THE DAY AFTER

It was a thrill to walk into my daughter’s house and see the new stove. It is beautiful. My son-in-laws-brother arrived early on Saturday to correct the wiring problem. No problem for him. It was done without issue. Even better than seeing the stove was seeing her cooking on the stovetop with items in the oven as well. I had a brief cry again.

I love my son-in-laws family but I did approach the evening with some trepidation. The house is small. The living room, dining room and kitchen are all one room. While the kids could play some in the kid’s bedrooms upstairs, I suspected they would mostly be down stairs. They were.

The noise level built gradually. The early arrivers were able to play outside for a while. It was a beautiful day and the sun was shining. It looked like we should set out and decorate a palm tree. A light sweatshirt was all that was needed.

When all the cousins are together, there are nine. The last arrivals have four. They are loud and not always controlled. I watched the daughter peal an orange and drop the skins into an open bagged Christmas gift. I was the furthest adult from her, but maybe the only one who saw the action. I wanted to scream at her, but like a nice little grandpa I kept my mouth shut. I am not the parent.

While the noise was already at a Piper Cub sound level, it quickly grew to a Boeing 747 level. Getting their attention for prayer was a major undertaking. It took very little time for my head to begin throbbing. I could not follow any conversation and the chaos built until my nerves seemed to crash in. I pulled my daughter aside and tried to explain what was happening to me. I then excused myself and went home.

As I was driving away I noticed my churches Christmas Eve service was starting in fifteen minutes. I arrived only five minutes late. It was so peaceful and calm. It helped me come down gently. There was a beautiful violin as part of the smaller worship band. Peaceful. I needed that. It was good to be in the house of the Lord.

I was wiped out when I got home, but chose to finish my latest J.A. Jance mystery book. Great ending. She handles ending smoothly. They are dramatic, but not drawn out. After the killer is determined and caught, usually in the very true to life ways, there is a chapter taking the character back to normal life. I like that.

I returned to my daughters Christmas Day to be with just them. It was wonderful. We all have a great deal of excitement about that day. While excited, the kids are older and completely under control. I loved it. I left about 5:00 and came home only to fall asleep three times in my recliner. I had no reason to stay up even though was early but I could not seem to stay awake long enough make it to the bedroom. So, when I finally did wake up enough to move myself, I was wide-awake for another couple of hours. Yuck. I know I will nap off an on most of the day and I’m looking forward to it. My apartment needs to be cleaned, but tomorrow or the next day it can be done. After all, it is only I walking around in the dirt and I don’t mind — especially when it is my dirt.

CHRISTMAS MIRACLES

What a day — what a night!

Today was a miracle. I was so overwhelmed I lost it emotionally. I cried and cried and cried — all tears of overwhelming joy. I can’t even remember the last time I felt such delight.

I got a call near 3:00 from the office of The Home. I was told someone has called trying to reach me. They wanted my wanted my phone number and address. The manager would not give out my phone number. I general address would be easy to find. So they left a message. I was to call a certain person at Home depot to make arrangements for new stove to be delivered to my daughter’s house.

I began trembling immediately. My voice quivered, but I did not fall apart then. I had a dozen questions the manager either could not or would not answer. She is a wonderful and stoic woman. No one can get secrets out of her. Just call the number, she said.

When I got off the phone I was visibly shaken. I had to call my daughter and tell her of the Christmas Miracle God had just given to us all. We are so blessed. We were not asking for help, at least not consciously. We were working on a plan and had the concept well in hand. Just a couple of details yet to decide. My bank had offered me a credit card with no interest until March 2013. I figured we could put the stove on the card and have an interest free year to pay it off.

So the offer for a free stove came out of nowhere. I have some guilt believing I may have planted a seed to get that stove, but that was never a thought. I was absolutely shocked and thrilled with the gift. God provides even when we least expect it. We are all so thankful to whomever provided this wonderful gift. We would love to tell them directly. Since we are blind as to the source, I am using every outlet I have to express my gratitude, our gratitude. Like my daughter says. We don't deserve this, but that does not mean we are not grateful.

That is not the only gift. A wonderful little girl from my first youth group offered to set up a blog for my art in hops that I might sell some. That also caught me off guard. She has suggested she would help before, but I wasn’t sure I even wanted to try. But God has even changed my mind in this and her offer kicked me over the brink. I love her (this now adult just slightly younger than me us being used of God to bless me. I don’t know what all is happening right now, but I am overwhelmed with gratitude. These are truly Christmas Miracles.

I just got a call from my daughter. They went and picked out the stove and it is being delivered on Thursday. Since Chris (a high school teacher) is now home. He will be there for the delivery. Also, his brother is coming early on Saturday to repair the electrical problem. He has done a lot of that.

On another note, my cable TV went crazy over the weekend. Intermittently I could not turn it off or on. I could not change the channel, I could not pause it. Nothing. No button did what it should. I spend an hour on the phone with the cable company. They finally decided they needed a tech on site. He comes Wednesday. That is good for me. I can now only watch one channel (CBS). Since most of what I watch is on CBS, I will be able to watch NCIS tomorrow. Otherwise I have no excuse not o finish the drawing I must finish. Yeah! God is good.

STRESS FOR CHRISTMAS

I have known theoretically that a person can have stress and not recognize they have it. We may even know the signs of stress and not accept them as stress. I prefer the kind of stress you feel. You know, good old-fashioned aches and pains, even diarrhea or constipation or chest pain and a rapid heartbeat. While I don’t enjoy any of these (and who would) they at least make me wonder if I might be stressed. When my shoulders tighten up and I can’t shake that off, it is stress. For me, it is always stress. It may start in the shoulders, but it reaches my stomach in no time.

What I don’t always get are some of the intellectual responses. I can’t say I ever considered that memory problems may be a sign of stress. My neurosurgeon suggested that might be a connection. I would tell you everything he said, but I can’t remember.

Inability to concentrate is another one he suggested. That may explain the flitting around of the past weeks. The inability to stay focused. I jump from one task to another often not finishing any of them in a timely manner. The only thing I remember sticking with was a James Patterson novel I had to know what was happening. I’m about 3-4 chapters from finishing off another J.A. Jance novel. I actually fell asleep, in bed, reading last night. I jerked awake when the book fell out of my hands to the floor. I have got to finish that today.

While books are a relaxation for me, I have a drawing I must finish for two reasons. The man wants it before Christmas and I need the money. I van only stay at the drawing board so long before concentration wanes. That is usually when I it a spot I am struggling with or is not coming together right. The drawing is a portrait of a couple. I always start with the eyes, nose and mouth. If those are not right, the drawing is not right. I captured the guy right away. I am having trouble with the woman’s right eye, more accurately the space between the eye and eyebrow. It actually does help to step away awhile. I know how to fix it this morning – just haven’t started yet.

I know I have felt somewhat overwhelmed. I had a lot going on beginning in November. It seems worse now. I was going to surprise my daughter by having her stove repaired for Christmas. I had it all worked out. I met a repairman at her house while all were at work. Guess what? It can’t be repaired. She needs a new stove. That is not going to happen. Since she is hosting a Christmas Eve gathering of the family Saturday night, we have been trying to figure out how to put this off. I can prepare anything needing cooked in the oven. Her stovetop still works. But I can’t stop trying to figure out how to keep everything warm and be there for the early part of the evening.

Yes, stress has slowed me down. When I finish the one drawing I have left, I will begin the slow down stage. I will welcome that with open arms. Retirement is suppose to be stress free. Maybe I should retire. Maybe I should just not stress out so much. I have never figured out how to get my body to cooperate with my mind. Please do not give me advise on how to accomplish that. It will just give me more stress.

If I have not yet built some stress up in you, you are a well-developed and emotionally healthy person. Congratulations! That’s what I want for Christmas. I already have my two front teeth.

I'LL BE BACK

I have a lot I want to tell you, but it will be Sunday before I can write. I have my art show tomorrow, and a portrait I am working on that needs to be done by Sunday. Frankly I need the money, so it will happen. Hope you check back with me Sunday evening or Monday morning.

