Carefully Molded

To the new world

2011-09-19T16:00:00.000-07:00

As you may have learned...It was the end of the free world as we knew it here in America. Within one year all oil wells had been officially capped, blown up(such as the BP oil well off the shores of Louisiana) and officially shut down by a single mandate of our newly elected socialistic Government under the umbrella of "Change","Hope" and spreading the wealth.

These new government policies left us as a nation without fossil fuel to heat our homes and to run our factories and fuel our transportation systems.

As in the past the U.N. was accusing the U.S.A of using up foreign oil deposits as a matter of "homeland security" so we could protect our oil supplies and survive longer if there became a new ice age.

Therefore in the last United Nations world consul they have decided and voted on a "Ten Year moratorium" that we can no longer operate as a free society and must take a back seat while communist third world governments such as Cuba, Venezuela, All South American Nations and South east Asian countries such as Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia,Burma, all African nations, all middle east countries etc. be given an equal opportunity to come up to an equal economic level as we have always enjoyed in our free society which we worked for.

Our commander and chief and the newly elected supreme court judge allows for a new agreed upon plan to change our constitution, "designed not to conflict with the humans rights policies of the U.N. also, a worldwide apology has been given and a strict compliance policy initiated while the U.N. and our Secretary of State has agreed to strip us of our individual gun rights, space age technology, medical achievements and capabilities.

By being politically correct under the guidelines of the U.N. we have lost our voice in the free press. Prisoners captured during the war on terror have been released to return to their parents home of origin because of a misunderstanding and human rights violations which states that: "All humans have a right to freely exists which also extends to Animals rights and all prisoners of our prior judicial system".

As suspected the highly publicized "Global Warming" scare, turned out to be a short lived scare tactic induced "money makers dream" that made billions of dollars to line the pockets of the attorneys, Washington elite class, Hollywood and the NEA. In the end it turned out to be a well oiled scam and hoax as the originators and green peace fans faded quietly into the background and the liberal news media were once again paid off under the table and once again protected the "Nobel peace prize winning recipient & thief by saying nothing.

Now that the winter season is rapidly setting in and the worlds masses are looking for "HOPE" and leadership in the White House, we have been given a temporary reprieve and authorization from Mother Congress and the U.N. under the direction of the Secretary of State, to probe deep into outer space for possible suspected oil deposits even though we are(as a known fact) sitting on billions of gallons of oil in our own reserves.

Former oil field workers have lost skills and interest in the trade. They have died or moved on to other promising career paths. The wells are overgrown, the rigs are rusted and broken down and loose parts pilfered and scrapped for a quick buck by opportunist from Mexico who are just trying to survive as they pass into the unbearable desert heat and exposure in the desert all along the unprotected southern boarders. Replacement parts for the rigs are not readily available and the technology is worthless because we've farmed out our engineering and manufacturing jobs to third world countries. Basically we have no one who understands our deli-ma as the masses stand in line for food stamps as they look for some change in their empty pockets.

In response, I have created a five foot Steam-Punk Oil Refinery Chandelier for my office as a model and symbol of private enterprise, ingenuity, creativity and art form(loud applause!!!, more APPLAUSE!!! People now standing with hands waving !!!).

This nuclear powered zeppelin style, "Deep Space oil Recovery & Refinery Airship probe chandelier" is fully equipped with a mammoth recovery storage tank which leaves the earth empty and returns full on round trip voyage.

As a matter of security it has a triple barrel chain fed 50 caliber machine gun, a cannon, two side bombs and a crane to load supplies. Several radars to detect unwanted aggression from alleged Aliens of the outer worlds perhaps like those in captivity at area 51.

The landing gear features two spring loaded skids equipped with Automatic drills that activate on impact to quickly tap into and extract rich oil deposits for the masses back home. The ornate laser guided nose cone shoots endless rays into the mountain sides to loosen up the hardened meteorite hard rock, typical of potential sites in the Arabian oil fields back home. In the back of this elaborate ship are four hooks to gently persuade additional items back to earth or to give tow to a flat tire on a UFO's that could be broken down along the celestial paths in outer space. The next few pictures are closeups of my work in progress in the lab which exposes the five prong jet propulsion system which holds my flame lights bulbs.

Applause!!!, Applause!!!

This is the 300 billion dollar, 2012 space "Colony" for the deep space oil recovery crew. It is the Noah's ark of the 21st century. The "Colony" is a sophisticated Top Secret Space Station that is equipped with five floors of computerized oil technology and information available at the finger tips of mechanical engineers, programers, data annalist and has a wide range of support groups and their families. These members are cross trained in military tactics, self defense, medical and Dental skills, food preparation and preservation. The individuals who have been carefully selected will board the Colony with their families just months before the much anticipated dooms day begins. Those who will board the Colony have been identified as the most physically fit, healthy, talented and creative individuals who have expressed a real heart felt passion for survival. The construction of this colony is a result of individuals such as you and I who have a passion for the survival of mankind and freedom in-spite of this much anticipated dooms day historical event. The project began when It was learned from inside traders that the BP oil well was deliberately blown up under the direction of the President and the trilateral commission; who later vehemently denied such activity as, "another skeptical nonsensical doomsday knee jerk reaction to the unknown demands of survival rhetoric, that financial opportunist are promoting in the media." As the Captain of this Space Station (The Colony)and the brainchild of the Deep space oil recovery Vehicle I have the responsibility of making sure that those who are on board are safe and secure on this open ended space probe which could result in a total disaster or the success story of the 21 Century.

My Face cannot be exposed for security reasons which if I were found out it could lead to someone trying to interrupt this delicate mission by an assassination attempt. As the world implodes on itself one can observe and evaluate the total unrest in the middle east where Muslim citizens are banding together to over throw their Governments , wars are being fought over the ownership of the oil fields. Russian influence is seen intervening with Turkey and Iran as they establish new alliances against Israel. America is split over it's own sovereignty as we look for ways to reword the U.S. constitution and bill of Rights with the objective of outlawing personal ownership of weapons or to take away the rights of parents as the NEA has successfully stolen our children's time and minds, or to hand over our military to the control to the NATO commands under the direction of the United nations as we invade countries such a as Libya.

We refuse to drill for oil on our own land to comply with the wishes of the Green peace communist and socialist moments and environmentalist such as Al Gore who have successfully peddle global warming rhetoric in our media and public schools to reap huge personal financial gains to line their pockets. As Japan is currently(04/12/2011)experiencing multiple earth quakes it has been documented that it is the result of Scalar Electromagnetic bombardments from the Russians, and Chinese with a goal to swallow up the island and to disrupt the world free marketed economy. Other symptoms of the Scalar aggression are the thousand of the black birds that all died in flight on the same day in the south and the fish that died from being electron fried as they swam. see
http://io9.com/#!5725175/why-are-thousands-of-dead-birds-suddenly-falling-from-the-sky See also http://www.prahlad.org/pub/bearden/scalar_wars.htm As the world we know, implodes on itself, the crew will be notified of the day and hour to arrive with their families to decontaminate and then enter the gates known as the docking station. On each side they will pass by the steel spirals holding up the archway with the letter"H" which is our symbol of Home which will give hope to the future. Even though this symbolic gate has been entered by the construction crews on a daily basis, this final day of boarding will change everything as we know it. The doors will systematically bolt shut and we will ascend into the outer layers of the earth atmosphere into outer space with a mission of bringing back oil or hydrogen gas to the free world when the earth wars subside and the devastation has ceased from the political power struggles and unrest that are generated from greed and evil. Communication is of the utmost importance to those who are left behind on earth in the deep hideaways and fortified survival bunkers so that they as well as the crew can keep abreast of the activities on earth. We have sophisticated fine tuned adjustable microwave antennas with back up power to both solar and nuclear generators to power this space craft for the next 125 years which will basically last longer than any crew member will need to survive. Our Communication networks will communicate daily with fortified underground survival bunkers see http://2012base.com/Survival_Bunkers/Secret_Government_Bunkers/and those who will be equally protected by the Top Secret earth shelters only known to the Colony Space Station Crew. />Propeller power will need to be maintained so that the Colony will be able to make inflight adjustments at the time of landing on the surface of the Earth. The propeller engine will automatically activate as the Colony approaches any given surface at the end of the voyage.

The unknown factors to encounter will be issues such as if there will be survivors on the earth, where will we ultimately land and will we be faced with elements such as tornadoes, torrential rain, sand storms or perhaps dense foliage which could interrupt the normal descending path on to the surface of the earth which in essence could cause a crash landing of the spacecraft and it may do extensive damage to the crew and equipment as well as the payload.

Extractions of space debris, obsolete satellites which can be used for spare parts and valuable energy sources will be used on the colony as needed. Therefore special hooks have been installed for such repairs and rescue and salvage missions. Other space vehicles are currently under construction and will surface prior to the doomsday event as time and security permits.

And so it was in the days of these united States of America, that we were cunningly lured into believing, that over the years of our existence, we had become too powerful and had developed a false sense of self importance that lead to arrogance and an equally false perception of being the "elite" in the world.

We literally existed in this delusional state of security for years while the rest of the world went to bed starving for food and clothing. We were told that we were guilty of "ravishing them" by stealing natural resources and talent from the poor Nations to make ourselves richer and too powerful.

Recognizing that we had failed to be what others wanted us to be, our nation set it's self on a suicide course of self denial and self punishing agendas which was monitored by and encouraged by the United Nations and world liberal propaganda advocates, who were funded by the communist and Socialist parties and various underground radical organizations who were directly linked to the New World Order lead by the Soviet Russian Empire and the Chinese government who were trying to appease the "HATEMONGERS" of the resurrected OTTOMAN EMPIRE of the middle east who ultimately wanted the JEWS destroyed and wiped from the face of the earth.

As we blindly stepped onto this course of self destruction, Our Nation turned it's face away from God our creator therefore embracing evil which resulted a delusional state of chaos which in turn caused our political and economic structure to rapidly collapsed and implode where upon we were quickly taken over by an irreversible evil element of vultures and opportunist that knew how stupid and incompetent we had become.

Only a few of us were able to see the overall picture and realized that we had to go immediately into survival mode to protect ourselves from being slaughtered much like those outcasts of Nazi Germany of WW-2.

Privately we contracted with select former NASA engineers who were laid off from the space program to help us design and construct a way out through the vehicles of the space age technology in order that we might find new areas to escape into outer space and start life over much like Columbus and others who came to America to reestablish freedom.

The Deep space oil recovery vehicles include the:

OIL RECOVERY SPACESHIP ... "THE "PROBE"
(Which extracts oil from other planets and supplies our lunar vehicles with fuel in addition to our solar panels)

,

THE "COLONY"
(Which is our home away from home
and the HQ of the deep space oil recovery team)

"SATURN"
THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER for all new arrivals

to congregate and reorient to the various Space Commanders,Policies, rules of engagement in case of alien encounters, boundaries, communication systems,

locations of other space vehicles and to be retrofitted with updated electronic equipment to make them compatible with the existing vehicles in operation and hopefully with others to follow as more tanks become available.

Steam punk oil recovery Communication Warship

2011-08-28T20:42:00.001-07:00

This is the Communication Warship that is the protector for the Probe, Colony and Saturn. It is the strong arm and war room for the defense and protection of the mission. As a matter of survival each ship keeps a vigilant lookout and constant connection between each other in this uncharted massive space of the galaxies . Non friendly Alien intruders appear daily unannounced from almost any where and remain undetected to the last moment mainly posing as part of the alliance but in reality they are the enemy testing our defense systems as they prepare for a strike against our fleet.

Front Entrance to the Communication Center

Steampunk oil recovery spacecraft "Saturn"

2011-04-11T05:43:00.000-07:00

And so it was in the days of these united States of America, that we were cunningly lured into believing, that over the years of our existence, we had become too powerful and had developed a false sense of self importance that lead to arrogance and an equally false perception of being the "elite" in the world.

We literally existed in this delusional state of security for years while the rest of the world went to bed starving for food and clothing. We were told that we were guilty of "ravishing them" by stealing natural resources and talent from the poor Nations to make ourselves richer and too powerful.

Recognizing that we had failed to be what others wanted us to be, our nation set it's self on a suicide course of self denial and self punishing agendas which was monitored by and encouraged by the United Nations and world liberal propaganda advocates, who were funded by the communist and Socialist parties and various underground radical organizations who were directly linked to the New World Order lead by the Soviet Russian Empire and the Chinese government who were trying to appease the "HATEMONGERS" of the resurrected OTTOMAN EMPIRE of the middle east who ultimately wanted the JEWS destroyed and wiped from the face of the earth.

As we blindly stepped onto this course of self destruction, Our Nation turned it's face away from God our creator therefore embracing evil which resulted a delusional state of chaos which in turn caused our political and economic structure to rapidly collapsed and implode where upon we were quickly taken over by an irreversible evil element of vultures and opportunist that knew how stupid and incompetent we had become.

Only a few of us were able to see the overall picture and realized that we had to go immediately into survival mode to protect ourselves from being slaughtered much like those outcasts of Nazi Germany of WW-2.

Privately we contracted with select former NASA engineers who were laid off from the space program to help us design and construct a way out through the vehicles of the space age technology in order that we might find new areas to escape into outer space and start life over much like Columbus and others who came to America to reestablish freedom.

The Deep space oil recovery vehicles include the:

OIL RECOVERY SPACESHIP ... "THE "PROBE"
(Which extracts oil from other planets and supplies our lunar vehicles with fuel in addition to our solar panels)

,

THE "COLONY"
(Which is our home away from home
and the HQ of the deep space oil recovery team)

"SATURN"
THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER for all new arrivals

to congregate and reorient to the various Space Commanders,Policies, rules of engagement in case of alien encounters, boundaries, communication systems,

locations of other space vehicles and to be retrofitted with updated electronic equipment to make them compatible with the existing vehicles in operation and hopefully with others to follow as more tanks become available.

Steampunk oil recovery space craft "The Colony "

2011-04-10T20:11:00.000-07:00

This is the 300 billion dollar, 2012 space "Colony" for the deep space oil recovery crew. It is the Noah's ark of the 21st century. The "Colony" is a sophisticated Top Secret Space Station that is equipped with five floors of computerized oil technology and information available at the finger tips of mechanical engineers, programers, data annalist and has a wide range of support groups and their families. These members are cross trained in military tactics, self defense, medical and Dental skills, food preparation and preservation. The individuals who have been carefully selected will board the Colony with their families just months before the much anticipated dooms day begins. Those who will board the Colony have been identified as the most physically fit, healthy, talented and creative individuals who have expressed a real heart felt passion for survival. The construction of this colony is a result of individuals such as you and I who have a passion for the survival of mankind and freedom in-spite of this much anticipated dooms day historical event. The project began when It was learned from inside traders that the BP oil well was deliberately blown up under the direction of the President and the trilateral commission; who later vehemently denied such activity as, "another skeptical nonsensical doomsday knee jerk reaction to the unknown demands of survival rhetoric, that financial opportunist are promoting in the media." As the Captain of this Space Station (The Colony)and the brainchild of the Deep space oil recovery Vehicle I have the responsibility of making sure that those who are on board are safe and secure on this open ended space probe which could result in a total disaster or the success story of the 21 Century.

My Face cannot be exposed for security reasons which if I were found out it could lead to someone trying to interrupt this delicate mission by an assassination attempt. As the world implodes on itself one can observe and evaluate the total unrest in the middle east where Muslim citizens are banding together to over throw their Governments , wars are being fought over the ownership of the oil fields. Russian influence is seen intervening with Turkey and Iran as they establish new alliances against Israel. America is split over it's own sovereignty as we look for ways to reword the U.S. constitution and bill of Rights with the objective of outlawing personal ownership of weapons or to take away the rights of parents as the NEA has successfully stolen our children's time and minds, or to hand over our military to the control to the NATO commands under the direction of the United nations as we invade countries such a as Libya.

We refuse to drill for oil on our own land to comply with the wishes of the Green peace communist and socialist moments and environmentalist such as Al Gore who have successfully peddle global warming rhetoric in our media and public schools to reap huge personal financial gains to line their pockets. As Japan is currently(04/12/2011)experiencing multiple earth quakes it has been documented that it is the result of Scalar Electromagnetic bombardments from the Russians, and Chinese with a goal to swallow up the island and to disrupt the world free marketed economy. Other symptoms of the Scalar aggression are the thousand of the black birds that all died in flight on the same day in the south and the fish that died from being electron fried as they swam. see
http://io9.com/#!5725175/why-are-thousands-of-dead-birds-suddenly-falling-from-the-sky See also http://www.prahlad.org/pub/bearden/scalar_wars.htm As the world we know, implodes on itself, the crew will be notified of the day and hour to arrive with their families to decontaminate and then enter the gates known as the docking station. On each side they will pass by the steel spirals holding up the archway with the letter"H" which is our symbol of Home which will give hope to the future. Even though this symbolic gate has been entered by the construction crews on a daily basis, this final day of boarding will change everything as we know it. The doors will systematically bolt shut and we will ascend into the outer layers of the earth atmosphere into outer space with a mission of bringing back oil or hydrogen gas to the free world when the earth wars subside and the devastation has ceased from the political power struggles and unrest that are generated from greed and evil. Communication is of the utmost importance to those who are left behind on earth in the deep hideaways and fortified survival bunkers so that they as well as the crew can keep abreast of the activities on earth. We have sophisticated fine tuned adjustable microwave antennas with back up power to both solar and nuclear generators to power this space craft for the next 125 years which will basically last longer than any crew member will need to survive. Our Communication networks will communicate daily with fortified underground survival bunkers see http://2012base.com/Survival_Bunkers/Secret_Government_Bunkers/and those who will be equally protected by the Top Secret earth shelters only known to the Colony Space Station Crew. />Propeller power will need to be maintained so that the Colony will be able to make inflight adjustments at the time of landing on the surface of the Earth. The propeller engine will automatically activate as the Colony approaches any given surface at the end of the voyage.

The unknown factors to encounter will be issues such as if there will be survivors on the earth, where will we ultimately land and will we be faced with elements such as tornadoes, torrential rain, sand storms or perhaps dense foliage which could interrupt the normal descending path on to the surface of the earth which in essence could cause a crash landing of the spacecraft and it may do extensive damage to the crew and equipment as well as the payload.

Extractions of space debris, obsolete satellites which can be used for spare parts and valuable energy sources will be used on the colony as needed. Therefore special hooks have been installed for such repairs and rescue and salvage missions. Other space vehicles are currently under construction and will surface prior to the doomsday event as time and security permits.

Steam Punk oill recovery Space Craft "The Probe" "

2011-04-09T20:04:00.000-07:00

I've been told that am a story teller and with that encouragement my natural instinct tells me that I need to attempt to tell how this adventure all happened.

It was the end of the free world as we knew it here in America. Within one year all oil wells had been officially capped, blown up(such as the BP oil well) and officially shut down by a single mandate of our newly elected socialistic Government under the umbrella of "Change","Hope" and spreading the wealth.

These new government policies left us as a nation without fossil fuel to heat our homes and to run our factories and fuel our transportation systems.

As in the past the U.N. was accusing the U.S.A of using up foreign oil deposits as a matter of "homeland security" so we could protect our oil supplies and survive longer if there became a new ice age.

Therefore in the last United Nations world consul they have decided and voted on a "Ten Year moratorium" that we can no longer operate as a free society and must take a back seat while communist third world governments such as Cuba, Venezuela, All South American Nations and South east Asian countries such as Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia,Burma, all African nations, all middle east countries etc. be given an equal opportunity to come up to an equal economic level as we have always enjoyed in our free society which we worked for.

Our commander and chief and the newly elected supreme court judge allows for a new agreed upon plan to change our constitution, "designed not to conflict with the humans rights policies of the U.N. also, a worldwide apology has been given and a strict compliance policy initiated while the U.N. and our Secretary of State has agreed to strip us of our individual gun rights, space age technology, medical achievements and capabilities.

By being politically correct under the guidelines of the U.N. we have lost our voice in the free press. Prisoners captured during the war on terror have been released to return to their parents home of origin because of a misunderstanding and human rights violations which states that: "All humans have a right to freely exists which also extends to Animals rights and all prisoners of our prior judicial system".

As suspected the highly publicized "Global Warming" scare, turned out to be a short lived scare tactic induced "money makers dream" that made billions of dollars to line the pockets of the attorneys, Washington elite class, Hollywood and the NEA. In the end it turned out to be a well oiled scam and hoax as the originators and green peace fans faded quietly into the background and the liberal news media were once again paid off under the table and once again protected the "Nobel peace prize winning recipient & thief by saying nothing.

Now that the winter season is rapidly setting in and the worlds masses are looking for "HOPE" and leadership in the White House, we have been given a temporary reprieve and authorization from Mother Congress and the U.N. under the direction of the Secretary of State, to probe deep into outer space for possible suspected oil deposits even though we are(as a known fact) sitting on billions of gallons of oil in our own reserves.

Former oil field workers have lost skills and interest in the trade. They have died or moved on to other promising career paths. The wells are overgrown, the rigs are rusted and broken down and loose parts pilfered and scrapped for a quick buck by opportunist from Mexico who are just trying to survive as they pass into the unbearable desert heat and exposure in the desert all along the unprotected southern boarders. Replacement parts for the rigs are not readily available and the technology is worthless because we've farmed out our engineering and manufacturing jobs to third world countries. Basically we have no one who understands our deli-ma as the masses stand in line for food stamps as they look for some change in their empty pockets.

In response, I have created a five foot Steam-Punk Oil Refinery Chandelier for my office as a model and symbol of private enterprise, ingenuity, creativity and art form(loud applause!!!, more APPLAUSE!!! People now standing with hands waving !!!).

This nuclear powered zeppelin style, "Deep Space oil Recovery & Refinery Airship probe chandelier" is fully equipped with a mammoth recovery storage tank which leaves the earth empty and returns full on round trip voyage.

As a matter of security it has a triple barrel chain fed 50 caliber machine gun, a cannon, two side bombs and a crane to load supplies. Several radars to detect unwanted aggression from alleged Aliens of the outer worlds perhaps like those in captivity at area 51.

The landing gear features two spring loaded skids equipped with Automatic drills that activate on impact to quickly tap into and extract rich oil deposits for the masses back home. The ornate laser guided nose cone shoots endless rays into the mountain sides to loosen up the hardened meteorite hard rock, typical of potential sites in the Arabian oil fields back home. In the back of this elaborate ship are four hooks to gently persuade additional items back to earth or to give tow to a flat tire on a UFO's that could be broken down along the celestial paths in outer space. The next few pictures are closeups of my work in progress in the lab which exposes the five prong jet propulsion system which holds my flame lights bulbs.

Applause!!!, Applause!!!

STEAM PUNK TOILET PAPER HOLDER

2010-09-19T14:15:00.000-07:00

As I went into the bathroom this morning the dispenser fell off into my hands. Instead of looking for tools to fix this cheep residential dispenser I examined the situation and concluded that the remedy was to create a new Steam punk toilet paper stand out of discarded steel objects which is symbolic of waste.

Man for centuries has tried to improve on technology to make life a bit easier and less complex. Such upgrades may be as simple as a new improved mouse trap, the same mentality applies to a simple toilet paper dispenser for the bathroom.

The unique features of the new improved "STEAM PUNK TOILET PAPER STAND) make this unusual work of art a conversational piece and helps you relax as you review all the designs that are in front of you. Such as the drill Bits and hammer heads of which you can never have enough. The bottom line is this rack has slowed the roll down to a savings. The large rusty bolt creates drag on the roll and it doesn't spin as fast therefore iliminating alot of waste. Now that this has been made, other items will be in line to be developed such as a steam punk coat racks and steam punk paper towel dispenser or perhaps a steam punk toilet, tub or sink.

The Resurected Easel

2010-09-19T05:54:00.000-07:00

How could you paint a picture of something you loved or imagined if you're easel was new? You wouldn't understand the depth of it unless you were old and gray, with wrinkles and rusty hinges, and retired flower vase holders held up by wood taken from a horse fence and parts from a civil war era pump organ, and a crank from an ole Victrola?
This easel can meet that special demand because I made it with the caricature and charm to inspire even the amateur painter such as myself. It is a stand that I made from a "late 1700 -1800's oak hand cranked water well drill apparatus" and a few features to increase its functionality and charm of years gone by. Perhaps now my brushes will express my heart and mind to yours with more credibility and soul even though my attempt at painting has much to be desired.

As I started to paint I soon realized that I needed a cloth to wipe off my brushes and to keep the areas around me dry. So I came up with a towel,rope and pulley & weight assembly. When you dry out your brush, you pull out on the towel to dry off your brush and the weight goes up. When you let go the towel goes back to its original spot. (Loud applause from audience)!!!

I have found that after a day at work and the worlds demands are still pressing on my mind I have found that learning to paint has become one of my great escapes. So on the left there is a small bronze ball valve which is symbolic of letting off "steam". Painting helps you relax, unwind and think of something more personal as it helps you relieve some mental stress. I find it to be a positive experience, mentally stimulating and therapeutic.

This feature is a pair of converted flower arrangement holders made into a brush holders, one for each side. Under the work surface on the left is a bean soup can to hold longer brushes, whereas the one on the right is used for the shorter ones.

These are two ornate walnut woodcarvings that I salvaged from an antique pump organ from the 1860's(Civil war era) made by the Packard Organ Company in Fort Wayne Indiana, and is now being used as my supports for the work surface, which at one time was a portion of a rail on a horse fence.

This Chain assembly was once used to hold a gate closed on a dairy farm and has now been modified to hold the front of the easel frame to the back. It too has symbolic value of....." once you start to paint, you're hooked on a new adventure".

