NEW EARS

I finally bite the big apple and had my hearing tested this morning. I am number six of seven siblings and all had hearing aids by their early 50’s. I guess I could have waited until I turned 70 next year. As far as I knew my parents always wore hearing aids. I was the lone hold out, except for my sister Doris, but she died at age 42.

I went to one of those tests where the goal is to convince you that you need to spend $6,000 plus. I knew that going in, but I also knew I was having trouble with certain tones and increasingly turning my head to the right hoping to hear the TV better. It wasn’t working well. I still think something is wrong with the sound on my TV.

Shawn convinced me all right. I ordered a new set of ears I hope I can get them paid off before they need to bury me. I was told by all my hearing aid wearing friends at The Home to brace myself for a bill of $2,500 — per ear! I went in assuming my hearing loss would be mild and by getting an estimate I would start putting money away for some distant future date. But, young man, the time is now. Stand up and face the music and stuff little tiny microphones into each canal and hear, hear, HEAR! Anyway, they were wrong about the price. They wanted $5880. But wait: there’s more. Act now and we will give you not one, but two hearing aids. But there is still more: if you call right away we will include not one, but two batteries. Operators are standing by. If you pay in full Shawn will personally install your new ears in not one but bother ears absolutely free.

I have never figured out when you pay nearly $6000 for anything how some tiny part is absolutely free. Besides what good would the hearing aids be without batteries?

Anyway, it seemed Shawn took pity on me and the final price was $2990, almost have off, and it’s a Miracle Ear. Wow! Do I feel lucky; at least I afford the payments.

When I was shown to the receptionist desk for the final paperwork I began smiling as soon as she spoke to me. She raised her voice and spoke very slowly and distinctly. She was well trained. I decided not to tell her that I could hear normal one-on-one conversation. I thought it might ruin her day.

The big issue now is will I like going to my rock and roll church once I get hearing aids? I love the church and like the music, but it is already very, very, VERY loud. It may now go off the charts in loudness and I will finally know what all of the other old timer’s complain about.

I do hope the hearing aids have off/on switches. I am sure there will be times when I don’t want to hear what is going on around me. My father used his quite effectively. I love my mom, but she was a complainer. We were visiting them in the very small town of Hardy, Nebraska one summer when the kids were small and Della offered to help mom by making the gravy for the roast. It turned out great and in the course of the meal, Dad complimented mom on the gravy not knowing she did not make it. Mom dropped into an immediate freeze out. Darts flew form her eyes and lightening from her skull. Clouds began to gather over her head and a storm was building. It came fast. She torn into dad about everything he had ever done, how she hated this house and town and especially his attitude. She never once mentioned the gravy or said anything to my wife. She just ignored her for the rest of our visit.

When mom took a breath, dad slipped outside and sat on his porch swing. At her next breath (about 15 minutes later) I slipped out to join him. I felt bad abandoning my wife but I thought if the men were gone she would stop. Wrong! She never once complained about Della, but I got mentioned in the attacks as did all my brothers and dad. When she finally stopped and simply fumed and I was pretty sure she went to another part of the house I asked dad how he could stand her complaining. He looked at me then reached up to turn both hearing aids back on and asked what I said. The question was answered.

In the mean time while I am waiting for my hearing aids to come could you please write a little louder so I can understand everything you are saying.

NO LONGER MAINTENANCE FREE

Melvin moved in today. He is our new maintenance manager. He will start work on Thursday, September 1. We really don’t know much about him, but that won’t stop us from making things up. He looks Latino and his wife does not. I met a son on the elevator and he looks to be in his 20’s. He lives his so I am assuming they moved here to be near him. Melvin and his wife look to be in their 50’s. Their blue van has Texas plates so I guess they are from Texas. Pretty smart of me eh! (A Canadian expression meaning whatever you want it to mean).

It looked like there were 6-8 other relative looking type people that may have been here to help them. Some looked Latino, others did not. I hope they have a pile of relatives in the area because that will give them places to go to escape us. They will need it. We know the housing administration is also looking for someone to work 20 hours a week as the manager, but they do not want his wife to have the job. No more husband and wife combinations — or so they say. If they hold to that, she will not work in out office. That is probably best. The hassle that person will get is beyond belief. The last office manager we had that several people liked worked full time. The last part time office manager we had w had so many complaint filed and impossible expectations laid on her that there was no way she could be happy — and she wasn’t.

I hope he enjoys his for two weeks here as he will be loved and greatly appreciated. Who knows that might even last three weeks? Many will jockey for a relationship position. They will try to be his best friend so they can influence him to do tings for them and to see tings their way.

I have just resigned my volunteer job to plan events and activities. Beginning October 1. I still want to do things, go places and eat out at least once a month. But I’m going to do it with friends. At least I will know who is planning to come. I can take six with me if they can crawl onto the back seat. Not all my friends have the flexibility to do that so I must always select three who can make it there. I got my first trip planned. A few of us are going to drive around the Hood Canal just to see what we can see. We will stop when we want, eat when we want and get back when we want. In others words this trip is a selfish one where I can do what I want and not worry about some complainer coming along. Yeah!