DO I HAVE A BRAIN

Do any of you remember those suction tubes one found by nearly every department store cash register years ago? I think I saw one in a Costco not long ago. They were designed to whisk money away from the cashier to? Humm, to where? I wonder! So yesterday I was literally stuck in one of those human suction tubs for about thirty minutes. She sweetly says please lay down on this meat slab. They had kindly placed a white paper napkin for me to lie on. I felt like I was about to be wrapped, labeled and put in some meat counter display case.

“Now, don’t move your head.” I don’t even know why she bothered to male that comment. My head was laid down in a wedge like head shape attached to the slap. He stuffed little rubber like cones into my ears so I wouldn’t hear the saw, I presume. She then wedged my head with what felt like a rubber block on either side of my head so I couldn’t move it if I tried. If that wasn’t bad enough, I suffered the ultimate indignity when she slapped this Hannibal Lector type device over my face so I could do my imitation of Anthony Hopkins. I don’t know whom they thought I was going to eat. Next I was glided into the suction tube to be whisked away to who knows where. I was about to find out where all that money goes. I doubted I would make any of the tube turns since I barely fit inside. I was sure I would be stuck at the first corner.

Well, I didn’t go anywhere. I just lay there while some guys with jackhammers pounded away on every side of me. It didn’t take long before my nose began to itch. Fat chance it was every going to be scratched. I wiggled my nose as best I could and try to make it go away. I think water torture feels something like that. I was willing to tell them anything they wanted to know if I could just have my nose scratched.

I have had an MRI once before the days of bondage. Admittedly it was easier to remain still. What else could I do? The tube has this weird mirror like contraption so I could sort of see the operator out at my feet. The picture quality was fuzzier than a TV with an antenna. It was one of those “we now see darkly” kinds of things.

I was somewhat dizzy when I got up. Naturally she told me nothing so I’m still not sure if I have a brain.

That afternoon I went for an EEG. I love medical terms. They are purposely designed to keep the novice in the dark about what you are taking or are going to happen. It’s like ignorance is bliss. I assure it — it ain’t. In this little experiment in poking and prodding I had 26 wires attached to my head. First she rubbed various spots on my head trying to remove my hair. At least it felt like that. She then rubbed some funky glue type gel to hold the prods to my scalp. After all were attached, she asked me to lay back and close my eyes. That part was easy. Since I was up before God, I was ready for my afternoon nap. I felt nothing and I definitely nodded. Actually, I definitely fell asleep. I woke myself up several times as I began to snore. When it was over, I was embarrassed and tried to defend my sleeping. She just laughed. I guess I wasn’t the first sleeper.

After all of that, not would tell me if I had a brain. I have to wait until January 9. That’s all the way to next year. I did get a call this morning telling me the doctor wants more blood. What is he? A vampire. This will be the third blood draw. I guess something isn’t right. I could have told him that without all the blood.

So be it. God knows and He and the doctor will tell me in good time.

POLITICAL DEBATES

I’m up early again today. My sleep habits took a sudden change about a month ago and I am usually awake by 6:30. However, it was 5:30 today. I’m wide-awake. I might be nervous. But if I am, I feel nothing more the normal sleepiness. I am having an MRI this morning and an EEG this afternoon. They are looking at my brain today. I think they are checking to see if I have one.

I can’t listen to any of the Republican debates. This is not different than most years. I basically hate political debate. Let me explain. 1) I don’t want to hear their promises. They may be sincere and genuinely want to put a car in every garage but they don’t have the power. I have never understood why we Americans assign so much power to one person. Supposedly our government is based upon a balance of power theory. It that is true it would seem the president needs a bunch of others to agree with what he promises. Their own party doesn’t always agree and if the opposite party has the power in one house or the other — well, the president is basically screwed. So, why brother to promise? If just one said they were interested in attempting, or would try. But it doesn’t matter because the president will be blamed if the whole government doesn’t do what he promised. We seem as messed up as the politicians.

Two, we are fundamentally selfish, a trait we share with politicians. Add greed to the mix. We are not looking for a government that will serve the better good of the country; we want one that will give my state and me what we want. Not surprising. I am no different. I am dependent upon the government at this stage of life. I guess that makes me an employee. In my possibly warped point of view, I put piles of money into an account they promised me would be there and be returned to me with interest when I could no longer work. They broke their promise when the robbed Peter to pay Paul and never paid Peter back. Now they keep threatening to make me pay for their stupidity I do not want to listen to their dreams for us. I already consider anyone suspect who would want to be president. Where’s my faith, in the toilet.

Three, I hate, absolutely hate the tearing apart of one another. We seemed shocked by their sinful life. Heehee, haha, hoohoo! That’s me rolling on the floor in gales of laughter. We no longer need God’s judgment on another’s life; we want to hold them up to public ridicule for doing what sinful human beings do. We accuse them of a lack of family values because they are divorced. Being married does not guarantee a family values perspective. God may hate divorce, but we humans have embarrassed it from the beginning. That’s why Moses permitted it.

We seem shocked they have affairs. But we see it, hear it and know it is all around us. Politicians are a reflection of us. They are just like us in all our sinful manifestations. We backbite, gossip, blame, criticize, accuse and demand perfection of everyone but ourselves. I call that a belief in a doctrine of perfection — for others. We are quick to blame others for the woes of the world. In the political sense they are to blame and we put them there. We are willing to over look their sins if they secure for us what we want. What if their choices do not benefit the greater good? When they threaten to take away protection (military, police, fore, etc.) and education it feels like a parent taking about food and clothes while keeping cable TV and the Internet. Stupid. Feel the children first and if there is extra, get the extras.

I love my father, but he was generous to fault to others. After he passed away, mom asked me to write charities to stop the requests for money. I ended up writing dozens of groups he supported while mom got little side jobs to buy the kids clothes. There is a parallel in the actions of government.

I know government is necessary, but I don’t have to listen to them argue with one another about their weaknesses, frailties and failures. I just have no interest. If I want to listen to that kind of talk all I need to do is walk over to the other building and get into an argument with someone, anyone actually.

A little of this and a little of that

I have been busy and am busy. I am working on one portrait, have another in the wings and just picked up four more. If I hit the mark immediately, I can do each one in 2-3 days, however, the “if” is big. One of the new ones has two kids on the same drawing. I have a hard time with those. If I get one right I often screw the other up. That means I start all over. But since it is only one picture in the eyes of the customer. They don’t understand why I want double. I should charge triple, but instead I only add 50% and pray for the best. Enough about my problems, they are the best ones I have had in years. I get to do what I love.

They finally approved me to drive the company bus-van. Whatever you call it. It is like one of those things that drive around airports. It holds 14 with two hookups for wheelchairs. We had our first outing on Friday for our once a month “Meal Out.” One of the residents found the nicest little bakery. Great bread. My trainer came along in case I had questions. I did have one. Where are the heat controls?

Chas has become belligerent. He claims to have done nothing wrong. In one way he is right. He bought the hall decorations and installed them, so I suppose he has the right to take them down. OK, maybe he does. Just like when he got carried away a year go with his garden. He was so angry at problems he was having with some people that he tore out all his flowers and threw them away. He hurt the feelings of more than his enemies on that one. Others missed the beauty at the front of the property. He does not believe he over reacted on this issue. He says he was called and told to remove the garland from the front of one person’s apartment. None of the communication was in anger or even demanding. It was a request. The amount to remove amounted to about two feet. He ripped out about ten feet and left the hallway looking strange. The extra eight feet were not even in front of the woman’s apartment. At least his housekeeper kept him from tearing out the whole thing – his original intent. He does not believe what he did was an over reaction. When I asked today if he thought he over reacted, he said no and wheeled away to end the conversation. He is not taking criticism from anyone. And why should he? He’s convinced he was right!

I preached last weekend and caught the bug. It had been about twelve years since I had preached. The first time (a little over a month ago), I was a nervous wreck. It went pretty well, but I had doubts I could even do it, I mean, being used of God. I was fearful of getting in the way, messing it up. I was well studied, intellectually prepared and - I thought – spiritually prepared. But something happened last weekend. First, I over prepared for Saturday. I put together enough material to teach two one hour classes and (I guess) believed I could condense it into 20-25 minutes. I was not satisfied. I went home that night and whittled it down to the barest of bones and clearly focused on one point. People fail us, but God never fails. A Romans 5:1-6 promise. The Spirit was upon me and I spoke for God on Sunday. I never believed that would ever happen again. I had failed. I was used up. I had blown it. I was finished. Everything I felt and thought convinced me that was true. I knew I had been discarded and I had accepted it. But God was not finished with me. I was shocked.

