BOREDOM

It’s been boring around here lately. I went to coffee yesterday and there was nobody there. Well, I was there. It happened again today — and we get a delivery from the food bank today” bread and sweets, always several days old. That is the only thing that keeps me from pigging out. Maybe not the only thing. As I was leaving, one personal arrived. I kept on going. I had already been there 30 minutes.

I blew it on Sunday. I don’t consider that I’m on a diet. I don’t use that word. When I spoke about diet in the past it was only a few days before I shut my mouth because I had fallen off the wagon. When you’re not on a wagon, it is very hard to fall off. While I didn’t fall off the wagon, I changed my eating habit — temporarily I hope.

I really didn’t plan to mess up. I know there have been times in the past that I have planned to abandon all hope, but this time it came from boredom. I don’t usually eat when I’m reading. I hate getting messy fingers all over the book. It smudges the pages and makes it hard to read. That’s the same reason I don’t like to dog-ear my books. I don’t know why this matters to me; I’m really quite sloppy. I’ve got this pile of Christmas decorations still lying on the floor of my bedroom. It would take five minutes to put away, but — I guess I don’t have time.

What a joke. That’s all I do have. The main commodity of retirement is time. But if you listen around, you would never believe it. They are all busy. Everyone but me. I asked a member of the new activities committee if she wanted to ride out to Poulsbo with me to check out where we will be able to park the bus when we take a group there next month. She could not go because she had such a busy day. She had dishes in the sink and needed to clean her apartment. If I were to wash dishes everyday (I don’t), they would be done in just a few moments. For me, I want to make a big deal out of dish washing so I wait until I have no clean dishes left. That way, washing dishes is an important and meaningful task. It’s an event. I need more events in my life.

When I clean house, it is also an event. It takes time because the older I get the less the mess bothers me. I suppose there is something wrong with this picture. I am very aware that cleanliness is next to Godliness. I have been trying to figure out how clean things were in Biblical times. You know, when they lived in the open, or in tents, or houses with dirt floors. I know I have less dirt than a house with a dirt floor. At least I think I do.

Maybe you noticed that I did not finish the story about messing up, messy fingers and what I ate. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. But I made popcorn. I know, I know. Popcorn is a healthy snack. Not always. I love it with real butter and salt. The butter is less of a problem than salt. I must watch my salt intake. I was careful. I didn’t use nearly the amount of salt as in the past. But I could certainly taste it. I even rubbed the edges of the bowl with a few kernels to get every bit of salt I could. Do you know that feeling of having both guilt and joy. It was wonderful. But I will not fail again — At least not for a while.

A friend sent this little note to me and I thought I would pass it along. I liked it.

UP


Read until the end ... you’ll laugh UP a storm. 




This two-letter word in English has more meanings than any other two-letter word, and that word is ‘ UP ’. It is listed in the dictionary as an [adv], [prep], [adj], [n] or [v].





It’s easy to understand UP, meaning toward the sky or at the top of the list, but when we awaken in the morning, why do we wake UP? At a meeting, why does a topic come UP? Why do we speak UP, and why are the officers UP for election (if there is a tie, it is a toss UP) and why is it UP to the secretary to write UP a report? We call UP our friends, brighten UP a room, polish UP the silver, warm UP the leftovers and clean UP the kitchen. We lock UP the house and fix UP the old car. 





At other times, this little word has real special meaning. People stir UP trouble, line UP for tickets, work UP an appetite, and think UP excuses. To be dressed is one thing but to be dressed UP is special. And this UP is confusing: A drain must be opened UP because it is blocked UP. We open UP a store in the morning but we close it UP at night. We seem to be pretty mixed UP about UP! 





To be knowledgeable about the proper uses of UP, look UP the word UP in the dictionary. In a desk-sized dictionary, it takes UP almost 1/4 of the page and can add UP to about thirty definitions. If you are UP to it, you might try building UP a list of the many ways UP is used. It will take UP a lot of your time, but if you don’t give UP, you may wind UP with (UP to) a hundred or more. When it threatens to rain, we say it is clouding UP. When the sun comes out, we say it is clearing UP. When it rains, it soaks UP the earth. When it does not rain for a while, things dry UP. One could go on and on, but I’ll wrap it UP, for now . . . my time is UP! Oh . . . one more thing:

Did that one crack you UP? Don’t screw UP. Send this link to everyone you look UP in your address book . . . or not . . . it’s UP to you. 



Now I’ll shut UP!

THOSE WILD EMOTIONS

I love to see genuine, uncontrollable emotion. I love it in all forms. Uncontrollable laughter. Unbridled enthusiasm. Profound grief without anger, and emotion that wells up in your throat and stops the words.

It’s been a long time since laughter has taken total control. Maybe I have seen too much and heard too much, but I miss that surprise that sends me into laughter than makes my eyes water and nose run (strange mixture). You see unbridled enthusiasm at sports events and you will see it on Super Bowl Sunday. But it is an incredible gift in the eyes of a child when grandpa tells them he is taking them to Disneyland. Grief in its purest form is a tribute to love. The tears flow and cannot be stopped as the loss is so profound. C.S. Lewis expressed it this way, “We hurt so much because we loved so much.” Then there is the emotion that sneaks up on you and catches you by surprise.

If you remember the old telephone commercials produced before cell phones and we were all tied to land lines. When I went off to college mother told me to write often but don’t call unless it was an emergency. Phone calls were too expensive. So, many did not make too many calls and we all tried to avoid the long distance calls, especially if money was tight. Those 30-60 second commercials got me in the tear ducts every time. “He called home.” That’s the right phrase. It was usually a son calling his mother. We are the neglectful ones, rarely the daughters.

I love it when it happens in church. It tells me the speaker feels this very deeply. It has touched his or her heart. It catches them on a level they did not expect and they communicate that response on a level deeper than words can express. That happened to my full loving, happy-go-lucky, exuberant pastor this morning and I heard his heart deeper than ever before.

When I speak I can rarely get though a talk without that happening to me. There are times I wish it didn’t happen. There are times I am embarrassed because I didn’t expect it would happen. It usually comes in connection with a story. For me it has to do with talking about my family.

That is not the only times, of course. Either my tear ducts are getting bigger or I am becoming a big bag of sentiment. When I got home from church and prepared lunch I sat down to eat and watch TV. I turned on pair’s figure skating. The couple they just introduced were third or fourth after the short program and not expected to climb above second. Everything was great as they started and they just got better and better and more perfect as they went. When it was over they were embracing unbridled joy and my tears rejoiced with them. Then when they won I gulped a few times trying to stop the water works. If I counted all the times in a day that my emotions bring me to a tear or two there would be a dozen on more.