This is hand crank from an antique 1920’s Victrola. These kinds of parts are out there but hard to throw away if you have an artistic eye. So today it became useful again as a symbol of... "Cranking out new ideas".

Many times when trying to use items that are dated and very old, rot is an issue that has to be dealt with. In this project one of the legs had rot from being exposed to dirt and water.
After cutting it off and setting it aside I had to come to the point where I needed something to hold down the canvas and this is now converted to do just that.

Now the blurred "Mouse" picture below (upper left hand corner of the easel is for all of us who are addicted to painting which sometimes takes you into the wee hours of the morning after everyone else has fallen asleep. You are staring at your canvas working the brushes, then your head bobs, the sleep seeds being to creep up your back and slide on into your eyes after which the sandman takes over and causes you to be tired enough take out the dog one last time, check your e-mail and news, turn out the lights and lock the doors and carefully slide in bed

and say with a whisper good night dear :)

Aiden's flying Machine

2010-01-20T15:53:00.000-08:00

There once was a young man man name Aiden who lived all by himself in a little tin and wooden shack made from wooden crates and scrap tin that he picked up at the ship yard. These crates were once used in the big ships to move machines from one country to another. Aiden built his house at the junk yard where he worked next to the river in the middle of the city near the airport. His house wasn't very big but it did keep him warm in the winter and cool in the summer. In his house he had a dog and a cat to keep him company and a table and two chairs, a lamp to read his news paper and a bed to sleep on when he was tired.

Every day when the sun came up over the city, the big airplanes would start up their engines and rattle his little house. The noise would always wake up his dog and cat and at 8 o'clock sharp the People from the city would cross over the big metal draw bridge and come to "Aidens's junk" yard. They always lined up their cars and trucks at the gates and would honk their horns at the same time for him to get up and open the gates to his junk yard for business so they could bring him their scrap metal in exchange for some money. By the end of the week Aiden was always tired and dirty from working so hard and he was always out of money because he spent it all week long on the metal.

When the pile of scrap steel became taller than Aiden's little house he knew he could no longer see the drawbridge and it was time for him to call in the tug boat to bring in the ships so they could load up the metal and sell it to the steel mill. At the steel mill they would melt down the metal and would make new toys for the children in the city and cars and trucks for the moms and Dads and airplanes for the airport. Then Aiden would would get more money for next weeks customers to pay the people at the gates early on Monday morning.

Every day Aiden could see the big airplanes as they flew real close to the ground and would tip their wings over his little house near the river as they headed south to the long white beaches along the east coast. The people inside were always excited because they were going on summer vacation!
They would wave and smile at Aiden outside of their windows as they disappeared into the clouds like a little dot in the sky.

Then the big tourist boats would blow their whistles and honk at him as they passed under the drawbridge next to his junk yard and the people on board would stand and wave as they passed him by.
Aiden loved his job but he also dreamed of someday being able be rich enough to take a break and to go on vacation like everyone else did from the big city.

Then one day Aiden got a brainstorm and decided to do something about it when he found an old rusty boat that sank in the river and an old broken down airplane that had arrived from the airport scrap yard.

Aiden carefully cut up the metal and welded it all night long, when he was done he put a chair with a cross on top so he could see where he was going and he made the wings so they flew like bat wings.

He put a cannon in front of his chair to make loud noises so the other boats would know that he was near by.

Soon he had the most unusual steam powered flying machine that looked allot like a river boat airplane on wheels.

Yes this was "Aiden's flying Machine" so he could fly to the east coat when ever he wanted to and he could sail in the ocean when ever he wanted to rest.

Acknowledgments

2009-05-16T21:27:00.000-07:00

I would like to express my deepest gratitude to the many wonderful people who have been influential throughout my life, especially my Father and Mother who both worked so hard to raise our family in spite of the demands put on them.
I am also grateful to those who took the time to be patient with me during the more challenging days of my life, especially those in Christian service who loved the Lord and set examples of love, joy, peace, patience & forgiveness.
I would also like to thank my wife Gale who has stuck by my side throughout our marriage and has given me six wonderful children. She has continued to encourage me when others were not as supportive of my decisions.

Instructions to the reader.

2009-05-16T21:26:00.001-07:00

The latest blog is at the end...its just the way i have it set up. Sortive like adding to a story.

Introduction

2009-05-16T21:26:00.000-07:00

You should know that each one of us in this world is truly unique and wonderfully made in the image of God. No one will ever experience the same events in life that you or I have gone through.
Hopefully as you read through these stories of mine you will become encouraged about your own life and thankful that God is in control to an intricate level and that he cares for you as an individual.
Hopefully through this exposure you will not focus on me or judge me, but rather become sensitive to the events in your own personal life to see how God has blessed you and carefully molded you through a series of unusual events.
I have concluded that God truly does have a plan and purpose for each one of us and that it’s our responsibility as his creation to serve him by being obedient to his word.
I’m not sure where to begin but I can reassure you that when ever you begin to put your fingers on the key board to document or reconstruct events in your own life, things will start popping into your mind from many different directions. Some events will be evaluated and considered not worth writing about because they are just everyday happenings.
As you write there will be events that you will recall in such a way that it’s like reliving it all over again and it allows you to release it to the feet of Jesus who can and does mend the broken hearted through forgiveness.

Foreword

2009-05-16T21:25:00.001-07:00

These stories are true events that have taken place in my life. I consider them memorable and worth passing on to my friends and loved ones as well as you who may never know who I am.
These stories have been reconstructed for the purpose of sharing with others for the sake of telling what Christ has meant to me and how life’s everyday events have helped to mold who I am as an adult through the work of Jesus Christ.
If for some reason you have me on a pedestal, look a little higher and give thanks to God for his Mercy and Grace which passes all understanding. You will soon realize that I am merely an individual passing through this earth who desires to serve God with my life and responsibilities that he has entrusted me with.

Through my eyes

2009-05-16T21:25:00.000-07:00

I would like to start with my parents because both of them where wonderful God fearing people who raised 6 of us children (Five Boys and one girl).
My youngest brother Nathan (after my parents had five healthy children) was born mentally challenged to the point where he had his own language which we all understood and he was loved by all of us unconditionally. Nathan is a year younger than I and he was always a part of my childhood. His personal needs and inabilities became a way of life that we all accepted even though he never matured mentally to an adult.
Both of my Parents were hard working individuals who never once argued or raised their voices at each other in front of me; even though I’m sure they had their differences to contend with like every normal parent or adult experiences.
My father was one of thirteen children. He told me his real father, Theodore James Cook was a real cowboy although he never recalled meeting him because he was too young to remember.
My Dad became an orphan child at age four and recalled how he would cry for his real Mom (Ohpa Dicy Stowers Cook) after he was taken away from her by the welfare department. He went through several Foster homes until he was officially adopted.
His adopted Dad(Frank Phenicie), was a railroader in Illinois who one day while helping to lay railroad ties was accidentally struck in the head with a a spike maul while securing the steel spikes into the wood railroad ties under the tracks on the Nickel Plate railroad.Bleeding and head wrapped in bandages, he was picked up and carried home on a stretcher to be with his family. He eventually recovered to a point where he was able to do less strenuous work. He wasn't physically fit to work on the section gang after his injury but his new job as a watchman was less demanding but against his will he was forced to relocate from Illinois to Indiana because his seniority would not let him hold a job any closer to home.

According to my Dad, his adopted Mom was a kind hearted heavy set lady who loved and always cared for others. She died of a sudden heart attack while washing dishes at the kitchen sink. She called out to my Dad for help while he was at home in the living room when she slumped to the floor. He came into the kitchen and found her lying on the floor under the white cast iron sink but she couldn’t be revived no matter how much he tried. He was only thirteen when she took her last breath.
My Dad eventually joined the Navy at age 17 and became veteran of WW- 2. He served in the pacific theater on the “U.S.S. Wake Island” as a steamfitter. His ship nearly sank twice as it was hit by the Japanese kamikaze war planes. He told how he could see his own personal foot locker floating out to sea as his compartment was completely destroyed. In his voyages at sea my Dad traveled to Bombay and Calcutta India, and Cape Town South Africa, Morocco, Casablanca, and through the straights of Gibraltar and Spain.
Many times when I would sit at the table with my Dad and discuss things that concerned me about events in this world, he would reassure me not to worry because as he would say, “God cares for us and is still on the throne”. He always told me how “God was faithful and how he always provided and protected him throughout his life”.
One thing that I am confidant about my Dad was that he prayed for me and my family every day of my life.
One time I went up stairs into his bed room and saw him kneeling at the side of his bed praying. When he sensed that someone was in his presents, he quietly stood up and went about his business as though he didn’t want to take any praise for praying so others could see him.
On the floor next to his bed were two well worn spots in the finish on the floor where it actually dipped into the finish of the hardwood oak floor. It was the pattern of my Dads knees from kneeling over the years while he prayed.
While I was a young lad my Dad had became a pastor after attending Moody Bible institute in Chicago Illinois where he also met my Mom.
My Mom was also an example of being determined to serve the Lord and to keep our family in order. She never seemed to wear out even though we as kids put her through every possible test.
In the summer time when I was young we had lots of kids that would come over to play in our back yard. My Mom decided to turn this opportunity into a “good News vacation Bible school” to tell them the good news of Jesus. Many years’ later people would reminisce with her and recall her efforts in evangelism and they were grateful to her for exposing them to the truth about who Jesus was.
I’m not sure how she keep up with our family and all of it’s demands, such as feeding us three times a day, the mounds of laundry, demands of school, a large garden, teaching Sunday School, church events and keeping our home clean will always be a mystery unless you first consider the fact that Christ gave her real purpose and strength to carry on. To this day she has the pure white hair of an angel all of which she rightfully earned.
Together my Mom and Dad had dreams of serving the Lord through full time Christian service. They wanted to be missionaries to Africa or India but those doors never seem to open. Instead my Dad eventually took a position as a pastor at a church in Michigan where they lived in a small log cabin. As time progressed they moved to Bremen Indiana where I was born. Later we moved to Huntington Indiana where the next 16 years were spent on Swan Street which should have been called “liquid Lane” because of all the alcohol abuse and self induced poverty which was common. The night we arrived in Huntington someone had busted out the windows in our house. My Dad notified the police and asked what kind of a neighborhood was Swan Street to which they replied, “It’s what ever you want to make of it”. Little did we know what to expect in the years to follow.
Most of the neighbors worked in factories such as the Majestic Company, Orton Crane and Schact Rubber(which went out of business), Caswell Runyon(which burned to the ground in 1962), the Erie railroad(which went out of business, or the Wabash rail road.
Swan Street and surrounding neighborhoods were areas where you couldn’t help but become street wise because of the way of life and culture in a menial class of society.

"State Street School k-5

2009-05-16T21:24:00.000-07:00

At “State Street School” all the teachers were women including the principle. On occasion some of the teachers openly argued and physically fought parents who came to school and stood up for their kids and openly disagreed with the way they were handling their children. The kids who witnessed such horrific events went ballistic by becoming unruly themselves and responded by jumping out of the windows, throwing erasers at each other while the teachers were in the class rooms. Kids would fight and bully each other on the way to and from school. One day as an example; my oldest brother had a run in with some school school punks who thought he’d try out his new leather boots on Dan’ s face. The kid should be thankful that my brother didn’t have a gun. He would have killed him on the spot. Dan was my hero and I always looked up to him even as a kid. He had the confidence, the passion, the drive, the brains and the Ideas. He was always one step ahead of all of us.
Then there was me, who for one was not comfortable with sitting still in a class room setting. I was the one who was willing to take risks, easily distracted, gullible, naïve to reality, a right brain thinker and at the same time believed everyone and everything that I was told except for the Easter bunny and Santa Claus. I was the Tom Sawyer and the Huckleberry Finn all wrapped up in one.
I enjoyed my childhood and was never bored unless I was in school being forced to keep up with the teacher’s demands to learn things that I wasn’t sure of its future value in for my life.
After all, who cares about a noun or an adverb let alone a predicate when there are creeks with crawdads and green “soft shell leather back turtles” to be caught and tree houses to build. I have always thought that if the teacher would simplify things by bringing and in frog or a turtle and let us hold it and write about it , it would have opened up a whole new approach to learning biology, math, science, animal husbandry, and responsibility that I could have personally related to.
The problem was for those boys who were raised by their mothers as “girly boys” who were allowed to play with baby buggies and dolls because their moms wanted a girl, would not have been attracted to the basics of life such as getting dirty, collecting bugs, turtles and frogs, snakes, birds and or building an awesome underground fort.
Evidently I had a lot to learn, so off to school I marched at age five to learn from people at State Street who didn’t know how to teach even though they had a degree in education.
I always thought it was interesting how an individual could go to 12 years of school, four years of College then graduate and get a job teaching in the same school system without ever having to work out in the real world and function in the general society to see how practical education was applied.
From the “get go”, I did not like my first grade teacher or my second grade teacher who was known as “Miss Allen”. She just so happened to be the same person. As they carefully explained it, “There weren’t enough school teachers for each class, so a few of us who were in the second grade had to be in her first grade class learning second grade information because of the abundance of the “baby boomer kids”.
I distinctly recall Ms. Allen had it in for me and our personalities must have clashed from day one. There were those times when Miss Allen actually made me sit under her golden oak desk while she taught the class in front of the black board. She always had a way of making me feel worthless, unwanted and alone and It wasn’t unusual for me to feel rejected and humiliated in front of the other kids as she made sure that I felt like I didn’t rate.
My Mom however, who saw potential in me didn’t buy into the teachers misinformed conclusions and went to bat for me by attending the parent teacher meeting. Ms. Allen would try to sweetly explain how I wasn’t learning as fast as the other children and how she might have to keep me back for just another year if I didn’t progress. My Mom firmly explained to her that it was her responsibility and duty to teach me since she was “the teacher”. Evidently it didn’t set too well with Ms. Allen, because she never once had a word of encouragement for me.
I recall one day someone brought in some chocolate cupcakes to celebrate their birthday. For some reason while eating mine, I scratched my head to relieve an itch. Evidently, in the process of scratching my head, some of the crumbs that were stuck on my fingers tips became lodged in my hair (what ever!!!!!!!! I was only 6 ears old !!!.
When we were finished eating our snack, Miss Allen had us all line up at the class room door to go to the restroom to wash. Then to my surprise her eyes locked on mine and she glared at me and with one motion she snatched out at me and jerked my arm and dragged me over to the classroom across the hall.
She pointed at the crumbs in my hair to the third grade teacher in front of her entire class while they too were all lined up at the door.
She said out loud with a stern voice with her fire engine red lipstick lips “Look what I have to deal with”! I was so humiliated that morning that I learned to despise her. From then on learning from her was an impossible challenge (I had lost all hopes of respect for her for ever).
One of the problems I still have with the public school system to this very day is that your “personal folder” goes with you to be read by the next year’s teacher. If you have an issue with one teacher such as a learning disability or personality conflict, or a tendency to scratch… that information travels with you behind the scenes for ever and ever until you graduate. It’s all about each teacher’s perception and assumption based on what the last word was and not necessarily what the truth is or was.

The Balancing board"

2009-05-16T21:23:00.000-07:00

There was a time we all marched off in single file to the gym. When we arrived we had to do what ever the teacher told us to do, such as take off our shoes so they wouldn't scratch the floor!!
We were told to touch your toes, touch the ceiling and wiggle our fingers and run around the gym single file 10 times. Of Course there were those who cheated and cut corners so they would be first in line at the "balancing board".
The balancing board consisted of a well worn dark green 2" x 4" x 12' turned on its side that had two boards nailed under it to hold it up. The balancing board was located up on the stage of the old 1800's brick school house near the thick velvet burgundy curtains that hung on both sides of the stage. Some of the kids would hide in the curtains until they were yelled at by the teacher that no one liked.
We convinced ourselves that if you fell off the "balancing board" we would get wet and the alligators would bite us. Everyone played along just because it was the thing to do.
As little kids this was quite the challenge to make it to the other side as we held out our little arms as far as they would go to help in the balancing act, as we carefully took calculated steps. When we made it to the other side we looked back in awe and we even anticipated that our classmates would show some short of sign of approval such as a heartfelt hand clap or a "yah hooooooo great job!!!!!!!; For those of us who were just common kids no one seemed to care if we made it at all.
However, if you lost your balance and fell off the board the teacher was quick to remind you of your inability to perform which made you feel like a fool and a failure in front of all the other kids in the class. I would relive the event during the day because of its challenge and soon realized that this was serious business and that I too had to make it across in one try.
Many years have come and gone and it dawn on me today that nothing has changed from those moments back in the 2nd grade. We still experience the balancing boards of life such as making it through college, getting through the holidays without going broke or working at a new job, paying our taxes, mortgages, and all the bills that eat us alive every month. Or perhaps dealing with those who manipulate our time as they put us through a little routine as they sit and watch us struggle and they remind us of our failures. Sometimes we even expect a good hardy clap from those around us as we think back and tell our stories of survival.
I have found that when a person is going through the balancing act of life such as tragedies or difficult times it is important to come along beside them and encourage them in the Lord and to help them out in what ever way you can and cheer them on as they attempt to make it to the other side.
As believers in Christ we have been commanded to help the unfortunate and to pray for one another. My perception is not to be too quick to suggest consul or Christian programs when they have immediate needs such as food, clothing or transportation. As we go through the “balancing board experiences of life”, is important because it builds our faith in Christ.
I have also found that if we loose our balance or sense of direction and sometimes fail to meet the expectations of others around us, we can be assured that those burdens can be laid to rest at the feet of Christ and He will never leave us or forsake us. What a wonderful Christ we have as our teacher and friend.

Being stumped

2009-05-16T21:22:00.002-07:00

At 8 years old my parents were invited to a church friend’s home for a Sunday diner. They lived on a farm and had pigs and cows that roamed the woods. On the back porch they had a loaded pump BB-Gun lying on the floor which I picked up and took out into the woods. While on a walk through the woods I came upon a herd of pigs.

So as most adventuresome young boys would do, I decided to try out the BB-Gun and I shot a couple of them in the back side to which they began squeal. Then to my surprise they all turned around and started to run towards me, the source of their pain!!

The faster I ran, the faster they ran after me, until I saw a gray rotted stump of a cut down tree in the middle of a clearing and managed to hop on top.

The interesting thing was that these little pigs had a united front and surrounded me on the stump with their front legs propped up at the base of the tree. As I stood there the sun began to go down and it began to get dark in the woods. The hogs remained watching me intently with their wet snouts as they grunted at me.

Fear began to set in as I did not want to be eaten by the swine!!!!. As I looked at them I decided it was time to fight back. I took the end of the barrel and slowly stuck it into one of the nose of the most aggressive hog. As I squeezed the trigger he hog made a loud scream and ran off. Then I shot another and soon they all got the picture and ran off squealing and grunting together leaving me alone. I was then able to hop down off the stump and run back to the farm house just in time to leave for home.

Then one day i came ac cross this article about pigs that i could'nt help but take note of:There was a chemistry professor in a large college who had some exchange students in the class. One day while the class was in the lab, the professor noticed one young man, an exchange student, who kept rubbing his back and stretching as if his back hurt. The professor asked the young man what was the matter. The student told him he had a bullet lodged in his back. He had been shot while fighting Communists in his native country who were trying to overthrow his country's government and install a new Communist regime.

While telling his story, he looked at the professor and asked a strange question: "Do you know how to catch wild pigs?" The professor thought it was a joke and asked for the punch line. The young man said that it was no joke.

"You catch wild pigs by finding a suitable place in the woods and putting corn on the ground. The pigs find it and begin to come everyday to eat the free corn. When they are used to coming every day, you put a fence down one side of the place where they are used to coming.

"When they get used to the fence, they begin to eat the corn again and you put up another side of the fence. They get used to that and start to eat again. You continue until you have all four sides of the fence up with a gate in the last side. The pigs, used to the free corn, start to come through the gate to eat that free corn again. You then slam the gate on them and catch the whole herd.

"Suddenly the wild pigs have lost their freedom. They run around and around inside the fence, but they are trapped. Soon they go back to eating the free corn. They are so used to it that they have forgotten how to forage in the woods for themselves, so they accept their captivity."

The young man then told the professor that this is exactly what he sees happening in America. The government keeps pushing us toward Communism/Socialism and keeps spreading the free corn out in the form of programs such as supplemental income, tax credit for unearned income, tax exemptions, tobacco subsidies, dairy subsidies, payments not to plant crops (CRP), welfare, subsidized housing, school programs, medicine, drugs, etc. We continually lose our freedoms, just a little at a time.

We should always remember two truths: There is no such thing as a free lunch, and you can never hire someone to provide a service for you cheaper than you can do it yourself. If you see that all of this wonderful government 'help' is a problem confronting the future of freedom in America, you might want to send this on to your friends.

If you think the free ride is essential to your way of life, then you will probably ignore this post. Heaven help us when the gate slams shut!

Forts

2009-05-16T21:22:00.001-07:00

Forts played an important roll in my life as a child; I built them when ever and where ever I could throughout the neighborhood and from the attic to the basement. I’m not sure why I built them but they soon became a place of refuge. It was a place for me to hide and a place to ponder and perhaps to dream. As a family, we lived on the east end of Huntington. My Dad always thought it was rude that everyone referred to our area of town as the “East End” , while every other area was referred to as the “North Side” or “South Side” of Huntington!!

Swan Street started on one end with a city park and the Wabash a Railroad and at the other end, was State Street and the Wabash river which caused the basements to backup with sewage when the floods came in the spring time when the ice thawed.

“The Crawl space fort”

2009-05-16T21:21:00.002-07:00

“The Crawl space fort”, the first fort that I recall building was located in my parent’s half basement. There was an area on the north wall of the concrete basement that was dug out in the dirt which was big enough for a former oil tank. That area to me was the perfect area to hide out.
In this dirt crawl space I used discarded metal refrigerator grates to give the illusion of a caged in room to which I would sit on the inside. I would stay in my fort for what seemed to be hours and I would light several candles and watch them all glow. On occasion my brothers and sister would come down and sit with me and be entertained by the creation and imaginations of such a secluded area in our small house.

My brothers had a glass gallon jug of cider that they made which they kept tucked back in the corner. It had a wax paper on top secured with a rubber band to keep out the dirt. They would put sugar and yeast in it to make their own brew. It looked interesting but when it smelt like vinegar none of us had the guts to drink it.

As I would play down in that basement I can’t recall what all I did or what my thoughts were but it was my way of having a place to hide. It was also a place of solitude and a place to be alone.

“The Railroad fort”

2009-05-16T21:21:00.001-07:00

“The Railroad fort”, not too far from my parent’s home I made a fort out of old discarded skids and cardboard boxes along the Wabash Railroad tracks. I would go there on my way home from school with a friend of mine named Robert, even though my family did not particularly care for him. Robert and I had a lot of fun because he too was another “Tom sawyer” type and we both enjoyed life to it’s fullest with adventure.

Roberts parent’s house was so filthy and piled with trash inside and out, that mice ran freely in the kitchen and in the living room. They also owned a pet monkey that would bite. Robert had his tonsils in a jar on top of the Television.

One day Robert was excited as he told me that he had just discovered spring of clear drinking water which was seeping out of the hillside along side of the street. He said it tasted sweet but I refused to sample it. Later we found out that it was actually a sewer pipe that had broken. Anyhow, this fort had a cardboard floor to cover the dirt and in the winter I used them to cover the skids to keep out the cold wind.

One day we spotted a railroad bum there and I became too afraid to return for fear of the unknown danger. A couple days later I saw him sleeping on a piece of card board next to a maple tree in the park which was next to our house. I felt sorry for him not having a place to stay. I wanted to do something for him so I made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and took him my Bible. I knew that Jesus cared for him and He could change his life for the good. He thanked me and assured me that he would read the Bible. As I rode away on my bicycle that morning I felt really proud of being able to tell someone about Jesus.

“The under ground fort”,

2009-05-16T21:20:00.000-07:00

“The under ground fort”, which was built on my paper route and I would go there when I had a moment to spare. Because of my wondering nature I would get distracted from delivering news papers and would end up at the fort. The fort was located down by the river on the South end of Swan Street Just across the road from Freeman’s Market store, near a creek that ran off from Lake Clair.
I dug a deep and wide hole and carefully laid logs and branches over the top, and then I covered it with sod and dirt.

To get into the fort, there was a small trench like cutout which became the tunnel into the main area which became totally dark and full of spiders and webs.
Soon my neighborhood friends (Robert, Billy, and Ronnie and some kids I didn’t know) found my hiding spot and we all would meet there and discussed our intentions of making a raft to float down the river.

One time Robert and I got upset with each other down at the underground fort when he said that he was the one who build the fort with his friends and not me. He and I got into a small “turf fight” which consisted of shoving and exchanging a few half hearted punches. He fell down and landed on his back on a stick that was pointing up out of the dirt. He went home crying claiming that I stabbed him with a knife. The word spread throughout the neighborhood that we had a knife fight and that I stabbed him.

As time marched on the rains came and the muddy river began to rise until the fort filled in. The logs slowly lifted and floated on down stream as the mud and sod filled up the spot that I spent so much time and energy that past summer. This became memory that the flooded Wabash River took away from a young boy who had adventure tucked in his veins.