I have no idea where it goes from here, and I’m fine with that.

ITS NOT BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS

My blog makes no real contribution to life and culture. It began as one old man blabbering on and on about the humor I see in life. Some of the humor that I once saw is turning to sorrow. And from my perspective it is caused by a life without God. The inability to forgive is painful and brings pain not just to the person not being forgiven, but to the entire unit where the bitter one lives. People are afraid to move, to act, to plan, because of one persons poison.

The home has been decorated beautifully each year. It took longer than usual to get going because of the actions of one person last year. That person sees themselves as the keeper of the decoration and the public areas of the building. Things only go where she says they go. Bi creativity was allowed last year so no one was willing to help her this year. When she finally shut herself in her room out of anger, everyone else got together and decorated out building. And frankly, it looks better that ever.

None of this progress is evident in the main building. The resident who manages the kitchen and makes sure there is coffee every morning, appears to also be the keeper of the Christmas decorations. She is angry this year and she does not want to put up Christmas decorations yet - an so no one wants to cross her so no decorations have gone up. Her anger is stupid (but then most anger is stupid). He wants a man in her life and has decided which man (not me, thankfully). The man has told her it will never happen. HOWEVER (and this is important) he continues to treat her like the love of his life. His words and actions are in conflict. So she is taking her anger out on everyone, and everyone is letting her.

It is not beginning to look al lot like Christmas in the main building, but it is over here. But even here, bitterness has raised its ugly head. Chas decorated the hall on the first floor with garland and ornaments. It looks real nice. There is an inset in front of all our apartments and most people decorate that are their selves. Two apartments were already decorated when Chas got started so he left them alone. In fact, he bought garland to match theirs. He ran that garland everywhere except directly in front of his arch enemies place. However, he did run it around a corner into her area. The lady kindly asked her housekeeper if the garland could be removed as she wanted to decorate her own area. It was a reasonable request. The house keeper took care of the problem for Chas. When she told him what had happened, he wanted to go out and tear it all down. He was talked out of that, but went and cut a large section off that was approacher her apartment. It now looks terrible. He ruined the whole affect because of his over reaction and anger.

When he does that, which is more often than even he admits, people pull away from him and he sulks off to have his own little pity party. He never keeps that party quiet. He tells a few friends how hurt he is and that no body likes him (if no one likes him why does he tell anyone - he would likely have no friends to tell)? The point is to get some people to tell him they like him and beg him to be part of things. I for one am tired of his manipulation. And so are some others. He has a way of turning a nothing item into a huge issue. He keeps thinking he his going to be thrown out. Keep it up and he will.

I have talked to him so many times about this and he agrees while we are together, but acts as though he has no memory of it a few minutes later. This last escapade will send him into retreat in his little apartment. He wanted to go see the lights in another week and I am driving the bas just so he can go. It is likely he will be too embarrassed to go and will blame it on something else. He causes many of his own problems. Gail will tell him straight out and I am going to tell him tonight. This has got to stop.

Of course, like a two year old, I will tell him again and again until it sinks in. I pray that happens soon - for my sanity.

The lack of trust leads to seeing everything with an ulterior motive. Ever action is questioned and the sincerity is doubted. That comes from their own self hatred. They don't believe any compliment or good deed. People begin to wonder what the point is. There is an air of oppression at The home emanating from three people. That is a cancer that is infecting everything.

WASTING FOOD

I hadn’t anticipated the debate going on in the comments section about “Are They Really Thankful.” The posting is about perfectly good food being thrown away because it was past the expiration date. I consider that a lack of gratitude and a waste of perfectly good food.

I have debated getting back into this discussion with another post, but find the waste of food in America to be astounding. I agree that there are unsafe foods both packaged and unpackaged. But I also believe that one of the worse things foisted upon the public by the government is the “use by” date on packages. Most Americans see that as the time to get rid of it. You are free to take this with a grain of salt. I am not trained in this field at all. Everything I have to say is opinion, but opinion from experience.

I depend upon the local Food Bank. Almost everything that comes into the Food bank is past its “use by” date. The only thing that isn’t past due is fresh produce brought in by farmer and growers. What they bring is usually the gleanings. The items left over after the best has gone to market. My Food Bank had received apples, potatoes, onions, pears and even bananas – once. Nearly all have spots and bruises. I grew up in a home that had a very large backyard garden. It would be called an organic garden today. It was fertilized with chicken manure. There were no sprays – at least none that dad every used. He just did what his father did – panted his garden and trusted God for the harvest. It was an ancient approach.

Nearly everything we harvested had something wrong – bruises, spots, and parts eaten by birds or wild rabbits. You often need chemicals to keep food looking perfect. My parents were never bothered by any of these blemishes. They simply cut off the bad parts and we ate what we had.

I do the same with things I get from the Food Bank, They get a great deal of food from local grocers, but it always comes to us when the law says they can no longer keep it on their shelves. It is always passed the “use by” date. Admittedly it is not always very much past that date. It depends on how long it has been stored before we get it. We get bread delivered to The Home from the Food Bank on Tuesdays. The “use by” date has passed. We pick up bread on Wednesdays from Oroweat. The due date has passed. I used to go to the outlets of bakeries to buy at a cheaper price what they called day old bread. It wasn’t all that unusual to see a little mold on some parts of the bread before it can all be used. I say, pick the mold off. The rest is good. Shocking isn’t it.

Back in the ancient of days when I taught in a Bible college in Canada, one student was the night manager at a local McDonalds. As part of closing he was required to throw everything away that had already been cooked. He was not to give it away – only throw it away. There were times he brought it back to give away to students. He could have lost his job for that act.

The homeless know the restaurants that throw food away and do what they can to dumpster dive for that food. To keep them from getting it most dumpsters are locked away from the public. Those establishments are required to throw it away rather than give it to someone who needs it. That is waste.

I have and will continue to eat many items that are passed their “use by” date. Bad food has a smell or a taste. That is the warning. not when some government agency has decided we should not eat it any longer.

I liked this quote from an article referred to me by Cartoon Character.

“British households throw away 8.3 million tons of food and drink a year, with an estimated five million tons of that amount still being perfectly edible. Every day, 1.3million unopened yogurt pots are dumped, as well as five million potatoes, a million loaves of bread, a million slices of ham, and 440,000 ready meals.”

I am not trying to sway anyone from his or her eating practice. I want to acknowledge the waste we create by law that only Food Banks are permitted to redistribute. If it is bad for Americans to eat, then why are we distributing it to the poor? It must be part of a plan to eliminate the poor. My days are number — but then whose isn’t.

THANKSGIVING DAY

I did not get sick from Resers frozen foods. In fact, I have had some of it twice more. I think there was some wasted food when some many women threw it out.

Thanksgiving afternoon I got in the car with my family and went to Seattle to spend the day with my son-in-laws family. I have been doing that for a number of years. It is easier and more fun for the grand kids. There were nine grand kids and things changed this year. The five oldest sat at a table and played games. It was reasonably calm and controlled. I loved that. The four youngest continued the tradition of running and screaming and bouncing all over the place. Grandma and grandpa have a basement that they have set up as a play area for the kids. Fortunately, they spent a great deal of time there.

My hearing is beginning to go and when there is a lot of noise and mass confusion I cannot focus on any conversation. I missed some of the discussion. I have had my hearing checked and there is some loss. They tried to sell me a miracle ear for $3,000 for each ear. After picking myself up off the floor the salesman (I think I am suppose to call him the technician) set me up with a credit card that specializes in somewhat lower payments. I was interested in what they would do. But when the card arrived, I had to pick myself up off the floor again. The interest was nearly 27%, highway robbery. The card I have has a significantly lower interest rate, but I am still paying off the debt I retired with and decided I would not add anything to that card until the old debt was paid off and I may not use it after that. It is going to be a while before tat bill is paid.

The meal was terrific as usual and somehow I managed to not over eat. I wanted some pumpkin pie but when we got around to pie, I chose apple pie instead. Go figure. It just looked too good and there will be a lot more pumpkin before the end of the season.