Before our pastor spoke I was about to take the offering with a mother and her seven or eight year old son working with her. The pastor acknowledged the “usher in training.” And used it to talk about all of us using our time to step in. He then asked the boy if he wanted to pray for the offering and much to the pastor’s surprise, he said yes. Tears instantly came to my eyes. It was touching and beautiful. He had one very proud mom, and there was a very proud congregation as well.

I got caught with a lump in my throat a few more times in that figure skating program. I even ached with each fall. A few weeks back my granddaughter played in a semi-final soccer match. If they won they advanced to the finals. The teams were tied at the end of regulation time and she had scored both points for her team. There was a shoot out to determine the winner. Five players for each team would take turns kicking. Grace was first. She missed, as did the next nine. The final shot was by the opposing team and she hit the mark. That was a good reason to cry with her. Weep with those who weep.

But here’s the kicker. I was watching NCIS Miami tonight. A routine program, but two potential suspects were twins separated at birth. The victim was their sperm donor dad and both had contact with him. One needed his birth dad for a liver transplant. Both families were at the station and at the end both were put in the same van together for a ride home. I know it was written to make us feel this way, but you could see it in the eyes of the health one. He knew he could save the life of his before unknown brother. They got in the van and are looking at one another and the door closes and the program ends. I cry. It’s s dumb TV program. Nothing is real. It’s pretend and I still cry for the dying boy and the healthy one’s growing love for his brother.

Get a grip. I must have been saving up tears for years because they pour out for the least little thing. It was a TV show I was barely watching. I was trying to read a compelling book at the same time. I barely knew what was happening, but that moment got me. We are emotional beings. I love that about people. I could do without the anger, but its all part of the package that God gave us all. We just have different amounts of each. Anybody want some of my tears?

FAIR PRICING

“NEW YORK (AP) -- J.C. Penney is permanently marking down all of its merchandise by at least 40 percent so shoppers no longer have to wait for sales to get bargains.

Penney said Wednesday that it is getting rid of the hundreds of sales it offers each year in favor of a simpler approach to pricing. Starting on Feb. 1, the retailer is rolling out an “Every Day” pricing strategy with much fewer sales throughout the year”

No everyone will be happy about this, but I say YEAH! I realize I may be standing alone, but I applaud their decision to offer what, on the surface, appears to be true pricing. Now I want everyone else to follow suit.

Many sales are a problem for seniors on fixed incomes. If you know the sale is coming it may not be so bad, but if it falls at the wrong time of the month, a senior can feel screwed. Most of us get one check a month. If the deep discount sale is not shortly thereafter, we have nothing left for the sale,

I have always known items are outrageously priced and when they get down to the sales, they are getting closer to the fair price. I know businesses need to make money, but the price gouging leaves the low income and even many of the middle income out of the picture. Add technology to the purchasing mix – forget that. Anything you buy is outdated by the time you get it home. So get ready to spend another $1,000 and in the next six months to get the new and better and one with more gadgets.

I have an ancient computer — ten years old. There is nothing portable about it. In fact, I now need a family member to come and move it if that becomes necessary. I can no longer watch videos. They jerk, stop and my computer spits out a sign telling me I need to upgrade to the latest version. I don’t mind doing that, but I can’t. The company tells me my computer system is not compatible. So I go back to Apple to upgrade my system. We’re sorry. Your computer can no longer be upgraded. You need to BUY a new computer.

I am most likely at fault. I did not keep up with all the little improvements along the way. Frankly, I didn’t have the money to upgrade every six months. I used to keep up — when I had some extra money which maybe why I’m sort now. But the last time I made a major system change all my programs needed to be upgraded too. Yikes. I should have bought a car.

I am a capitalist. I want business to make money. However, I am sick and tire of everyone trying to topple Bill Gates and be the richest person. I am glad Bill Gates is beginning to give some of that money away, but there is a better and simpler way and it may have even made their product available to more people. This is just a thought. Try fair pricing. When production costs go down, lower your price. Make a product that does not become obsolete in six months. Does anyone really need a billion dollars – well maybe if you want gas for your car and need to get groceries, but that’s another issue.

You guys are all genus’s and becoming billionaires faster than I change clothes. Can’t any of you figure out how to let the old items you made your billion off continue to work?

I liked my Mac. I loved my Mac. I am getting closer and closer to the day that the best use may be as a step stool — a very expensive step stool. But it will be too heavy for me to move it around. I haven’t checked into all the costs of upgrading all the programs associated with what I like to do. I know some of them no longer exist. But when you finally make it impossible to send emails, read news items, do the newsletter and posters I do for the residents at my apartments using my old Photoshop and no longer available Freehand I suppose I will need a computerized casket so my living friends and family can talk to the dead. I may as well sign up for one of those cremation services. A lot of companies want to burn me up but I never get notices about being buried. I suppose even that is becoming passé.

WHOSE ON THE BUS

To help save the economy, the Government will announce next month that the Immigration Department will start deporting seniors (instead of illegals) in order to lower Social Security and Medicare costs.

Older people are easier to catch and will not remember how to get back home.

I started to cry when I thought of you.

Then it dawned on me ... oh, crap...

I'll probably see you on the bus!

Friends sent me the above photo with the attached story floating around the net to ask if I knew any of these people. Here is my response:

FRONT ROW LEFT TO RIGHT: Frieda an unrelenting flirt, Hazel who is always complaining about her back, Yolanda happy on the outside, but a huge gossip who, I believe makes up stories. And Rita looks sweeter than she is. Actually very nice, but can rip you apart in seconds with the mouth of a sailor (teens these days).

SECOND ROW L-R: Gwendolyn, don’t know much. She keeps to her self. I’m actually surprised she is on this trip. Someone must have dragged her from her apartment. Myrtle is a great cook, but her food is a little too spicy for my tastes.

THIRD ROW L-R: Elmer is likeable. When he first moved in the women were all over him. He said he was gay. I don’t believe it. I think he just said that to get them off his back. Across from him is Harold who was a professional racecar driver – so far back I’m not sure he really remembers the truth of the tales he tells. And he will tell tales. Don’t ask any questions or you may never escape his auto stories.