The Tree Fort

2009-05-16T21:19:00.002-07:00

“The tree fort”, was one I built in my parent’s back yard at age 11. We had a fairly large “Box Elder” tree next to the stone alley that had two white rocks on the curve that circled the back yard. My Dad placed the rocks there to prevent people from driving on our yard.
The tree was a perfect spot for me to be creative. I pounded railroad spikes all the way up the side of the tree as a way to climb up into the little trap door on the underside of the floor board which allowed me to gain access. The trap door opened on two hinges and it had a metal handle that I bought with paper route money (I’ll discuss paper routes later) that I skimmed from my profits. I figured that if I collected ahead I would have extra money which I did until it caught up with me.
My Mom was pretty keen on how much I should bring home each week but when it wasn’t there she’d insist that I explained the shortages to which I’d give a lame excuse ( I lied).
The tree fort had a white linoleum floor which was as cold as ice and slick in the winter as snow would blow in through the cracks of the walls. The fort had a hole in the roof which I boxed in and made into a look out tower. In the summer it was the fort where neighborhood kids played cowboys and Indians and cops and robbers. In time, the old tree had so many nails in it that it eventually fell over with a thud and died.

The Fort in the woods

2009-05-16T21:19:00.001-07:00

The Fort in the woods, happened one Sunday afternoon when I was invited to a friend’s house that I had met a church. Kim Snowden and I were truly best of friends. He had my grandmother’s collie dog which she gave him when she became too old to take care of it. We looked up to each other as we explored the streams and woods of his grandparent’s wooded farm. We had so much fun as young kids do; adventure was the order of the day.
Then we had the bright idea to visit his aunt’s house and scrounge for some rough sawn oak lumber in the barn to build a fort. We couldn’t build it fast enough as we cut the boards with a hand saw and pounded nails as fast as we could sling the hammer. I recall taking a good slice out of the side of my hand as the saw ripped off the flesh. I was so pumped that I didn’t care and didn’t want to quit until it was time to go. I just let it bleed until the blood dried up and then it stopped. It felt good to continue right up until it was the moment to leave and get ready for evening church service. Years later I saw the fort was still there as I drove by and craned my neck to get a quick glance of that one long ago Sunday afternoon.

The Attic Fort, was located on Jefferson St. in our large two story 5 bed room home. The attic had steps were steep and took you straight up into a dim lit open attic that had two light bulbs that hung from an old cloth wrapped cord at each end of the space.

In the summer months it was so hot up there that no one could dare to tolerate, however in the dead of the winter you froze with unforgiving bitter cold temperatures. I could actually see the traffic below through the windows at each end and would feel on top of the world while up there rearranging some of the items which were in the attic. One thing was a three foot steel milk crate that I draped a flag over the top. It sortive resembled a military casket. Then I put Plumes from the front yard flower bed on both sides of it and it became my imaginary viewing area with antique Ball canning jars, 1800’s commode pot and lid, old license plates, photo’s and a variety of unique memorabilia.

Later in life, I got to thinking about “forts” and how they apply to life. A fort allows a child to hide, to look out, and to observe the world from a distance while safe inside the walls of you’re imagination. With a fort you can control your own space, where as the minute you step outside you expose yourself to the world and everyone observes you for who you are.

As an adult I’ve created rooms with collections from my travels throughout the world. These rooms are somewhat my modern day hiding places that I share with everyone. I've built forts for my kids and sat with them as they dream of space ships on count downs or pirates on voyages in their own back yard.

In life we have the “railroad spikes” (strategies) which we have pounded into our daily lives to make it to the top of our successes.

We have created the trap doors to gain access to our own worlds of imagination and observation towers, however the floods come and wash it all away and it all caves in around us and becomes a memory good or bad. Then we become inspired to build yet another one only to find out that we put too much into it and our efforts have killed the structure that held it up and it eventually falls over and dies.

In the scripture we find that Adam and Eve decided to hide in the Garden of Eden because they had sinned. But God knew all along where they were and yet it was their way of running from Shame.

Perhaps at Ten years old, I too may have become aware of my own sins. Then I found it natural to find or build hiding places to avoid being exposed.

I Believe that being alone for a season is a good thing for each of us. It’s a time of quietness and solitude which allows one to think and to ponder who we are and what life is all about and it’s a time to reflect and to pray and to come closer to God.

I’m not sure if there will be forts in heaven. But Jesus said “I go to prepare a place for you, so that where I am, there ye may be also”. Jesus is a truly a fortress. He’s is a hiding place in the time of storm even though our outside is cold and exposed. He has a way of allowing us the comforts of inner peace and happiness and a place to hide and to be alone.”

2 Samuel 22:2
And he said, The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer;

Psalm 18:2
The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.

Psalm 31:3
For thou art my rock and my fortress; therefore for thy name's sake lead me, and guide me.

Psalm 71:3
Be thou my strong habitation, whereunto I may continually resort: thou hast given commandment to save me; for thou art my rock and my fortress.

Psalm 91:2
I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.

Psalm 144:2
My goodness, and my fortress; my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield, and he in whom I trust; who subdued my people under me.)

We crawled under the train

2009-05-16T21:18:00.001-07:00

Living on Swan Street meant that you lived on “the other side of the tracks”. Many times we had to wait for the Wabash Railroad train to move on so we could get to school on time. Then there where times that the train had over 100 box cars, coal cars and chemical cars and the train would slow down and come to a complete stop. It would shut off its engine until the Erie Lackawanna train crossed over at the junction near the Majestic Furnace Company.

We knew we were going to be “tardy”, so we would have to stand there and wait and freeze our butts off even if it was below zero. Most of the kids had not choice but to wait. However my brothers and I decided that if we went under the center of the box cars we could get to school on time.

We knew that the train would sit there for awhile and when the engineer was ready he’d blow his whistle before he started the engine. Then with one big yank the engine pull the box cars and you could hear each unit yank on the next one until the entire train began to roll.

Being “Swan Street wise” was helpful because we felt safe enough to make our move and slip under the center of the huge steel box cars, on many occasions.
One day on the way home the Cross watchman from school spotted us going under and promptly reported us to the principle. We were called in for the main course verbal chew out and for dessert we got a paddling.

Even though we’d occasionally walk on the rails and pickup stuff or see a decomposing animal that didn’t make it. We could always see the train coming and then hop off the tracks at the last minute. It was really no place for kids to play, but I guess they had our interest in mind because at our age of 10 or 11 anything could have happened.

I recall one of our neighbors who lost her life to the train. She was drunk one afternoon and tried to beat the train to get home. The second her car made contact with the train engine it ripped her car apart and promptly drug the twisted steel down the tracks for about a half a mile before it came to a full stop. In the process she lost her life through decapitation.

I distinctively remember her because she would scream at the top of her lungs at her kids every day in the summer and tell them to “get out of the _# # # #@$ $ @ * *!!!! refrigerator or to get out of the _# # # #@$ $ @ * *!!!! peanut butter”!!

All day she’d smoke, watch soaps on TV on the modern 1960’s orange couch and drink as she had one nasty mouth and bad attitude for a frazzled skinny boned mom.

Another older lady at the end of the street with white hair had only one arm (which was always exposed) as a result of another train accident.

She lived in a little faded light blue trailer next to a junk dealer named Dale Reed, where we would take our scrap aluminum metal and he’d give us 15 cents and we’d think we were rich.

I found that Living near the railroad tracks was a good place to learn a few common sense street lessons real fast. Playing on the rails you learn the impact of reality and you soon realize that the mass of steel really doesn't care about your name and Ignoring warning signs only puts you in a position of failure or one step closer to standing before your maker.

The old Mans Hat

2009-05-16T21:17:00.000-07:00

One day as I walked down the sidewalk on the way home from grade school I saw an old man sitting on a metal folding chair next to a tree watching all of us school kids as we passed by his used furniture & junk store. Thinking that I’d be cool in front of my friends I flipped off his hat as I ran by him. He yelled out at me, as he picked his hat up off of the brick sidewalk.

That night however, we as a family all sat around the super table eating and then one of my older brothers began to inform my Dad what happened on the way home from school. What I didn’t realize was that my brothers were right behind me and witnessed the entire episode. I tried to deny it by saying that I accidentally bumped into the old man.

I can’t remember for sure what happened after that but I do recall that I went back the next day to meet with the man and I had to apologize to him. My Dad didn’t seem to believe my story and he always had a way of figuring me out. My Dad knew the old man and he knew all of my brothers because they had delivered news papers to him.

I eventually figured it out that many times as we deal with real life situations such as these we make quick decisions to do dumb things. There was no reason for me to knock off the old mans hat, but I guess I wanted some approval from my friends, or to lie about it because of fear of getting into trouble. This was an example of how pride came along and took me for a ride. Trying to lie out of it was like being picked up for speeding into a dead end street. The more you lie the more of a trap you get into. My wise Dad knew that I lied and the old man? Well he was happy to see that justice was served after I offered an embarrassing apology.

He pulled the fire alarm!!

2009-05-16T21:16:00.000-07:00

It is true that bad company corrupts good morals and on this one day I found out that I was no exception to the rule.
As I was walking home from school one afternoon, I said to Robert my friend, “I wonder what would happen if someone pulled the fire alarm on the telephone pole”? Just like that Robert went over and said, I don’t know, let’s find out”! So he yanked on the lever which broke the piece of glass and the alarm was activated!!!

Just like that we started running as fast as our feet would carry us and soon we began to hear the fire trucks screaming towards us. Then I stopped and said to Robert, “we shouldn’t run away from the fire alarm box, we need to walk slowly towards it because someone will see us and report us”.

So together we agreed to go back to where the trucks were going. By this time the crowd had gathered around the alarm box the firemen concluded that it was a false alarm and so they packed it up and went back to the fire station.

All went well until the next day when Robert and I were promptly called into the principles office and we were both questioned by the Principal Mr. Dean and then spanked with a wooden paddle. Evidently Robert had told some of his buddy friends what had happened and the word spread like wild fire. It really didn’t matter that I personally didn’t pull the alarm but it did matter to the principal that I was in the company of the perpetrator.

Making Faces

2009-05-16T21:14:00.000-07:00

In the sixth grade the teacher Mrs. Aide’s Husband was a circuit court judge for the city and every once in a while when someone got out of hand in her class she would hold court much like her husband.
On one occasion, I heard a noise behind me and I promptly turned around to see what was going on. The kid right behind me (Marty) held up his hand in class room and said, ”Mark Phenicie is making faces at me”!! Then everyone in the class laughed out loud and I knew I was in big trouble!!
I never liked Marty because his mannerisms were effeminate. He even lived in a pink house that had a fence around the front yard and Mark and Marty were not allowed outside the fenced area. His twin brother Mark, were the teacher’s pets from as far back as I could remember, I couldn’t figure out what the attraction was.

Well, the teacher immediately called me up to the front of the class and asked in front of everyone if I was making faces to which I said “no”. So she announced that: “court was in session and anyone who witnessed it was to hold up their hands”. The entire class raised their hands, even the kids in the front row of the class held up their hands and they couldn’t have possibly seen me. It was at that point I knew that it was just not my day!! Either I was going crazy or they all wanted to see some action.

For punishment she took a poll and the result was that I had to make faces for the entire class and if I stopped I would get a paddled. So I smiled and twisted my face a couple of different ways and then I quit. Wham!! Went the paddle!!

Man, this was so wrong and stupid at the same time! So each time I stopped she hit me with the paddle again Wham!!!, Wham!!! and again Wham!!! until I started up with the faces. This went on several times until she finally gave up and told me to sit down and shut up and pay attention.
Sometimes I’ve wondered how these types of injustices get settled when in the scripture God tells us that “vengeance is mine says the Lord, I will repay those who harm you”.
It should be noted however that later in life this same kid who falsely accused me of making faces at him grew up and actually became a school teacher himself in the same system and was later convicted on several counts of child molestation to which he went to prison.

The Old Brown House

2009-05-16T21:11:00.002-07:00

There was once an old two story brown house which so happened to be directly across the street from ours, it was the constant center of attention in our neighborhood. Because of the influx of tenets in the home, there were no hard feelings when someone abruptly left and moved on down the road. The tenets would typically come from Kentucky & Arkansas and would get jobs in the neighborhood factories.

The house was referred to as “the old brown house” and it was always in need of repair. It was in a constant run down condition with tall un-mowed grass and weeds and had windows that were totally busted out. The only thing our house had in common with there’s was It had a “burn barrel” . Their barrel would smolder all day with the constant foul smell of burning raw garbage and clothes and if you watched long enough you would see a large rat or two scampering around the base of the rubbish on the ground looking for some food.

Ironically many of the neighbors became instant friends with who ever moved in to the old brown house and it was almost like long lost friends and relatives were reunited at last.

The House had a simulated brick asphalt siding which was ripped in some spots and you could see the bare gray boards and studs with no insulation underneath.

The Landlord so happened to be a tall white haired lanky lady who was approx 80 years old. She was a mystery to everyone as she would quietly work to maintain her house. She had several of these rental properties throughout the city limits and would rent to the hillbillies or white trash which basically qualified her as a slum lord. She minded her own business and lead a quite life as she would make the necessary repair’s all by herself.

One Saturday morning I personally saw her casually walking across the top of the ridge of the house slinging a bundle of shingles down as she roofed the entire house with a hammer and nails all by herself. She didn’t seem to have a fear of heights as she would walk across the ridge as though she belonged up there. She drove an old faded black Buick which functioned as her utility car. She’d pull ladders off the roof of the car, paint cans out of the trunk and concrete blocks out of the back seats.

In our neighborhood common names used were Peanut, Libby Sue, “Bang Bang”, Mildred, Ronnie, Billy, Don, Daryl, Bernie, and Linda, junior, Candice, Dick, Robert and the list goes on. Most of these people were hillbillies, white trash and common factory folks who drank and played together and pimped their daughters at the local bars on market street such as the “Tip top café”, “The Erie Smoke house”, “The Bell Café”.
on Friday nights most of the bars were hopping with dance bands or jute boxes blaring and loaded with factory workers lined up for a drink at the counter like animals at a drinking hole in the middle of nowhere.
It was a common scene early in the morning to see or hear a drunken Dad coming down the street with a loud car muffler trying to make his way home. When he got near the old brown house he’d get out and would pass out on the busted concrete front sloped steps of the old house. Then the mom would come out and smack him with a broom and curse at him for “spending all the money at the bar”!!!

I recall one cold winter night about 3: AM, the Dad at the old brown house was so drunk he tripped and fell into the snow face down and laid there until someone in the house came out and drug him in the front door. There were times when they’d make it home and sit in the car with the engine running, radio blaring until someone would come out and shut it off or it would run out of gas or stall.

As a typical pattern, Mondays the kids would skip school, Tuesdays the truant officer would show up to ask why they weren’t in school. Wednesdays the Salvation Army would arrive with arm loads of clothes because the renters claimed they didn’t have any clothes to ware.

I recall one boy name Bernie, who lived in the brown house that was my age. He sat next to me in school which was in the back of the class. There were several silver painted cast iron radiators behind us along the wall and they would clank and generate enormous heat to the point that it would put you to sleep. However Bernie stank so bad from not taking a bath that his odor was like smelling ammonia which kept my eyes wide open.

One time which I’ll never forget was a hot summer evening and a lot of emotions were flying around between the “tenets” and our family. They’d call us names and throw stuff at our house such as pop bottles or trash. Linda the oldest daughter came over and spit into my brother Nathan’s face and called him a “retard”.
Naturally this did not set well with my brother Dan who became enraged and grabbed a chrome sweeper wand from the broom closet and chased her down. There was a horrific scuffle and scream as Dan beat her face in with the wand until she got away. He had bloodied her face, and challenged her blaring foul mouth, screaming, clinched fisted, hatred filled fat body.
Then they called the police on us and the neighborhood turned into screaming red lights turning and squad cars slamming on their brakes as they lined our curb and theirs.

After the dust settled the police left and the tenets reassured us that they’d “get us back and kick our butt’s”.

Later in the fall Linda chased me down the back alley, tripped me and commenced to rub my face in snow. She was much bigger than me and I got the idea that she somehow didn’t like me either. Snow actually burns when rubbed in your face to which I’ll never forget that sensation.

Another time we heard a crash and they came over and busted out the head lights of my Dads car with pop bottles. I can’t recall what happened but the Hillbillies just had to make their point when ever they could.

They took everything

2009-05-16T21:11:00.001-07:00

One Sunday afternoon after church we arrived at home via the back alley and my mom gasp and began to cry…. The neighbors had stolen her entire garden!!!! They took it all. Every plant was gone and not even a trail was left except for a couple of bean plants through Jessie Smiths back yard could be seen. Jessie was our neighbor next to us. He allowed the neighborhood kids to hang out in his house and they would yell at us through his bathroom window. His house had gray simulated asphalt brick siding and there were two cherry tree’s in the back yard which he allowed us to eat from in the summer.

Another Sunday after church we found all of our bikes stripped down to the frames and lying next to the garage as they had stolen the tires, handle bars and seats. We never did find who did it, because “they did it”.

Then one day the hillbillies moved out and we had been away at a thanksgiving dinner at my Grandmothers house. We all had paper routes so we had to come home early. We brought our cousins with us and took a tour of the old brown house that was left wide open. The first thing I recalled was the stench of urine in every room. While on the tour I took a sledge hammer and busted he toilet and tub into pieces, the banisters on the steps were busted out and the kitchen sink destroyed by the time we all left. We casually left “The old Brown House” with a feeling of winning the battle …. It was a year before anyone ever moved back in. Eventually the house was torn down.
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The Oil drum that cried for help!!

2009-05-16T21:10:00.002-07:00

Late one summer night when I was laying in bed with the windows open for ventilation, the neighborhood was quite even the neighborhood dogs were asleep. Suddenly I heard a dull “boom!!!”, and then someone cried out in a deep voice, “Hey Mooooooooark” !!!". Then my brothers laughed and told me that it was our neighbor Dick, who lived 7 houses down the street on the same side who was a known alcoholic.

In the summer time, Dick would get so smashed on hard liquor that he would stagger outside and aimlessly wonder around his yard until he got to the north side of their painted green house. Then he would lean against the fuel oil tank and pound repeatedly on the side of the tank like it was a drum with his fist and call out for his son Mark to come home. Mark was usually inside the house.

Dick also had a dark brown, long haired dog on a chain leash that would bark his fool head off at anyone who walked past the back of their house. One day when I was walking along the alley in back of the property I spotted a small red turtle in his yard that someone had painted its back bright red. I walked over into the grass and picked it up and took it home.

Evidently while the dog was barking at me, Dick saw me in his yard. Later that night, he came to our house drunk and reported to my Dad that he thought I stole his dog house which came up missing. Obviously he must’ve been hallucinating because I was just a little kid who didn’t have the capability to move anything of that size.

I do recall that when the turtle wouldn’t come out of its shell I sat it down on our side walk and decided to tap on its back with a ball peen hammer to see if I could encourage it to come out. I accidentally cracked its shell which eventually caused it to die. It was my first turtle, and at the time I was too young and ignorant to understand that it was their nature to hide in their shells when they sensed danger.

Dick would quietly pace around his yard like a bored animal in a cage. If my memory serves me right he was only about 35-45 years old when he went blind from alcohol poisoning.

Being that my Dad was a pastor and had a heart for the lost, he would occasionally take the time to talk to him in the evenings about the Lord as they would sit together on our front porch ledge.

His wife was a believer in Christ and would also pray for his salvation and a change in his life. Later on I was told that Dick finally turned his life over to Christ and became serious about his condition and position before the Lord; eventually he regained his vision to the point where he could navigate without help.

I couldn’t help but equate Dick’s situation to the little turtle that someone had painted bright red. No matter where the turtle went in the neighborhood he was marked and could not take off the red paint unless someone took the time to remove it. Everyone knew that Dick was a marked alcoholic man that everyone noticed as he would cry out to his son for help in the middle of the night.

For many years if anyone would approach him he would withdraw and hide much like the little turtle that sensed danger. What he didn’t realize was they were trying to befriend him and come to his rescue because they cared. What I have observed about God is, He has a way of allowing us our freedom to go until all of our earthly options are depleted.

Sometimes the physical damages of our sins are so devastating that we become as helpless invalids only to realize that we have finally reached the end of our rope and that we need to look to God for help. When we examine the destructive lifestyle that we have pursued, we soon realize that we are broken and we have to become dead to our sins through the blood of Jesus Christ who forgives and heals.

Someday I hope to see my ole neighbor Dick in heaven to tell him that I didn’t take his dog house but his little turtle was instrumental in telling others about the Lord Jesus Christ. It is Jesus who took the time on Calvary to go to the cross to take the burden of sin off of our backs. Although we are broken in our sin only he can heal the wounds and set us free.

School Buses and Us!!

2009-05-16T21:10:00.001-07:00

Down the alley from our house was this mechanic who’s name was Dean. He was a school bus mechanic contracted by the city maintain all the buses in town. He had at least 20 of them lined up in a row every day and it became somewhat of a playground for us kids. Then one day my brothers found that the doors could be pried opened and we all helped ourselves to the first aid kits with all the bandages and tourniquets and emergency gear such as flares.

Naturally it wasn’t long before my parents picked up on it and we had to take it all back and apologize. Dean was level headed about it and was forgiving and brushed it off like it was no big deal

Illegal dumping

2009-05-16T20:58:00.000-07:00

One summer day while on my paper route, I was peddling my bike along the back roads of Huntington. I had one customer that was about a half a mile past the Texaco and Marathon Gas stations on the corner Broadway and State Street. There was a new bridge there that crossed over the Wabash River.

On this one occasion I decided to go a little further out into the countryside past my customer’s house, which was out of the way to checkout some new territory. As I peddled my bike I spotted a pile of colorful red bags of unusual rubbish next to a tree off the road about 40 feet.

Being that I was easily distracted by such a find, I rode up to the pile, got off of my bike and started to look through it not realizing how dangerous it could be. The truth was that I had stumbled onto an illegal dump site all from the Huntington Hospital which contained medical supplies such as used needles and syringes, surgical scissors, specimen glass slides and other non- descript items of trash. Then I carefully scooped up some of the interesting items and took them home for play.

Although this site was captivating to say the least to a young kid of 10 or 11, some fool hearted person had deliberately taken it upon themselves to ignore all the disposal rules and regulations for the sake of a quick buck. They deliberately trashed up the countryside which could have put an entire community at risk. This dump site could have been a source of spreading an unusual cocktail of viruses or diseases such as Hepatitis, or Tuberculosis, or fill in the blank as it could have contaminated or caused a sudden death.

Fortunately nothing happened to me but my parents questioned me about what I brought home. They made me get rid of all of it, as they warned me to stay away from such places.

I have found that there are many forms of illegal dumping, one of which is gossip. When people have entrusted each other with important information, it needs to be carefully gathered up to the listening ear and properly disposed of by taking it to God in prayer or by keeping it in confidence until something constructive can be done.

However, when people are irresponsible and intentionally take it upon themselves to ignore all the rules of God for the sake of personal gain, they put individuals as well as entire communities at risk by being the source of spreading a cocktail of confidential information.

Then there are those who are adventuresome and come upon such dump sites (violators) and are exposed to all of the fascinating pieces of information. Then they gather up some of it and take it home to play with only to be the new source of spreading the contamination to innocent bystanders who may not know what they to are about to be exposed to.

Fortunately there are those who are mature and can spot the danger of what has been brought home to play with, and gentle reprimand and warning to stay away can be diplomatically administered. God has labeled gossip as a sin and therefore it needs to be avoided at all cost because of the damage it can cause to others.

The bird that should have died

2009-05-16T20:57:00.000-07:00

An elderly couple who were customers on my paper route had a canary and decided to give it to our family for my younger brother Nathan. They knew that he was mentally handicapped and wanted to be compassionate towards him.

The canary was enjoyed by everyone and it brought a lot of joy into the house as it would whistle to its hearts content.

As the winter months arrived the bird became cold and died and lay lifeless on the newspaper at the bottom of the cage. There were tears throughout the family because we all loved the bird and it had become part of the sounds of our family in our home.

My Parents were sympathetic but told me it was time to wrap it up and put it out in the burn barrel because the ground was frozen and would be too hard to dig and bury.

On my way to the burn barrel I decided to get a shovel and clear off some snow in the garden area and try my hand at digging a hole. As my shovel hit the dirt it made a thud and wouldn’t make a dent. Eventually I got a chisel and hammer from the garage and I slowly made a hole big enough to bury the bird wrapped in toilet paper and buried it in a mayonnaise jar.

As summer time arrived I remembered that I had buried the bird and began to think about it once again. The more I thought about it the more it became a renewed interest to the point where I decided to go and dig it up and look at it. I figured it would still be just as had left it, all wrapped up and clean but, well, perhaps I could hold it and then rebury it some place else near the house.

It took a little while to locate it and then my stick hit the jar and I dug it up. As I cleaned off the dirt on outside of the jar to look in, I notice that there was brown liquid in the jar and that the bird had turned to fluid, feathers and water. Still I had to go one step further and I had to open the jar to see it closer.

I carefully unscrewed the lid knowing that it wasn’t going to be pleasant and the wind caught my nose and almost made me gag to death with the smell of rot. I then realized that it was truly dead and that I needed to rebury it. It was no longer the pretty bird that I had once known that would whistle the day away.

Sin is like the dead bird. Sometimes we think about the lure of the fun of the world and the attraction that it once was. We know that through Christ we buried it because we were dead to it. But then one day we decide to dig it up, revisit the same sin and check it out to see if it was really that bad. Sure enough we find out that it was worse than ever before.

The Gas tank exploded in his face!!!

2009-05-16T20:56:00.000-07:00

Ronnie Martin was a good friend of mine. He and his brother Billy were good friends to have. They lived behind our house just across the alley where we freely crossed into each others yards and houses to play as we would explore the neighborhood together. Then one day Ronnie had gone to the junk yard about a block away from our house which consisted of neighbors who would park their discarded cars until they rusted into the ground.