I sure debated about going to Seattle, as my back was still hurting. Fortunately it did not get any worse but when I got home I was completely wiped out. I am beginning to feel my age.

I was to set up for the art show on Saturday, but passed because of my back. I will do it on Tuesday. I look forward to the show and would love to have a sale or two. We will see what wills happen.

I need to get going on the two portrait orders, but first — a good nights sleep. See you later.

I will write tomorrow about the expiration date debate in the comments section. Very interesting.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

ARE THEY REALLY THANKFUL?

I was trying to get out and loosen up my hip and back. I just walked the hall. It wasn’t too bad. I am working to keep things relaxed. How does work and relax fit in the same sentence? Duh!

On one of my little hikes I heard voices upstairs so hopped on the elevator to see what was happening (I can be nosey, I guess). I was thinking I might get a conversation going about thankfulness. That didn’t happen but I think I picked up a few items of thankfulness.

We each received Thanksgiving food baskets on Monday. Some were thankful to get them and others were thankful for the freedom to throw them away. The “use by” date is January 2010 on the frozen food provided by Reser’s. They provided frozen mashed potatoes, frozen stuffing and frozen gravy. Some residents were thankful that they could be horrified something like that would even be given to us poor starving people (not).

They were also thankful they could take their complaint to the coordinator from housing that made arrangements to deliver the food. They were thankful they could drive her to frustration and tears as she was the dispenser of the food here and therefore it was her fault and how dare she even think she could dump this old food on us, of all people. No one considered blaming the food bank, the storage facility or Reser’s or the economy or themselves for not donating. Our messenger was responsible and therefore should have been thankful she was being set straight. Not one person considered that the food might still is useable, nor did they try to find out. Not one person considered returning it to the food back so it could be given to someone who really needed it.

As I am writing you, I have the gravy and stuffing in the microwave. To the horror of many I plan to try it and see what it tastes like. If I am sick later – it probably wasn’t very good. If I don’t write before Monday, maybe I died from some kind of poisoning. I think it is worth a try. I used to eat dirt and that didn’t kill me.

The stuffing and Gravy is finished so I added some veggies to try it out. It all tastes pretty good. Of course, it is too early to see if I get sick. The stuffing is a little spicier than I like, but still good. But remember, I ate dirt so may not be the best judge.

The food group was especially thankful that we got a small chicken with some freezer burn. Never mind their yelling about where the turkey was even though the paper commented on the food bank shortage of food for atl east the past week. They also announced that fewer turkeys would be available. No matter! “Where is my turkey?”

A group of ten will be here with no other place to go. No one seemed to be thankful that they had the money to go and buy all fresh ingredients for their own little turkey feast. I spoke to one organizer this morning asking if I did not go to Seattle, could I join them. “Of course, there is plenty of food.” Later in our conversation it was mentioned that one person from our building wanted to invite her friend from the other building and was told, “No, we can’t feed everyone.” The one our resident wanted to invite eats like a bird.

Well, I now have one more thing for which to be thankful. I am thankful I can leave all these “thankful” people and go to Seattle. I pray my back is better.

I just finished eating everything and am thankful I got the food. I am grateful for a food bank and those who contribute to the food bank. I am also thankful for Reser’s donation. I’m sorry the “use by” date was so offensive. I need the help.

Praise God from whom all blessing flow. If you are able, you would bless me by contributing to your local food bank. It is needed now more than ever.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

I plan to spend Turkey Day with my son-in-law’s family. I have done that nearly every year since my wife passed away. They have been exceptionally kind to me all these years. I also spent Christmas with them. This developed after a few holidays were spent in Oregon with just the three of us: Rhonda, Chris (her husband) and me. Boring! Holiday celebrations are best enjoyed with a larger group,

I enjoy sitting down and considering many of the things for which I am thankful, so let me share some of those with you this year.

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good! His faithful love endures forever.

I love where I live. I am thankful I am here. The Home is beautiful and the setting is terrific. Also I am close to family – about 20 minutes.

I am thankful for most of the people In The Home. Of course, there are a few whose necks I would like to break, but they gave life to this blog. One of the exceptional people is my upstairs neighbor. My back is bothering me today and I am struggling to walk. She went out in this cold miserable weather to get my insulin. I wouldn’t have asked, but she said she was going out anyway. She lied. She wasn’t going outside at all. She did it because I needed help. She is also the organizer of a Thanksgiving meal being held in our building for the 8 or 9 people who have no place to go, and she not really much of a cook. Cool, eh!

I am thankful for a van that still runs. It has its little problems: a door that rattles and a window I have taped so it won’t fall out. I suspect it will be my last car and I’m glad to have it. While I could get around without it, a vehicle means freedom for a senior as much as it does for a teen. The difference is that we drive only if we have to and rarely after dark.

Of course I am thankful for my family. My only immediate family is my daughter, son-in-law and the three grandkids. There are a lot of thing I have missed with my wife gone and one is touch. My grandkids never fail to hug me when they see me and hug me again at departure. Yeah!

I cannot forget Chris’ family as they have included me on special holidays for years. It is always fun to be with them. There are nine children running around yelling and screaming. I may have a headache at the end but it beats silence.

I am thankful for health. Mine is not perfect. Today my back is making it difficult to walk, but rest will cure that. It’s from the physical strain of the weekend. I could go through a list of things that are breaking down, but like it or not we are all moving toward the end and that process usually includes things not working like they used to. It’s part of the pattern. I am thankful for what I do have.

In regard to health, I am thankful I can still draw. After my last heart attack I developed a mild shaking in my left hand (my drawing hand). I was fearful I could no longer draw and went through a time of deciding I would rather not try and then learn I could not draw. So I decided to give it up. God is still allowing me that little pleasure. By the way, I went on line yesterday and found an art consignment site. I am in the process of signing up. Shocked, aren’t you.

I am thankful that God helped me learn that cooking was an art and not an exact science. Once I understood that simple fact, I have feed myself some pretty good food – when I want to. I am still waiting for Rachel Ray’s cookbook for 10-minute meals. I nuke much of what I eat because I don’t like waiting. I can’t imagine having to hunt down or gather my food, then building a fire to cook it. That’s an all day project, maybe even an all week challenge. We have come a long way since the pilgrims — and I am very thankful for that. I really do prefer hunting my food at the butchers.

I am thankful for your who comment from time to time. You challenge me to be better and do better. You encourage and motivate me to keep writing. You are helpful and often funny. I love humor. I try to incorporate it into my blog much of the time. I am completely aware that there are times that I am the only one who thinks I funny, but thankfully you allow the illusion to continue.

Enjoy Thanksgiving. I'll be back on Friday. I might as well. You will never again find me out shopping on Black Friday. I don;t need anything they are selling that bad. I hate crowds.

MY ART

I greatly appreciate all the suggestions I have received about marketing my art, but I think I have left a wrong impression. While I would like to sell some of my art for a little extra cash, I am not sufficiently motivated, interested, skilled or whatever to do the work necessary. What I need is a middle person so I can just draw and not give any thought to marketing.

Marketing is the reason my graphic business failed. I loved the design work, but hated the sales side. All of business requires a “sales” side. That’s why what I do now is a hobby. I only hope I sell something. I do not work at it seriously. It’s a lot like a God relationship. Many people only hope to go to heaven, they do nothing about it.

I appreciate the concern many of you have for me. If it will make you fell any better these shows are often only good for contacts. Two follow-ups have lead to two commissioned portraits. That combined with filling the pulpit in a couple of weeks will give me a really good Christmas. And because I am a doting old man who would do anything for his daughter and grandkids, they will also have a good Christmas. I don’t need much to live on. I can and have lived on less that $10 from as early as the tenth of the month to the end of the month. When you are retired, have a place to live and food to eat, it is amazing what you can do. I don’t go anywhere and I don’t do anything that will cost money. If I run out of something, I just wait until I can afford it. It is no big deal. I can’t say that about past days of my life, but at this stage —it is not hard at all. I not longer live on credit

Art is and expression of joy for me. While it is nice when other people like it, I love it when I like it. And that is not always true. While I do not consider myself a perfectionist, that blood courses through my veins. I have had my stomach in a knot in the past because of a glitch no one else would ever notice. That is pretty much a thing of the past. Every drawing I have done lately has multiple errors in the process. Now I either incorporate those into the drawing or cover them up as best I can. My medium is colored pencil. Prismacolor is a wax-based pencil. You do not erase wax. You can lift some off, but if you have already layered it in too heavily, it’s going to stay. It helps if you work lightly and gradually build up the color intensity.