FOURTH ROW L-R Edith and Roger Mossman the only married couple. When his wife does not come down with him for coffee he flirts with all the women. Across the aisle is Carol one of the happiest people I know. She has a mild case of Alzheimer’s and everyday everyone is new to here. She just loves meeting new people. But brace yourself. She will ask the same questions everyday. Hope you like to talk about where you lived and what you did and how long you have been here in prison.

Thats the last row I can make out. The rest are too small or too covered up to make out except for Harriet on the far back right. She is definitely trying to get married again and she will take any man who can still walk and not dependent on depends.

The above is all fiction. I do not have the slightest idea who any of those people are. There was a time my job had me in a number of airports waiting on connections. I enjoyed watching people and making up stories about who they were, where they were going and why. This is an extension of that fun activity.

PAM'S STORY

Tis story is worth being passed on. It will touch your heart.

"In a recent email, I read about a woman named Pam who knows the pain of considering abortion. More than 24 years ago, she and her husband Bob were serving as missionaries to the Philippines and praying for a fifth child.


"Pam contracted amoebic dysentery, an infection of the intestine caused by a parasite found in contaminated food or drink. She went into a coma and was treated with strong antibiotics before they discovered she was pregnant. Doctors urged her to abort the baby for her own safety and told her that the medicines had caused irreversible damage to her baby. She refused the abortion and cited her Christian faith as the reason for her hope that her son would be born without the devastating disabilities physicians predicted. Pam said the doctors didn't think of it as a life, they thought of it as a mass of fetal tissue. While pregnant, Pam nearly lost their baby four times but refused to consider abortion. She recalled making a pledge to God with her husband: If you will give us a son, we'll name him Timothy and we'll make him a preacher. Pam ultimately spent the last two months of her pregnancy in bed and eventually gave birth to a healthy baby boy August 14, 1987. Pam's youngest son is indeed a preacher. He preaches in prisons, makes hospital visits, and serves with his father's ministry in the Philippines. He also plays football. Pam's son is Tim Tebow. The University of Florida 's star quarterback became the first sophomore in history to win college football's highest award, the Heisman Trophy. His current role as quarterback of the Denver Broncos has provided an incredible platform for Christian witness. As a result, he is being called The Mile-High Messiah. Tim's notoriety and the family's inspiring story have given Pam numerous opportunities to speak on behalf of women’s’ centers across the country. Pam Tebow believes that every little baby you save matters.

"He's being mocked and ridiculed but he keeps bending that knee!!! PRAISE GOD!"

BEING THE GOAT

I like football. I’m not a fanatic. I’m not even committed to one particular team. I haven’t had a special team I favored since I left the Saskatchewan Roughriders (Canada for my American friends). I just like a good game, cool plays and a close contest.

There are times I just get too emotional over things I see on TV. I was watching the New England Patriots play the Baltimore Raven’s earlier today and in the last few seconds the Raven’s were marching to the end zone looking to win the game. It seemed possible, but they were stopped and in the last eleven seconds Raven’s kicker Billy Cundiff was sent to tie the game with a 32-yard field goal attempt. He missed. The distance was doable. No one doubted he would make it. The looks on player’s faces on both teams told the story. Shock. No one could believe it. His mistake sent the Patriots to the Super Bowl.

I’m sure Patriot fans were thrilled. Raven fans heartbroken. I watched the few images of Billy leaving the field and wondered what he felt. Like Charlie Brown from Peanuts has experienced — it’s tough being the goat.

I do not know what will be said to Billy, or how many will say it. Can he handle the comments? What about the stares? Will he turn on the sports commentators who will retell his error repeatedly and for many years to come? If he has friends like some I have had, they will remind him more times than he will care to hear.

We have all made mistakes. With all the camera videos around it is possible that some of our bloopers will be taped and played for all to see (if I were a delivery person I would never throw a package over a fence). However, in most cases only a handful will see or know of our embarrassment, shame or sin, We have made many more “errors” that occurred in private and we want them to stay that way. Only we know about them — and God of course.

I would say I am surprised how seldom, even Christians, give so little credence to an all-seeing God. I say that from personal experience. You would think I would be more careful with my actions if I really understood that I am constantly being watched. The good thing about an all-seeing God is that He does not keep throwing it back in our faces. When we ask forgiveness He does not put the tape into storage He destroys the record and does not even remember how badly we blew it. The only one who seems to always remember our worse moments is — ourselves. We know our hearts. We do not forget. For that reason we have a very difficult time accepting God’s forgiveness and believing our sins are removed as far as the east is from the west and remembered no more.

But He has. There is no video. There is no Internet to keep it going on and on and on. Most of us will never be treated like Billy Cundiff. God forgives him, but few others will. I feel the most sorry for Billy Cundiff. We all make errors.

IT TOOK A MIRACLE

The snow was beautiful on day one, not so bad on day two, disgusting on day three and almost gone today. I’ve had my snow fix for the year. Bring on spring.

I got a very nice email from a friend yesterday. He was talking about miracles and had reviewed a number he had personally experienced. Many he listed were miracles of healing. I think that is wonderful and I am thrilled for him and those blessed with God’s healing touch.

I have also experienced a number of miracles, but most have been of the “things” kind. Many amazingly cool.

I did not grow up seeing the hand of God in everyday life, but I have been encouraged to do that very thing.

There may have been things while I was in Bible College, but the first I really remember was attending the first summer camp of my ministry. I had been thrown into the directorship only a week earlier. The camp was in Northern Saskatchewan. I believe the area is best known for exporting mosquitoes to every other part of Northern America. The sky was black. Since those pesky little things seemed to love me, I did not want to get out of my car. A counselor came and said Harrison Weaver wanted all the leaders to gather in the dining hall. We did and he said we need to pray that God will remove those bugs or nothing good will come of this camp. I have my doubts, but we did and when we walked out of the hall, the sky was clear and it stayed that way for the week.

I had never seen anything like that in my life. Admittedly my faith was low, but was strengthened immediately.

For the next years camp we moved it to southern Saskatchewan to get away from the mosquitoes, but there was a new problem. Our side of the lake was full of algae. The swimming hole was green. Harrison asked us to gather on the dock and pray. While praying we watched the algae slowly move to the north side of the lake and stay there for the week. This was one of a string of five lakes and the algae remained on the south shore of all of the other four lakes. Right then and there I decided I would never do another camp without Harrison.