There were several of these old abandoned cars that littered the hill side that lead down to the run off creek from Lake Clair, near Baldwin hill. Ronnie evidently was checking out the cars as we often did. We would open up the doors, climb inside and pretend to drive them as we would jerk the steering wheel back and forth and make engine noises with our mouths to dramatize our play. We could barely reach the gas peddle. We’d open the glove boxes and snoop around as we played like we were driving. One time I opened a glove box only to discover a bumble bee’s nest. I got stung in the face as I clawed my way out of the car and ran home looking for sympathy. My eyes were puffed up until they closed and I got lots of attention from everyone that saw me.

Ronnie however one day decided that he wanted to know if there was gas in the tank of an old 1950 Pontiac.
So he lit a match and took off the gas cap. Then he carefully held it next to the hole to look down inside the tube when to his surprise the gas tank exploded in his face and caught the car on fire.
\
Ronnie was by himself and I’m not sure how he got away but he showed up at home with third degree burns over his entire face and chest.

Several days went by and he came home from the Huntington hospital and I was given the “ok” to go over to see him. As i walked in Ronnie lay motionless on the sofa in his parent’s living room, his face was charred and his face was covered with Vaseline as he struggled with the pain to talk. He seemed happy to see me even though i couldn't stay for long because he needed his rest. So for the summer Ronnie watched TV as his face healed the best it could even though it seemed as though he would wear the scars for life.

Trash Can diplomacy

2009-05-16T20:54:00.000-07:00

As a kid in school there were those who always had to show who was the boss and would push their way around the crowds just to be in charge of “what ever”.
Doug was one of those kids that was big for his age and would come up to you and knock your books out of your hands, then as you went to pick them up he would shove you to the ground and kick you in the ribs. He made his point no matter where you met him, he just didn’t like you.

One time he saw me on the paper route and would chase after me and put a certain fear in me and I never trusted him.
One day I noticed that he had a friend that tagged along and together they would terrorize me by throwing rocks at me or knocking me off of my bike.

This hillbilly behavior continued until one day on the way home from school I spotted his friend who was alone and was starting to approach me as he made it known that he too wanted a piece of the action. As he approached my blood pressure began to increase as I clinched my fist in defense of my own space and honor.

I recall it was a cold damp foggy winter day and there was snow melting into puddles. The sidewalks had ashes from the coal furnaces sprinkled on them to provide some friction to keep you from falling down. Then as he shoved me I stood my ground and wrestled him into the wet ground below us. I was so upset with him and the adrenaline began to kick in and pump through my veins. As we fought I could see that my efforts were beginning to pay off. So I beat with my fist until I saw a trash can and lid next to the spot where he and I were making life difficult and settling our differences.
Then I grabbed the galvanized lid off the can by the handle and used it as I smashed him over and over again!! His coat and shirt where dripping wet when we called it quits and he cried as he ran all the way home. His Mom later on stopped me on the paper route and asked why I beat him up and ripped his shirt.

I really didn’t have a prepared answer for her accept for the fact that: “if he ever attacked me again I’d do the same thing all over”. After that I never saw him again. But as for Doug he too left me alone even though the glares and stares continued when ever I saw him.
Years later I saw him on the street after I had graduated from Marine Corps Boot camp, I couldn’t help but laugh at him because I knew I had finally gained the upper hand.

In the scripture It says to “resist the devil and he will flee from you, and to draw nigh unto God and he will draw nigh to you”.

I can’t help but realize that we are approached daily by Satan, he wants us to fail and he wants a piece of the action. He wants to smear us in the face of God. However we too can win these battles when we see Satan tempting us as he approaches. We can stand firm as he pushes us and fights with us. However with the full armor of God we can resist his aggression. Once we see how the Power of God is with us we too can gain in confidence and fight the good fight knowing that defending ourselves against the wilds of the devil will cause him to flee.

Once a Marine always a Marine

2009-05-16T20:53:00.000-07:00

January the 19th 1971 was a day I’ll will never forget as I made my way to the third floor of the Huntington Indiana court house to meet with the Marine Corps Recruiter.

I had it in my head for the past two and a half years after my brother Dan, a scout sniper in the Marine Corps was wounded in Vietnam at age 20 on Dec 7th 1968 during the Meade River Operation, this is what I wanted to do and there was nothing that was going to stop me. I was now 18, and on this day and I decided to step forward and enlist in one of the finest Military organizations in the world, The United States Marine Corps. It was one of the best decisions I had ever made.

I felt right about my decision and without any reservations I took the pen from the recruiter and signed up for three years of service. I felt that two years was like sticking your toes in the water, but enlisting for three years was like jumping in with confidence.

The recruiter himself could have tried to discourage me but I still would have joined. I had signed up on a 180 day delay program which allowed me to complete my High School obligation and to graduate.

I remember walking home to tell my Mom the news of what I just did. As I entered the house she was standing in the dining room and without hesitation I told her what I had done. The room became silent and she gently placed both of her hands on the maple drop leaf table and she slowly lowered her head as tears began to flow down her cheeks.

I know I had bewildered and perhaps disappointed my Mom but it was an obstacle that every parent eventually has to work through as time marches on even though I meant no harm to her.

July 18th, High school graduation was over and I was now in San Diego, California standing on the famous yellow foot prints at MCRD as a Marine Corps Drill instructor was bearing down on us while we were getting all of our hair shaved off. Shortly afterwards we stripped off all of our “contaminated civilian clothes” and sent them home to our parents.

As new recruits from all across America we made our way through those sacred doors and began the next nine weeks of grueling challenges to undue our civilian’s ways and mindsets and to be reprogrammed as a disciplined “leatherneck”, “jar head” fighting machine. The Corps! OOOOOOOORah!!!

I could go through all minuscule details of my experience in The Marine Corps boot camp but only a few fun moments stick out as humor such as;

Private Caneberry

2009-05-16T20:52:00.000-07:00

While in boot camp the drill instructor told me to guard his office until the platoon got back from the mess hall. So while he was away I spotted a card file on his desk and opened it and looked under the letter P for Phenicie. Sure enough there was a 3x5 card in there with my name on it. So I read the comments which said I would graduate and that I would make a good Marine but needs to be more aggressive. Wow, both good news and a little need for improvement news!

A week or so went by and like everything else It’s not every day that opportunities stand out to a point where you instinctively react to what is before you, but the drill instructor blurted out a command that we had five minutes to “clean the head and get on the road for chow”.
We all ran in the rest room and began the clean up process of the sinks, urinals, and toilets, mirrors and floors.

My job was the sinks and mirrors, so I grabbed the cleaning gear and started the process. Then all the sudden I spotted this nerd of a guy leaning over “My sink”, close to “My mirror” popping his zits!!! As I approached him I told him to get away from the sink and mirror because we only had a limited amount of time to get outside. He refused, I shoved him, he coward and said, “leave me alone” as he raised his hands to defend himself. So I punched him in the face as hard as I could and with one blow he fell to the floor and banged his shaved head on the tile and was out cold!!!

Just then some one yelled, “Sir Private Phenicie just killed Private Canebury”. I had never seen someone out cold and my heart began to race.

The Drill instructor leaped into crowd and knelt down beside “the Prive”. Then he slowly looked up to me and said, “Well private are you ready to go to jail”? I just about went into shock. Then the drill instructor slapped the little pimple face and said “Caneberry, get up”!!!!!

Then to my surprise Caneberry inhaled with a scratchy snore like drawl and began to breathe once again. As he got up, there was a print of the tile floor on the back of his shaved head that remained there for about two weeks. The Drill instructor screamed, “get on the road for chow”. From then on I had acquired a new elevated respect.

“Yehth Thur”

2009-05-16T20:51:00.002-07:00

When ever you leave an isolated world such as Huntington Indiana, and expose yourself to a world of diversity that you can’t help but be ah struck by some of the humor and weird stuff that comes across your path.

As an example one Recruit in our platoon, “Private Olivera” had a speech impediment and could not say the words “yes sir”, instead he would say “Yehth Thur!!”. On top of that he was bone skinny and had ears that were extra big and stuck out extra far from his shaved jar head.
Olivera and I got along pretty good and were no threat to each other. However, one very hot day our platoon was out on the Parade deck marching. It was so hot that as you marched the asphalt would pop like “bubble rap”, our drill Instructor was obviously aggravated at our performance.

All the sudden he gave the command “Hippity Hop, Mob Stop!!!!!!!!!! , Left face”. For the next few minutes he chewed us out as spit flew out of his mouth, then he’d yell, “is that clear?”, to which we all screamed “yes sir”!!!!!! Then he’d scream, I can’t hear you”, to which we’d scream louder “sir, yes sir”.

It was at this point I had heard “Private Olivera ” scream “Yehth Thur!!”. So for humor sake, I had it in my mind that the next time the Drill instructor yelled ,“is that clear”, I would mimic the same as Olivera’s “Yehth Thur!!”!!!

As I was listening intently for the right moment, it finally arrived and I thought I heard him say “Is that clear”? So I screamed at the top of my lungs “Yehth Thur!!”. The problem was no one else yelled.

Evidently I was imagining and anticipating the command to the point where I prematurely responded. Then like in a slow motion movie he was standing in front of me as all eyes were full of fire as he focused on me.
I was caught and for the next hour I had to “get off the parade deck and do push ups with my rife, then stand up and put my rifle above my head over by the steel Quonset huts”!!!!!!.

Down, out and up I went until I thought “man this is soooooooo dumb”. So I took the M-14 rifle by the barrel and pointed the rifle butt in the air to the left as the drill instructor marched the troops to the left, then to the right as he marched them to the right. I was having a little fun and taking a calculated chance until someone smacked me in the back of the head. As I turned to see who it was, I was staring in the face of a tall Black drill instructor who questioned, “where in the #@#@##@ is your drill instructor puke!!!!!!!.”

All the sudden things got real nasty when he went out to the parade deck and said something to my drill instructor. It was like a bomb exploded and all the sudden all the Marine recruits were marching towards me and didn’t stop until they were all running in place in the sand pit. There I joined them and for the next three hours all 80 of us did every thing from making it rain with sand, push ups sit ups, scream, and dig holes.
Being that I am a visual person I saw it all and every once in a while some money or valuable such a finger nail clipper would drop out of somebody’s pocket. I’d pick it up and stick it in mine. It was my way of diverting the pain and dealing with the punishment. In the end everyone was so filthy and wore out and yet no one said a word.

Burnt Veal

2009-05-16T20:51:00.001-07:00

After returning from the rifle range on one Hot day, our platoon marched off to the mess hall as everyone was tired and a bit on edge. So like every one else this good ole Indiana boy made my way through the mess line to get some grub. Just then a Black Marine slammed a piece of burnt veal on my stainless steel plate and said to me, "There honky is a piece of your ASS"!!!!
So I yelled back at him and said, "doesn’t Look like white ASS to me.. It looks more like Black ASS!!!
Then like lightning striking a transformer on a telephone pole, I saw four black servers coming around the food table after me with knives and steel plates. Just as fast I quickly jumped out of line and to my surprise a drill instructor stood in front of me and grabbed me and told me sit across from him to eat.
As the offended backed off and watched from a distance I couldn’t help but wonder what was in store for me.
As soon as I was done the drill instructor told me to go out and stand on the parade deck and keep my mouth shut. Soon every one emptied out of the mess hall and got into platoon formation. Soon we marched to the barracks as the drill instructor shouted out his commands. When we arrived at the barracks I herd, "platoon halt, left face". As we stood there the drill instructor proceeded to say, "we seem to have a private PHENICIE who is a racist!!! In my defense I yelled back, "Sir that's a lie!!! He yelled back, "shut up"!!
So from then on I was dubbed as a racist but I also gained a certain respect for talking back at the drill instructor which is something you never do. It wasn’t long before I graduated from basic training that I participated in several barracks fights from Marines who couldn't let it rest.
I loved the part where everyone was fighting as mop handles and buckets were used to beat the crap out of each other. The drill instructor appeared in the squad bay and blew the whistle and the entire barracks was full of Drill instructors.
No one got in trouble. Well I guess it was obvious that we had learned how to fight! Love ya all!! Black or White we were all young and dumb and itching to fight! Come on Man, it doesn’t matter what color you are, just learning how to kill the enemy!!! And if it makes you feel better I love veal but not Burnt!!!

Black Eyes

2009-05-16T20:50:00.002-07:00

It was announced that we were headed for the range to observe how to fire mortars.

When we as a platoon arrived at the top of the hill side there were several telephone poles in a row lying on the gravel ground for us to sit on. In front of us was a valley which you could see for miles to which the Marine Corps had place several tanks trucks and jeeps for targets for us to observe.

Then the instructors proceeded to show us the accuracy and power of a mortar. It was quite the blast and they were good at carefully hitting the targets and blowing them apart.

As I sat there on the log the Marine recruit to my left nudged me and handed me a comic book. I thought, “oh my gosh”! I haven’t seen one of theses in years, and besides, as a kid my parents never allow me to buy them or have them. So I took it and carefully placed it behind my guide book for Marines because I was afraid to pass it on to any one else. I knew this stuff was forbidden in boot camp but as I sat there it wasn’t to long before the curiosity over took me and I carefully flipped through the pages to see what the big deal was. Well, as I turned the pages there suddenly appeared a shadow and two shinny black boots in font of me.

Then a hand reached down and slowly removed the book from me as I searched my head for an excuse to respond to his, “WHAT HAVE WE HERE PRIVATE PHENICIE”??? ……Get up Private!!!!!! ……

Then he called for the platoon guide to, “GET OVER HERE”
…….”SEEMS LIKE PRIVATE PHENICE IS MORE INTERESTED IN READING A COMIC BOOK THAN PAYING ATTENTION!!!

SO NOW, BOTH OF YOU WILL ASSUME THE PUSH UP POSTION (as he pointed to the stones below us), USING YOUR FISTS AND YOU CAN BOTH READ THE COMIC BOOK TOGETHER!

With that he tore it up into small pieces and placed a pile of shredded pages on the gravel and down we went into the pushup position. The lime stones of the road began to cut into our fist immediately (Man did it ever hurt!)!!! Then I decided to rest on one side more than the other and it cut in even more so.

As we both tried to endure the pain of the sharp limestone rocks cutting into our fist, the Platoon guide whispered to me, “you’re going to pay for this Phenicie”. For once I didn’t know what to say or think but I knew I was in deep trouble and had no way out.

Then the Drill instructor (after we began to squirm) told us to, “GET UP”! As we both stood there look’n naughty, he proceeded to tell the platoon guide to, “Take Private Phenicie behind that shed (as he pointed) and teach him lesson about reading comic books in book camp”!!!

So off we went, and soon we disappeared from the visual of the rest of the platoon, then guide said to me, “You Know I’m going to have to hit you”, and if you want to fight back you can”.

I said, “Yep”.

Then he ask “Where do you want it, in the stomach, arms, shoulder”?

I said, “in the face”(I figured if he hits me in the face it’s all bone and besides if he has the guts to dish it out, I had the guts to take it, and besides if he hit me in the face it would be hard to hide the abuse from the officers).

It didn’t take long before I went back and sat down. Both eyes grew shut and turned black and blue and I got the stares from the rest of the platoon but I had to maintain my composure like it was no big deal.

I had my picture taken for the Marine Corps boot camp year book for Platoon 2078 a week or so later, and it was clear that something must’ve had happened to “Private Phenicie”.

M-60/ 0331

2009-05-16T20:50:00.001-07:00

M-60/ 0331

In the fall of 1971 after graduating from Marine Corps recruit depot (MCRD) boot camp in Sand Diego California, I climbed aboard a green cattle bus with my green duffle bag along with 80 other jar heads all dressed in green fatigues. The diesel engine roared and we all sat quietly on green wood benches that lined the sides of the bus. The base quickly disappeared in the dust behind us as we were being sloshed back and forth for over an hour as we traveled up to Camp Pendleton to be trained as M-60 Machine gunners.

Several weeks had pasted and I finally completed the Infantry Training Regiment (ITR) and Basic Infantry Training School (BITS). I was now ready to put my new found skill of becoming a 0331/ Machine gunner into action. I was ready to be shipped off to Viet Nam where the invading North Vietnamese Army (NVA) and the Chinese Communist (Chicoms) would be soon tasting the impact of a full metal jacket 7.62 NATO bandolier of rounds being pumped into their rice feed opium bodies with high cheek bone faces with slight overbite teeth by yours truly.

I knew that I was ready, and willing, all I needed was the orders in my hands go.

In the school one of the requirements was to run 300 miles during the course of the training. Every night I would go out and stomp the pavement on the parade deck in my black spit shined boots and run the obstacle course until the sun went down. I finally racked up 300 miles and I weighed in at 155 lbs and not the 225 Lbs that I am currently known to carry.

In the Marines you learned to run every where you went. You name it we ran to it. I recall one evening after I had completed my run. I found myself catching my breath and at the same time admiring the vast beauty of the sky above me which boasted of millions of tiny bright stars, Just stars and no moon. I couldn’t help but realize that God was the author and creator of this vast display of beauty. I was just a dot who needed to place my life in his hands. I found myself talking to Him out loud as I stood there by myself. I told God that that no matter how far away I might stray from Him, I wanted Him to pull me back to do His will in my life even if it made me miserable. All I wanted was His protection and guidance.

MSG Battalion

2009-05-16T20:49:00.000-07:00

The very next day while sitting out on the bleachers in the hot sun with our platoon, our Gunnery Sergeant began to read off a small list of names. We were told that a legal officer wanted to talk to us individually. With my stomach pushing at my throat I began to review my past to see if something might have triggered such a request. Could it be that the 100 round bandolier of M-60 rounds that I took on the sly and shipped back to my friend in Indiana and somehow became exposed in the U. S. Postal system?

The gunny proceeded to tell us that we were selected for an elite assignment and that very few Marines could qualify and with a 30-35% attrition rate it is the highest drop out rate of any Marine Corps school.

Being that I admired the Marine Corps Officers, I knew I had to be attentive and on my best behavior. As I entered into the small waiting area with carpet on the floors I was joined by a handful of other Marines.

One Marine that stuck out in my mind was this slothful four eyed guy from Canada who slacked back in his chair and fell asleep while waiting for his turn to be interviewed. I didn’t bother to wake him up because if he didn’t care why should I. I concluded that the more that losers expose themselves, the greater chance I’d have getting ahead. When the Officer (a Colonel) called me in I realized the importance of the moment. I wasn’t going to miss out like I knew the other Marine had opted to do, buy being indifferent and slothful during this rare privileged opportunity.

The interview went very well as he asked me questions concerning national security, loyalty to the nation, family matters, and personal obligations and goals. A few days went by and I had orders to fly to Henderson hall barracks in Arlington Virginia which backed up to the Arlington cemetery. The school was a stones throw away from the Pentagon and just around the corner from the Marine Corps Memorial and tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
At 18 years old this was big stuff to me since I had never been exposed to the Diplomatic Corps of Washington D.C.

Henderson Hall was a barracks that was built back in the 40’s. It was the Head Quarters of the Marine Security Guard Battalion (MSG). There were so many cockroaches that had infested the building that it was just common knowledge that there were too many to fight so we lived with them. These roaches ranged from a half inch to three inches. If you squished one of the big ones you had to clean it up.

Everyday at Henderson hall was a calculated preparation for equipping us for becoming Embassy Guards. The training included time being spent at the State Department, weapons familiarization and qualification in Quantico Virginia, twice a daily physical fitness training, foreign espionage awareness and spy techniques, and a wide variety of specialty courses to prepare us for the world of secrecy and diplomacy. The transition of being trained for combat for 6 months and then the next day finding myself rubbing shoulders with the diplomats of our nation was somewhat fascinating and a challenge. I loved it and looked forward to my first assignment.

North Africa

2009-05-16T20:48:00.002-07:00

I received orders to report to the Marine Security Guard detachment at the American Embassy in Tunisia North Africa. I flew from Dulles International Airport in a thick snow storm in February. We had to wait on the runway in the jet for three hours before we started down the blind runway. Then it was off to Paris France. I recall paying a dollar for a Coke that came in a small cup which Back in 1972 that was an unheard of price. Then off to Naples Italy and a short flight over the little island of Crete and on into Tunis Tunisia.
This was a land of Arabic and French speaking people, colorful Nomads and Berber tribes. Tunisia was a land where the tanks wars were fought in WW-2. and as history explains it, Tunis fell within 36 hours and the campaign finished at Cap Bon five days later when the German Afrika Corps

turned around and all quarter of a million of them surrendered!!!!!!!!!!

Tunisia rest on the Mediterranean sea and has a rich ancient history of Carthage and the Roman empire. I had never heard of such a place but it sounded like an Indiana Jones adventure. Little did I know that it would allow me to bring home so many treasures and stories to tell. This first assignment truly reshaped my life and became a source of helping me to become educated in fine arts and ancient history as well as the world of politics, mercenaries, espionage and diplomacy.

The United States Embassy

2009-05-16T20:48:00.001-07:00

The U.S. Embassy is a protected place where the United States Government conducts its business in a foreign country and the actual property that it is built on is considered American soil.

People come from all over the world to the Embassy for a variety of reasons. Perhaps they come to apply for a visa’s to travel to the United States of America. Or people would come to obtain information about the United States etc. Several offices have been established to meet these needs. One is the U.S.I.S (United States information Services) and another is the U.S.AID (United States Aid for international development).

Officers of the embassy start with the Ambassador, the Deputy chief of mission (DCM), Post Security Officer, Political Officers, Economic Officer’s, The department of Defense (DOD), The consulate General, Secretaries and Phone operators, Janitors(Char force), there is the General Service Administration (G.S.A) and the logistics officers, duty drivers and the Marine Security Guards who were posted at the front door to provide an up front visible security force. The Marines are a security force that is present at the Embassy 24 hours of every day of the week, rain or shine.

As a Marine Guard at the American Embassy our job was to protect the Ambassador, the classified information and the property. We represented the United States of America and we were the icons to be observed. As we stood at attention for hours we became professionals at watching every movement of every person who stepped foot inside those gated doors. We carried a loaded firearm and occasionally fanaticized that someone would cause us to pull the trigger.

We had a translator who worked with us during the day shift to help if a visitor did not know English. Over a period of time I became somewhat friendly with the translator. He had a sense of humor, fluent in French, Arabic and English but he and was also a bit too inquisitive as he would innocently probe for information about the Embassy staff. He would ask the wrong questions and make probing accusations about the inner workings of the Embassy functions and the staff that were assigned there.

I was always good at perception and I kept a mental log of what was asked because I felt I was on to something. This guy could not be trusted no matter how much he would tell me jokes and assume his calculated questions and implications went undetected. Then one day I felt that I had a case, and I exposed him to the Marine in charge of the detachment who in turn had me report the information directly to the Post Security officer. Other Marines were brought in and were likewise questioned and came forward with similar stories. Quietly the translator was removed and assigned another less visible task in the car pool. He was very upset but they could not tell him why it was done. I was told he was actually a Spy for the Tunisian Government who reported to the Tunisian government as to who came to our Embassy from their own population as well as the political workings of our own Embassy staff.

Another incident that stood out was this college aged guy who came to the Embassy on a bright Saturday Morning. He walked slowly through the front door into our lobby. I recall he looked like death warmed over as he was dressed in dirty oily leather clothes and looked as if he came from a concentration camp where they starved the prisoners. He appeared to be humbled in his demeanor as he requested to see the Consulate General. As he began to talk I found out that he was an American who was just released from the Tunisian prison system and wanted to go home. He was one of the many unfortunate tourists who got caught every year, who just so happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. As the story unfolded He had helped a girl whose father worked at the Embassy to carry her heavy bags through customs check point at the Algerian/ Tunisian boarder.

Little did he know that she was using him as a human mule to carry her drugs through the check point where he was searched, retained and charge with drug smuggling. He told me of the life in the prison where every week someone was executed in the court yard.
There was only one or two prisoners who could speak English. The concrete floors were sloped to the middle of the room where you pissed and took a crap in the trough. Then you pushed your waste toward the next prisoner with some straw, who had to likewise shove it all on down the line until the last guy incarcerated had to shove it through a little hole in the wall to the outside honey wagon pulled by a mule. There were no beds just straw on the concrete. There was one window in the room which you had to be lifted up to see the executions in the court yard.

Naturally no one believed his side of the story so he was guilty. The staff at the Embassy seemed indifferent towards those who were caught drug smuggling and pretty much stayed out the punishment end of it unless bribes were possibly in line for getting someone out. What a trapped situation with no way out!!!

Another day I saw a lineup of three new aluminum caskets in the Embassy garage. After asking some questions I was told they were American Mercenaries who were killed working in the Congo and Angola wars. This was all in a day at the compound where the American flag flew proudly above the American Embassy every day, 365 days of the year. I know this for a fact because as a Young Marine on the night shift I would carry my folded flag up the back steps first thing in the morning, through a locked steel door and at 06:00 I would pause for ten seconds then walk to the flag pole and carefully raise the colors. Then I wrapped the rope tightly around the bracket at the bottom of the pole. Stepped back ten steps and saluted the flag. I learned to be proud of my country and the red white and blue as it flew so gracefully above my American Embassy. I was the Marine guard when no one was watching, who raised it and honored it with a calculated salute.

On one occasion out of the corner of my eye I could see the Soviets on their Embassy roof top watching me with binoculars. It made me proud to be an American.

When Ambassadors from different Embassies would arrive to visit our Ambassador, we always paid them the same respect as our own as they walked through those steel front doors. They would arrive at the Embassy in black limos with their national flags mounted on the bumpers, many times lead by motorcades of security forces.

On one occasion, late at night I was informed by phone after hours that Marie Shriver (who is she?), (daughter of one of the Kennedy’s) was to arrive and needed some medical attention. As I waited with all the doors locked and the embassy staff gone for the day, she arrived, I couldn’t help but note that her beauty was over whelming to me as I realized that had gotten use to the locals.

