came hurtling the younger child who showed great promise in school , who had been injured once before in a fall from a tree fort and who had stayed home and raked leaves , and stacked wood and washed dishes ...two children one choice and with amazing reflexes my father while still holding onto me reached out with his only free appendage his left leg and stopped my brother in mid tumble , my brothers steel jacketed shoes dug into my fathers leg but the leg did not give and for a brief moment all three of us were firmly fixed to the side of the cliff all staring at each other , then with out even a word my brother turned and raced back up the cliff barely touching the earth ...a few minutes later we all gathered at the top, we were sworn to secrecy , my mother would never know about this. at least not for a few days.
This is how I remember it , I have to admit the story grows some each time I tell it , but it happened pretty much as written, we were held by angels on that day , a few inches made all the difference between a famous family story that would be told at reunions and late night conversations , and a moment of tragedy that would haunt the survivors forever.

Aftershocks and Memories

Aftershocks and Memories

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

Something to Sneeze at

Something to Sneeze at

Too Young to be Needled !!!!

Guessing , I would say I began to develop a neighbourhood conscience and a tentative world view when I was about 7 years old . We had a TV set , and a radio and I was aware of news not only from our area of the worlds but also from the world . As is the case with all of us things were happening around me that would in latter years shape me , but I was unaware of them as were most of the people living at that time as well .

1954 was the year of that Segregation was declared unconstitutional in the Brown Vs Board of education decision at the Supreme Court . There was an un going witch Hunt for Communists , Homes had just topped an average of $10,000 ...Gas was $.29 cents a gallon .

Across the world the French were waging ware in an obscure place called Viet Nam ... On the waterfront was the years Big Academy winner , but as a Family we went to the Drive in and saw the Long Long Trailor with Desi Arnez and Lucille Ball.

On TV I was watching Howdy Doody and a local show called Mr Moon . For the most part TV was only used if it was really rainy outside , ( we were required to play in the rain unless it reached full monsoon status .). Bedtime was 9 o'clock ..more or less .

MY first friend in our block was rex Riley , rex and His mother had moved to Oregon from Missouri. Rex Lived with His mother who in turn lived with Her Sister and Her Sisters Husband and their son . Rex 's house was a small one on the corner of miles and 33rd street ...He and His mother shared a room ..Looking back it seems somewhat crowed and cramped ...but at the time I thought nothing of it , nor did it ever occur to me to ask Rex where his father was ... we remaned Neighbors through High School , but after grade school I rarely saw Him . I believe the last time I saw rex was in 1990 when I ran into him in Sisters Oregon. He had gained some weight , was married ...and older.

During our glory years Rex and I explored the woods together , rode our bikes for miles in the southwest hills , slept out under the stars , and in our tree fort , we went swimming together , picked blackberries , Strawberries, and Beans together . It puzzles me I never took he time to know Him better . but perhaps I knew him as I supposed to , a child hood friend , a sojourner on a childhood journey that began in a very small corner of the world called the neighborhood , and ended as a foggy morning , evaporates into the brilliant stab of sunlight on a grassy meadow .

Most of our play was adversarial , cops and robbers , Cowboys and Indians , Americans and others . We played mumbly peg once and I accidentally stuck a knife in his leg . I was somewhat angry and bemused when he insisted that we tell his mother , and subsequently was taken to the doctor for a tetnus shot . Telling his mother of course meant telling my parents and they were not as bemused as I was about the incident.

I really don't know what the deal was about tetanus shots was in those days ..I had heard rumours of Lock Jaw , but had never seen an visible evidence of it actually ever happening , likewise I had never seen a chigger , boogyman , or a full fledged communist either. Life in the Southwest Hills was somewhat isolated . By the time we were in fifth grade we were allowed almost full range over several miles of roads . lanes and islands of undeveloped woods and forests , we watch these areas slowly disappear , ans more and more houses were built . The movement of people into the Hills became so popular that a free way was needed to transport them , our Grade school was enlarged , and in the area a new one was built ...

It was also during this time that my parents noticed I was having some difficulty breathing , and I was frequently sneezing and coughing especially during the spring...Soon I was visiting a battery of doctors who were all eagerly waiting to poke ,prod and prick me ...This I believe was the beginning of my bad altitude about the Medical profession . After a period that I referred to as the "Exquisite Time of Torture and Humiliation" ..I was diagnosed with Asthma and Hay fever . it turned out i was allergic to the planet Earth ..space travel was still a fantasy then so there was little I could do about it , except take as series of shots ..Rather than easing into it by taking say one shot every decade , I was immediately put on a schedule that included two shots in each arm twice a week . To add indignity to pain , I actually had to walk to the doctors office often by myself ..a distance of over a mile and a half , past three vicious dogs , the Butte brothers , and at least one well manicured lawn that begged me to ignore the do not walk on the grass sign . I would enter the Lobby of the clinic , announce my presence sit , down and thumb through a field and stream magazine or a National Geographic ...soon a plucky nurse with rubber gloves up to her arm pit and scowl on her face like she had just bit into a sour lemon would call my name..she would lead me gently by dragging both feet through the door ..into another room where i would be locked inside ..until a bespectacled doctor would enter make some vague comments about my improvement , and then remove himself as the sour faced nurse would enter with a tray on which were four needles attached to syringes ..the needles were easily the size of a small Javelin andthe syringes about the size of a small firecracker , an incongruity that never ceased to amaze me . The nurse would then apply alcohol to the skin ...and with a effort worthy of a veteran Harpooner   for a Nova Scotia whaler , plunge the needle into me ..this procedure was repeated three more times ..and I was left dazed and wounded in the room for a period of 30 minutes ..this was to see if the injection was to have any serious side affects , other than the obvious pain , bruising , numbness and frequent need to urinate in a hurry that i experienced on a usual basis. Then if the lumps on my arm were less than a good sized cantaloupe I was allowed to walk myself home , past the ( now four ) visious dogs the sneers of the Butte Brothers , and the glare of the elderly lady whose Lawn I had transgressed in. All the while I was walking home I kept thinking maybe Lock Jaw was a better way to go .
Yet as I said it was during this time that my world view started to expand , and I can thank National Geographic for that !

Achoo !!!