RULES ARE RULES

Why is everything a big deal to so many people? It’s like they have nothing else to think about. They break rules themselves, but demand that others keep the rules — and some are not even rules.

On Friday and Saturday we had a company here to reseal driveways and outdoor parking lots. We were told they would begin work on Friday at 11:00 a.m. and we could drive on it again on Saturday after 2:00 p.m. Sounds simple — you would think.

What this meant that affected us all was that we could not leave or enter the parking garage. If we were going to need our car during that time, we were encouraged to park in the lot across the street. Some did not heed that and were angry when they were turned back from exiting the garage, However being smart, intelligent and mature adults, they just waited until no one was looking and left then. The evidence of deep tire marks tells the story.

Our small back lot has only four parking spaces and there were four vehicles that both came and went in each of the spots before the sealant was dry. I’m not surprised and I doubt the company was surprised. But I was wrong. They believed serious seniors would be more cooperative. WRONG!

Saturday evening several people tested the sealant with their foot wondering of they could walk across the road yet. It was dry enough for that and no footprints were seen. The workers walked on it all the time and never left a footprint. It’s the weight of the cars that left the impression. Chas was asked not to take his wheelchair on the road until Saturday morning. Nowhere in the notice did it forbid walking on the newly sprayed sealant. By Friday night at least a dozen had walked on it.

It was about 10:00 Friday night when Maria came down with Kiki. Kiki was returning to the other building for the night. She asked if it was OK to walk on the road and several said it was. Maria screamed (not an exaggeration) that we were told not to walk on the road. A couple tried to explain that the note said “do not drive.’ There was nothing said about walking. Well, Maria flew into a rage verbally attacking Chas and calling him an idiot, a troublemaker and warning that he had changed into a vicious and angry man. She was so angry she could barely get the words out of her month without hissing. She would hear nothing anyone else had to say. She demanded that Kiki walk around the barricades meaning she was walking in the street and in the dark. Kiki acquiesced. Maria walked across the area at about 9:00 the next morning. So much for rules.

I would like to blame this all on Maria, but Kiki has no backbone. She always does what Maria says. I discussed this with Maria at one time over a year ago and she stopped speaking to me. But I cannot bear to see her controlling Kiki the way she does. But then, Kiki lets her. I can hardly be around them any more. I would buy a backbone if our little county had a backbone store.

I do not know how to convince someone they need to get a backbone when they most likely have never had one. If surgery would do it, I would pay for it for Kiki. The outcome of the problem is that Maria and Kiki have joined the informal “I hate Chas” group that seems to be growing in number. I’m tempted to print buttons and hand them out or given them membership cards so that they can clearly identify each other. That would not be necessary as they have a late night meeting every day to bring each other up to date on the problem people — number one is Chas.

It’s ridiculous. Welcome to Junior High.

SENIOR FEARS

One thing that increases with age is fear. Some of those fears make sense. We are finally very much aware of our mortality. We are no longer the teen who seems to believe that nothing bad will ever happen to them. I was like that. Actually, nearly all of us were like that.

Sports work well for youth. They never really think of the potential danger. I loved jumping from high places, landing in a roll and ending up on my feet. It never occurred to me that any of that might be dangerous. I played football in the days before “our” little league all had equipment. Even when the only touchdown I ever scored was at a goal line stand and I rushed in where angels fear to tread and stopped the punt with the end of my nose, I still loved playing. The touchdown came when I fell on the ball holding my bleeding nose that stopped the ball. I really wanted to cry, but the team thought I was some kind of hero. Actually I was just a little kid who wanted his mommy. In my case that would have been problematic as my mother told me I was not to play football. My parents both accepted that I might have been in a fight.

Fundamentally, seniors fear death. Not all of course, but most. The fear of death brings on other fears. Every ache, pain and new diagnosis brings us closer to the death fear. While some die in tragic accidents, most die of illnesses. I do not fear death. I fear an extended painful illness. My mother died of a heart attack and was gone about four hours later. My sister died of a blood clot while sleeping on the soda. Both were reasonably fast. One the other hand, my dad suffered over a number of years. The pain is more threatening than death.

We increasingly fear activities that can bring physical harm or struggles. I no longer jump off of high places. Two feet seems too high. I hang on to something even when climbing a two-step ladder. I can’t remember the last time I jumped. I know for sure that old white men can’t jump. Running is out of the question. We are happy and content if we can walk. We fear anything that smells of danger even things that once never frightened us.

Many are frightened of people. Maybe they have always lived in neighborhoods with people they knew and trusted. There seems to be some in every apartment complex that appear frightening. Some really are frightening. We don’t know what they will do: attack us, steal from us, or ridicule us. All are outside our comfort zones. I know some will not share an elevator, table, sitting area or space with certain others. They are afraid of what might happen. Our imagination is often worse than the truth.