As I tried to compose myself she took over the conversation and requested a bandage for her big toe that she stubbed. As she propped up her foot on my desk she asked if I would assist her. I felt my heart beat faster and I wondered what I would have done if she needed CPR. After some small talk she thanked me and then left the compound with her driver.

I locked the Embassy doors and savored the moment for weeks. As I told my story to the other Marines I became an instant hero. Later in life Marie Shriver Married Arnold Schwarzenegger who was a world famous body builder and Governor of California.

I recall that when I had initially arrived in Tunisia I told some of the Marines that, “when these girls they were dating started to look good to me It was time for me to leave”. Marie was one who helped me realize that there really were better looking girls in the world and that somehow I had lowered my standards after a year in the desert.

Sometimes in the evening local telephone operators would call the Embassy just to chat with me. They wanted to talk to someone who knew English. One sounded pretty nice so after several calls I asked to meet with her at the open market. She obliged and we met on two occasions. She was some what shy, red hair and was French Tunisian. A short lived encounter but we had fun walking through the market place trying out her broken English.

The Marine House

2009-05-16T20:47:00.001-07:00

The Marine house was three blocks from the American Embassy and by today’s standards of security it was totally unprotected. We were so vulnerable that we could have all been wiped out without a fight.

There were five of us that lived in the Marine house which was in a neighborhood with the well to do. We came and went as we pleased as long as we showed up for guard duty at the Embassy.

We hired two servants, Mohammad and Moktar to clean our clothes and prepare food. Both of them would steal from us and we would threaten to fire them if they didn’t bring what was missing back to us. It usually consisted of clothing. Somehow the articles would surface and life would go on.

We knew that our servants were Muslims and strictly forbidden to eat pork.
So one afternoon while Moktar was asking about how it tasted it was our sign to get him down and stuff some ham in his mouth. Then he realized it had a good flavor and after that day he would sneak a chunk of ham when Mohammad was gone for the day. That one incident could have had us deported if the news would have gotten out.

TGIF

2009-05-16T20:46:00.000-07:00

The Marines had assigned tasks in the Marine house to keep us busy. Responsibilities included the preparation of food, cleanliness of the quarters and uniforms, being a bar tender which every Friday night the Marine house was where the Diplomats came to party, dance and drink. Since I made it known that I didn’t drink, I was told that I was the best candidate for the job as a bartender.

Every Friday night I would clean up the basement area for the party. I arranged for the music on a Sony real to real tape deck and cranked it up loud for everyone to dance. I would inventory the liquor and put the beer on ice. As the doors opened the people poured in and the diplomats brought in other guests which were usually other foreign dignitaries. Since I was behind the bar I herd it all and watched it all.

I was a good bar tender and the tips were great my goal was to have the best talked about party, get them drunk and stuff my pockets with their money.

The diplomats would quietly stand around cut deals with other dignitaries from other Embassies, exchange information and nervously drink and smoke like they couldn’t get enough scotch and nicotine in their veins. Their nerves were on pins and needles.
I’m sure they had a lot on their minds as they dealt with the world of politics and the reality of what was going on behind the scenes.

Wives of the embassy staff that would hang out at the bar and would pour out their hearts to me and tell how unfaithful their husbands were and five minutes later they would be dancing their butt’s off and in the arms of another man.

I heard War stories from Marines who had actually spent time in Vietnam.
One Marine who had too much Scotch to drink one night was a former tank commander in Vietnam, he told me they figured out one night that the Viet Cong sappers were slipping into the base as the tanks rolled in through the security gates under the cover of a massive cloud of dust from the tank formation entering the base.

One day they all stopped short of the second gate and waited for the dust to blow over. They had called ahead to lock the second entrance gate and the first as soon as they rolled in. They arranged for Marines to line the fence line for the big event. Trapped inside the fenced in area were 16 enemy combatants. They rounded them up and one by one dropped them off of the tanks and ground them into the dirt with the tanks until they could get a few of them to talk. This guy had no reason to lie and his medals where everything from Purple Heart, Combat- V to the bronze and Silver Star.

Mess duty

2009-05-16T20:45:00.002-07:00

Later on when we rotated to new job assignments I became in charge of the food for the Marines. One night after I got off from a night shift at the Embassy I opened the steel gates at the end of our sidewalk. There on the front steps was a little plop of rice which I recognized had been prepared that day. Then there was another as I went into the house and more and more as I went down the hallway to my room. There in front of my bed room door on the marble floor. The Marines had shown their disgust with the food that my servants had prepared for them and had scrapped their plates on the floor in front of my door as a sign of anger.

Tension in the Marine House

2009-05-16T20:45:00.001-07:00

Then there were occasional times of tension for those in the Marine house but for the most part we all stuck together. We had the Marines in common and respect for each other. However we had our moments which turned ugly like the night I was standing at the kitchen sink chopping up some carrots with a knife.
Then out of nowhere a blunt object was being pressing into my back and instantly I turned around and stuck my knife at the throat of a fellow Marine Sergeant who thought he would come up behind me and scare the crap out of me. As we stared at each other he backed off and said, “if you ever…… ( hesitation) do that again I’ll kill you!!!”. What was I to do? I was irritated at his response and his stupidity, ignorance, aggression, arrogance, and pride!!! . As I continued preparing food he came up to me again and as he went through a reenactment I too had the same response. Only this time, he tried to stab me in the back. As I turned around he caught the back of my arm and laid it wide open with a k-bar Knife which caused me to bleed like a stuck pig!!
That night I ended up in the home of an Arab doctor who stitched me up without numbing my wound. The Marine could have gone to the brig but he apologized and I decided to cover up the incident by saying that I fell down the basement steps and got cut on a mason jar. After that I gained his respect and we left each other alone.

Naturally young Marines have lots of energy and need an outlet for all of the training which had been acquired. As a past time some Marines drank, smoked and hung out with the local hookers in white veils that hid their faces until they got into the Marine house.
As for me I would hop in a cab and ride to the market place and intermingle with the Arab merchants. I tried out my Arabic words that Mohammad and Moktar taught me as I bartered and bought Rugs, brass, and various collectables to send back home in Indiana.

Cats!!!

2009-05-16T20:44:00.002-07:00

Tunisia was a land of stray cats everywhere. On an occasion we would feed the cats that roamed the neighborhood. We would place the garbage next to the house and then climb up on the flat roof with a huge rock. As the cats would eat we would quietly shove the rock over the ledge and target the cats below.

There were times we would take the recreation gear (archery set with razor sharp four prong tips) and hunt them in the streets at night. I recall one night where I shot at a cat and the arrow skipped across the street and missed the cat and stuck in a tire of a car. Immediately the tire hissed and went flat!!. Another time the arrow hit the cat and as it ran under a car. We could hear it clink clack clacked as it scraped the underside of the car. The cat screamed in pain and died.

It’s the Police!!!!!!!!!!!

2009-05-16T20:44:00.001-07:00

Another night while roaming the streets with our “famed archery set”, one of the Marines saw a slithering kitty cat on somebody’s front porch. Instantly we all went into chase mode as the cat ran for its life.
As it got away we could hear the residents yelling at us through the windows. We had reached a point where we didn’t care. Then about five minutes latter a half a dozen French made cars quietly drove by and parked down the street and turned their car lights off. Then like clock work all the car doors opened and men in trench coats stepped out.

My perception was pretty good as I concluded it was the police! I called out to the Marines in front of us that it was the “police” to which we all ran.
They pursued us in cars and on foot and we managed to out run them to the end of the street which was dug up and under construction. I recall jumping down into a trench and ran for about a block undetected, then all the sudden I was staring at a deeper hole at which I almost slipped into the city sewer!. I quickly clawed at the trench walls to avoid slipping into a flowing river of stench in a large black hole in the middle of the night.

I finally climbed out of the trench and continued to run from the police. I finally reached the Marine house and jumped over the fence and laid down for about an hour. Then I herd one of the Marines (Perez) call out to me from the bushes that all was clear.

We slipped into the Marine house undetected. Perez and I laughed our heads off. Then he told me that he caught a cat while hiding and it bit him on the hand. He knew of the risk so the next day he began rabies shots to which he was in pain for fourteen days.

By the time we left Tunisia we had bagged 34 cats. Even though we were out of line, I look back on the incident without remorse. When I was transferred to Vietnam I never saw a cat and maybe one stray mangy dog, they ate them and served them in the restaurants!

Wash my mouth!!!!!

2009-05-16T20:43:00.002-07:00

One day on the way out the door as I was headed for work at the Embassy, I told Moktar our house servant that the bathroom (head) was dirty, I told him to find a brush and clean around the toilet. After all, Five Marines and a dirty bathroom was not uncommon. He reassured me he would do his best. Moktar and I got along pretty good and I knew he liked his job.

That next morning after I arrived back at the Marine House after staying up at the Embassy on a night shift I decided to take a shower and jump in bed. The Bathroom was spotless and I was pleased with his desire to help. I brushed my teeth and began to gag as the tooth brush foamed up in my mouth.

I could tell it had been used to clean the urine around the base of the toilet. I couldn’t wash my mouth out fast enough as I was shocked and angered at the same time.

Later we finally got a brush just for the bathroom and I found out that a tooth brush was never herd of by the average Tunisian. Both Moktar and I survived but it was one of my first important lessons in communications.

Sidi-Bou-Zid

2009-05-16T20:43:00.001-07:00

There was a yellow train that went to the little Mediterranean town of Sidi-Bou-Zid.

This was a “city of blue by the sea”. There was a town ordinance that all buildings and houses be painted white with blue doors windows and trim work which was a beautiful site to see.

The presidential palace was also there over looking the Mediterranean Sea. One of the Marines and I (Bill Nace) decided to go snorkeling at the end of a pier. As I lowered myself down into the water I realized that I had just dropped into a school of octopus.

Hundreds of them were writhing below me which I was not prepared to deal with. As I frantically swam away from the mound of the creatures and begun to surface, I heard the crack of a gun and water splashing up a short distance from us.

Then Cpl. Nace disappeared and I soon realized that we were in a restricted area because of the presidential palace.

A guard in a trench coat was waving us away, as he fired at us. Cpl. Nace never surfaced and I was totally scared.

I finally got on the train and headed back to the Embassy to report the incident. As the train made its way down the click-ity clack-ity tracks I couldn’t help but think how close I was to death and wondered what I would say to the officials at the Embassy when I got back .

Then out of the corner of my eye I saw Cpl. Nace standing against the side wall of the train as we were returning to Tunis looking out the window!

Somehow he had slipped away and he likewise couldn’t find me. He figured that I had suffered the same fate as I though he had.
Chapter # 37

Bizerte

2009-05-16T20:42:00.001-07:00

Tunisia is an interesting country and lots of sights to see including the site of the Olympics which were held in the sixties. There were huge swimming pools full of green nasty algae water and over grown arenas and tracks where the games were played. I couldn’t help but wonder why we wasted our tax dollars on these people who didn’t value the same things we consider as normal life in America.

One weekend myself and another Marine (L/Cpl Gregory who said he grew up in Harlem), decided to camp out for the weekend along the Mediterranean sea port of Bizerte.

It’s known for its exports of cork, and a Tourist haven and a quite small beach. There really isn’t much of a shoreline except for huge stone boulders that line the shore at one end of the town and concrete pill box bunkers from the Germans occupation in ww-2. We couldn’t help but climb and explore the area as the sun went down. We decided to sleep on the rocks until morning.

Although it was uncomfortable we made it through the night as the waves bashed against the rocks around us. It truly was a dangerous area if you didn’t know what you were doing. Then the sun began to rise and we continued our exploration which to our surprise we realized that we had just camped out at the fence line of a military base.

Both of us were dressed in Marine Corps Green fatigues and carried an ammo box. I told L/cpl. Gregory not to look at the base and keep walking down the road to the beach. We both sat down and waited. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw an entourage of people being lead by a large woman with a determined look in her eye. As she approached us I reminded Gregory that we were probably in trouble and not to say a word.

Then they stopped in front of us and she demanded in perfect English to have us open the ammo box to which I complied. Inside I had peanut butter sandwiches, a tape deck and a cheep instamatic Kodak camera. Then she wanted to hear what was on the tape. I pushed the button and music played.

We were interrogated for about an hour and convinced them we were not spies for the U.S. government but rather two young naïve guys taking in some sights. We were told that before the sun went down we had to be out of town. We went into town and placed a call back to the Embassy and they sent a driver right away to pick us up. We had sat on a bench all day waiting and got fried in the sun in the process.

This was a case of a true misunderstanding, perception, assumption and ignorance all mixed into what could have resulted in a nasty international incident even though ignorance was no excuse of the law.

Nixon Haloof !!!!

2009-05-16T20:40:00.000-07:00

One Saturday morning while stationed in Tunisia, I had a great idea to get on a city bus and ride to the country side to an open market on the outskirts of the town Tunis. The Bus was sparsely occupied with Tunisian natives and me, the only white faced foreigner. As I rode I did not have any fear to speak of, nor was there any animosity being displayed towards me as a foreigner.

I took a few pictures out the window of some of the country side scenery such a goats and sheep grazing on the hills. As we got closer into the country I could see the poverty and simple ways of life become more pronounced.

Then the bus stopped, I had reached the market place to which I had paid my fare and I got off and began to meander around to some of the open tables and into the tents where junk and good stuff were all for sale. As I scrounged around my eyes caught a glimpse at a sword under a table to which I bent over to pick it up.

I soon realized that I was staring at a genuine American Civil war sword! The Merchant told me he had another one just like it, to which I was surprised. How could this possibly be? So we came to an agreement on the price and I bought them both for under $65.00!!

These swords were still in good condition and I couldn’t wait to get back to the Marine house and show off my goods to some of the Marines.

As I waited for the bus I knew that these people didn’t have a clue to what they just sold me. The swords were wrapped up in news papers so no one could see them as I stepped on the bus. This time the bus was full with standing room only.

As the bus started to move I grabbed a hold of a chrome pipe which went from floor to ceiling. All the seats were full and I was content to stand until I go back to my original destination. I was surrounded by Arabs all of which seemed to stare at me and then they would make a comment to each other in such a way that their body language indicated that I was a novelty to them. Then there was a young man in his early 20’s who just had to make a comment to my face. He said, “ Ah ha!, Nixon Haloof!!!!!!! Which means Nixon is a pig!!!!!!! This little Punk Ass just called my President, my Commander in chief a ”pig”!!!!!!. As a Marine with two Civil war swords in my hands I knew I was dealing with a smart mouth punk who needed a little adjustment. However I chose to return the favor and said to him, “No Bourguiba haloof !!!!”.

Habib Bourguiba (الحبيب بو رقيبة)

Then it seemed like there was total silence and like time stood still, except for the roar of the diesel engine of the double bus. Then the guy on the other side of me lunged at the throat of this little worm and began to choke him until he was loosing color.

As he squeezed the air out of him he screamed and shook him like a dog killing a varmint and I of all people could not believe that I was witnessing such a dramatic event.
Then without warning he shoved him away and turned to me and spoke in perfect English. He apologized over and over again and told me he totally under stood why I said what I did. I reassured him that his president was not a pig but rather an honorable leader and I meant him no disrespect to him.

The remainder of the ride was uneventful and to this day I still have my Civil war swords with a story to pass on to my children and grandchildren of how I rescued these relics of American history from a flea market in North Africa..

South Vietnam 1973

2009-05-16T20:39:00.000-07:00

After leaving the Tunisian airport with orders for Vietnam, the worst pounding head ache overtook my brain as our plane quickly lifted off at end of the runway.

The Tunisian customs officers had just tried to rip me off as they tried to over charge and intimidate me by saying my passport papers were totally not in order and I that I had to pay extra fees in order to board the plane!! As I sat there in my seat I said to myself, “if I ever come back here it will have to be with the first Marine division fully armed”.

I had to fly to Vietnam by way of Italy, because a direct flight to Israel from Tunisia would have been shot down as an Arabic airlines entering restricted airspace by an Arab country. The Italian airlines were the only way through to Israeli. As soon as our plane landed, immediately our plane was surrounded by jeeps and trucks with armed military personnel who boarded our plane, checked every ones passports and removed a few men who looked Arabic. Their wives began to cry out for their husbands who were literally yanked off the plane. Who knows what ever happened to them but they certainly did not get back on before we left.
Then to Bombay India where for the first time I saw professional beggars, hundreds of them all sitting in the airport lobby which stretched out was about as long as a half a football field. It was a pathetic scene of hypocrisy. The second I opened the glass door to this lobby a wail of moans and cry’s from this mass of Hindu people began almost as if it were a signal to perform to get us to empty out our wallets to them as they begged. The heat was unbearably hot and humid.
Thailand on the other hand was different, everyone who greeted us were friendly and professional, no begging at the airport, no groans just people working at getting us processed.

Saigon

2009-05-16T20:38:00.000-07:00

I can’t recall all the details except for the fact that there was a mass of confusion as hundreds of people were being processed both coming and going at the airport. After making my way through customs I figured I would get a cab and report to the Embassy. There were plenty of offers to give me a ride but when I started to go with one of the cab drivers an older Marine dressed in civilian clothes grabbed my arm and pulled me aside and said, “Are you Cpl Phenicie?” , “yes” I replied. He told me that he was from the Marine detachment at the Embassy and he was there to pick me up. Soon he and I were heading into the mass of traffic for down town Saigon.

From my perspective and observation the orient was completely different in every aspect. The people seemed friendly, non aggressive, passive, humble and innovative. Even the Girls were friendly and waved and smiled at us as we passed them by, whereas in Tunisia the down trodden mentality prevailed.

Saigon was a town of everything happening all at once, thousands of people like bumble bee’s swarming around the nectar of the business. It’s a small New York city with the traffic jams, rickshaws, cabbies, street vendors, open shops, beggars, hawkers, a thousand bars and ten thousand girls.

Saigon was a town of Loud music, Policemen on every corner, Soldiers riding around with rifles cocked on their hips waiting for someone to make a wrong move. Then all the sudden a door from a bar flew opened and two girls with butcher knives spilled out on the sidewalk as they screamed at each other, pulled each others hair and took stabs at each other. The crowds gathered cheered them on as people took sides. Soon they were handcuffed and hauled of by the Police as they were dripping with blood. Then out of nowhere a man rode up to us on a moped bike with his wife and two cute little children sandwiched on the seat behind him and said to me, “Hey GI, you like? I have number one wife, she veddy good for you!! She do anything you like, Ok? How much you pay?

I quickly got the idea that I had just arrived in sin city where hope had gone out the window on a fast moving train.

I arrived at the Embassy where I was photographed; finger printed and passed on to some of the other Marines who showed me where my room was at the Marine house on the corner of Tudo and Wing Way which so happened to be an old hotel three blocks from the Presidential Palace.
Naturally the Marines all wanted to know where I was from and all the small talk which is typical from people who you just meet and get to know each other. Within ten minutes I heard about every girl friend and bar in town, where to go and who to avoid. I heard about the life in the Marine house and what to expect, which were half truths and half exaggerations to sensationalize the reality of it all.

As I quietly shut the door to my room, I sat on the edge of my bed and I tried objectively process it all , only to realize that some day I’d be heading home but this forsaken rat race of a place would continue to be home to these people for years to come with or without us.

Just then someone pounded on my door and said “hey Phenicie open up”. As I pulled open the door it was a familiar face from Boot Camp, LCPL. King!! He was a thin handsome Black guy who always smiled. He was from somewhere in the States, and he was also a hot head to boot. I was always on his good side as long as I was careful with my words. The racial stigma was still there as he reminded me of the days in boot camp etc. After a few words he made it his job to inform the other Black Marines that I had a problem with Blacks back in boot Camp. A week later King pulled a knife and stabbed a fellow Marine for using his shaving cream with out his permission. Naturally for him it was “Off to the brig for ever”.

I was in Saigon for three months and thought I had seen it all. One day a desperate young Vietnamese man stopped me on the street corner and informed me that his father was rapidly dieing and he was in dire needed of American money to purchase a certain medicine from the pharmacy. Soft hearted as I was, I agreed to go with him down a hall way in a small arcade and then up some steps to an open area. Then out stepped three other Vietnamese guys with 45 cal. revolvers in their hands as they stood guard from a short distance over the situation. He took my money and exchanged it for a roll of his which he had counted out in front of me and carefully put a rubber band around it. Then with the slip of his hand he gave me another roll which contained less than a fraction of what I had originally exchanged. As we parted I didn’t have a clue as to what had just transpired until I was riding back to the Marine house in a cab and began to count my money to pay the cab driver. Unbeknownst to me I had just been ripped off!!!!!!!!!!

Another night some of the Marines had been drinking and someone pulled out an M-79 Grenade launcher and lobbed two rounds towards the Presidential Palace. Then the air raids sounded off and we were in lockdown mood. Every Marine had to drop what we were doing and grab our combat gear and get to our assigned post. We were told that Saigon was under an attack from the Viet Cong and were to prepare for the worst.

That night some of the Marines showed their true colors as they showed no signs of leadership or restraint as fear set in. To me it was a no brainier as I took charge of those around me. As the hype fizzled we all went back to our room only to find out the next day that two suspected Viet Cong were shot and killed near the Palace. Little did they know that a Marine who had his head screwed on backwards, caused two innocent civilians to be killed with out warning.
The next day I was called in and had to fill out a report on what happened from my perspective and I was later commended for taking charge of my post and the Marines around me. Unfortunately the guy who pulled the trigger on the grenade launcher went undetected.

Fear

One night while I was on guard duty in a remote area of Saigon at the U.S.I.S. building (United States Information Service), it was part of my nightly job as a Marine Security Guard to gather up all of the classified trash from the office safe and take it to the incinerator which was on top of the roof of the building, to be burned.

On this one particular hot muggy night when I made my way up to the roof top of the stairwell I carefully unbolted the solid steel door and stepped out into the dark of the night onto the flat slate tiled roof. As usual I propped my rifle up against the stairwell door frame. The door had a single dim lit light bulb above it and I could see my rifle in clear view while I burned the trash. The roof had a two foot ledge around the perimeter to keep you from falling onto the street below. At night it was a little intimidating to get too close to that ledge, because you get this spooky feeling that someone will sneak up behind you and shove you over to the street below.

One by one I stuffed in the grocery bag size containers of trash into the incinerators steel door, lit it with a match and locked down the door hatch. As a guard I was required to stay with the trash until the fire completely consumed everything to ashes. As I stood there waiting for the fire to do its thing, I heard a persistent dog barking on the street below. This was unusual because unless there is a problem, most dogs don’t bark at nighttime. Then out of the quietness of the early morning hours someone opened fire on me and the tracers flew past my head. Typically every fifth round is a tracer and without thought I flattened out on the roof top as the red phosphorous burning rounds fell out over the city. Instinctively I quickly scrambled in a low crawl over near the edge of the roof to gain additional cover from who ever was out to get me.

As I lay there motionless my heart began to pound uncontrollably as I tried to compose myself and quickly assess the dilemma that I was faced with. Next to the building that I was in, was a building under construction. It was a structure of steel girders with no windows or sides and it was obvious that a lone NVA communist sniper or Viet Cong or some mentally twisted individual was out there in the night trying to up the body count.

I didn’t dare move for at least a half an hour or so because it would expose my position and perhaps give them another opportunity to fire a round or two at me and finish me off. Then the dog stopped barking and everything was quite accept for a lambretta (three wheeled truck ) that drove through the back alley below. As I laid there motionless on the roof I could see a slight cigarette glow in the dark of the steel building. Someone was really over there and I concluded that if I could see them they could see me as well. I knew I had to make a move so I decided to low crawl over to the door. Then at the last second I jumped up and made a mad dash for the door and with one swoop I grabbed my rifle and bolted the steel door shut. I quickly descended down the stairwell into the middle of the building for additional safety.

As soon as I could compose myself I called in and reported the incident to the duty officer which was on the other side of town at the American Embassy. Naturally they wanted all the details to assess whether or not this was an isolated incident or if this was the beginning of something big such as an operation such as the TET offense. About a hour went by and a armored vehicle pulled up to the front of the building and the officer of the day informed me to keep away from all windows and doors and to report back every half an hour to give a situation update. As the morning hours began to approach and the sun began to expose the city, the streets began to quickly fill up with traffic and my shift was over.

For some this is a nice little bed time story that they can’t relate to but to me it was very much a part of the reality of the Vietnamese guerrilla war. You never knew who to trust or who had you in their scopes with an objective to kill you if they could get the chance. As I look back on this situation I often wonder how I could have avoided such an incident and how I could have overcome my fears that gripped me. The only thing I could conclude was that I just have to be thankful that it wasn’t my time to go. I had to conclude that God in his mercy decided to protect me from injury or even death even though I was in harms way.

We all have our stories to tell and the words we use have meaning to us as individuals because we went through that dark hour of despair. Every day God renews his mercy and grace and we likewise have opportunities to share how God cares for his own. Some day each one of us will face danger and no matter how much we prepare ourselves for the unknown we are caught with nowhere to go but to the Lord. As I lay on that roof that lonely night my eyes were drawn to the stars above me and I reached out to God for safety and his protecting hand. It was good for me because I hadn’t prepared for this event to make the war a reality.

Like David in the scripture he was alone in the wilderness as a young lad and faced the boredom of his everyday task of watching his sheep. As time went on he was faced with a lion and a bear to which he was able to fight and kill them. Then the moment came and he entered into the army camp to see his brothers and was soon informed of a real enemy Goliath. As he was able to assess the situation he was able to conclude that God had sent him prepared to destroy this enemy that everyone was so afraid of. Naturally we all face enemies of various strengths and magnitudes but as the enemy tries to harm us we can know with confidence that when the enemy comes upon us with sword and shield or bullets and bombs we can defeat them through the power of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

I wasn’t too long before I was called by the First Sergeant and told that I had a new assignment and I was to go to the Consulate General in Nha Trang but first I had to talk to the Major.