While planning a northern Saskatchewan zone rally that was to take place in our church, we had in hand a 16 mm film and were expecting a movie projector to arrive at any time. My secretary came to tell me she had just got a call from Mr. Lane and the projector he was bringing from work had been taken earlier by another employee. The zone rally was to begin that night. I gathered the group on the stage to pray and about thirty minutes into praying my secretary came to get me again and said, “You will want to take this call.” Mr. Ford call to ask if we needed a projector (all pre-DVD days). Did we ever.

When we were about to move from Saskatchewan to BC we had already begun paper work to adopt our second child, but that was only four months earlier. Our case worker doubted if everything would come together before our move but assure us she would forward everything to BC. We knew we would be starting from scratch and it would take at least two years.

There was nothing we felt we could do but accept the decision. But we did pray and asked God to intervene. He did and a week before we were to move we were called to Regina to pick up our beautiful and exceptionally happy new daughter. She came with love notes, a full diaper bag and gifts fro the foster family who cared for here from birth. We had her in five months and were walking on air. The following Sunday was her dedication and our farewell.

Vancouver was the largest challenge to our faith we had the most challenging experiences I had hoped we ever would. The parents of one of our youth asked if I believed in Demons. Well yes (at least theoretically). We studied it in college, but this was about to become real.

I listened to their story and agreed that I would pray. I don’t know what I expected. But I got a demonstration at a youth Bible study in North Vancouver. The girl arrived when the study was in progress. She moved in near the front of the group sitting on the floor. While getting settled she bumped into a boy to the right of her, got make at him and grabbed him by the front of his shirt and lifted him off the floor and pushed him away. Everyone gasped that this little 95# girl could do that. As the group scrambled to the four walls, I saw something in her eyes that frightened me. It was scary. I took her to another room with a handful of leaders and we began to pray.

Thus began a seven to eight month ordeal of seeing this little girl delivered. I hit a hige block and finally got help from an experienced missionary from Indonesia who brought it all to the end. A funny sidelight was that the youth group Bible study grew after that experience. If something exciting was going to happen, everyone wanted to be there.

After only a year in Vancouver, we moved to Southern California for me to attend seminary. We did it with no money and no idea how we would survive. A friend encouraged us to start a little book to keep track of everything ever given to us or done for us that we did not ask for or deserve. We did. The first was a job working for Kinney Shoes. That was not going to work so I took the offer to work for a church in Long Beach. Still not enough, but we could survive.

Early in our time there we met another student who worked at a grocery store and was selling Banana boxes full of food cans and boxes damaged in the opening process. They were three dollars a box and usually valued at eight to tweelve dollars. Pretty cool. Friends often took us out to eat. They loaded our kids up with Christmas gifts. Canadians visited and left their unused Disney tickets with us (didn’t know we had so many Canadian friends that wanted to come for a visit). Church members had company parties at Disneyland and took us a guests or gave us their tickets. Out next-door neighbors were employees of Knott’s Berry Farm and gave us their tickets for a free company party. Friends gave us a years pass to Deer Park a cool little place (now gone) with lots of activities for kids, animal shows and deer to pet. Della took the kids there often.

We lived three blocks from Knott’s Berry Farm and the free cake decorating and candy making windows. Once a week they rode the 10¢ merry-go-round and every week after church we bought nickel ice cream cones at Long’s Drugstore.

At the end of our two years in Buena Park, we had been given nearly $8000.00 in cash and prizes. Unbelievable.

There is more, but this “little” note is too long already. It is just a sample of the graciousness of our God and a reminder to me that He loves us.

IT MIGHT SNOW

The weather has toyed with me all day. It would snow for a few minutes and then quit, snow and stop, snow and rain. I went out about 3:00 to pick up a prescription and it felt down right warm. I was sure my hope for snow was over.

At 4:00 instead of Ellen, the local station was doing snow coverage. It was snowing everywhere in the area except here. It was worse to the east. Seattle, Tacoma, and hwy. 16 headed our way. It was snowing to the north and the south and less to the west. That’s unusual; Seabeck always gets lots of snow. Not this time, at least not yet.

But we have been assured it is coming tonight and we will not be missed. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. After that song I will sing let it melt, let it melt, let it melt. I like snow, but only for a little while.

THE HOME’S BUS

I have been authorized to drive the bus to various events. It holds twelve passengers plus two wheelchairs; So far on two trips the wheelchair lift has not worked at all. On the first trip I canceled it because we could not get the wheelchairs loaded. This last time we went without the wheelchairs. The man from head office was due to come by today and go over all the silly little details that might go wrong with the lift, and there are several. He didn’t make it, but he called to explain the issues. If the extra rev kicks off turn the engine off and start over. Make sure the wheelchairs is as far to the front of the lift as possible, If the stop flap is not completely up, kick it into a straight up position with the toe. Very technical. In a few days I will get a pile of people to ride the lift up and down so I can try all these new little techniques. They had better work.

Our next trip is scheduled for Thursday, weather permitting. I hope we have it figured out by then.

LET IT SNOW

Many of you have already had a fair amount of snow in your area, but in ours the first of the sticking snow is due tonight and/or tomorrow. The Home is located at sea level. While we get the occasional snow, we rarely get very much. This morning around 11:00 a.m. we had two minutes of snow. Huge flakes, some an inch or more in diameter. Beautiful. I would have like to seen enough to have it stick for a while, but it melted as fast as it landed.

I grew up in snow - Omaha, Nebraska. As a kid and teen, it was terrific. You could start sledding at the top of Webster street, turn left into our yard, fly over the small hill at our alley, go left around the garage on the empty lot behind us, pull right between a house and the backyards of two others and end up at the corner of 28^th and Webster. Too bad. Creighton University School of Dentistry sit on what used to be our yard, but you can still see the hill in the side yard of the school. These were not exceptionally steep hills, but it was a long ride – about 2 ½ blocks. We raced. We built jump ramps; we iced up the slow parts. I could hardly wait for snow to get deep enough to sled.

Everyone had the equivalent of a red rider sled. There was one toboggan. Sleds were preferable. We often tried to see how many people could be stacked on a sled laying one on trop of the other. We did try to get four piled on, but the first turn reduced that pile to three and by the end there were only two or sometimes only one. It was nothing to try a running start with people stationed along the way to try and jump on. I’m surprised no one every got crushed. When one jumped on top the bottom person or two let out a huge grunt, but the extra weight didn’t last long as that person often missed or went on over the top.