These fears lead to isolation. Nothing will happen if I stay in my room. That is the believe of a fairly high percentage of our residents. Something is happening to me and I cannot leave my room. Some have illnesses that keep them locked up. Fear of strangers is high. Loud people are threats. Aggressive people are to be avoided.

Fear is a constraint we place on our own freedoms. We lock ourselves up believing we are protecting ourselves when we are really enhancing and exaggerating our fears. I believe some of these are legitimate concerns, but should never be the source of our concentration and focus. When we get out with people there is help available when necessary. When we connect with people there are those who check on us out of concern.

I have several support systems, thankfully. And most of them will worry for me, so I can save my energy.

TOXIC FRIENDS

I was watching a news report this morning on toxic relationships. I have taught the same class three times in my later years of ministry so was interested on what they had to say and to see if any new information was forth coming.

The report said 8 in 10 people endure toxic friendships (why 8 in 10? why not 1 in five? – huh?) “They belittle and backbite and drive us batty with their soul-sucking behavior. Who are these hideous people? Our ... um ... friends, according to a joint survey conducted by TODAY.com and SELF magazine.”

What’s new? I want to meet that one in five person who does not have a toxic relationship. Maybe they don’t know toxic when it bites them on the nose. I am aware that some people have a higher tolerance level than others. I generally see myself as one of those people but when I crack, get out of the way.

“Just how bad are our so-called friends? Sixty-five percent of you have been stuck with a self-absorbed sidekick (easily recognized by their fondness for the words “I, me, mine”) while 59 percent have been buds with one of those draining emotional vampire types.” I live near three of these self-absorbed people. Two of them can barely stand to hear another person speak. You cannot even enter the conversation when they take a breath — because they don’t breath. If I’m sitting at coffee and one of these self-absorbed ladies arrives, I do my best to make a pleasant and discreet exit. If I let her get started, escape is difficult. Besides, I’m exhausted hearing about her very large family and endless number of friends. If I could remember their names or even cared, I could write her family history.

Yes, we also have plenty of the emotional vampires. I have discussed Olivia in the past. She is the number one emotional vampire at The Home. I have never had a conversation with her where she has not complained about something. She drove in the exit one Thursday when we were BBQing. I do that in the exit driveway. There is still plenty of room for cars to get by. When she came in Chas called to me to watch the car since it was coming from my blind side. After she parked she came to ask me if Chas had called her car a whale. He didn’t, but it is. She calls the office over more minor and insignificant issues that anyone else. After talking to her one needs a nap to recover.

“Overly critical chums were next on the toxic friend hit list, with 55 percent of people having to suffer through their self-righteous stink eyes or critical tirades.” Obviously Olivia fits here as well. However, the group is vastly expanded with the better than thou critics. They drain the life right out of any group. If seem like the live for a feast of happiness and fun so they can devour it. It only takes a few of these to ruin an event.

“Friends who undermined with insults or backhanded compliments came in at No. 4, with 45 percent admitting they were buds with a backstabber.” We all have on of these friends. They pass their backhanded compliments off as jokes, but the cut to the core.

Then there is the Flake. The make promises they don’t keep and appointments they don’t keep. It is like they don’t want to say no or hurt your feeling so they agree to things they have no intention of doing. It is like they have no concept that their action hurts even more.

I guess our only option it to hibernate, isolate or extricate. If we cut ourselves off from these types of people we may be down to only 2-3 friends. Come to think of it, 2-3 friends is all the real ones most of us have.

THE TIME HAS COME

After two years of trying to make things happen that will bring the tenants together, I am about to give up the task. I doubt that it will be a big deal as attendance has ground to a near halt. We have had two picnics this summer with three people at each one. Once a month we schedule a meal out. The first one of the year drew about thirty people and I thought this was going to be a great event. The slide began immediately and now draws five-six. Our regular Thursday night BBQ’s which had attendance of about eighteen attended last summer but is running six to eight people now. This might still be worth it. I haven’t fully decided yet. I have offered to drive people to various discounted movies and never had a taker. The same is true for specific shopping trips, as many have no way to get to stores other than the bus. On the other hand, if I can get the administration to spring for some meat, we can get a group of about 25-30. If someone is giving them free food, at least the meat part, they come and load up plates to take back home.

I biggest problem for me is that I need to be ready to go to all these events. I was sick one day for a meal out and the small group canceled. They didn’t need me. We usually walk to these places I have tried to schedule all our meals out within four blocks. Even I have been surprised at how many restaurants there are so close.

I am somewhat concerned for that small group who seem to attend everything. I will still plan a few events for the regulars. At least I will not be disappointed at the turnout. I will always know who is coming.

Unfortunately, I do know some of the problems and I have not been able to correct them. First, the bitterness of some toward others means these people will not go to the same events. Second, we have done a terrible job of enfolding the people who have moved in during the past several months. That one is a catch twenty-two situation. It is difficult to include people who never initiate connection by coming out of their apartments. We have not had very social people moving in the past several months. You can’t connect with people you never see.