As I went into the Majors office he told me to sit down while he reviewed some of my paperwork. As he watched me he began telling me about a Marine that they had just transferred after they learned he had fun as a civilian killing rabbits and torturing them to death. Then a warning light bulb went in my head that somehow he must’ve found out about my cat killing days in Tunisia with the other Marines and was probing me for a reaction for what kind of a guy he was dealing with. As I listened intently I commented back that it was a shame that some weird people had to take it out on some innocent pet or animals. Then he complimented me for having my act together and recommended me for the transfer up to Nha Trang, which is two hundred miles north of Saigon.

Floating on the South China Sea.

2009-05-16T20:37:00.000-07:00

The shore line of Nha Trang in South Viet-Nam had some of the most beautiful powdery white beaches that you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Ship builders came here to build crude junks and fishing boats which made it so unique and photogenic. Viet-Nam was so beautiful it was hard to believe that this war torn country could be so inviting and graceful.

The constant foamy waves of salt water rushed up the beach and covered my feet just as fast as the soft white sand slipped out from underneath them while I stood staring out across the vast blue South China Sea.
Soon Sgt. Gary Barron and I, grabbed our inner tubes and threw them in the water and shoved off for an adventure he was from my home state of Indiana. Together Gary and I had this brilliant idea to paddle out to the island which was known to be occupied by the North Vietnamese Communist Army.

It was during a cease fire truce which was established and agreed to by Henry Kissinger and all those who were involved in the war effort. Our thoughts were to get as close to the enemy on the island to see if it would provoke them to take action against us.

As we paddled on our truck tire inner tubes we kept our eyes focused on the Island which we found out later was 15 miles out to sea. It seemed like hours went by and the depth of the water was a meager 900 to 1000 feet below us. It didn’t seem to bother us because reality was not an issue to be concerned with. After all we didn’t think that danger applied to us. We keep our eyes on the island which seem to grow in width from about an inch when we started out to about 20 inches across as we got closer.

Then out of the clear blue sky a strong wind began to pick up and the sky blackened to the point where it was literally dark around us. The waves began to get choppy and the reflection of darkened sky caused the water to appear just as black. Soon an eerie feeling crept in and I called out to Gary that I thought It would be best to turn around and go back at which we both agreed (Neither one of us wanted to be “hit by lightning”). What we didn’t know was that thunder or lightning in the tropics was very rare.

Being from the mid-west we were familiar with lightning but we weren’t familiar with the dangers of the sea. After all, what did we know about the ocean? Everything seemed like it was ok to be doing what we were up to. With both arms thrashing in the water and our legs were kicking we headed back to the shore line which seemed to take for ever. When we finally arrived we collapsed on the beach only to be showered by a warm tropical storm that lasted about ten minutes. Then the sky cleared up to the same bright blue sunny day when we started out.

Our under arms and legs were literally chaffed raw from the constant rubbing contact of the rubber from the inner tubes. As we staggered back to the Consulate General we told some of the Americans which worked at the Consulate what we had been up to only to get ourselves chewed out for taking such a “stupid risk”.

We didn’t seem to care because it was our nature to see if we could stir up a fight. After all that’s what Marines were trained to do. And besides, a month before Gary and I drove a jeep into Viet Cong territory and were met by startled young kids from the Viet Cong camp. No one fired on us and we concluded that the truce must be holding (So young, so dumb and so naive we were). That incident was daring and all in fun and I had once again made a memory which I could perhaps pass on to my future grand kids someday.

Then it was finally time me to return to the good ole U.S.A., it wasn’t too long before I was invited to see the latest movie with my brother and his wife. The newly released movie so happened to be “JAWS” . I asked what it was about and they informed me that it was about a shark and I’d like it, so I went along to see what the hype was. Soon the screen became a reminder to me that the little innocent inner tube event could have turned into a tragic nightmare of horror as we had not a clue what lay under our inner tubes on that day which fortunately went without an incident.

As time went on just for grin’s I looked up sharks of the South China Sea on the internet, only to find that there are over 90 different species. Also electric eels, sea snakes and man of war jelly fish. A visible sunken Japanese battle ship with its mast still sticking out of the water to this very day and it was a hangout for the ferocious occupants of the underworld.

As I looked back on that day, my life could have been snuffed out with simple strike of an unexpected shark. After all every year people loose their lives to some unexpected curious and hungry shark. Yes it is true we had our eyes focused on the island but we never had a clue as to what lurked just below the surface of that vast body of water.

You may ask what’s the point of all this? Well it’s like this, as I look back and reflects on some of these real life stories, I am reminded how In the scripture Job talked about God was everywhere. Where Job went God was there. God constantly looks out for me even when I make dumb decisions (not that I deserve such love but He is there with me).
I believe that God has a plan and purpose for each one of us even though we are naïve, and perhaps ignorant of our circumstances. So I face each new day, realizing that even though I may not know what lurks around me, Gods hands are constantly protecting, even if it means that he brings up a dark storm to distort the waters around us only to use it to provide cover from the predators who if given a chance would devour us no matter how tough and exempt we think we are from danger. “Thank you God for your constant Love and mercy and grace all of which I don’t deserve”.

Eating Live Lizards!!!!

2009-05-16T20:36:00.001-07:00

When ever a new Marine arrived at the consulate or Embassy, we did the usual introductions, shake hands and pleased to meet with you questions such as, “where are you from? What was your last duty station and what was your job (MOS). Rank was pretty obvious because it was on your uniform.
Then it was our turn to expose who we were and to show them around the quarters and the town, party a bit and tell what we were all up to as well. On this one occasion one of the new guys who was from North Carolina asked us if it were true that Marines ate lizards and snakes.
Naturally eating lizards was a challenge to us, and we had never discussed such a topic nor attempted such a feat. At this same time we were walking along a concrete wall beside us low and behold there was a light green lizard about 3 inches long bathing in the sun clinging to the wall!!! As we both spotted it,
Eating live lizards Gary Baron (a friend of mine from Indiana) said, “Yea we eat lizards just like that one”. Of course they wouldn’t believe it unless they witnessed it. To which I replied, ”they’re really not that bad, as I snatched it off the wall then popped it in my mouth! I quickly chewed it up as it squirmed and fought for its life. The tail was whipping around and my teeth crunched its bones as the guts hit the side of my mouth. Then the grand swallow and it was over!!!!! I did managed to gross them all out, but I had huge gains of respect! We all screamed ooooooooooooorha!!!!!!!!!!!!

Under construction

2009-05-16T20:35:00.000-07:00

Yes it’s true that in the heart of every man there is something that is deceitfully wicked. I was no exception to this rule because I too have had to struggle with the temptations of life that have knocked at my door. I too have done things that I have been ashamed to admit when my stupidity got the best of me. I can’t explain it all except that I’m still under construction as long as God allows me to breathe. I remember an incident when I was standing guard at a government building in downtown Saigon in Vietnam after the troop withdrawal. Late in the evening hours after everyone had gone home, I heard a crunching noise and flipped on a light only to see hundreds of cock roaches scamper for cover. They hid as quickly as they could and I squished as many as possible until the floor was a slimy mess. Cock roaches by nature hate light because they naturally function under the umbrella of darkness. God tells us that we as believers are to turn from our wicked ways and that we are no longer bound by the powers of darkness. Approval lust lies and pride all go hand and hand but they are not of God. He tells us in his written word, “be sure your sins will find you out.” It may be true that for a moment we may have a bit of fun until we are exposed but sooner or later we need to turn from our wicked ways and serve our living God.

Where is She?

2009-05-16T20:34:00.000-07:00

One evening while I was at Fort Belevior in Virginia, I had been working an evening shift a Security guard at a top secret military installation while I was going to college.
I recall standing at the main entrance gate thinking about what was the utmost most important thing in life and how it related to me. I concluded that God and his word were most important but it was always confusing to hear so many different opinions on what was “thee truth”.
So I began to pray because I was at a point in my life were I knew I needed real direction and answers. Even though I was at work , I was feeling like crap and lonely.

But it all changed, I began to pray, “God I'm tired of running and I want to serve you and you alone.. so I’m asking for three things (1) I want to find a pastor who could teach me the truth about who you are. (2) You know how my efforts have failed to find my right woman, but what I really want is who you want me to have (I was tired of the dating scene because the magic just wasn’t there and I would date the wrong types, some of which I never knew there names)
. And # (3) I need a real job that I could support her and I.”

To my surprise in the next three days she walked by me and I casually asked her what she was looking at. (Long story short we dated three times in the next three weeks and I ask her to marry me. We knew we were meant for each other. We’ve been married 29 years, and we’ve raised six wonderful kids. Lined up are Sarah, Benjamin, Samuel, Elijah, Grace).

The Job landed me in the hot and dry Simpson Desert of Alice Springs Australia. At the joint defense Space Research Facility and the contract lasted for a year and a half.
My Time in the desert was a time to get away from the world as I knew it and to study Gods word on my off hours. I made allot of money and yet the time alone was so important to my spiritual condition. My Wife’s family had introduced me to a tape ministry out of Texas and I was able to listen in the evening about God and his word. Now I listen to a guy on the computer to www.oneplace.com Dr. Adrian Rogers online free at Oneplace.com. He’s really an encouragement.

When I fulfilled my contract of eighteen months were over, I came home and we got married on April 1st 1978 in Gale parents home.

God truly has been sooo gracious to us and provided for our needs over the years.
A few years ago my beautiful wife was physically run over by our family 3,000 lbs SUV Yukon ,

She had a skull fracture, crushed leg, dislocated shoulder still has issues we are dealing with such as hearing loss in one ear and vertigo. I know first hand how much we are troubled by such trauma and unexpected issues that we are constantly challenged by. As I went to the Lord in prayer I soon realize how much I had to be thankful for knowing that the creator of this universe had a plan and a purpose in all of this. I saw how many people came to visit her and care for her. I saw how it brought our family closer and to care for her. I saw how she became more in tuned with the reality of love and compassion for the needs of others. I hope my thoughts are not offensive to you but i truly have learned to care for those who suffer.

While I was in Australia I traveled up into Indonesia to the island of Bali Indonesia.

Monkey Bandits

2009-05-16T20:32:00.002-07:00

While living in the out back of Australia I decided to get on a plane and fly to the island of Bali Indonesia for a two week vacation to see the artisans and all of their creations. I took three empty suitcases that fit into each other, three changes of under wear and two pairs of jeans so I could bring home some carvings and artifacts that caught my eye. I had two weeks away from the Simpson desert where I was working at the “Top Secret” Joint Defense Space Research Facility in the middle of Alice Springs known as (J.D.S.R.F ) which stands for none of your business.

I left Darwin Australia after I had sat with several tourists in the waiting area for three or four hours. They quickly got to know each other and exchanged stories about Bali and reminded each other of some of the local cultural restrictions such as drinking in public, nude bathing on the beaches and drug taboos. These were typical collage aged kids and old time hippies.

The flight to Bali was only about a half an hour to which I found myself landing in a tropical environment where the heat and humidity took your breathe away the second you stepped out of the plane. The airport swarmed with custom officers and military personnel in jeeps and trucks with automatic weapons that made them look more like assassin squads on the take. As I got through the rubber stamp line for visa verifications and customs searches, I walked out to the lobby where nonchalant cab drivers waved for me to get in their off the wall brand taxi’s. As we drove through the streets I soon realized that I had just entered into a tropical world of creative artist such as stone carvers, wood carvers, jewelry makers, silver smiths, batik drawings and musicians of percussion and stringed instruments of every type with shops and sidewalk vendors on every corner selling their goods.

The island is just about 500 miles North West of Australia and is known paradise of an exotic culture artisans, Religious rituals, music and unique smells of food everywhere you went. By American standards they seemed impoverished but actually they were content with their way of life even though the average man earned 50 cents a day for his labor. With tourism it allowed individuals to earn more money so you found yourself bartering for absolutely everything you bought.

My first couple of days I did the normal tourist routine with my new 35 mm Pentex camera. I wondered several blocks away from my hotel to snap a few pictures and to get a feel for the next unplanned event that drew me closer to more of the adventure that attracted me there in the first place.
Soon I heard about a bus which took the islanders from village to village to which I decided to get onboard and ride along. As I quietly sat there on this crude 1950’s bus all painted in bright reds and yellows, I was the only English person in the mix. The bus scene reminded me of a mother opossum where everyone climb’s on including several chicken farmers who strapped their loaded crates of chickens on top of the roof. The bus was loaded with Men, women and children young an old and the body odors were as obvious as the uncomfortable ride over every bump in the road.

When you are the foreigner everyone stares at you and pokes at each other to take a look at the strange looking fellow wearing blue jeans and not a wrap around skirt like the rest of the local men. They smile at you with their black teeth as if to say “we’re ok with you” and then the questions begin. They try out their English to ask, “Where you go”? So I decide to converse with small talk until one of them says to, ”go to next village, very nice, you like very much”.

When we arrived at our destination the bus driver had already turned off his ignition key to save on some gas and we quietly rolled to a point in the road where he abruptly slammed on the breaks without warning. Everything slid forward and the dust from the road engulfed the entire bus as we stopped. Everyone climbed off to the dirt road below where friends and families greeted each other with hugs and kisses. They made hand motions to me that this was the place. They expected me to get off as well because after all it was where they recommended that I depart. If I didn’t take their advice it would have be an insult. As I got up they all smiled and wished me well as I waved and smiled back. Then a man came up to me and said, “come with me I show you factory where my brother and uncle make things out of wood”. So I followed them as three or four little kids yelled at each other and ran along beside us. I was the novelty of the day and they wanted to get in on the action.

Soon I was looking at over hundred or so carvings all lined up, all of the same subject which was Ramah and her kissing sister. I studied them carefully and through a keen eye process of elimination I picked one that I liked. They showed their approval of my good choice. Everyone was happy, and I paid them as I dickered over the price. They knew I wasn’t the typical tourist who gives in at the first stop and spends it all.
Then someone yelled and it was time to get back on the bus or be left behind. As we drove off to the next stop I couldn’t help but believe that it was arranged for me to stop and buy something which would benefit those who were on the first bus load.

The next stop was an obvious a place to get off because of the hustle and bustle of tourist, shops and items for sale. I took my luggage and started to walk down a dirt road that had 8’ to 10’ mud walls that were constructed as barriers more like high rise fences which protected the village homes. Along the same road there were prayer shrines at various places with sticks of incense burning which added to the smells.

As I began to walk a mangy stray dog appeared with a viscous growl and alerted everyone that a stranger was in the area. Then someone stepped out from the walled structure and asked if I’d needed a room for the night. So I obliged with a smile, hand shake and whatever and followed them to my room. It consisted of a grass hut, dirt floor, spider webs all over the ceilings, bamboo slat bed and no water or bath. And oh yes, I had to share the room with several other tourist men folk all in their twenties at the cost of fifty cents per night. Early the next day I was awoken by some guy next to me in a bed making obscene breathing noises. I had to see this, so I quietly rolled over only to see this totally naked collage aged guy sitting yoga style with his legs crossed and hands on both knees with his head straight forward with both eyes closed. Then he went through the breathing routine again and I decided it was time to move on and see the island and get some food. The fast food restaurant industry was not an issue in this remote little village nor were there cereal and milk and honey ready in a fridge to be consumed. I had to find out where the grub was being served and get there to feed the appetite. As I made my way to the market place there were road side vendors which sold drinks and rice cakes, fruit and soups, all of which looked and tasted great. It’s amazing what you will eat when you become hungry.

After a week without a bath I started to smell equally rancid as the people I rode in with on the bus. My clothes smelled and my teeth felt like nasty goop so I asked the village folks where I could find a place to bathe. They told me of this water fall that wasn’t too far away and that if I went down the road and over the dikes through the rice fields I would find it. Soon I could hear running water but to my surprise the water fall consisted of two skinny bamboo poles with water running out of them. They were sticking out of a rock in a jungle of Bamboo trees that were at least 50’ tall.

Since no one was around I stripped down to my underwear and stood under the water for a cool rinse. The water turned out to be warm and I’m not too sure how clean it was since it appeared that it was run off from the rice fields. When I was done I got dressed and found a stump of a cut off bamboo tree where I sat down for a moment of peace and quietness while the hot sun felt so good. Then I heard a rustle in the brush that was in front of me. Visibility in this jungle was maybe twenty feet. There in front of me appeared a gathering of gray monkeys (Balinese macaques, to be more specific. They're very tolerant of people, but are famous for stealing food and sunglasses from tourists, so you have to be careful around them), all sitting there watching me.
As I turned around there were more and so I put out my hand like I had food. One of them came closer for a look see. It wasn’t too long before I had a monkey sitting on top of my head picking through my hair, one on each knee and one on each shoulder. Then there were others trying to climb on board. As I sat there in total Indiana amazement I had to examine their hands and feet to see how far fetched was Darwin’s theory of evolution. They all had finger prints, finger joints just like mine. They had eyes, ears, noses and necks, and then one stretched and yawned soo big that its teeth became visible out side of its mouth. I figured it was time to get some pictures of this and off I went. They seemed to be disappointed that I didn’t have anything for them to eat.

As I went back to the village I met a Viet-Nam army deserter turned hippy with long hair and beads who had a bad infection in his leg. If he left it alone he could have lost it to gangrene. He agreed to go back with me to the “Sacred Monkey Tree Forest” for a photo shoot. When we got there in the clearing there was a huge gray tree that came out of the ground and had a trunk base that had to have been 6 foot or more in diameter with huge branches which made a canopy effect over a vast area of the ground. It wasn’t too long before the monkeys showed up on the scene and hopped on board for another look see. This time they were more aggressive and took over as if they knew the routine.

Then after a few photos of me and the monkey’s one of them reached down into the hippies shoulder pouch purse and pulled out a dark blue thin folded pack and jumped to the ground and started to run with the loot. The Hippy screamed and said “oh my God he just took $1,500 in travelers checks, then the big mistake; I yelled, “let’s chase him”! At this point we both began to run in pursuit of the “Monkey bandit”. Before we could take two steps the entire gang of gray monkeys with teeth showing came at us like a mighty rush of a freight train from all directions with me tied to the tracks. I knew that if I didn’t fight back these nasty little fellows would over power us and have us for lunch. Immediately my Marine Corps killer instinct kicked in and it turned into the equivalent of a bar room brawl. As fast as I could I began slugging everything that came at me with my fist. Soon I began to draw blood, and break some ribs and jaws. These little guys meant serious business and they bit me every chance they could from head to toe. I kicked so hard that I felt like I broke my big toe. They bit harder each time they lunged at me in a constant wave. While I was defending myself the hippy was screaming “ouch!!! And stop it!!” as they sunk their teeth into his arms, butt cheeks and legs.

Then in slow motion I changed my war strategy and decided to stop fighting and freeze in my tracks. Likewise they stopped and backed off and hissed at us like snakes while one more bite me. A typical zealot who had to make his final point!

There in the top of the 50’ bamboo tree was the monkey frantically gnawing on the travelers check packet. We were surrounded by an army of monkeys waiting on us to make our next move. I slowly took a step at which they made it known that the fight wasn’t over, so I stood still. Then way off in the distance I saw an Indonesian peasant walking across the dikes with a basket of something that looked like food on top of his head. I motioned for him, and to my surprise he came to the rescue. I asked him for some rice cakes and I started to feed the monkeys at which we all became instant friends once again. Then down slid the monkey with the packet still in his mouth and he boldly walked up to me for a rice cake. Slowing I lowered the cake to his mouth and with the other hand I retrieved the blue packet with $1,500.00 from his apprehensive mouth.
The hippy was overjoyed and we laughed all the way back to the village where no one had a clue at what had just happened. This event almost seemed like a made-up story but the soreness of the bites reminded me the next day that it really did happen!

In Indonesia the monkeys as well as other creatures such as snakes and chickens are worshiped by the Hindus as one of their gods. Sacrifices are offered to them every day. Monuments throughout the cities have been made in stone and wood in memory of these false beliefs. It is such a tragedy that so many would be blinded to the truth of Jesus Christ and yet generation after generation the lies are passed on without question through rituals without reality as they look for a ray of appeasement to the confusion. That night two 15’ life like puppets arrived at the gates of our village to ward off the evil spirits as they chanted and banged on gongs and pieces of wood. I tried to talk to some of the people that I met about Jesus but it appeared to fall on deaf ears. Pray for new opportunities to reach the lost. Who knows, perhaps one person may have had an awakening to the power of the true and living God through Jesus Christ instead of being robbed by a gang of monkey’s being driven by the powers of satanic influences.

Blowing up the Washington Monument!!

2009-05-16T20:32:00.001-07:00

In 1982 I got a phone call from my sister Beth Ann and her husband Zeis who said they wanted to come to Pennsylvania and visit with us in our home in Berwyn.

During their stay we decided to take in a quick whorl wind trip to Washington D.C. to see some of the sites. They had a limited amount of time, but since we knew the area we were happy to accommodate them.

When we arrived in D.C.; we drove around and visited most the monuments and sites. We took a few pictures to record the event and then our scheduled last stop was the White House. The sun had gone down and if I recall correctly it was somewhere about 9:30pm. A Few people were splattered here and there as the city was quickly shutting down for the night. However over near the North West side of the White House there was a street light on the corner and there was a small group of guys standing in front of an older man who had anti war posters. He was wearing a pancake leather brown hat and had a long blue faded trench coat with thick black glasses.

Knowing that my sister had really never been exposed to demonstrators/protestors, I suggested that we go over and observe the action in the big city. Soon we found ourselves joining in with the others who were involved in a dialog with this old man. There were two black Vietnam vets who were challenging him in his anti American rhetoric.
Then he looked at me for my response, and I said to him “I think you’re problem is that you’re afraid to die and if you knew Jesus Christ, death would not be such an issue”.
I told him that according to the word of God there will always be wars and rumors of wars until the end of time. I went on to say that if there was a nuclear war I would hope that the first bomb would slide down my chimney and I wouldn’t feel a thing as I would become a vapor.

His eyes began to glass over as he told me he was an “atheist”! and that “I was a genocidalist, a war monger, and an annihilator”!!

The conversation lasted about a half an hour as I tried to tell him about Christ and how he cared for him. He went on to say how much the United States had no choice but to disarm!
No matter what I told him he continued with his rhetoric. It was time for us to move on because it was getting too late and we were getting nowhere with this guy. He was convinced of his beliefs and I wasn’t about to change mine.

The Next day I got this panic phone call from my sister as they were heading back to Indiana on the turnpike. She said that I had to turn on the news!!!. Unfortunately I was nowhere near a TV so she went on to explain that the guy we were talking to last night at the White House just got himself killed.

Evidently the first thing he did the next morning was he rented a Ryder Box truck and drove it to the Washington Monument and parked it on the grass out in the open. With a blow horn in one hand he yelled out commands to who ever was listening that he was about to blow up the Washington Monument if the United States did not disarm! This man was fanatical about his beliefs and I suppose I was the last person to talk to him about his soul.
.
When the swat teams arrived they told him to get out of the van and lay down on the grass. They told him if he moved the van towards the monument they would take him out.

Then just like in the movies he reached over and started up the van and began to inch closer to which the swat team responded with a hail of bullets being pumped in to his van.

After the ordeal was over the Washington park police, the FBI and swat teams merged together to see who this guy really was. When they got to the truck they found a Big Ben Alarm clock duct taped to several roadside flares.

According to the news he had a history of participating in several World wide anti- war demonstrations and had spent time in foreign jails for various demonstration violations.

The Big Ben alarm clock and the flares which had all been taped together like a simulated bomb was hardly a match for those who took him seriously on that morning he allowed himself to be killed.

The tragedy was that he had one last opportunity to turn his life around for Christ and more than likely he never took it seriously.

Pearls before swine

2009-05-16T20:31:00.000-07:00

Many years ago we as a family were invited to a friend's house that we met at church for a cook out. We brought our kids and they seemed to enjoy the newness of the friendship of the family event as kids seem to do.
As the dad and I sat there watching the food cook on the grill their boy who was about 10 years old came up and stood next to us while we talking. Then he reached out and held his hand next to the dome of the grill. I spotted the danger and said, "Hey, don't touch the grill it's hot"!
He looked at me with a defiant look and gently laid his open hand on the grill!!! He screamed and yelled and cried. Then his dad said to me "why did you yell at him"? I wasn't sure what to say at this point but I responded, "I didn't want him to get burned". Then he said back to me "well if you wouldn't have said something he wouldn't have touched it."

Sometimes when we know the truth and try to tell others, they stubbornly march ahead to prove their point just to win, pride is a lot like this.
It reminds me of the saying, "Pearls before Swine". God has given us many warnings about life and yet how many of us trample his words into the slime and mud just a pig who would trample a pearl directly into the dirt without regard for it's worth.

God loves us and cares about us. He says in his word, "I would that none should perish". Life is about living and enjoying the things of this universe. However the beauty, the love, the joy, the peace and the happiness has a serious side to it, and that is that we have a responsibility to examine the why of it all. We know that life is empty without hope for today and a hope for life here after. This hope is found through Jesus. Do you know him?

Provisions from the hand of God

2009-05-16T20:30:00.000-07:00

Several years ago when we lived in Grabill my son Benjamin came to me one evening and said, " Dad I’m hungry and there is nothing in the frig except for the stuff you put on hot dogs. I told him that even though we were out of food some how God will take care of us.
We were a family of eight and I had been laid off from a job that paid $6.50 per hour as a cabinet maker It wasn’t too long before we truly ran out of food, money and we were at a financial stand still which was very painful.