We spent hours on those hills. It never seemed too cold – strange. The weather was freezing, as I got older. Thin blood I guess.

I don’t really remember all the places we went sledding as a teen. I do remember Memorial Hill. It was lit and absolutely beautiful when the snow was coming down, the hill wasn’t long, but it was steeper. You could go from the top near the memorial down toward Dodge Street. In those days it was more about hanging out with my friends than the actual sledding – but that was fun. We probably went to someone’s house after for hot chocolate. We were big on ending our nights at someone’s house.

My joy in the snow did not continue into my years in Saskatchewan. Weird snow. Dry, flaky, powdery. It would not stick together. Never saw a snowman or a snow fort. There were no snowball fights. Oh, college kids tried, but if it balled and flew through the air, it had ice in it. Those hurt.

It was easier to drive in the Saskatchewan snow than the Nebraska snow. It was wet and slippery down south. The Dodge street hill always had spinouts and cars sliding backwards. Saskatchewan on the other hand was flat. It was hard to slid off the road once you got in the ruts. There you were concerned about black ice and or sliding into a ditch. I did that a few times but always got myself out. I learned to rock that sucker back and forth until it moved. Fortunately I was never deeply stuck.

The snow and wind were problematic as a homeowner. I will never forget the night I shoveled the front walk to the street four or five times in one night. The wind was blowing so hard it kept filling the sidewalk in almost as fast as I got it out. I knew that if I left it to morning the whole sidewalk would be a block of ice. I guess I could have walked over the top like my neighbor did, but we had a lot more company and neither my wife nor I through leaving it would be a good idea.

Snow is pretty to look at, fun to play in and dangerous to drive it. I look forward to our two days of snow and hope it is as pretty as I expect it to be. But I will also be glad when it melts. My wonderful memories of snow are all in the past. Right now, a brief look is all I’m interested in. It should not make that much difference to me since as a retired person; I don’t have to go anywhere. If I run out of food there is plenty around The Home. I just need to knock on the right door.

MESSY LIFE

A buddy sent an email a while back and talked about “messy lives.” I was so impressed with his thoughts that I dropped the email into a sermon file. Since I’ve had the opportunity to preach a couple times this past year, I suspect there may be another opportunity in the future. This is a subject I feel God is urging me to address. The concepts resonated with my heart immediately.

I am an introspective person. Always have been. No doubt it has caused me problems at times, and it may be doing it again. I am not without some success in my life, but I still struggle with a general feeling of near total failure. I have had confidence many times, but face a great deal of timidity. I do not usually compare myself with others, but compare myself with what I believe I should have been or should be. While I refuse to call what I do “worry,” I often feel like I do not measure up. This is why the idea of “messy life” connected so strongly.

I am attempting to read through the Bible in a year. I usually get hung up in Leviticus and return to the Psalms. Proverbs and the New Testament. The law annoys me. It seems so ridiculous I cannot seem to stick with it. I am sure there is something to learn, but I never get far enough to learn it.

I grew up in a church that believed in the law. Not the Leviticus law, but some made up law that lead me to think that my church believed that if it was fun, it was sin. That is not that far from the truth. If one were to make a list of everything they ever heard some church said was wrong, it was believed in my church. About the only thing they never came right out and objected to was kids necking in the car. Of course, they considered it wrong, but never mentioned it. I think we were just expected to know it was wrong. I’m sure we all did, but it was still a common activity.

My life has been messy as far back as I can remember. I kept everything inside. I mulled it over and over and over. I carried enormous amounts of guilt for just about everything that ever happened. I know that what I heard in church had a great deal to do with that guilt. But because I kept things bottled up, my thoughts were never discussed with anyone else. I simply believed I was abnormal and one of the few kids emotionally dying under the pressure of what I was being taught. I was a young adult before I ever began to question the extra-Biblical teaching of my church. As a result, I consider myself pretty screwed up and not especially happy. I knew others just did want they wanted to do and few seemed to ever feel guilty. I felt guilt about everything. It didn’t stop me was doing many of these things, but I wanted to do the right thing. I wanted to be a follower of Jesus Christ. I wanted to be a Christian. In my teen years I was desperate to be forgiven and accepted into the kingdom of God. To that end, I walked forward at more alter calls than I can remember. There were times I was doing it weekly. I lived in terror of going to hell.

Movies were anathema, but I went to my first one in eighth grade. I went with two black buddies who were refused entrance to a roller skating rink where our class was having a party. Since I would not go in without them, we went to a movie. It was a western in which a sixteen-year-old boy was mistakenly hung for cattle rustling. I became that boy and I was being hung for even being in that theater. I felt so guilty I could hardly wait to get out of there as I was convinced the Lord would come and I would go straight to hell. Do not pass go do not collect $200.

That feeling had crossed my mind many times as a youth. I finally convinced myself that I was unredeemable. God could not love me nor accept me. Get used to it kid, heaven was not in my future. Messy life. The mess continues, but the guilt has greatly declined. We’ll talk more about this,

KING JAMES TRANSLATION

For the past several days I have been studying an article from the December 2011 issue of National Geographic. It seemed a strange subject for them, but an interesting one nonetheless. “The King James Bible – Making a Masterpiece.” I have never really known much at all about the 1611 Bible publication other than it has been the English standard for a very long time — over 400.

I was interested in the chart reflecting the various translations that preceded the King James Version. They report of eighteen of them, many, which I recognized, but knew little. I wasn’t so much fascinated by that process as the impact the KJV has had on the English culture.

“The King James translation introduced eighteen classic phrases into the English language” some of which are:

The root of the matter

Stand in awe

As a lamb (led) to the slaughter

A thorn in the flesh

Suffer (the) little children

Get thee behind me (Satan)

A still small voice

How the mighty have fallen

East of Eden

Know for a certainty

Unto the pure all things are pure

Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven

No small stir

Much study is a weariness of the flesh

To everything there is a season

The skin of my teeth

Fell flat on his face

From time to time

Pour out your heart

Put words in his mouth

Set thine house in order

Be horribly afraid

I for one have used every one of them as some time or another. Some I was aware were from Scripture. Others were so common I never gave them a second thought. I grew up on the KJV, as did everyone in my age group. Many, not just churchgoers, knew –parts of the Bible. In my public school classroom was the quote “Spar the rod and spoil the child.” I think it was there as a threat. Many homes had plaques with Biblical phrases. In my friend Saul’s home (Jewish) hung “Train up a child in the way he should go.” My own home displayed “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” We also had the framed print by Warner Sallman of “Christ at the Door.”