This isn’t all about numbers. Although I wouldn’t put it past a former pastor from evaluating success by attendance. You know those guys. I really hate to admit it, but my get up and go seems to be getting up and going away. Also, while I’m not a wealthy person, I would like to go with a group to live theater ($10-$12), or a nicer restaurant that may cost over $12, or to some other attraction that costs — every fun activity is not free. I can’t do this all the time, and I don’t. But I have a very small group I can do this with. When I announce an event with a cost, the complaining is massive. I get sore ears. They want the housing organization to pay for it — actually they expect it.

I am going to give them the opportunity to plan their own activities. Some will. There have even been small groups who will come separately to our planned events and either sit apart or come on a different day. Go figure. There is some anger and bitterness here. I hope they enjoy their misery. They already complain about there being nothing to do here. Now they will be right.

CATCHING UP

It’s been a long time since I last wrote. The reasons all seem rather silly right now, but there are times when some things get emotionally debilitating. I do my best not to let those things throw me for more than a day or two, but it seemed like I would just get over one thing and then another one arrived.

Briefly: On Friday I dramatically changed my diet. I wasn’t hungry from lack of food, but I was frustrated. I was told I needed to lower my carbs. I had been working for a month on just understanding carbs and learning to know what was turning to carbs and how to control them. Now it was time to get serious about it. I was dying. Failure was overwhelming me. I had two days in a row of missing my target. Then Sunday, I had a low sugar experience at church. Never had that happen in the morning before. I went looking for the most sugar-laden donut I could find. Then while holding the donut and walking with my coffee to sit down I started to fall. Mary rushed to my rescue and caught me before I went down but not before the coffee splashed over and burnt my hand. I grabbed a couple of others to take the offering and I just sat. After the service I set back the chairs we move for the first service group in wheelchairs, then greeted the second service people. Right after that I went home and had another sugar low walking in my door. I got that jacked up and was shot. Had a two-hour nap and was still tired when I got up.

OK, I admit it. I was discouraged. It was the third day. I do not let that emotion hold on to me for more than a day. A three-day depression is just not worth it. Then today I had a knee that began to hurt and I have no idea what I did. It’s even bruised. You know, one of those little bumps that come along at times and you have no memory of doing anything to cause it. I must be living on another planet.

I guess the powers that be at The Home are weary of my namesake living here. We have the same initials. Word is out that they are trying to find another place for him. I suspect there will be a celebration when that happens. He really needs to be in a safer place for both him and others.

Monday, I learned that two men from my church have applied for the maintenance job here. I don’t know whether to encourage them to pursue it or tell them to run as fast as they can and do not slow down.. I talked with one and he is rather laid back and may have the personality to survive. However, his wife is not. Not good.

I went to the $1 movie at Regal with my grandkids this morning. Had a great time. When I got back it seemed like many people were trying to find me. I had two phone calls and two people waiting for me. Apparently I had my recertification to remain here another year scheduled for 10:00 this morning. I thought the meeting was on the 18^th. It was now 11:45. I rushed over to the office so see if anything could be done and she could squeeze me in at 12:30. From there I went to Bible Study and my heart and emotions were not in it. I came home after it was over and fell asleep.

Well, I wanted to let you know I was alive and semi-well. I’m here, but I’m off to bed. Goodnight.

AND IF ELECTED...

The US government’s credit rating has been downgraded from AAA to AA+ and our government is angry and has launched a full out attack of the blame game. In a way, I did the same thing when the stock market crashed and I lost my retirement. I blamed the government. Who else?

But for now, I am really enjoying watching our leaders squirm as they blame each other while none accept any responsibility for the problems they have created for us. I think I would die of a heart attack if any accepted responsibility and acknowledged what really happened/

For the first time in history, over 70% of the American people believe we should throw the bums out, but that is highly unlikely because 56% believe someone else’s congressperson should be thrown out and not theirs. I don’t understand that.

But I have a plan if elected, and if elected I will not serve. I do not want to be part of a group that wants me to be one of the leaders.

1. I favor a two term maximum for congress to knock out the ole’ boy system and give the government back to the people.

2. I further believe it is time to do away with the lifetime retirement plan for congressional leaders regardless of how may years they serve. Give them a stipend based on the number of years served (8) and let them live on their retirement invest programs like we have to do. I for one am tired of these buffoons with their cushy retirement programs while big business does all it can to deprive its workers of any retirement at all.

3. I believe in helping the needy. But it is wrong to neglect our own family to the benefit of strangers. Who helps us when we have disasters? I know, Saudi Arabia? Help the poor — our poor. Take care of the widows and widowers.

4. Dig through the grants and stop the superfluous studies, committees and research projects.

5. Stop supporting projects that rightly belong to states or cities. Why are we paying for a teapot museum? What is its national value?

6. Support essential services and stop threatening to reduce funds to education, police, firefighters, the military and us old people.