When I decided to take my sabbatical in 1990 and take an art class, I knew I wanted to create something that could hang on the wall. I had spent all my life working on signs and brochures that pass on information. No matter how pretty, interesting or artist they were (and plenty were not), they were used” and discarded. That was their purpose. So when it came time to decide what I would do I gravitated toward colored pencil because it was a dry medium. I have laid this left hand down in more wet projects than I can count. I usually smear the project at some point. I have tried working from right to left. I even did big banners from right to left and often leave out a letter in way too many projects. The beauty of wax (for me) is that I can lay my hand on top of it and nothing changes. Yeah!

I have toyed with putting things on the web. I’m not sure I want to deal with my own web site. I would like to find a consignment art dealer on the web — so if you know of one, I welcome that direction.

In many ways I just like people to see it. And, by the way – most of my prints sell for $20 in 5x7 and 8x10 both matted. I also make then into cards for $2. I’m happy with that. Any lower and I don’t even cover the cost of pencils, paper and ink.

(Caryn: if you read this write me at cswalker42@yahoo.com. I would like to write you directly)

BLACK FRIDAY

What happened to Black Friday? Where did it go and who stole it? I know the general concept is there, but when is it?

Back in the olden days (two years ago or so) it was the Friday morning after Thanksgiving, or maybe even the middle of the night. I think the big day started at 4:30 or maybe even 5:00 a.m. I’m not really sure as I was rarely up at that time of the night. Of course, with age that has changed a bit. No matter, I could never have gotten myself together enough to go out in the dark, camp out of wait in line to spend money regardless of what a great buy was waiting.

I only did it once for the experience. My daughter and I went to some big box store to get specific items. We both managed to get our hands on some of what we wanted, but the checkout was the worst experience of my life (probably an exaggeration). I was in line for one hour and twenty minutes – and the store had every register open and running. The people in front of me had so much stuff it made me wonder where they all got their money. Two items were not worth the wait.

That was then and this is now. Everything in advertizing is about Black Friday, but I swear they have no idea when Friday it or what week the particular “Black Friday” is to be held.

I have noticed several places online, notably Amazon and Groupon where I can buy items at B lack Friday prices now. Maybe this is OK for them since their plan maybe to ship it to me on Black Friday. But there was a TV ad of a store that had Black Friday prices last Friday. Just a little jump-start I guess.

K-Mart is open all day Thanksgiving. Kohl’s open’s at 12:01 a.m. Friday morning (Midnight actually). A few others have announced that same start. Target wants a jump on Kohl’s so is opening at 11:00 p.m. Thursday. I can’t remember who it is, but someone is opening at 9:00 p.m. Thursday. And of course, all grocery stores will be open all day.

Between shoppers and sales clerks cutting into so many family days, who is left to have Thanksgiving with? I know emergency services have always missed out on either Thanksgiving or Christmas. Things are so confusing that we may as well have a Thanksgiving week and a Christmas week when people can celebrate when ever it fits their schedule. Fundamentally, many families have to do that now. With that change stores could maintain their regular hours and be open all the time. In reality, there is no Black Friday any more, so let’s officially abandon it.

There is really no need for any official declaration; it looks like it is going to die a natural selfish death. So to that ancient shopping day of years gone by, I say farewell and good riddance. I for one will not miss you one bit. I hate the hype, I hate the crowds and I hate the checkout lines and most of all I prefer a newspaper devoid of a hundred or more flyers (maybe another slight exaggeration). I like your prices, but I hate what you expect of me to get those bargains. I feel like Pavlov is at work again. Yum, yum!

I'M BACK AND SOMEWHAT ALERT

River Front Park on Dyes Inlet looking toward Bremerton.

Well, the arts, Crafts and Bake sale are over. Several people did really well, I just didn’t happen to be one of them. Asked during our pack up what I would do differently next year my response was “not do it.” Of course that might change in a few months. The physical drain is a major strain on me. The emotional drain as I ached for those who made little to nothing is even greater. I am less concerned about me. But four vendors did not even make their table (make enough to pay for the table costs). I cannot correct that. What would draw me back next year is that three key vendors are from The Home and each need extra money and got it. As for me, I have another shot and more likely better shot still coming. I will set up my art show the Saturday after Thanksgiving. The artist reception will be Dec. 16. I have four drawings completed and another with about 2 hours drawing left. I hope that by the 16^th I will have completed another three completed. I could come out of the hole then.

Having the show in Old Town is convenient for us, but parking is always a problem. A big show attracts my people, but that is not possible in this area. Last year we checked area rental spaces and the cost was prohibitive. Since most vendors are new to the scene and inexperienced, any cost is frightening, but we have to pay for advertising some way.

Even if I sell nothing at the art show, I am preaching again this coming Sunday and that will get me out of the hole. I hate to think of preaching as a means to profit, but in this case it is helpful if not necessary.

My strange dreams continue. I have no recurring dreams and I cannot see a theme. I am not yet ready to attribute them to senility, but they are not coming from any sphere of reference of which I am aware. They are not frightening nor threatening. In retrospect, they are somewhat humorous but I call them strange.

The most recent ones had to do with boxes. I was closing them up and trying strong around them. These were not Christmas package’s, they were plain brown cardboard boxes. I was not taping, gluing or fastening them together with anything but string. I only saw one at a time, but since them kept coming I have no idea about quantity. I was no overwhelmed. Had I been I would have connected the dream to the craft show. I was reasonably happy. That’s the strange part. I have never enjoyed repetition.

I was sick of people at age 18 and left the shoe store to take a job in a warehouse. It paid more. The first day two of us was given pricing guns and told to correct prices on the boxes coming down the belt. The boxes were all ready packed with product and we had to put a new sticker over the old price. The speed of the belt reminded me somewhat of the “I Love Lucy” chocolate factory show. We had to keep at a steady pace and had no control over the speed. When a buzzer sounded we got a break. It took so much concentration that the two of us only spoke at the break. Guess what. That was my first and last day as an assembly line worker. I decided money wasn’t everything.

By the way, when I woke from the box dream, if felt like a lunch break. I awoke hungry, but really had to go to the bathroom.

I'LL BE BACK IN ANOTHER WEEK

I'm overwhelmed because I have two art shows I am preparing for. The first is next weekend and I need at least another week. There were days in the past I could easily handle this, in fact seemed to like it. Now, I wear out way to quicjly and both my body and mind need a rest from that pace and the activity.

As soon as that show is complete, I need to hang my drawings on Nov. 26. The open house for that is not until Dec. 16th, so I will have time to add more pieces. I was trying to work at two pieces a week, but find I cannot maintain that. The first is also a craft show so I have many little pieces (tree ornaments) I am also working on. That is a project with my daughter and grandkids. It will come to an end soon.

Just want to say, I am not depressed and I will continue my story of God's redemption and blessing. Based on some comments I guess I left the impression I am depressed. No, I was when all this happened, but the story will be one of redemption and joy. I just like to end with a bit of a teaser to make people wonder what is coming next. It may have sent the wrong message especially since I haven't written for awhile.

Like someone famous (actually more than one someone famous), I'll be back.

A LOVE LOST

I swear love makes people stupid. It made me stupid. I met the woman of my dreams at a Bible College in Canada.

My buddy convinced me to come with him to this college in Canada. We both had visions of mountains and learning to ski. We were dumb Americans from the Midwest. The only pictures I had ever seen of Canada were of places like Banff. Neither of us seemed to know that Regina, Saskatchewan was in the middle of the flattest place on earth. A speed bump was treated as a mountain. No matter that it was a shock rather than a vision, it was an adventure.