I struggle to quote Scripture from a modern translation even though that is what I now read. I just learned far too many verses in the KJV. So many in fact that when I try to quote something in a modern translation I get it all mixed up.

Since 1611, hundred’s of new translations have come and gone. It seems like there is a new one every year or so. With this diversity, none will ever compete with the popularity of the KJV, but all are trying to do the very same thing for which the JKV was translated. They want to put Scripture into the language of the people.

I have never had much patience with those who hold to the belief that the KJV is “THE BIBLE” and nothing else will do. I know Shakespeare is popular in some circles, but it is difficult, if not impossible, to read by the average person. He wrote in the same time period as the JKV was written. They sound the same because it is the same language. Admittedly there is something somewhat romantic about the KJV, if not emotionally connective. But if you did not grow up with it, there are some difficult words. I liked the fact that my KJV version had the punctuation markings for all those extremely difficult to pronounce Biblical names. The pastor I worked with in my first church had a habit of handing me an Old Testament passage to read in the service just as we were about to walk onto the platform. I was thankful for those pronunciation markings. However, the key factor in actually reading these name-riddled passages is not the correct pronunciation as much as reading them with clarity and authority. When one does that people begin to think they are finally learning the correct pronunciation. How would I know? I just spoke with authority.

THE BIG FIRE

Sunday I went to Olympic High School to watch my oldest granddaughter play soccer. They scored quickly in the opening few minutes and then the other team took over and dominated the game until the last five minutes. In the last 30 second, our team scored again and tied the game. It was a fun day. While my son-in-law and I were sitting watching the game, which started at 2:00 p.m., the first picture arrived on the phone of the family sitting next to Chris. There was a fire in a coffee shop in town.

Isn’t technology amazing? The photo arrived about ten minutes after the fire began. As it turned out the coffee shop was just one of seven business’ that were totally destroyed by fire. It started in a tanning bed when a bulb popped. The young girl on the bed got up and got dressed and went to report the small fire that had begun. When employees checked, the whole room was ablaze and alarms were going off. The fire quickly burst into the attic and the entire small shopping complex was ablaze.

This was a big deal in our little down. When I was returning from the soccer game I came over the hill and could see the smoke. It wasn’t that far from The Home. It was big news and, of course, it made the Seattle news stations. The entire complex was a total loss.

I don’t know why it began weighing on my mind, but I was thinking about all those small businesses. They are now instantly closed. Sure, Insurance will cover their loses, but what about income. The owners will not have an income until they can find a new location or the complex is rebuilt. All their employees have suddenly lost their jobs. I suspect the majority were minimum wage jobs, but people who work for those wages need the money the most. My heart went out to those who are now unemployed through no fault of their own.

I don’t know about the job openings in this area. One of the dangers of being retired is losing track of all the cultural impact in the county. Our area is basically dependent upon the Navy. There are two bases. These are secure jobs and provide a steady financial base. But several families have now been unexpectedly hit with a hardship. These people will need jobs now.

Life changes on a dime. Many things come our way suddenly without warning. A vehicle runs into us. A bone is broken. A heart attach is experienced. A family member suddenly dies. We are unexpectedly thrown into emption trauma. A teenage daughter announces she is pregnant. A child is picked up by the police and placed in jail. A son runs away. We are never prepared for the sudden changes that come into our lives, but we must adjust. We must adapt. And we will. We do. We have to. Change is constant and as we all know. It is not all-good change.

JUST A MINUTE

What could the words “Just a minute” possibly mean? Could it mean “I’ll be right with you.” How about “I’m busy right now, but I will be there soon.” Maybe “I’m tied up right now, hang on.”

I am reasonably sure it does not mean, “Come one in.” That interpretation is not even close.

I had just gone into the bathroom. I live alone. I do not shut my bathroom door. I have never felt there was a need. Neither do I lock my door. So, the door opened and the disembodied voice said, “I’m in.” Wait! I thought I said “Just a minute.” I’m confused. It never occurred to me that could be interpreted as, “Come on in.” But she did. She walked right in past my bathroom door to my desk, said she left a Red Lobster coupon on my desk, turned around and left.

I’m not so embarrassed that I was in the bathroom. I was standing. I had my back to the door. I was ticked off that she felt she could walk in regardless of what I said and do what she wanted. It was just a piece of paper. SLIDE IT UNDER THE DOOR!

With an insignificant thing like a coupon, people normally slide it under the door. What was wrong with her? I know. She wanted me to know that she brought the note for me. Right now, I pretty much want her out of my life.

This is the woman that seems to believe she is personally responsible for my health choices. She showed up last night with the most god-awful tasting concoction that has touched my lips in years. She tried to tell me what was in it and the only word I remember is red peppers. I didn’t even recognize most of the other words. When I asked what it was, she forcefully told me that so-and-so upstairs thought it was delicious. That did not answer my question. I still did not know what it was. Is it vegetable, mineral or animal? I was pretty sure we were about to play 20 questions. It did not look like anything I has ever seen. It was somewhat runny. Maybe a little like a bad bowl of oatmeal with specks of red, black and green. It was somewhat brown with an orange tinge. It had not distinct smell, but there was also not enticing aroma.

I was still trying to pry out of her what it was. Is it a dip? It can be. It would be great with some delicate crackers. Delicate crackers? What’s wrong with saltines? Should I put anything on it? If you want to! What if I didn’t want to. That’s OK too. None of that was answering my questions. When I finally asked, what is its main purpose, she was upset with me. In a sarcastic tone she said it is used like a potato, rice or risotto. FINALLY! Why didn’t you say so.

Well, they liked it upstairs. I really wanted to say, take it back upstairs, but I decided to play nice. Thank you. I will try it. She left. I dipped my finger to get a taste and went and spit it out. I have already discarded it down the toilet. I’m a bad boy.

Today’s discount coupon is good for $4 off any two dinners or $3 off any two lunches. Did you get that? TWO! Maybe I’m reading something into this that I shouldn’t, but why did she bring it. It came in today’s mailbox ads that were put into everyone’s mailboxes. I had already seen them and already thrown mine away. I guess I’m not very grateful. I need to develop an attitude of gratitude — but not with her.