I told Benjamin that I wanted him to trust in God to provide for us, and in the mean time go out and roll up the windows in the ford escort because it was going to rain. No sooner had he left the back door of our old brick house that i herd him yell “Hey Dad there's turkey in the car!!!!!"

I ran out thinking a real turkey but to my surprise the car was full of groceries???!!!!!!!!! To this day i do not know who put the food and money in our car, but I will tell you this, God saw our need and provided food and money for our family.

This was not a luck thing; this was the direct hand of God. Praise be to God!!!!!!!!!!! This was a great example of trusting in God that Benjamin and our entire family was able to observe first hand.

A Rabbit sent from God

2009-05-16T20:29:00.002-07:00

Recently I received a phone call from my wife to tell me that I needed to pick up my son Elijah at my daughter Bethany’s house after I was done at work. As I locked up the shop I placed a quick phone call to let him know that I was on my way, but no one seemed to answer. When I arrived at my daughter Bethany’s house no one was there, so I realized that they must have had taken him home.

As I got back into my truck I spotted a little black and white bunny rabbit sitting on the stone driveway hopping around. I got out and put my hands out to pick it up but the rabbit not knowing who I was ran off. I had tried to catch it but I guess it wasn’t for me. Then as I went to get back in the truck and I saw it again hopping under their pickup truck and so I took a leaf and wiggled it in front of its tiny nose.

Slowly it hopped over to me to take a whiff and an inspection of the leaf. Then I carefully reached down and picked it up and held it next to my chest while I drove the truck home. Grace saw me as I pulled in the drive way and our eyes met as I held up the rabbit for her to see. Her eyes got big as dollars and a smile bigger than life appeared on her face. She couldn’t believe her eyes as she ran towards the truck. She was so ecstatic and happy to have another rabbit, that she actually carried it around for the rest of the day.

Well, it’s been three weeks since I caught the cute little white and black rabbit.

Today I received a sad phone call with big tears to tell me that her old rabbit had died and that she wanted to bury the rabbit and not to send it out with the trash. I reassured her that together we would have a proper burial for her pet rabbit.

When I got the call at work, I too got all choked up when I heard my little girl cry her heart out over the death of her old bunny which she got from Uncle Nathan. My eyes began to glass over with tears as I felt the pain being expressed in her voice. She told how she would go to the cage to feed it, and it would put its paws up on the side of the cage and wait for her to put the feed and water in the bowl.

As Grace went to bed tonight she asked me to pray with her as I often do. Her eyes filled with tears as she too asked God to comfort her because of her loss. She told God that; “it was probably best, because it wouldn’t have to suffer anymore and that she understood why it had to die”.
I couldn’t help but think of how great God is… He actually orchestrated the entire situation of providing Grace with a new little rabbit. He knew her rabbit was sick and didn’t have long to live. God also knew that she needed a replacement bunny to have and to hold.

The chances of me coming across a rabbit that was tame just few weeks before the other rabbit died, was so impossible, unless you consider that Gods hand was in it from the beginning to the end. God is truly a “wonderful provider” even for his little children who believe and put their trust in him.

The Rocks of Brotherhood

2009-05-16T20:29:00.001-07:00

After being unemployed for several months, I received a phone call from Brotherhood Mutual Insurance company asking me if I’d be interested in a temporary job. Evidently one of their employees was injured when a firecracker went off in his hand and he had lost a finger in the process.

For my first assignment I was taken over to this huge lime stone rock pile which had been dumped in the parking lot and I was told that I was to fill the 5 gallon buckets with the stones and carry them around to the side of the building and pour them out along the entire foundation as decorative ground cover.

As I did this labor intense job on this hot summer day, it seemed like it took for ever and the sweat just poured from my flesh. The rocks were all the same white lime stone color and had very sharp edges from being freshly dug out from the lime stone quarry pit. These rock had never been anywhere, just dug fresh out of the earth! Sharp, jagged edges, hard to handle even with a shovel.

Occasionally I would spot a unique Lime stone rock that had a small fossil stuck into its side, but other than that, it seemed like it took forever to deplete this never ending pile.

Then to my surprise I found a perfectly round and smooth dark granite rock which was bigger than a clenched fist and it fit perfectly in the palm of my hand. As I picked it up and examined it closer, I was so intrigued with the idea that this rock was different even though it came from the same truck load. So I set it aside away from the others because it was special i didn't want to loose it.
Then the hunt was on as I worked faster until I found two more rocks which eventually appeared which were equally smooth and similar in size and granite species.

As I had all three rocks in my hands it dawned on me that these rocks were truly were unique stones because they were river bed rocks and not the lime stones with sharp jagged edges. These rocks had been challenged by billions of gallons of water that continually poured over them and tumbled them down stream as the years went by. They had been through the ice and floods, banged into by other stones and objects which microscopically chiseled away all of the sharp edges and with time and circumstances it made them smooth and soft to the touch. When I found these rocks they were unique and it inspired me to work faster to find more until I ran out of rocks to move.

Then it dawned on me how God allows us just like these rocks, the never ending trials of life which all seem to hurt us at the time, but when we look back we need to realize that it was that exposure which helped to refine us from those sharp edges of self-importance, pride, bigotry, violent behavior, intolerance, hostility, bad tempers and negative attitudes which we once so freely carried around when were maturing in our Christian walk.

Even though we are in the world like everyone else, we should be identified with Christ as unique and set aside as one of Gods own. We need to allow Gods word to change us daily and not just the trials of this world. If we are truly following Christ as we should others will know us when they observe and work with us that we are truly different from others that they have come in contact with.

As Christians we are all in the process of continual change until we take our last breath and while we are yet alive we should welcome the hand of our creator to help us in the smoothing process through the work of Jesus Christ.

On top of the pile

2009-05-16T20:28:00.001-07:00

A few years ago I took on a job where I worked as a customer service rep for a pool and spa manufacture. As I sat there day after day I would listen to the phone calls from customers across our nation. Some of them they would thank us for the Spa or pool and they would brag about how beautiful it turned out. As a matter of conversation I would ask them to please send me a picture. Some of them were pretty nice and others were so, so. Then one day someone sent me one that really cool, I thought it was really assume because of the way they incorporated it in their landscape and brick walk ways.

Then the other day I came across an old box of pictures one of which was the picture of this spa and I thought, what was the big attraction, since I know that I’ve seen others which are far more elaborate? Well, I concluded this. There will always be some one better and bigger and stronger and better looking and wealthier and intelligent and more together and wiser and powerful and higher than I. But then I thought, is there a rock that is bigger than the Ayres rock in Australia? Or is there a mountain bigger than the tallest mountain that I know of? Logic alone will tell you that once you have identified that one item that truly is the biggest, tallest, and smartest, better, stronger than all the others the hunt is over because you know you have found it.

Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth and the life, no man comes to the father but through me”. Once you realize that Jesus is the only way, the truth and the life you will know that you just hit the jack pot and that there is no other way. Then you will be satisfied to know that he is who he said he was. That is, “the only savior who was, is, and always will be the perfect sacrifice for our sins and the sins of the world.
Just by the words “I AM”, should tell you that there is no name above the name of Jesus where by we must be saved. Jesus is that Rock!! Do you know him?

Leaving IBM

2009-05-16T20:27:00.000-07:00

I had been working For IBM on the Y2-K program. As soon as the contract had been fulfilled we were all laid off. As I went home I was a bit upset because once again I wasn’t sure how I was going to support my family, (there were eight of us) As I walked in the back door of the house my wife said to me, “You got laid off didn’t you”?
I said yes I did, to which she replied, “Come out here to the garage I have to show you something”. I opened the door and what I saw was our two car garage packed floor to ceiling, wall to wall with antique furniture. She told me how during the day, a company in town (Paul Davis Inc.) had called and asked if I’d be interested in restoring furniture that had been damaged in a tornado that hit a retirement home.
I looked at my wife and said, “We are in business”. I knew at that moment that God put my next task right in front of me. Our business grew from a 25’ x 25’ garage to a 10,000 sq ft of space in an industrial park. We now have so much work that it’s hard to keep up with it all, even with seven employees’ and we no longer advertise in the papers or radio, it’s all word of mouth.
In our business we strip, repair, and refinish furniture. Typically antiques, flood damage, fire damage or customers who just walk in off of the street with a family heirloom such as grandma’s rocker or cedar chest.

I have found that God is also in the restoration business. He restores souls by taking each one of us from where ever we are and brings us back to the designer’s intent.

God never intended us to be lost in a world of broken homes, broken bodies, broken spirits and low self esteem, and lack of purpose or functionality because of the exposure to the elements of sin. When God restores our souls through His son Jesus he gives us a new song in our hearts and gives us hope in this world of despair.

My Dad

2009-05-16T20:26:00.002-07:00

There are a few things in life that I've often have pondered and the mystery of it all is more than the human mind can fully comprehend. One of these mysteries is the death of a loved one.
May 31st 2007 this mystery unraveled unexpectedly as it came knocking on my door when we were told in the hospital waiting room that my Dad of 82 , who had been in surgery for 11 hours for heart surgery was having difficulties breathing on his own.
We were told that the oxygen wasn't getting through to his blood even though the heart surgery was more or less successful. Furthermore we were told that we should prepare ourselves for the worst. My heart sank but then I reached out to God who I knew held the keys to life and death.
As I prayed I asked for His will to be done in my Dads life I knew that it would be best if I left it in his hands. My Mom lowered her head into her hands as she sat in her wheel chair and quietly sobbed as we prayed with her and reassured her that he wasn't gone yet and not to give up.
The minister prayed with her as well and tried to be of comfort. Who ever had cell phones placed calls to various individuals and support groups as we waited. The moments quickly progressed and then we were told by the doctor that we should go see him for the last time while he was still alive.
I gathered all of my kids together and started down the hallway and up the elevator with my Mom and brothers and sister with all of there family members that had arrived.
As we entered the room my Dad laid motionless with tubes in his mouth and arms all connected to various supporting electronic apparatus at his bed side, the doctor talked to those who had questions. The nurse told us that it was ok to talk to him. Each one of us went up and touched him on the arms and forehead as we looked for a sign of hope.
Naturally these were moments of anticipation and concern for his health. Then the nurse told us that they needed to make some adjustments and that we should leave the room and wait until they were done. In the waiting room someone began to pray as each of us reached out to God for his guidance and healing mercy.
My brothers and I had gone off with our Mom to another area to talk with her. Soon we were told to come back in the room because Dads condition was slipping at a rapid rate. As we entered the room we were informed that he wouldn't make it and that he had moments to live.
We all said our good byes and sang a song from church. Soon the alarms began to sound off at 7:35 and the attending nurse said I'm so sorry, he's gone. They turned off the electronic support systems and a hush of sadness gripped each of our hearts. So sad to say the least as our eyes filled with tears and no one could hold back their emotions as we cried together.
I have every reason to believe that My Dad slipped away into the arms and presents of his heavenly father where he was given a new body and the pain of the earth was gone forever.
What a good classic movie with an abrupt ending that I wish could have lasted longer.
I loved my Dad, He meant a lot to me as he was always there when I need him. He was also there in prayer every day as he would pray for me and each of my family members. Each of them are saved and have Christ as their hope for eternity.
My dad will be missed by all of us so much so that when I went to visit my Mom the next day to make funeral arrangements, my ears were programmed in anticipation to hear the sound of my Dad say, "Mark's here" as I walked in the back door of my Moms kitchen as I so often did.
I soon realized that those sounds were now called memories and that it would never be herd again.
Someday when I die I want my Dad to greet me at the gates of heaven and say, "Marks here", as he raises up his hands in a gentle wave and then the familiar hug and embrace.

Fathers Day after my Dad died

2009-05-16T20:26:00.001-07:00

As I awoke this morning I made my way to the kitchen table. It’s “Fathers day” I thought. There were banners on the walls and notes from my children all expressing their love for me as their dad.
My youngest daughter of eleven (Grace) wrote: “Dad, without you our family wouldn’t know what to do (because we love you so much) you are the perfect Dad anyone could ever have! When ever I need something fixed, you’re the one I’d ask because you know how to fix anything! Whenever I need a hug I know where to go! Your hugs are like a warm teddy bear. But most of all I love you daddy “Happy Fathers Day”!!! (P.S. “Boom –Daddy-Boom Daddy -Boom!!)

Then there was a list of “things to do” that my wife had left there on the table from the night before. One of the items on her list was to call her Dad. As I looked at the list, I thought oh yea, “call Dad” and then …. I thought “ooooh I can’t do that any more”. It’s another one of those things I use to do that I‘ve added to the list of my memories of my Father who went to be with the Lord on May 31st this year.

I’m finding that thoughts of my Father tug on my heart and cause a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye at the most unexpected moments. Jesus understood this when he said “I will never leave you nor forsake you, even unto the ends of the world”.

Our minds have a unique way of reviewing our past and the things that have left life time impressions on us. With this hope of Jesus our tears are wiped away and our hearts are comforted when we are reassured that, we who have accepted Christ as our savior will be re-united with the saints who have gone on before.

If you have never experienced this comfort in your loss of a loved one I challenge you to take a moment and ask God to bring peace and comfort into your life through Jesus.

I loved my Dad and someday I too will be with him again even though I miss him now and have wonderful and fond memories of him.

Someday I’m Gonna

2009-05-16T20:25:00.001-07:00

An 84 year old lady came to the shop one day to have six antique oak chairs restored. As I went outside I observed that she had an old beat up rusty van. Inside was a pile of broken chairs which she had picked up at a flea Market. The backs were carved and the seats were all split or cracked and there were missing parts. The chairs should have been destroyed, they were that bad but she insisted. The restoration took a lot of time and effort of which we had to charge accordingly to cover our time and materials. She didn’t blink when the estimate was given for the repairs.
After a few months had pasted we notified her that they were completed. She returned to the shop to pick them up but after we tried to fit them in her van I offered to deliver them to her home. She agreed to our offer but warned us that her house was in a process of renovation.

I asked my son Sam to go along with me because the lady wanted them taken to her upstairs area of her home. I have found that meeting new people and seeing how they live is a good thing for kids to observe.

As we approached the green shingled asbestos covered home you could see that it was a mess and was all run down. There was a large American flag that hung in the front bay window.
It was a rainy day and on the back of the house there was a tattered back porch roof that was being held up by two four by four post. It had a visible hole in it as rain was pouring in on top of a pile of furniture which was under a series of tarps.

I knocked on the back door and it took for ever for her to answer and I wondered what we had gotten ourselves into after Sam had made a comment about being uncomfortable about the situation.
Soon the door gently opened and it was her. Her white hair was up in a frizz, and her lipstick was way beyond the shape of her natural lip design by as much as an inch in some area’s. Her clothes were thin and tattered and she didn’t seem to have a care in the world as to any impression she might display.

She let us in as the two hour unexpected tour began. There in the kitchen was garbage and trash piled and a small path that lead to each room. Full to the max with trash, furniture, musical instruments, boxes, news papers and magazines, cat bowls and her bed room where she had a nest to sleep in. This is where she reads and wrote us a check for $2,500.00 as she sat on the edge in the middle of a pile of newspapers and magazines on top of her mattress. You could not see the bed for the trash unless you were creative in your imagination.

Each plastered wall was taken down to the bare wood studs without insulation and the exposed electrical wires were for all to see. The basement was damp with rotted cardboard and wood and there was a mold and mildew smell which hung in the stagnant air.

Throughout the tour she would comment that “someday I’m going to fix this room or that closet or piece of furniture” and the tour continued until we had brought in all the restored chairs.

It’s been two years and she has now come back to our shop with more stories of “someday”. Her latest is, “I’m going to have my house lifted and have a new basement installed for $40,000. I know the house and the run down neighborhood. I also believe that she has the money to do it, but it is a case of making a low priority a top priority which is a waste of energy and money at her age. I admit that it’s her business how she spends her money and what she decides to do with her fortune.

But, the thing I got from this exposure is the “someday factor”. Someday each of us will join a Heath club, or stop our habits that kill us, or we are going to mend a relationship with a family member who feels we wronged them. Or someday we’ll live for God as we have been taught to do through his word. Unfortunately time marches on like a determined tornado leaving a path of destruction and hurt. Jesus said, “Today is the day of salvation”, its not a someday option.
It’s like this, putting off what should be done today until “someday” sets the stage for a path through a world of trash. Prepare your heart today, on a moment by moment basis which will give you the restoration required to make you a better person before your maker which you too will meet “someday”.

Wisdom

2009-05-16T19:54:00.001-07:00

Wisdom

As a kid in 1st grade I had perfect attendance and as a reward I was given a book on Aesop’s fables. I considered this book of fables easy reading because they were illustrated, practical and imaginative. I read the book so many times that the cover literally fell off. That year for Christmas my Aunt Ruth who worked in a book bindery company had a new cover made for me and it became like a new book all over again.

One story that stuck out in my mind was the story of:
“The Frogs and the Well”

Two Frogs lived together in a marsh. But one hot summer the marsh dried up, and they left it to look for another place to live in: for frogs like damp places if they can get them. By and by they came to a deep well, and one of them looked down into it, and said to the other, "This looks a nice cool place. Let us jump in and settle here." But the other, who had a wiser head on his shoulders, replied, "Not so fast, my friend. Supposing this well dried up like the marsh, how should we get out again?"

Moral of the story was…”Look before you leap."

Then one summer day while I was at my grandmother’s farmhouse, the old kitchen was being renovated by my uncles and my Dad. Outside along the white board fence line that separated the milk house from the farm house at the end of the driveway there was a pile of glass windows all stacked on top of each other. Someone yelled, “hey Mark, look at that grasshopper on the fence”!!! Without hesitation or looking at the overall picture, I leaped on top of the stack of windows to grab it and to my surprise my foot went all the way through the entire stack of windows and left my leg a bloody mess to which I had to get stitches.

A similar situation happened many years later while I was in Vietnam at a “change of command” pool party where as a matter of tradition the on coming Marine NCO had to jump off of a roof into a three foot deep swimming pool. I was the new guy and it was my turn. I hated the thought of it but because of pride and possible loss of face I agreed. They all said jump feet first but all I could think of was my knee caps taking the brunt of the jump. So like a nut I jumped in head first with my hands in front of me hoping to break the impact by gliding into a safe landing. An hour later my head was being wrapped in a military hospital after they had taken the time to put a few stitches in to keep the flesh together that had been ripped apart as I hit the bottom of the pool.

No one can argue the point that information and truth is valuable. However, Wisdom without a question is more desirable because it comes from the gut. Something inside of each of us says, don’t go there, stop, look and listen and it’s ok to go, wait, be patient, go to the right, look before you leap, believe.
says “get wisdom”.

As I reflect back on the exposure to all those childhood stories I can’t help but realize that wisdom is truly the key to survival and general success in life. Even the scripture.

Complicating the truth

2009-05-16T19:53:00.001-07:00

I have concluded that no matter what you name, big or small; everything God has made is complicated and intricately designed to the point where it cannot be fully understood. As an example, when God made the universe he made it so vast and yet so delicate that we cannot begin to realize it how diverse it is in natural resources, mineral deposits wildlife and of course the human factor which complicates the purity of the system as we rearrange, populate and pollute the earth.
If we observe the human body we quickly become confused by what we don’t know even though we have lived in it and studied it for thousands of years.
I recall going through grade school and being asked to repeat what I had just heard only to be frustrated with the inability to repeat or explain the statement or even the concept. It just would not stick in my head. As an example, if someone read off some numbers such a 2,3,4,5,2,9 and ask me to repeat it I’d typically transpose the numbers by saying 9,2,5,4 and then forget the rest. I must’ve been a teacher’s nightmare.
Language was an area where I never could break down a sentence and identify a noun, predicate, verb, adverb, compound sentence. Higher math was just as confusing, and so went the gamut of learning. My lack of concentration and scholastic achievements frustrate teachers who would get upset and roll there eyes, breathe deep, and put their hands on their hips and stomp off with their red correction marker and a self importance complex.
As I’d begin to read a book all the words quickly transposed themselves into a vast blur of little black objects on a page only to find myself thinking about some distraction that would fill my head such as a simple yard sparrow that was chirping outside as it was scratching for food, or a fort that I had built, or the fact that the teacher was upset with me for not concentrating.
I couldn’t get it out of my mind that she was upset with me. I would get embarrassed very easily in front of my classmates. When the teacher was upset, I would shut down and learning was not an option. Self Pity would set in and I could not move on until my nerves would settle down and I would have to figure out a way to process the negative mental turbulence that passed through my mind.
However all was not a loss because subjects such as history, art, and Industrial arts became an area that I could excel and I would make A’s or B’s.
Being a right brain thinker or visual person or “A. D. D.” was never discussed or heard of. Those concepts were just being explored and developed by the head bangers and “brainyack’s” of the modern universities.
Over the years of being exposed to a wide variety of Family responsibilities, world travels, political issues, objects and disciplines as well as job opportunities and the school of hard knocks, I was able to survive to a point of being able to communicate and confuse those who said I’d never make any thing out of myself unless I got a college degree.
What I think is really interesting, God understands these complex issues that we get ourselves into as humans who try to better ourselves with educational achievements. However when it comes to our soul, God made a simple plan that doesn’t take complex terminology or hoops to jump through to be Saved. God’s word tells us to simply believe in His Son Jesus and the work He did on the cross.
“Belief”, it is that simple, nothing more and nothing less. As a kid that concept was even twisted and complicated because of those that presented it with false precepts about the fact that you had to “pray through to be saved”, or “you could loose your salvation” plus all of the external taboo’s such as no smoking, no drinking, no cussing, no dancing, no movies, no cards, no dice etc. Gossip was ok as long as it was presented as a prayer request or a concern.
Various denominations, church doctrines,(such as Baptism for salvation, or penitence), and dynamic equivalence translations of the scripture which challenges God, as well as the self righteous who hold their noses high enough to drown when it rains all complicate and muddy the simple message of Jesus Christ.
“Believe on the Lords Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved”. Does that sound complicated? He will do the rest if we put our trust in Him. Praise God from whom all blessings flow!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Words Spoken

2009-05-16T19:52:00.001-07:00

It may not come to you as a surprise, but just because words are spoken, it doesn’t always mean that words are fully understood. As an example, my son Sam who was six years old ask me on the way home from church, “Dad why to birds lift their ends at Calvary”. We all had a good laugh as I explained to him that the song actually says, “Burdens are lifted at Calvary”, “Not bird ends”. Another time one of our boys said that he always thought I was an actual Doctor for the longest time because when ever they got a cut or got hurt they went to “Doctor MAP” which was actually an abbreviation for Mark Anthony Phenicie.

I recall once hearing an American tourist while I was over seas, trying to converse with a local villager. The tourist thought that if he spoke louder, the other person would understand. Both individuals never did understand each other so they walked away from each other confused and frustrated.
Finally the American made a fool hearted remark to me by saying. “These people are so stupid, they don’t understand English”! What he didn’t realize was, many times foreigners can speak several languages depending on what neighboring country touches theirs and yet through acts of compassion and love, language barriers are often broken down and people begin to understand each other no matter what language they speak.

One day I was thinking about this, and I couldn’t help but think back on how as a young child I was told and even taught to memorize the verse of John 3:16 “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not parish but have everlasting life”.

Even though this wonderful message of hope had been spoken, memorized and emphasized by a variety of pastors, teachers, evangelists as well as my parents, this was still confusing to me because I didn’t really didn’t understand what the words “believe” or “faith” meant and besides my mind as a small kid did not function in this dimension. However, the languages that I did understand were “actions of compassion and love”.

I recall as a young lad, I was visiting at my grandmother’s farm and her brother, who was my great uncle Fred Orr (a tall eloquent man with pure white hair), was out side working behind the barn. I noticed that he was cutting down some of the weeds and thistles around the barn and along the wire fence line with a two handle scythe. I recall my Grandmother had a large metal kittle next to the fence where the cows would get a drink at the pump. That area too was over grown with weeds.

While I watched him work I looked up at him and asked him several questions such as, “what are you doing, and where did the weeds come from, and why did he have to burn them?

He explained how the farmer first plants the grain but then the strong winds come along and blow seeds from miles and miles around such as the thistle weeds into the same area. Then together they grow up and before they are in full bloom the farmer has to go out into the fields and cut down the weeds before they bloom and he has to gather them up and burn them so that the seeds don’t spread into the next year’s crops.

He went on to tell me how the farm animals such as cows, sheep and little lambs love to graze and eat the grass but when they do, they get the thorns and thistles stuck in their tongues and bellies and it causes them health problems. Then he explained to me about how he too was gathering up all the thistles that he had just cut down and had to throw them into the fire to destroy them. He also said that If he buried them or let them lay on the pile they would soon begin to grow again.

He explained to me about the world and how we as Christians grow up in the same world as the “sinners” who are like the weeds and thistles and how some day when Jesus returns all of the sinners will eventually be gathered up and cast into the lake of fire. However those individuals who have trusted in Jesus through faith (just like the good crops) will be harvested and will be taken into Heaven to be with God for ever and ever.

I could not fully comprehend it all at that time but I could tell that he cared about me and that there was something special about my great uncle that I admired. As time went on I learned to understand Faith as described in Hebrews 11:1 which says: “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen”.

Unbeknown to my great Uncle Fred, through his “compassion and love for the lost”, he had just planted a seed of Faith and the good news of Jesus Christ; even though I took his information as a story that to me only adults could fully understand.

Chest bumping with God

2009-05-16T19:51:00.001-07:00

When my kids were younger I use to boast to them that I could wrestle them to the floor with one finger. I could and I did it until they grew up. To this day they remember it and those fun and somewhat frustrating moments of loosing to Dads finger.