7. STOP MICRO MANAGING and let business do business. Reduce the absurd paper work and while we are at it, eliminate all the loopholes and tax business’ fairly. We treat business taxes like we treat personal taxes. Provide dozens of ways for the wealthy to get out of paying taxes and soak the middles class who we expect to pay the total bill.

I know most people usually blame God for everything that goes wrong in their lives. God did not do this. Our national leaders have created our economic problems. I know that we are Americans and we deserve perfect lives and need them provided for us by our government. It is out American right. Bad things should not happen to us and someone other than ourselves must be responsible, Probably China. They will likely own us soon — that is once they foreclose. Please couldn’t a country with a simpler language take us over? Spanish has a pretty strong foot hold.

These ideas may not be exactly what we want and I know it does not matter what the plan is, some group will hate every part of it. Fighting and arguing is the American way because ever American is absolutely right in their own eyes.

WHY IS THIS SO CONFUSING?

A few of us just came back from a friendly visit to the office of our local cable/Internet provider — WAVE. I doubt we could be any less happy with a service. I swear they are taking billing lessons from the airlines. There appears to be no rhyme or reason to the bills.

Gail and I went together last month to try and get a handle on the mass confusion they produce. The changes offered and billing practices come more often than aunt Myrtle changed underwear. We received a noticed in the mail on July 2^nd, about new ways to save money. We went to the office on July 5^th to check into the apparently grand offers. It turned out to be even grander for Gail than we have expected. If she would upgrade to a higher level of service it would not only give her more channels but she could get the cable box free and also get Stars and encore free. All that was for a price of $39/95 for 12 months. She was already getting that level of service with the exception of stars and encore, but was told this would save her approximately $20 a month. When she got her bill this week, the price went up. Huh?

Mind was less confusing. I also upgraded to get a broader selection of channels for the same price I was paying for the minimum number I had been receiving. I really wanted to get the history channel (see what a serious minted person I am) so I could see American Pickers, Pawn Shop, Restoration, etc. (there goes my improved image). But I also love several of the shows on USA like White Color and Burn Notice. So I was happy about the change. He mentioned that I one free year of a higher speed Internet was ending in two days. So I dropped back to a slower speed to keep my price approximately the same. When the bill came, I was changed for 10 mbps, not 3. And he could not back that up to the date when they actually came and made the change. Yikes!

The billing office does what they want and tells the local office completely different things. Gail lost her discount for bundling, she was charged for the cable box that she was to get free and her lower price dropped to only $7. We haven’t talked to everyone, but found another tenant at the office when we arrived. Same problems.

So whatever happened to clarity? What ever happened to the desire to help the costumer? Whatever happened to a fair price rather than price gouging? I know this is ancient history, but the only contract my father ever signed was to purchase a house. Everything else was done with a handshake that was more binding that most of the present contracts.

I know that is gone. It’s too bad. So many of us fear everyone is out to take advantage or deceive us. I don’t know if it is personality of training, but I trust everyone by their word until they prove to me they cannot be trusted. I don’t advocate this approach it’s just how I have operated. Have I been taken advantage of? Yes, multiple times. I’m afraid this will not change. Not because I couldn’t change, even old dogs can learn new tricks, but I don’t want to. I like believing in people. I try to be cautions, but when it is a big corporation challenging us, getting them to do the right things is nearly impossible.

SEARCH THROUGH HISTORY CONTINUES

In today’s digging I found photos of myself I didn’t even know I had. All were from my years teaching at college – they were my faculty photos for the yearbook. I showed them around to a couple people and both said they would not know it was me, that only made me wonder who I was back then.

Maybe we look at ourselves through somewhat jaded eyes. I thought I looked the same, just younger. In all five photos I was wearing a jacket an open color 70’s style shirts, big colored prints. The shirt blended with the jacket, except for the white turtleneck and blue jacket. That was my favorite. Since many of the shirts were flowered I have a hard time believing I actually wore that kind of shirt.

I also found many more photos from both “No Time for Tombstones” and “Adrift.” I thought I had put all the photos I had of those were two-plays on my Facebook page. I wrote and directed both for the college drama team – Portrait Players. Both took a great deal of research and a pre computer search for photographs to get the correct look.

I had forgotten I had photos of an AK-47, the gun favored by the Viet Cong. That was for “No Time For Tombstones.” Since they were illegal in Canada, I had a friend in Vietnam send me pictures. The maintenance crew shaped the gun and inserted a metal barrel and I filed those suckers into final shape and painted them. I had one for a very long time and can no longer remember what happened to it. I though they looked pretty good but found out how real they looked when we made our first performance stop in the States. The play opened with the capture of the principle characters and a young Vietnamese boy. The boy tries to escape and is shot in the process. The guns did not fire. The sound effects were on tape. But when the sound exploded a Vietnam Veteran dived under this seat. From then on we got help to indentify the vets in the audience and warn then of what was coming,

I know their sandals were made from old tires and we did the same. Their clothing was grey cotton that looked like pajamas. It was a great play and in great demand. We ran if four years to be in as many Canadian churches as possible,

Two of the principles were alive when we did Adrift and I found all my correspondence with them as I was gathering information and trying to find out what they talked about on the raft for 19 days. Both were children at the time and remembered very little. I wanted to be as true to the story as possible,

AJ Hunter wrote books on both stories. But they were written while wars were still in progress and much was banned from inclusion. I found a photo of the USS Lashaway, the ship that was torpedoed and sank and another of the raft on which they survived. I even found the drawing I made for the construction of the raft including directions on how it would look like it was floating. The secret was tractor tire inner tubes.