The school had a funky little snack shack called “Tuck Shop.” Don’t know why, but that always seemed a strange name. One of the student workers was this blond girl with sparkling eyes and a beautiful smile. I liked her immediately. My next-door room neighbor told me he was dating her. I hated him immediately. Maybe that was too strong. Actually, I decided I would just work at being her friend. It did not take long for me to learn the “liking” part was one sided and she didn’t share his feelings. A crack in the door developed. I pursued more and more conversation with her. We had no classes together as she was a year ahead, but I began to know where she would be at certain times and also figured out her work schedule. I studied her movement more than my homework. I was going stupid.

The young man who rented a room had a similar impact, but a different kind of love. He came into my home because of the place he was living at the time. He believed his relatives were treating him badly. He was far from his mother and I had the space.

We talked often. He was a fine Christian boy with a heart for God. He was warm and friendly and all I wanted to do was help him. I don’t know when it turned from a desire to him to wanting to protect him, but it did. I don’t know when protecting him moved to rescuing him. I have always regretted dragging him to his bank because of over draft charges to get it corrected. He was going deep into a hole paying for the use of his debit card by being charged $18 each time he used the card after his money was gone. They would let him go $400 in the hole before they would stop it so is over draft charge were getting close to his monthly income.

Rather than explaining his options and letting him handle the matter, I treated him like a child being taken advantage of and took him to the bank to fix the situation. I stole his independence and his manhood. I turned him into a little. To me he was a great son in need of a father figure and I wanted to be that father. I wanted him as my replacement son for the one I lost. I smothered him, offended him and lost him. My emotions were out of control. My depression at the lost of my own son and my guilt in trying to find out what I had done to cause his death and the grief for my wife that was returning was destroying whoever I had been.

He met the girl of his dreams and I knew that would end our relationship. I failed him miserably. I was stupid. I had taken this vessel of clay God had given me mold in His image and began to try to shape it in my own. I took responsibility that was not mine to take.

By Gods grace, he is a fine man of God. But rather than being an adult friend, my own heartbreak led me lose a relationship that began and sustained a long time as a wonderful and positive thing for us both.

This affected my work at the church and led to the end of my ministry and the beginning of struggling for survival.

MY SON

I’m trying to remember why I started this blog. I know a friend had urged to do it and in my early days of living in The Home I really thought must of what occurred her was rather funny. I was surprised at how juvenile 60+ years old could act. It is beginning to seem all so normal.

CW has moved out. People are upset that our own residents are stealing items from a collection box of warm clothes for the homeless. And we get an onsite manager beginning Monday. The Ivory Tower, in their infinite wisdom, is sending over one of their own to work in this office to look after us and do some head office type of work as well. So, life goes on as normal and little I see seems out of the ordinary any longer.

I do write to express myself because I like writing. But I also know I say little of importance and talk about issues in only the lightest of terms. This may only be a brief departure from frivolity, but I want to write (as least for a few blogs) about my journey from being a “have” to a “have not.” The economy is going south and many are struggling just to keep their heads above water, I have been doing this for over ten years. I’ve adjusted to living on less, but I blow it at times. I have blown it this month already and it is only the fifth day.

I left, resigned and/or was fired from a church in 1999. I will not go into all the details, but the accusations were emotionally true, but not actually true. I had rented rooms to young adult men since shortly after my daughters wedding. It was a good arrangement. In 1995 I took in a young man who was a diamond in the rough. He was everything I had wanted my own son to be, but was not. My son committed suicide in December of 1993. It has taken years to accept that I did not cause his death. He was 24 at the time. Needless to say, I did not cause it. But parents feel like they are responsible for the actions of their children when their choices are dramatically different from that of the parents. His were. We ask where did we go wrong, what did we do, how did we fail. It is easy to forget free will and the church will not let us forget “train up a child in the way he should go.”

I began working in my last church three months after the death of my wife. Everything was new and I was definitely different. I grieved for my wife for five years in a slow and agonizing release. I doubt I knew how much I loved her until she was gone. I was adjusting to that loss and 18 months later within one day of being to the day, I lost my son. December 20, 1993. Christmas!

I had to deal with the awful feeling of relief that he was gone. I had lived with the constant fear that he would die without us ever knowing. Much of the last 6 years of his life was an unknown. We did know where he was or what he was doing. He returned home only to recover from illness or detox himself. We had lost him at 18 years of age. We just didn’t know it.

My wife died, not from anything I did, but of disease that came in the flow of life. My son’s death was anything but natural. I was still denying my need for emotional help to cope and adjust when into my life came the son of my dreams. He was emotionally young for his 20 years, but he was loving, kind, considerate, and helpful and a joy to be around. I loved him.

To be continued.

OCEAN PARK BUILDING

This is drawing Number two.

COURAGEOUS

The biggest news in out part of this tiny little world is Kim Kardashian and her marriage, divorce to Kris Humpheries. Outside of the sports world, who ever heard of Kris — and while I’m at it, why is Kim famous. Only in America are people famous for being famous. What did she do – cure cancer, feed the homeless, save the earth?

Right behind her is the lawsuit filed against Justin Bieber claiming he father the child a one Mariah Yeater in a 30 second tryst at a concert in Los Angeles. I understand he would have been 16 at the time. He has certainly jumped into the rock lifestyle quickly, if it is true.

But why are these important pieces of news? How sick are we as a society? Why do nobodies and entertainers get the limelight? It is because we give it to them. We eat up their trash. What happened to embarrassment about these activities? They used to be shameful acts.

I am grateful there are some who are trying to add a positive Christian influence to the world of entertainment, thankfully.

I went to see Courageous a few days ago. It is the most powerful sermon I have ever heard or seen about the role of men in the lives of their kids. In case you don’t know about it, here is their description.

“Four men, one calling: To serve and protect. As law enforcement officers, Adam Mitchell, Nathan Hayes, David Thomson, and Shane Fuller are confident and focused. Yet at the end of the day, they face a challenge that none of them are truly prepared to tackle: fatherhood. While they consistently give their best on the job, good enough seems to be all they can muster as dads. But they're quickly discovering that their standard is missing the mark. When tragedy hits home, these men are left wrestling with their hopes, their fears, their faith, and their fathering. Can a newfound urgency help these dads draw closer to God ... and to their children?”

This is the fourth film produced by Sherwood Pictures and the brother acting, writing and production team of Alex and Stephen Kendrick. The first film of theirs I saw was Facing Giants. Another outstanding film made on a shoestring budget. Courageous was made for 2 Million and the opening weekend took in 9.1 million. Fireproof, their third film was made for $500,000 and earned 33 million. All this to say, the their films are being critically well received. Sherwood Pictures is produced by Sherwood Baptist Church in Albany, Georgia. The whole church gets involved in the making of these movies. Many are volunteers.

Michael Catt, the senior pastor, writes about the beginning.

When looking for a media pastor, I contacted Alex. Though Alex was using his gifts and talents in ministry, he was not the director of media for his church. I saw a diamond in the rough. Alex came on board in 1999, and we called his brother Stephen in 2001.

God had been preparing these two from childhood to make movies. As kids they lived next door to a man who was interested in technical gadgets. He bought stop-and-go animation cameras, and Alex and Stephen used his equipment to make short videos. For years the boys put together homemade “chase ‘em down and beat ‘em up” movies. Later they produced commercials, movie trailers and even school projects.

I talked with Alex about where he wanted to be in five to ten years. He said, “I want to make movies, but no church is going to let me stay on staff and do that.” I replied, “Why not? Bring me a script and a budget, and let’s see if God is in it.” That conversation was the genesis of Sherwood Pictures. Our goal from day one has been to make family-friendly movies that build on the Judeo Christian ethic and communicate the gospel without compromise. We want to make movies you could take your girlfriend or your grandmother to without embarrassment.

In 2001 we went to Orlando, Florida, for staff retreat and took a day off to hang out at Disney World. We took a behind the scenes tour and learned about their “imagineers.” As we walked around the park observing the attention to detail everywhere, we were challenged with this thought: If a secular company can be this committed to excellence, why can’t the church of Jesus Christ?

While in Orlando, I talked with Alex about where he wanted to be in five to ten years. He said, “I want to make movies, but no church is going to let me stay on staff and do that.” I replied, “Why not? Bring me a script and a budget, and let’s see if God is in it.” That conversation was the genesis of Sherwood Pictures. Our goal from day one has been to make family-friendly movies that build on the Judeo Christian ethic and communicate the gospel without compromise. We want to make movies you could take your girlfriend or your grandmother to without embarrassment.