THE AFTERMATH

Why is putting up Christmas decoration so much more fun than taking them down? It takes far less time to remove them. I pitched in this morning to help take everything down and pack it in The Home’s storage space. I admit I was feeling a little tired, but I wasn’t sick. I have been dormant for nearly two weeks. I can’t do that any longer. Keep moving or freeze up. I was definitely locking up — joints not moving like they should. It was getting tired, but I stayed with the project. I needed to. My Christmas lights were on both trees.

I really hated the tree on the main floor. It was one of those where every branch had to be inserted in the trunk. We are not allowed live trees — fire hazard. Just as well. I would not have wanted to clean up the needles. I am not sure why these things come out of boxes so easily and do not seem to fit back in. We squished the branches as flat as we could and eventually got the box closed, but there is a big hump at the opening. There wasn’t much to do on the main floor. All the big ornaments standing and hangings had already been taken upstairs.

From there we went upstairs. There were only three of us working but as things came to a close and the ornaments were off the upstairs tree and the tree was laying on the floor in three sections, we sat down and began talking. Three more women joined us. It was light and fluffy stuff until it got around to my stay in the hospital. You could die. Yes, and I will — sometime.

I wish people would take the clues from the person they are discussing and stop, but all these mothers moved into Doctor Mom mode. I hate that. I was cared for in the hospital and given very clear and helpful instructions. I even have them written down. Why they felt compelled to correct and add their input is beyond me. I felt like screaming. One of them is so annoying I want to run everything I see her coming.

“How are you?” This is not a greeting type comment. It is a thorough investigation into everything about me. She always, and I mean always askes what she can do for me. Nothing, nothing, nothing! She does not get the hint. “I’m going out, is there anything I can get for you? “Yes, a new Corvette.” Slight smile – “No seriously.” “No, thank you.”

Menus were tossed around; the best types of food were discussed. They clarified that a low salt diet did not mean — no salt (I KNOW). They suggested alternative spices and assured me that each one was wonderful and that I would like them. How do they know I would like them? I almost decided to hate them just because they assured me I would like them.

My “mother” just left. She had been out and returned with chestnuts that she just knew I would love. I disappointed her. They taste like something someone else chewed and spit out. She bought them special for me. She had been to Trader Joes and brought me a list of everything in their store that was low salt. I was expected to be excited. There was so much on the list and the print was so small I needed a magnifying class to read it. When I could make out some words, I was aware that even things a normal person would assume had no salt was included. Maybe some fruit juice has added salt, but the list assured me that there was no salt added.

I don’t mind a comment or two, but when the conversation will not stop they should have figured out that I had tuned out some time ago. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s that the advice was unsolicited and I DON’T CARE.

NEW BEGINNINGS

It felt great to walk over for coffee this morning and not be panting when I got there. Breathing is cool. Eating too much salt for someone like me is stupid. Does that help some of you are thinking I was such an idiot? I think I’m one too. I really piled the salt on in a seven-day stretch with ham and a final supper of popcorn. I know, I know. There are plenty of substitutes.

Frankly, I could not have had better treatment at Harrison Hospital. And I am amazed how good the food was. I considered staying just for the great food. .And they told me no when I made a wrong choice.

I am excited about the Rose Bowl today. The Oregon Ducks won. Having lived in Oregon nineteen years, I am a fan. I was on the edge of my seat. What a great game. It could have gone either way. It made my day, but I had no snacks to eat. It may be a good thing to help keep my weight in check. I’m going to have to dig around for salt free snacks that I like. I have already tried baked chips — yuck! Unsalted popcorn is double Yuck! I like sugar free candy, but more than two pieces has me running to the restroom. Two pieces are not enough when you are watching a very tense football game. I’m sure there is something I would really like, but don’t bring up raw vegetables. I like them, but they are not a football snack. And everything else I can think of takes time to prepare. A good snack is something you can grab and eat immediately. Yes, you can do that with fruit, and when I get lots of money that is what I’ll so. For now, I miss my chips and dips.

It do not make New Years resolutions, but the no salt goal was set for me. I plan to follow through. I like breathing. I guess I will call that my new years resolution.

May this new-year bring the blessing of God for health and a growing love for our savior. Thanks for sticking with me through this trying fall. I have been hot and cold, off and on. I will be busy trying to get up a web site for the next while. A wonderful former member of my first youth group is setting it up, I have to get the photos and write ups for each drawing to her — soon! It will happen, but not likely as fast as she would like. I promised to help take down Christmas decoration in The Home tomorrow. Our Bible study starts up again tomorrow. And I have to go shopping and begin a whole new way. I am looking forward to it, but reading will add more time to the job than I have ever spent before.

CLUB MED

Miss me! I’ve been on vacation and for the entire week before I was getting ready.

I visited Harrison’s Club Med. The place is rather expensive, but well worth the money.

I was gone Friday, Saturday and returned today. The food was unbelievably good. There was a selection at each meal and all meals are done with room service. The help was warm, friendly. kind and on call 24 hours a day. I have rarely found such attentive people. There were times they came by just to talk. There were far most women than men and I was fine with that. As I left I talked to each one to express what a wonderful place this was, and how great the staff was, and how terrific the food was. On the negative checklist was: 1) ambience needed improvements and 3) the recreation sucked.

Almost immediately after the simple check in process, I was met and a second staff member drove me to the next phase of the check in. I initially cane in the wrong door and the right one was a long way. I liked the ride. A different person drove me to my accommodation. I was surprised to be the only one assigned to the room as all accommodations are based on double occupancy. There was no roommate available to share the share, but I was glad.

I was immediately given a menu from which to order. I made my decision while people buzzed around me doing all kinds of things. The young man who delivered me to my room was kind enough to remove my shoes and socks and replace them was a lovely warm grey no slip sock. No one commented on the gloss of the floors or warned me to be careful walking, but I could see that I should.

The food selection was excellent. I was determined to stay on a proper eating schedule and they have their own dietician to help the customers. I would like to know what spices they use to replace the salt. Probably Mrs. Dash.

On Friday I got the most attention. I lost track of how many came to check on me and do things and help me do things I didn’t even know I needed done. I was surprised when my whole family made a surprise appearance. I loved it however.

I was initially encountered a little British lady, who was a fireball. She was almost worth the price of admission. She had lived in places that didn’t even sound like countries to me. I am still sure she made some of them up.