All the plays and skits we did have such great memories for me but then I guess that is just another thing that happens as we age.

I know I have changed. It is hard to remember when I was thin, but there are some photos to prove it. It is even hard to remember how hard it was to write these scripts and produce the plays. Now it all seems like fun – it wasn’t. On both plays I had to begin rehearsals before the script was ready. I’m sure that is not the way to do it. But the cast would memorize a long section and I would have a completely new rewrite the next rehearsal. I figure that by the time we were done they had memorizes maybe a dozen different plays. I hope they have forgiven me by now.

LAKE OKOBOJI

I got a note from a buddy last night reminding me of an event from my youth I had long forgotten. It brought back good memories. My whole experience with this group of kids was positive.

As a sophomore I was drawn to an off campus Bible group called Youth for Christ. Naturally I went because a girl kept asking me. I went to church at that point in time, but it was not the center of my life. From there I began attending the citywide gathering that met every other Saturday night. After that meeting I went with a group that often went to Betty’s to watch Gregor — a Saturday late night TV show of old time horror movies. I don’t believe the movies were the point of the meeting, but it was still fun. From there I went to the “big” church with lots of kids and that led to their big summer camp at Lake Okoboji near Spirit Lake, Iowa. This was the strangest camp I ever heard of.

It was a family camp that gathered in this large building they called a Tabernacle. It seems there were around 1000 people who came every year. The strange part was that the church only owned this small property that held the meeting building. Families rented cabins in the community of this destination location. Besides the great activities of the lake there was an amusement park with rides and the typical games of chance.

I went with some buddies from the church and we rented out own cabin. Who lets a group of high school kids rent a cabin on their own? I guess the parents did, because that was what happened. The point of the camp was to attend the big meetings. In the morning there was a separate meeting for the youth. I have no memory of ever attending any of these meetings. Maybe I’m wrong and just blotted that out of mind or maybe I just remember the other parts of the week.

It seems we were in one of the cabins owned by someone’s family. Who knows? That wasn’t big in my memory either. I was focused on the fun. In the mornings we were at the lake and the evening at the amusement park. I never had enough money to experience all the rides, but I loved the sights and sounds and hanging out with friends.

Many people came from other churches and there I met Roger Morrow. His father was a speaker on Back to the Bible broadcasts. He was a redhead and would burn to a crisp if not soaked in sunscreen. He was always shiny from the oil. Roger taught me a way to get free pop. There were chest pop dispensers along the broad walk that the lid opened. You inserted your money and wiggled the bottle along a track until you could reach the release spot. If you get a bottle opener and a straw and were willing to stay there awhile, you just popped the top off the pop you wanted, inserted the straw and… you get the picture. Wouldn’t you know it — he grew up to be a pastor as did I. Go figure.

I became a total cad the summer after high school graduation when I did my woman wrong. I had dated this girl for two years. We never talked about being exclusive, but we were. Well, I met another girl and began to hang around with here. But gutless that I was, I never told my girlfriend. The place was too small to avoid being seen. It felt like everyone knew and especially her girlfriends were rather angry with me. In my naiveté I could not imagine why they were so upset. They made sure I figured it out. That was the end of my primary relationship and the new girl was only a one-week connection. I can’t even remember who she was. Then I was alone. Woe is me!

If my parents knew I went only for the fun, I would have been denied a second visit, but I was pretty deceitful at that point in time. That was not a good thing, but I sure had fun. Like they always say, if sin weren’t fun, no one would do it.

OLD YEARBOOKS

What does one do with old yearbooks? I have a bunch. I suppose I am not the only one with a yearbook collection, but I am likely the only one who cares anything about the ones I have. It’s not like I look at them regularly. The fact is I never look at them. However, it feels wrong to throw them out. I know my daughter will throw them out. My photo appears only in the individual class photos of my high school yearbooks. In my one-year at Omaha University (now the University of Nebraska at Omaha) my photo appears nowhere. That would likely be the easiest one to release. I’m not sure why I have it in the first place. I probably had to pay extra for it.

When I got to Bible College my photo appears much more frequently. It’s on nearly every page the year I was the layout editor (that’s a joke). It was a small school and so most had at east one extra shot of their selves on some page or other. I have looked at these from time to time. But it’s been awhile. Then I taught at the same school for six years and have a yearbook from each of those years as well. I have actually looked at these a little more often. That’s because my memory sucks. There have been times when someone has mentioned a name I recognize but can’t place and I go looking for his or her photo. I’m not sure that does much good as we have all changed so much, but it helps.