What a great story. I hope you enjoy their movies as much as I have.

THIS AND THAT

I thought I had better catch you up on life around the Home since I haven’t written for a few days.

First, everything is fine with me. However, I feel swamped, actually, I kind of like the feeling. It is highly motivational. I don’t want this all the time. It makes me tired, but I can handle it for a few days.

I have an art show I need to be ready for by Nov. 16. This is a craft and bake sale at the church. It is a small sale, but I really need new material and am trying to pound it out. I have determined that all my new art pieces would center on scenes from Old Town. Since I sold the first one of the barbershop, my motivation whenever higher, Number two is nearly complete (just some touch up) and my third one will be started today.

My biggest problem is still my glasses. I have new ones and it feels like the prescription is wrong. I am really struggling with fine detail. After 15-20 minutes I have to rest my eyes. That’s why I am typing right now. I want to see my optometrist but time is an issue. For now, I am plugging away.

Besides the drawing, I am working on a large number of Christmas tree ornaments with my family. I like doing this, but again, it’s the detail work. I’m glad my granddaughters can to that sort of thing. However, the family is swamped. Church activities, soccer, band concerts, work, travel time (they live in Seabeck) as everywhere takes time. We have two and a half weeks to go. Yikes.

If I don’t write too frequently for the next three weeks you might understand why.

THE HOME

CW was sitting at the front door this morning like he does when he is going to catch the bus. Today is his last day here, supposedly. Since he is talking to no one we all wonder where is he going and when the rest of his things is being picked up. Having worked as an apartment manager he might be waiting for final eviction. If so, he may have a couple more months for the process to run down. In the end the Sherriff would come and physically remove his things and lock him out of the apartment. Who knows, he might have struck a deal with housing for an extension.

I know I am not the sharpest tack in the box, but I still weary of exhausting questions. Olivia is pushing my buttons with her questions lately. She caught me yesterday to ask what time the Halloween potluck is today. The calendar says 5:00 and a poster I put up says 3:00. The time was changed because Housing came though with Lasagna for the meal. When that happens. The woman in charge from housing likes to attend. That meant moving the time up as she is off work at 4:30. I guess the confusion would not be so annoying if the poster did not say NOTE THE TIME CHANGE. Her response to that still was she did not know is that was correct. I was so tempted to as if she was coming and what she was bringing. She can never make an advance commitment as she might have something better to do. But she has yet to miss a potluck. She just arrives a little late and never brings anything. This ticks many off as she won over $7,000 at the casino last year but cannot afford to help out. I don’t know what she comes anyway. She doesn’t trust anyone’s cooking as they might put something harmful in their dish. I had to laugh when she tried Jim’s carrots a while back and learned after one mouthful that Jim likes things hot. I don’t know what he put on those carrots, but they were uneatable to most of us.

Gail lives above me and got a kitten several weeks ago. After her dog died she said she would never have another animal. It didn’t take long until she obviously changed her mind. The kitten is a holy terror. Muffin runs and jumps and knocks things over during the night or very early in the morning. She wakes me up often. Gail complains about the cat every morning at coffee. It is the same complaint. I really don’t understand the appeal of having a nocturnal. I know! We had them most of the time Della was a live. Go figure.

I couldn’t take the complaints anymore and said, “I’m not sure the kitten is as much a problem at the owner.” I am not sure Gail is going to speak to me for the next few days. Open mouth — insert foot. I believe that is one of my spiritual gifts.

CORRECTION

I’m very interested in contradiction. It’s necessity, it’s function, and it’s purpose. There seems to be a lot of that going on around here.

I had my finished newsletter at coffee yesterday to ask a friend to proof it before I sent it off. My primary proofreader was away on vacation. My spelling of ukulele was brought into question. The proofreader wondered if it should be spelled with an “e” as in ukelele. I commented that I ran it through Spell-check, as I was unsure myself. After that, a comment was voice from across the room, “You cannot trust Spell-check. It is often wrong. The word is spelled with an “e”. There was a confidence in the voice and a sternness of tone. If I didn’t know better I was have felt talked down to. Of course, The Home is full of loving, compassionate and extremely helpful people. Whatever! I never take these things for granted, I checked again and Spell-check was correct. It is spelled with a “U.” Knowing that I always have the kind, loving and gracious response I wanted to march down the hall, knock on her door and tell her she was wrong. I didn’t, but I wanted to.

My emotional response had everything to do with tone and nothing to do with the words. I have talked to this same person on several occasions about her tone. It is judgmental and harsh. When I was coaching The Portrait Players there was a little acting exercise where a few simple sentences were given as a quote and the actors were to change the meaning without changing the words. It’s easy. Try it. This was all done to prove that tone is almost more important than the words.

Even when I am sure I am right, I don’t fight these “superior” people. I’ve learned my lesson.

I got in a huge vocal battle with a lady here over the use of the word only. For me it began as a joke. For her it seemed to be a matter of pride. She was frustrated that we only get one TV choice at The Home. It’s cable, and we do not get anon-cable option. Take what they give and what they charge or do without TV. She commented that she hated this town because that one option is no option. While that is true for The Home, it is not true for the town or area. We had been talking and laughing about the situation. Satellite is much cheaper in our area. But the owners make cable our only option. They do not want those big ugly dishes on the roof.

She kept up the argument about no options in the area so I, like a helpful fellow apartment dweller, attempted to set her strait. And prove to her they were options in the area, just not in out building. When I realize she was angry, I calmed down a bit, but did not let go. She was wrong and I was going to prove it.

The outcome of this insignificant issue was that she did not speak to me for a year. I guess I won. I was right. But is a stupid argument. The purpose of correction her began as a joke and ended in bitterness.

I guess I’ve been schooled in frivolous correction. She knew what she meant, I knew what she meant, but we fought anyway.

MOVIES

Run do not walk to the nearest theater to see “Courageous.” It is the most powerful and entertaining sermon I have ever heard/seen on the value and responsibility of fatherhood. And take Kleenex, a lot of Kleenex. You most likely will need it unless you way more control over your emotions than I.

Courageous is the fourth film from Sherwood Pictures, the film division of Sherwood Baptist Church in Albany, Georgia. Perhaps you saw “Facing Giants” or “Fireproof” films 2 and 3 of their wildly successful film division. With each film they have become more and more successful. Fireproof was made for $500,000 and took in $33 million. With the profits they built and 82 acre sports complex for the community just to give back to Albany.

The senior Pastor, Michael Catt writes about the beginning of this ministry.

“I met Alex Kendrick while preaching at a youth camp one summer and was impressed with his videos and media talents. When the time came for us to fill the Media Minister position on staff, I contacted Alex. Though Alex was using his gifts and talents in ministry, he was not the director of media for his church. I saw a diamond in the rough. Alex came on board in 1999, and we called his brother Stephen in 2001.

“God had been preparing these two from childhood to make movies. As kids they lived next door to a man who was interested in technical gadgets. He bought stop-and-go animation cameras, and Alex and Stephen used his equipment to make short videos. For years the boys put together homemade “chase ‘em down and beat ‘em up” movies. Later they produced commercials, movie trailers and even school projects.

“All along, their parents supported them through prayer and by modeling authentic Christianity. As a result, Alex has long had a deep desire to make Christian films.

“The Kendrick brothers are an asset to our staff. They have a great respect for pastoral authority and are very teachable. They have put aside egos and brotherly competition to produce movies that have made a mark on our church, on the culture and around the world. Through His sovereignty, God even placed their families in the same neighborhood in Albany. This has allowed Alex and Stephen to work on story ideas or write scripts more easily.

“After reading an article from George Barna listing the top cultural influences, we learned that church was sliding down the scale while movies, media and music were becoming the predominant means of influence. Since the church was listed behind sports, education and movies we concluded we could either complain about this or address it. This mindset has been the key initiative behind the development of the Sports Park, Sherwood Christian Academy and Sherwood Pictures.