While talking I discovered she had been all over the world. At least it seemed like it. In her line of work she traveled the world to fill in for people on vacation or maternity leave, missing in action, or whatever. I didn’t know there was such a temp job company. I got her history in a nutshell, her marriages, divorces, children, etc. I wanted to pump her for more because she was so interesting, but she had other customers to serve.

She was the one who stuck the IV in my right arm and inserted the oxygen in my nose. I didn’t really think I needed either, but she insisted — very strongly. My son-in-law took me through the check-in process. He knew the boss man who came for the check in. They go to the same church. Later a young man arrived to take my picture. My son-in-law knew him as well. It seems his twin brother in Chris’ class. The young man who took me to my room was a good driver a he never hit any one or anything coming around those blind corners traveling at the speed of light.

There was no grand welcoming party. We were not met at my accommodation by anyone. But it didn’t take long before they began to arrive one by one. The vampires wanted blood, the snakes wanted to squeeze my arm. Don’t use the toilet, pee in this little plastic bottle. “We’ll collect it later.” Weird. What were they going to do, drink it? I had not eaten since 7:45 that morning. It was then 3:30. Check-in began at 10:00. They weren’t ready for me I guess. My cards were in order, but I did not qualify for platinum card status, or so it seemed. I was not assigned luxury accommodation.

Recreation involved some cheerful youth pushing me around on a dolly so I could have my picture taken with various contraptions. Pictures, my foot! Nothing looked like a camera. They passed me though this very large ring that only looked fit for the Jolly Green Giant. What kind of pictures can a ring take? I had already had a large portable camera take my photo on the second stage of registration. They wanted to make sure I was qualified to join their club, I guess. I could hardly breath. O was also sent to a large camera. Strange. How many pictures did they need?

They sucked more blood and squeezed my arm until it lost its feeling. Then finally let me speak to a representative of the cook. By then they seemed to know all about me. No, you may not have that, nor that. Well what can I have? I ordered a very tasty meatloaf with potatoes and gravy, vegetables, a fruit bowl and bottled water with Crystal Light. It was wonderful. I was so glad I brought my latest J.A. Jance book with me. I had read nearly half of it before I got through the registration process. I was already tired of lying down and when I got to my room I had to lie down again. Admittedly this bed was more comfortable than the board I had been on for the ride to my place.

It felt like the vampire and snake came for a visit more than anyone else. That very day I was running out of places on my body to drain blood. I was beginning to think my decision to visit Club Med was a mistake.

I had had my sweatshirt and t-shirt stolen at registration and issued the Club Med official shirt. I hated it. It was too big. I do not wear size XXXXXL. The neck nearly sagged to my waist. I was constantly pushing it up. When my back and shoulders get cold, I am cold. I should have kept my big mouth shut. They turned the heat up all right; I was soon sweating so bad I cold barely sleep. They turned it back down.

I loved all my primary assistants They were women with a wonderful sense of humor and the ability to clarify things and keep me on track to meet my goals. I have barely gotten to my room when I was asked what mo goals were. With a stomach that was growling I said, “To eat” She wrote that on a white board. I laughed. It didn’t seem like a big enough deal. I added “to breath better.”

I actually slept rather well even though I was attached to machines with cords and had a transponder type box stuck in my shirt pocket. Who puts a shirt pocket in the middle? Very uncomfortable! The hardest part was being injected with a solution that made me pee every few minutes. And no one helped me in and out of bed. Yuck. I struggled getting around that bed rail and by the time I returned I was panting for breath. I made the visit because I was struggling breathing and they seemed to be making it worse. Then they would come and squeeze my arm. The numbers were high; they would also suck more blood. Never learned about that. I wanted to know if I was having a heart attack. They didn’t know, but they didn’t have another alternative yet.

The next day they took me for more pictures. One was innocent enough and I at least recognized the camera. The very nice gal taking those pictures said she remembered me from earlier in the year. She cheated. She just checked her notes. There was nothing to that one photo-op. I could not eat until after the second photo. I left the room at 10:00 a.m. and did not return until 3:30 p.m. talk about starved, this machine was an “L” shaped contraption that was pushed down on my stomach. I could not even see a lens. They told me it was reading the radiation in my body. Was I radioactive? No. About a half hour later, I thought that might be the problem. I was rolled to another room for what they called a stress test. I waited there a very long time. I think I fell asleep. When the test came I was told to just lie there and they would chemically stress me out. It took less than 60 seconds to be totally exhausted and about ten minutes to get relaxed again. I hated that. I had already waited an hour for the one man at this huge complex who was able to read the results. He did, but never told me what the answer was. It would take time.

I was back on the room to eat. My family was waiting there for me. They had been out for hamburgers. No, they did not bring one for me. I had baked cod. Very tasty! All the tests were completed, now we waited for the results. A Middle Eastern lady came before my family left and delivered the results. There was nothing wrong with my heart, but my body was retaining liquid, none in the lungs (a fear). They believed the liquid retention was from salt.

SALT! Then I began to think of Christmas Eve, I had little salty crackers with this wonderful shrimp dip. I had two helping of ham. My daughter sent ham home with me. I had ham every day. I love ham. This was terrific ham. I had caused the problem by eating too much salt. I even had popcorn for supper on Thursday night. I thought I was being careful. I no longer added salt to anything but popcorn. I can’t eat popcorn without salt and I am addicted to popcorn. I had salty products everyday for a week. I was shutting down the flow of blood.

Solution. Stop the salt intake. Now because of things that had run through my body, I would need to stay another night so they could flush my kidneys to get rid of the dye and saline solutions. Saturday morning I was feeling significantly better. The excellent cook was a major asset. The funny ladies who cared for me kept my spirits up and actually delivered more helpful information than anyone. They called my problem the holiday disease. People who make themselves sick by totally blowing their diet.

When back in my apartment my daughter and I went through my cupboards too remove everything with too much salt. Would you believe my cupboards are nearly bare?

I get paid on Tuesday. I think shopping will talk a long time this week. I need to watch the salt content like a hawk. It is just another step along life’s journey. I am also going to check and see if Social Security will help with a membership at the “Y”. That is past due.

I loved my visit to Harrison Hospital’s Club Med. The staff was terrific, the care exceptional, the attention to detail outstanding, the food exceptional (I want to eat there again). Overall, I loved the visit, but I hope to never visit again. But I know I will. My age indicates I will visit again — some day. When I do I hope I get to meet up with all those wonderful people on my next visit and if not them, people just like them.

Thank you friends at Harrison Club Med.