I am cleaning out things. I no longer live in a large place where I can keep boxes of things I will never touch just because I have the space and do not want to go through it all. I really do not have the space. I am trying think of my family. What do I have that will interest them. I kept the file of all my daughters wedding expenses. She will be interested in that especially when here kids get married.

I also have a file of every newsletter I published while at the district office. That was one every six weeks for thirteen years. It was there that I developed Pastor Russell, my cartoon pastor that ran for several years and eventually became of book of cartoons that no one wanted. I guess they finally burned the left over pile. He came about while I was bored in church one Sunday. I was doodling on the bulletin (see they are good for something) and turned the pastor into a cartoon. He was very recognizable but happy to be the source of my cartoons. He even supplied some ideas.

This newsletter went through the mail and at some point (don’t remember when) I turned the mailing information on the back page into a humor column. It was written in small print (8pt.). I never announced what I was doing, because I don’t believe I thought it would become a regular feature. However, it ultimately became the first thing many people read and the most talked about thing in the paper. When people discovered it they felt like they had discovered a little jewel I was sharing only with them. It was usually a single run on sentence describing where the office was located. Here’s a sample:

The newsletter is published by the Pacific Northwest District of the Christian and missionary Alliance Box 1030, Canby, OR 97013, (503) 266-2238, or FAX (503) 263-8042 where everyone is anxiously awaiting the next big project (it doesn’t matter which one it is, there will just be another to take it’s place), so we can get on to summer vacation plans and try to put out of mind the next big project even pretending the next big project does not exist and even if it does exist we probably shouldn’t put too much effort into it since no one will probably come, give, read, or even care about the next big project which always causes us to wonder why we are putting so much effort into the next big project, so why not put that effort into vacation plans — which we would do, if the last big project hadn’t taken longer than expected, turned out better than expected, was of greater value than expected, changed more lives than expected and — we can hardly wait for the next big project, I think!

This kind of writing convinced people I was truly off my rocker and convinced me that people had a weird sense of humor. It was generally total nonsense. So what do I do with these things? They are of no value to anyone I can think of. The District Office saved copies as well and they are still there unless some administration following me dumped them all and in that case they don’t want more from me. Bu the way, none of the address information is correct any longer. They moved the office to another town.

Now you can see the awful dilemma in which I find myself. I should have left everything for my daughter to kept or destroy when I’m gone. She will have no difficulty at all. Oh, my poor things — off to the trash heap I’m sure!

JUST IN CASE

My wife and I had a friend who did not store things for very long. I believe she got rid of it if she hadn’t used it in over a year. I always thought that was silly. What if she needed it in the future? Her answer was, “I’ll get another one.” I was sure that was wasteful, but I’m not so sure anymore.

I have drug around things for years. My wife and I had so much packed away “just incase” we barely had any room for what we needed. Our garage in Canby had a long counter and overhead shelving that at one time may have held tools, paint, repair equipment and we had the thing nearly stuffed with craft supplies. Admittedly we used a lot of it, but we collected items we had no idea how to use but kept “just in case.”

I have been here three years and every box that was closed at arrival is still closed with the exception of one. A buddy came to visit and we went through an old box of Portrait Player memorabilia. Out of that came the desire to post the photos I had on my Facebook account. Admittedly I was glad I still had that stiff. I always thought they belonged in the college library, but I have never checked that out. Don’t know if there is any interest, but Gary is interested. Since nearly everything is paper it is heavy. I do need to see what it would cost to ship that all to Canada.

Some are old family albums. I will keep those. Some are files from throughout my church and college ministry. While searching through the boxes I ran across an album of encouragement cards and notes. This sort of thing was big in the years I taught. I kept them all to read on the days I felt beat down. Since I am not facing a group that may love or hate me on a regular basis I no longer feel the need for that kind of pick me up. I admit it was fun seeing whom I got cards from. Some were a surprise. In each case I remembered the person and thought fondly of them. Some were just plain funny. I liked those a lot. Maybe I have always been this way, but at this stage of life I prefer to see the humor in life. I admit I do laugh easily.

There was a period when I collected a great deal of books regarding drama. I even worked with children’s theater for a while so gathered a number of helpful books. I never considered myself to be very good with kids so I needed all the help I could get. I don’t need those any longer. I will see what I can donate to the community library.

Speaking of libraries, we have a nice one here and I have books I know I will never read more than once. When I retired I sold or gave away about 2500 books related to my field of study. In 1991 I had a sabbatical and for the first time in my life began to read fiction. I was so busy trying to stay up in my field of study that I read nothing else. But a friend got me started with a Larry McMurtry book about Calamity Jane and some of the Wild West’s aging legends Buffalo Girls was a western and I was surprised that I enjoyed the book. I was sure it would not hold my interest. But it drew me into a growing love for fiction.