“In 2001 we went to Orlando, Florida, for staff retreat and took a day off to hang out at Disney World. We took a behind the scenes tour and learned about their “imagineers.” As we walked around the park observing the attention to detail everywhere, we were challenged with this thought: If a secular company can be this committed to excellence, why can’t the church of Jesus Christ?

“While in Orlando, I talked with Alex about where he wanted to be in five to ten years. He said, “I want to make movies, but no church is going to let me stay on staff and do that.” I replied, “Why not? Bring me a script and a budget, and let’s see if God is in it.” That conversation was the genesis of Sherwood Pictures. Our goal from day one has been to make family-friendly movies that build on the Judeo Christian ethic and communicate the gospel without compromise. We want to make movies you could take your girlfriend or your grandmother to without embarrassment.”

They has succeeded, May they be blessed multiply abundantly. I have seen “Facing Giants” and now “Courageous.” I have ordered “Fireproof” from Netflix. If this is the future of faith based films we are in good hands.

WHERE DO YOU SIT?

I have always been interested in where people choose to sit when they can sit anywhere. I know it is not consistent for all venues. In fact, the venue determines our choices. At the first service of my church seating is much like a donut. They sit in a circle leaving the middle empty. In the second service it fills up from the back to the front.

I know the venue determines where I sit. If I go to live theater, I want to sit as close to the front as possible, even the front row. At movies I sit near the middle with a leaning toward the front. I want the action to fill my line of vision without breaking me neck looking nearly straight up. At sporting events my seat is determined by cost. I go for the cheep seats. While living in Regina I often had season tickets to see the Roughriders. The last few games of years were absolutely miserable. I hate ice cycles hanging off the end of my nose. At potluck dinners, I sit somewhat near the serving table. Got to be near the food. At seminars and lectures seating is always determined by the subject, the lecturer or teacher and what I know about their communication skills or want to know about the subject. At church, I am usually on either side and about 20% of the way from the front.

Where we sit is an indication of out interest and/or financial ability. The closer one is the front, the greater the interest. The back indicates a disinterest and fears at times (I am hiding in the back so please don’t call on me). Students near the front get better grades and the grades get lower the further from the front one sits.

I would get these kinds of stats across my desk when I was teaching so I compared notes with my son-in-law. He is a high school English teacher. The question: Is there a correlation between grades and where one sits? A resounding yes! He says yes. I say yes and all the stats crossing my desk and his say yes.

I know people want to argue. There is always some one near the front whose grades are no more than average. I agree with that, but I never had a student near the front that was marginal, but they might be awful if they were at the back. Distance from instruction or viewing has everything to do with distractions. The fewest the distractions the greater is one’s ability to focus.

This also applies to the church. Are the front pews filled with the better Christians? Not necessarily! But these people pay the most avid attention. They may be the most hungry. They may be searching. They may also be hard of hearing or cannot see well.

So is there a correlation between where you sit at any venue and you interest in the subject? Most likely!

I have given up any interest in actually attending any professional game.. The best seat in the house is in my easy chair where no one is sitting in front of me, no one is spilling beer nor are they screaming in my ear. I am not sure what this means? I know I can get food without missing anything. I can read a book if the game is boring or I can play a computer game. In other words, I can easily move on to something better. I guess that means I am not a diehard sports fan. If it entertains me fine, if not — I’m outta there.

There is one place I always try to sit in the very front — in my car behind the steering wheel.

SIN AND ART (not necessarily together)

I think I participated in one of the deadly sins today. I don’t remember the number exactly. Maybe it is an extension of on of the basic seven. It has to do with Stone Cold Creamery. If you don’t know what this sinful place is all about it is a killer (literally) ice cream shop. They have a dozen or so “foundation” ice creams like the standard vanilla, chocolate and strawberry and many more. They scoop out the appropriate base (small, medium and large) and put it on a marble slab that is kept cold (hence the name) and then you add to it just about any topping you can imagine.

I had a thing called “Pie I’d Die for.” or something like that — Oreo cooking (two, I noticed), caramel and chocolate syrups, graham cracker pie crust, and I lost track of what else there was, but I did add pecans. This was wrong, wrong, wrong and I will pay for it foe weeks, maybe even months.

I clearly understand sin. In fact, I consider myself somewhat of an expert since I have done it for years. I do want to do it (well maybe sometimes I do), but like the Apostle Paul. I do what I don’t want to do. — I do wonder if he ever secretly did it because he wanted to. — One of the problems with my sin is that it sticks right out there in front of me. I cannot really keep it a secret. What else can I say? I planned it; I took five others with me. We went, we tasted, we downed it and then went to Starbucks for a chaser. I was good there. I had a sugar free caramel, no caffeine, and skinny latte. I think that kind of balanced out the waffle cone the decedent dessert came in. I promise not to do it for at least another year. Forgive me for I have sinned. It has been four years since I went in that store and I have now done it again. Yum! Why is gluttony one of the deadly sins when the church where I was reared advocated food and lots of it? It never met without tables over flowing with food and especially desserts. I’m sure that is where I learned this awful sin. I always thought “Fellowship” equaled “Food”.

I went for a haircut today and took my barber a print I drew of her shop. She has let me have shows there several times and never charged and never takes a percentage. She has also hosted artists for opening night providing punch, cheese and crackers. I owe her. So I wanted her to have a print of the work. But she surprised me. She wants to buy the original. Bless her heart. That will pay all my expenses for the two shows I have this fall. I am very excited. This may actually be the first show where I will make some money.

The Barbershop is called “Two-Bits.” A cool name for a barber in Old Town, don’t you think? Unfortunately, that has no barring on current prices, but I did get a free haircut today.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

I don’t really think much about birthdays anymore. In fact, I don’t remember ever thinking much about birthdays. I have no memory of any birthday celebration from my childhood. I know there were no parties.

When I got to high school, friends tried to celebrate with a surprise. I appreciated the effort, but really, there were no surprises, but there were good times.

Della, my wife, never forgot my birthday and I certainly never forgot hers. BC (before children) it meant a nice meal and a pleasant evening. That continued until our daughter was born the day before my birthday. That effectively ended my isolated and individual birthday. Two birthdays so close together was a challenge and children take precedence.

I didn’t mind. I was beginning to travel more with my work and in time we had my birthday whenever.

I do remember three huge birthday surprises. We were living in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan where I worked for University Drive Alliance. Lois (Rose) Thiessen was living with us while attending the University of Saskatchewan. On my birthday, loud noises and my youth group suddenly awaked me early in my living room singing happy birthday. It took a while to figure out they hadn’t just broke in to attack and rob me. Lois, bless her little pea pickin’ heart, had let them in. I had to scramble to find something to wear. I was not appropriately attired for company. In fact, I was not attired at all.

The second was in Vancouver, BC. The youth group came over my birthday night and brought me a cake. I was surprised to see them and even more surprised by the cake. I had never seen one like it. If I remember correctly it was angel food, one of my favorites. It was the decorations that I had never seen. Each person was invited to bring a topping to add to the cake. There was some frosting, somewhere under there, but there was also pickles, carrots, celery, and assorted other vegetable. There was ketchup, mustard and relishes with caramel sauce and more things than I could identify or name.

Their plan was to deliver the cake and leave. That was not going to happen. If they expected me to eat the cake I wanted them to enjoy it with me. I almost forced them to sit while I cut and served that cake. Without hesitation I say, that was the worse birthday cake I have ever tasted.

The Portrait Players, a drama team I worked with in Regina, got in my house and decorated it as only juveniles can. They short sheeted the bed, put honey on the toilet seat, and rearranged our cupboards. There was probably more, but that is all the photo records of their visit.

They tell me that when working with youth, these kind of celebrations are all a form of love. I don’t remember asking for that kind of love. But they were all memorable and I accept the gesture.

Yesterday we celebrated Jean’s 90t birthday. She is my next-door neighbor. It was fun because she was so excited as was her daughter. It was cool. It was even more fun to see how excited she was at celebrating that birthday. Most people at the Home would rather forget about birthdays at this stage of life. But Birthdays are not so bad. They say you made it one more year and you still have time to become all God wants you to be.

I’m glad I have had birthdays. It beats the alternative. When you have grandkids around, you are always looking forward to being there for the next life milestone. I want to see my great grand kids get married. I hope everyone hurries, I have never wanted to live to be 100.