In the last few years, fiction has been balanced out by a love of history. There are so many excellent historical writers weaving history into a well-told tale. The biggest problem is that I still feel compelled to buy rather than borrow. I live only two blocks from the library and could easily borrow what I want. Instead, I prowl thrift stores, garage sales, and second-hand books to find my little treasures. It doesn’t make sense. I have no place to keep them. I have no idea when I will learn. All that to say, I need to get rid of many of my books! At one time I was down to about 100+ and now I have nearly 300. Where d I get the money? I’m always trying to figure out how to stretch my dollars a little further. This would be an excellent place to begin. But I don’t want to.

FOLLOW UP

The first phone call woke me up. As usual I could not see clearly and tried to open the case on my phone from the bottom. I almost broke a nail before I grabbed my glasses to see what was wrong and turned the case over. I managed to open the phone on the last ring before drifting into message oblivion. It was Laura from the Administration Office. She was checking up on the CW tirade at Thursdays BBQ. Since Chas caught her at the monthly birthday celebrations she needed to get another side of the story. I tried not to sound sleepy, after all it was 9:00, and repeated to her what I told you a few days ago.

I decided it was time to get up but my body was fighting that decision. It went to bed way to late the night before and was still tired. About thirty minutes later and second call came from the Administrative Office. This was an official inquiry into the CW explosion at the BBQ. I told both of them that a number of women are frightened of CW. If he gets on an elevator they are on, they get off. Several live in fear of being caught alone with them. They believe he is violent and threatening. I do not disagree. I am reasonable sure those angry and potentially violent times are when he is off his meds. Few want to talk with him because his conversation s so far off subject. He is pretty much an outcast.

I began some apartment clean up and then decided I would try to walk to the Farmers Market at the park. It’s only four blocks. On Sunday I walked to and from church with out pain. Today I only got two blocks then I sat down and rested before returning home. The whole trip back was without pain and so I wondered if I should have plugged on. Instead I asked a friend to pick up some Rainer Cherries. I love those things and they are a perfect snack.

When I got home I sat in my chair and promptly fell asleep. I left the TV on thinking I might drift off and was hoping the change of TV program would wake me up if that happened. It did. That meant I was only a few minutes late for Bible Study. I didn’t want to miss. We laugh and discuss and learn from one another. I love it.

It is late again as I write this. I was going to go to bed and write tomorrow, but I didn’t, as you can see. Just felt like talking to my three or four readers. Also, I wanted a record day. I feel like I’m being drawn into something that will come back and grab me by the tail.

WHALING DAYS END

Whaling Days are over. The carnival rides have been disassembled, folded up, packed onto trucks and moved on to the next stop. The vendors have packed away their left over’s, taken their tents down and closed up until next year or found the next weekend event to reopen. The primary colors dancing in the nightlights and the canned carousel music broadcasting the same repetitious tunes have ended. All the treasure hunters have searched the grounds and those with metal detectors have already collected what fallen money they could, especially around the coin toss.

There were a few things that stood out to me. First, there was the whaling that took place outside my window at about 2:00 a.m. both Saturday and Sunday night. Where is a pellet gun when I need it? It was hard to sleep, but this kind of racket is usually only on this weekend once a year.

I did enjoy the fireworks that we can walk across the street and get behind on the narrow walkway behind the Yacht Club Broiler. We cold have sat on their outdoor patio for the price of a drink. No one coughed up the money. There were new displays this year. The computerized explosions came more rapidly and with greater quantity at one time. Then so did the noise. They even sounded louder. There was a white one that left the impression of a waterfall cascading over its ledge and running into a fading mist. The lights hung on longer than most. At one time the set so many waterfalls off it reminded me of Niagara Falls. Maybe that’s a slight exaggeration.

I never walked down it see Whaling Days. Saturday was hot and crowded. Sunday was cool and misting in the early part of the day. I walked to church on Sunday with a few clouds hanging overhead. It was cool with promises of warming up. I went a little early to help work on parking. The whole area around the church was already taken. My greeting partner arrived around 7:00 a.m. (9:30 service) to protect a spot for the van that comes from a nursing home. John works there as well and figured the spot would be gone with no place for the van if it weren’t held. Apparently it was a good thing. He turned dozens of vehicles away. The most belligerent man reminded John that this was a public road and he had a right to park there. Yes you do sir, but would you really deprive a group of elderly seniors from attending church because they had no place to park. He left, but not with some derogatory comment about a sexual activity. John blessed than as they drove away.

We had no outstanding weirdo’s walk past. The closest exception was a skinny young man wearing pants without a belt who had to hitch his jeans back up every 10-12 steps. He was not wearing the usual boxing short, but tight grey patterned ones revealing his very bony ass. The general run of thumb was most guys were wearing their hair short. This is a military town. Guys wore baggy mid calf shorts without belts; girls on the other hand were very close to wearing Daisy Duke short shorts. Their hair was long and straight. Way too many girls walking alone or with girlfriends were with child. I was sad, and maybe shouldn’t have been. But I wondered if there would be a present father for that child.

Well Whaling Days are over for another year. I will sleep tonight. That’s a good thing. I’m tired.