Just yesterday a man and his wife in their late 50's walked into my business to have me restore a piece of furniture for them. Four hours later, I said goodbye to him and his wife who had driven from Hicksville Ohio to stop by my shop. The conversation went from furniture restoration into a deep conversation about the meaning of salvation through Jesus Christ, did Christ really die? Was there such a thing as a Virgin birth? Was it truth or a grand hoax? Is there such a thing as salvation through faith, loyalty, heaven etc?
Quite the conversation all of which I wish I had a recorder to go back and play it again. This guy could quote scripture and yet cleverly twist it to fit his view and to challenge God himself.
My conclusion was that:
A. There are those who know the truth and yet work twice as hard to find fault with it to justify their prideful life style and human view point.
B. This conversation was important because it was an obvious opportunity that God placed in front of me to witness to and encourage.
C. Through my type of business I may be the only person who could talk to this couple about the love of Christ. (What a privilege).

D. God has a way of wrestling each one of us sortive like Jacob and the angel, but be assured, He does it in love because he would that none should perish (Unfortunately many do perish into a eternity separated from God because of pride).
As it turned out, this customer told me that he was an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church. Unfortunately he did not defend the faith, there was not a thread of love of Christ in his speech, and there was no hope in his conversation.
What a sad situation. We need to pray that God will convict this couple of a need to have a renewed love and relationship with our Lord Jesus Christ.
I may not have all the answers for those who have once known the truth and yet walked away from it. However, the final answer will come when every knee will bow on its own and declare that Jesus Christ is truly Lord and King.

There is no name above Our Lord.

Jack In the box

2009-05-16T19:50:00.001-07:00

As a small child I recall being introduced to jack in the box for the first time. As the crank was turned the music began to play and I listened with fascination while the mechanical and colorful box echoed the music of, “all around the mulberry bush the monkey chased the weasel, the monkey thought is was all in fun pop goes the weasel”!

Then to my surprise the lid flew open with a loud noise a colorful spring loaded clown ejected out of middle of the box. The clown wobbled on its spring until it stood still and we all stared at the clowns face not sure of what had just happened.

It wasn’t too long before we shoved the clown back in the box and the lid was slammed shut. The crank was turned again with the familiar tune being replayed. Same tune only this time we cranked it faster. Eventually we were hoping to skip over the part where the latch would release the clown.

Being creative as we were, we cranked it backwards to hear the tune in reverse. We’d even hold our hand over the lid when we got to the part where we knew the clown would have popped out.

After a while we were no longer amused by the surprise and eventually it was regarded as cheep entertainment.

Years have passed and it dawned on me this past week that there is a lesson to be observed which relates to the simple Jack in the box. Many of the unexpected trials and tribulations in our lives are truly “Jack in the box moments”.

As an example, when the tune of life is played, we quickly realize that the tune of life is inevitable. It’s always an unexpected disaster that hits or an issue that pops its head out of the box and it catches us by surprise.

Often it’s a colorful and horrifying event at first which wobbles in our face until we can regain some composure. Then we have to make adjustments or changes in our lives to which we allow the music of life to start up again.

These moments are things that everyone faces such as life and death, accidents and sicknesses, unexpected bills, people, weaknesses, sins, distractions, entrapments and circumstances and responsibilities in our lives which challenge us at every turn.

Fortunately God does not allow us to know the tune of life well enough to know when the lid is about to pop open and an unexpected event takes us by surprise.

In reality its best that we don’t know what the future holds. We aren’t allowed to hold our hands over the future circumstances to avoid the unexpected or the inevitable. However we can be prepared for those moments by being spiritually ready for the things that challenge us.

There are those who have become calloused towards life’s challenges, but being distant and cold towards God or stubborn and unattached doesn’t allow for God to work in our lives.

Could it be that that those who are afraid of clowns were exposed to Jack at an early age?
Perhaps now would be a good time to realize that the unexpected its part of what life is about and we need to have confidence through Christ to bring closure to the unnecessary fear and anger or frustrations that constantly startles us and wobbles in our faces.

God has a unique plan and a purpose for each one of us and we need to realize that we cannot be intimidated by the probability of “the inevitable surprise”. We need to humbly face the facts, when these things happen, and put it back into its proper perspective, i.e. “God in control of our lives and its circumstance no mater how complicated they may be”. Then, move on with lessons learned.

I have found that through Christ we can put what ever challenge is presented to us back in its place and to close the issue and move on knowing that sooner or later we will be faced with a new challenge that only God through Christ will help us through.

Hit by a Tree

2009-05-16T19:48:00.001-07:00

Hit by a tree

The first home that my wife and I bought in Berwyn, Pa., was a fixer upper and was slightly run down and had large dieing tree that overhung the west side of the kitchen.

I knew that the tree had to come down or else I would be removing a large branch out of an upstairs bath room during a wind storm or in the bitter cold of the winter. It was one of those “pay me now or pay me later” situations, so I decided to take on the project by myself and cut it down in the summer while weather permitted and to get rid of the potential problem.

The tree had a large trunk that split off into three good size branches that spread out in separate directions to which I decided to climb up in the tree and tie off one of the branches to one of the others with some rope so it would not hit the house when it was cut loose. All seemed to go well as I was sitting in the crotch of the three branches sawing to my hearts content until the branch I was cutting was severed and broke loose.

As the tree branch let loose the ropes went into action and held on to the limb as I anticipated, and with out warning the limb swung with force all the way around to the back side of the tree and promptly smashed into my leg at the side of my knee cap.
Then just as fast, the momentum driven branch swung back around and hit me in the same spot, bounced off again and continued to swing in the opposite direction once more only to hit me the third and final time. This time I tried to be careful not to get in its way, but unfortunately my efforts failed.
The limb finally came to rest as it just hung there and wobbled aimlessly. The pain from my leg was agonizing and unbelievable as I did everything I could to avoid loosing my composure.

As I finally made my way down out of the tree I hobbled to the back screen door and told Gale to take me to the hospital. By the time I got there my leg had swollen tight with fluid and my leg had gone numb. The doctor repeatedly stuck several large “Horse needles” in my leg and drew out blood and clear fluid until the swelling wasn’t as tight which gave me some relief and to this day, the numbness has never completely gone away on that side of my leg.

When I returned home I continued with the project over a course of a month or so and finally got the tree down, and I had a back hoe operator dig up the stump and root structure and placed it at the end of our gravel drive way.

The backhoe operator said he’d return to pick it up but he never did show up to complete the task.
That summer with my shovel and pick axe I dug a deep hole, which was so deep that I could stand it and not see out of the top of it, and eventually I had to get a ladder to climb out. During the course of the week we even had a neighbor or two that would come over to cheer me on and check on what “Mark was up to”, I was a source of their entertainment.

Then I took our truck and pushed the stump in with a definite thud and I promptly reburied it. To this day I presume it’s still down there and it has probably baffled the future home owners as to why the driveway continued to sink in that area as the tree continues to disintegrate.

In the scripture (Ecclesiastes 11:3 ) there is a verse that says, “If the clouds are full, they pour out rain upon the earth; and whether a tree falls toward the south or toward the north, wherever the tree falls, there it lies”.
It never ceases to amaze me how God can say so much without using a lot of words.
In this incident when the tree limb fell, it did not ask me if I was ready. I obviously did not take the necessary precautions to prevent myself from getting hurt.
I’m convinced that there may have been a few better options that I didn’t explore or know about, but ignorance was not a factor that I could have relied on to rescued me from this accident.
As time has marched on I learned that the laws of nature do not take our foolishness into consideration. A simple test of this is to lick your finger and stick it in a lamp socket only to experience the sock of your life every time you try it.
The laws of nature are set by God and they are true no matter what we think. Another one of Gods laws is, “Unless a man is born again he cannot enter the kingdom of heaven”. You just won’t get in no matter what your ideas or efforts are on how to enter the Kingdom of heaven, and you will find that Ignorance is no excuse of this law.
There is only one way, and that is through the work of Jesus Christ on the cross, not through your good intentions or good works or any other effort that you may think will suffice.

Click of the Clock

2009-05-16T19:35:00.000-07:00

Tonight, my daughter Grace and I stopped by the shop on the way home to check on a dresser that I had refinished during the day. While we were there we took a moment and leaned over one of the work benches to observe an antique mantel clock that was being repaired. As we watched the round brass movements tick away, each little gear was turning with precision, and soon the clock began to chime as the hammer with a felt tip struck ten times on the wire that was attached to the sound board on the back of the clock case.

As I thought about the clock on the desk back at the shop, I could not help but think about being a U.S. Marine Embassy Guard in my early 20’s. When the Embassy was closed at the end of the work day I bolted the heavy steel doors shut, and I picked up the night watchman’s clock that was on a long black leather strap and made my rounds throughout the Embassy.

In all there were 26 places throughout the Embassy that had a key securely attached to a wall on a chain. When I got to each station I would pick up the key and stick it into the side of the clock and twist it. Inside the clock there was a roll of paper that recorded the station number and time that I was there.

As the Embassy guard, I was required to stay awake all night and make my way around the offices until morning once every hour. It was my job was to make sure that after hours the building was safe from fire or that no breach of security had occurred, and to look for security violations such as classified material being left out or to look for unlocked safes. If any violation or unusual item was found we had to write a report for the security officer the next day.
During the day he would open the clock and read the tape to check to see if you made all of your key stations during the night. As for me, I always did and in the process I reported the most violations on a weekly basis. Over a period of time I developed a real eye for finding violations.

I soon noticed that as the morning hours drew near, I always became weary and my eye lids would get heavier, but I knew that I had to stick it out until my relief would arrive. I learned the art of staying awake but once in a while I would take a five minute cat nap just to make it through the night. One night I even took a 5 minute snooze in the Ambassadors big black leather swivel chair but I heard a noise and it woke me up in time to complete my next set of rounds. For me the objective was to burn up the hours so I could go home at the Marine House and get some sleep or to do things during the day that I wanted to do.

It is true that just as much as we find ways to speed up the time because we have other priorities to accomplish, those moments that were waste are truly gone for ever. God has said in his word that there is a time for everything whether it be to work or play, plant or harvest, peace and war, etc. , He makes it clear that today is the day of salvation. This is a warning to each of us that there is no other day allotted, because no man knows the day or the hour that your soul will be required.

Wasting time is not an option when it comes to your soul. Many an individual has awoke in the morning only to find themselves standing with an unprepared heart before God before the end of the same day. Today, right now where you are is the time to seriously take Jesus Christ once and for all as your personal savior. Believe in him and know him today.

Blending back into the society that they left

2009-05-15T22:05:00.000-07:00

It has recently occurred to me that there is an issue which needs to be discussed concerning the process of Military personnel blending back into the society that they left. For years America has been at war and these wars continue to be fought by young men and women who have risked their lives so that you and I can enjoy the freedoms that have been preserved for years.
As you read this, try to understand that each of us who made our way through the military, all return with different experiences and stories that only we and a few others can relate to. Therefore it becomes a time healing logical process of how to bring those experiences and sometimes horrific memories to a life of normality without becoming a burden to ourselves or to others.
I do not claim to have all the answers and neither do you, because we have learned over the years to cope with things in different ways. With all the different reality issues it becomes a subjective issue and yet there are some answers which can be shared with each other that can help.
This information is just what I have observed through conversing with other veterans and the experiences of my own life and not from a formal research paper that has been accumulated and submitted to a college professor for the “great rubba stamp” A++. I’m just speaking from my heart in hopes that I can help.
As I watch our modern day military service personnel return, I’m beginning to realize that they too are being faced with many of the same issues which we of the Viet Nam war faced just a few years ago. It’s all about transition from being the kid on the block to an unbelievable surge of travel and adventure only to realize that your enlistment is up and you have it in your mind that you are now ready and prepared to go back to what you thought you left behind, only to find that it’s not the same as it was when you left home at 18. The quick answer to this is you have changed and grown up very rapidly while everyone else has pretty much focused on their routines that kept them alive in the neighborhood. As time at home marched on you look back and realize that the block is pretty much the same as you left it only now you see it in a new light. When you left you were a kid, and when you returned, you were a man with stories to tell and distaste for civilian mediocrity, or lack of discipline.
POW’S or MIA‘s are somewhat an exception to this because sometimes they have been written off by the community and have come home only to find out that time has taken a toll on everyone and everything . Sometimes loved ones are remarried and have families, parents have died and children who you left are now young adults that don’t know you or know how to handle your experiences. You are no longer welcome but have to start over on a long journey of readjusting to who you are and who society is in this world we live in.

Occupied by those thoughts
In my case, I left Viet Nam as a Marine Corps Sergeant E-5, my MOS was 0331 which was an M-60 machine gunner everyday for ten solid years I had thoughts about my experiences. Those thoughts did not haunt me but they would just pop in my head throughout the day, every day. Then one day it dawned on me that my thoughts were about the responsibilities that I had recently acquired by building a house for my wife and children. I had become so intensely occupied with my new house and all the layout of it and all the “who, what, when, where” issues with the contractors and permits through the local bureaucracy, suppliers and certificates and fee’s that Viet Nam experience was no longer a daily issue. Occupation with my new thoughts responsibilities was a ray of hope to the normalization of my thoughts.
Fears
As a rule I was one to sleep very lightly because I was trained in the Marines to be alert at all times. In a moment I had to go from a deep sleep to being ready to fight and defend myself and those around me. On the first night home I heard a disturbing noise in the back of my parent’s home just outside my bed room window. As I dropped to the floor to reach for my rifle my heart began to pound my blood pressure was being elevated from the adrenaline rush only to realize I was at home without my rifle. I felt a bit uneasy and helpless because I did not have a firearm to defend myself as well as my parents. As it turned out, it was a stray cat just looking for food in the trash can at 4 AM just outside my bedroom window. Does this sound crazy? Oh well it was my first night home. Four days ago I was walking through the streets of Vietnam with a loaded automatic weapon, but tonight I’m lying in my bed with clean white sheets and a fluffy pillow at my parent’s home where fear or the unknown was not suppose to be an issue.
Blending in….
I was determined to fit into society and to avoid sticking out like a sore thumb. So after about a week at home I decided to venture out and walk to a local clothing store. I purchased a pair of stone washed wide bell bottom trousers and a denim button down shirt with big pockets. Then I walked into the shoe store and purchased a pair of black tall platform shoes. I was convinced that I had selected and achieved the ultimate blend of modern day attire. As I left the store I started to walk back home which was about a mile a mile away. After about the first block I began to feel everyone who drove by me were looking at me with my short Marine Corps hair cut and my hippy attire. I felt like a fool for spending so much of my hard earned money on a hippy uniform and my decision soon became embarrassment to myself and my manhood as I awkwardly made my way home in high heels with my butt sticking up in the air . By the time I got home I had developed a back pain as well as a backup plan for my bad decision. As I walked into the house I continued to walk down into the basement where my Dad had his workshop. I promply took off the shoes and I cut off the platform heals. Then I realized that there was a steel flat piece of metal imbedded into the molded heel which I removed out of the honey combed heal. As a few days went by I found myself tracking mud and dirt into my parents home from the heals that would fill up with dirt. I finally made a decision to throw the shoes in the trash can, put a lid on it and move on. Later on when I got my first job which was a security job, the boss said the bell bottom trousers had to go. I agreed to it and explained to him why I had the crap in the first place. Eventually I wore what I wanted and everyone else would have to suffer. Being from Indiana clothing back in the day was purchased by mom and she had my interest in mind as well as the wallet. Now that I was home I figured I’d make a few of my own decisions and spend my own money. I soon realized I needed some help. Frog green sneakers and jeans didn’t exactly make the right statement either.
Education
Since I qualified for the GI bill and educational benefits, I felt obligated to go off to college because it was the thing to do. Family and friends insisted that if I didn’t get a degree (even in Basket weaving) I would never go anywhere.
It had been a long time since I had been to a formal school and knew that I had forgotten all the formulas and rules of math and English. When I was in high school back in the day, I really didn’t take academics serious enough because my goal and focus was pointed towards the military and world events.
As I recall my professors were not exactly pro-Vietnam war and the majority of students I came in contact with were stand offish concerning the military. In general society did not much care for prior military personnel and you could feel the glass wall between them and you. My military experiences and my everyday behavior, was perceived as “too intense and too focused”.
There was an anti-war sentiment that you could feel when you talked to others. People thought that I was one of the Vietnam War guys who were (according to their perception) “emotional, misinformed killers that could not be trusted”. My short hair and military bearing was an obvious contrast to the norm among the long hair hippies and cowards of the day .On occasionally one would say something totally uncalled for and at times I actually felt like I wanted them to strike out at me so I could beat the crap out of them.
I started my educational adventure by trying to decide what to study and perhaps chose the path of medicine and become a podiatrist. It was an honorable career path that I thought a lot about while I was in Vietnam when I saw a lot of hurting people and it helped me to make a final decision to not reenlist and to go back home and to go to college. If anything, you should come to my home and thank me for not pursuing this outlandish personal goal. God had already given me a talent and it wasn’t a carrier in the medical profession.
As I started off to college I found all sorts of obstacles to deal with such as trying to live on my own for the first time, making my own decisions about survival, cooking for myself, staying awake in class after working all night, studying without support groups, and the issues went on and on…soon I realized that I just wasn’t ready for the commitment.
I even got to the point where I was upset how colleges were promoting a degenerate society when one day when in sociology class the professor brought in two Homosexuals to answer questions and to be understood. I became upset about what I was hearing and when it was time to have Q & A, I decided to embarrass them buy asking them pointed questions. The professors gasp and asked me to refrain from asking embarrassing questions. I was fed up with it all…..and never went back. Instead I went to Australia and got a real job that paid well. I came home with 25,000.00 in the bank and was ready to get married.
Coming home and the dating dilemma…
Usually when guys hit the age of dating they check out the girls and I was no exception to the rules of nature. As I recall a girl I met at college informed me that she was dying of cancer, another turned me down at the last moment because she said she didn’t have socks that matched. I was upset. I said to myself. You little snit nose spoiled brat, you should be thankful you have feet to put socks on. Later I found out that she decided not to go out with me because I was a “veteran” and that she had heard some bad stories about guys who returned. Another went out with me and decided to get so drunk that I took her back to her parent’s house after about two hours where she belonged. I soon realized that just because a girl seemed friendly or smiled or was seemingly available it wasn’t the same as it was overseas . It was all about honor and trust but most of all I learned that finding my mate was really up to trusting in God and that I had to make it a matter of prayer to allow God to bring her to me. I’ve now been married 31 years and have raised 6 wonderful Christian kids, one of which followed my foot steps into the Marines.
Intolerance
“Who you are and who they are” becomes a challenge every day until adjustments can be made on both sides. Many times “Civilians” will anger you because of “their lack of discipline” or their slothful mannerisms, hands in their pockets, bubblegum choppin, bugger pickin, crap for brain ways which become an irritant to you . It could be small things that irritate you or something major as the news that hits the headlines about some petty issue that will cause your blood to boil, while everyone else is ranting about it like it’s some big deal!!!
I recall one day I was with my Dad, who by the way was a former Pastor, Father of six, WW-2 in the Navy in the Pacific, Bombed by kamikaze pilots, lots of experiences as a world traveler and yet, I did not have a clue what he had been through in his life. He was a quiet man who liked to work in his shop in the basement at home. I recall trying to find a wood screw in a tray that he had under his bench. In frustration I said to him, “if you’d had previously sorted these out by size you could find what you’re looking for quicker”. His reply to me was, “well Mark that sounds like a good job for you”. Now many years later I too have my tray of unsorted screws. As a matter of fact I have several of them.
Who you are as a military person required many life changes and hours of intense training and discipline. As a military person you automatically wore a cover whenever you went outside, you were required to wear a patch to show everyone what your rank was, you were required to wear a uniform and it had to be presented in such a way that it was up to Marine Corps regulations. It had ribbons and awards displayed in a proper way which basically showed everyone that you had tasted war and participated in the big challenges of the modern day military. You saluted Officers without hesitation and walked behind them to show respect. When you went around them you announced, “by your leave sir”. All of these things are embedded into your daily regimentation and it was a lifestyle that became a part of your routine. If you screwed up they would make your life so miserable that you’d get the picture real quick that if you disobey, you will pay.
Now that you are home you are faced with a whole new set of standards and a new set of rules. You become irritated at civilian life because of the lack of discipline and you become judgmental about everything you come in contact with. You see disorder, and the stupid things people say or do. You resist sometimes to a point of anger and take it out on people who are the closest to you such as loved ones, family and friends.
I recall once where some guy in a Blue sports car expressed his anger at the fact that I pulled out in front of him on the road. At the stop sign he was fingering me in the window so I jumped out of my truck and approached his car. As he started to get out of his car and stand up to the challenge I smashed his leg in the car door until he cried and his girl friend screamed to leave them alone. I hadn’t been in a good fight for a while and decided to update my skills in a good street fight. “Jerk, you mess with me and I’ll rearrange your face”….i got back in my truck and drove off. The truth is, I was wrong in every way. I had a knee jerk reaction which could have cost me my life or it could have landed me in jail for ever. I was intolerant and wasn’t going to take any crap from anyone. Just writing about this makes me want to use four letter words but I know better. The other side of the coin was when I went in the Marines I would have never been that aggressive but at this time I didn’t take anything from any one and I felt that I needed to set the record straight, (Wrong attitude)!!!
Civilians who also have tasted War

The interesting thing is, civilians are made up of people from every walk of life and some of them have paid their own ultimate sacrifices for the life they live. In Viet Nam 55,000 Americans sacrificed their lives so you and I could have freedom. Many more carry the physical and mental wounds until the day they die. VA hospitals and mental institutions house soldiers and loved ones who have become mentally disabled because of the pain and sufferings of war.
For each one of those precious lives that were laid to rest in a flag draped casket, there was a loving parent or spouse who went through hell adjusting to the fact that their Son or daughter was not coming home, only their remains could accompany their memories. No more hugs or greetings, “Hello Mom”, “Hello Brother or sister” or neighbor….but the memories of them lingers on forever. They paid the price for you and I to have freedom. The relatives of them are civilians who have also paid the price of the loss.
It reminds me of Jesus who paid for our sins and went to the cross so you and I could have eternal life. Somewhat like many service personnel who returned home after sacrificing their time and freedom only to find out that no one seemed to care, and they were spit on and jeered at and scorned by the masses just like what happened to Christ as he was crucified on the cross. To this day people try to make fool out of our Lord. But His response is, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do”.
It is true that ignorance plays a big role in this picture. People don’t really have a clue of what war is like or even its demands. However this is where you have to learn how to forgive and be the bigger person. It’s important to both sides to be able to trust each other with your thoughts and irritations. Keeping it inside only prolongs the confusion and lack of understanding.
My Thoughts
As I went about my daily life, my mind was constantly processing and evaluating everything I come in contact with. Some things I couldn’t share because it was personal or it could be offensive to others, or perhaps I just want to make sure the audience is going to receive the information in such a way that I was not going to be misunderstood. As an example, when I was in Vietnam I came across the remains of two decomposed (skeleton) pilots that had been shot down. Myself and another Marine both picked up a leg bone and saw the destruction which was caused by the decomposing process. As we stood there we didn’t fall to our knees a wail because we had no connection to the pilot. So as we picked up the leg bones and we compared them to ours and then challenged each other in a sword (Leg bone) duel fight. As young Marines we really did not have desecration or disrespect on our minds but we also did not feel anyone could handle this story because of the nature of the event. By the same token I am not going to go around for the rest of my life beating myself up for doing something stupid that I regretted as I look back on it. The past is over and gone but as we move forward and blend into society we learn to be careful and diplomatic and sensitive to the hallowedness of such issues and not to offend others. We give respect where respect is due and we give honor where honor is due. In so many ways the military experience makes you calloused towards pain and sufferings of others. It’s your way of dealing with pain. You just simply learn to ignore it and deal with it like it’s an external issue.
I recall once that I was stabbed by a Marine who came up behind me while I was preparing some food for myself and stuck his finger in my back to simulate a gun. I chanced it by defending myself and turned around with a butcher’s knife to his throat. At this point he said, “if you ever do that again I’ll stab you”. A half hour later his pride got the best of him and he repeated his act and I repeated mine. Unfortunately I took a k-bar Knife into my left arm and he laid it open with blood spewing out everywhere. Naturally we both crossed the line and now had to deal with the problem so he took me to a doctor and had it sewn up. I decided not to make a big deal out of it because of the unwritten Marine Corps bond that we possessed.
Coming home, when we see pain or suffering with those we love we tend to blow it off like it’s no big deal but there may be occasions when certain things grip our hearts and the tears begin to flow.
Feeling emotion as an Honored American
I recall one time when I was at a football event and the national anthem was played before the game. As I listened to the music and saw that great flag waving in the sky my eyes began to glass over and I got choked up to see old Glory and all of her splendor being displayed only to realize that it stood for my country, and my freedoms and for those who sacrificed their lives for me and my family. Wow what a gripping moment…I felt Honored to be an American in this land of the free.
This same feeling comes across me when I see people who come to know Christ. And they know that they have finally come to a point in their lives where they can lay down their burdens of this world and be forgiven. They also know that they have real hope in this world of confusion. They also know that they have eternal hope for life after death.
There is something in each of us that grips our hearts and our emotions are a reflection of what is in our hearts. There is a soft spot and it should not be regarded as a weakness.

We tend to hurt those who love us the most
This is one of those things which we regret because it has life time implications which have to be dealt with.
One evening I was driving down the road and I saw a man repeatedly punch his wife in the face as he was driving. I was so angered by it that I wanted to chase him down and rearrange his. The traffic was so intense that I could not switch lanes fast enough so I had to let it go. People who abuse their loved ones do it out of frustration, bitterness, anger and many other issues which are so numerous that there’s not enough paper to write about it. Intolerance needs to be replaced by forgiveness and patience and gentleness. It takes a bigger person to forgive and say I am sorry for what I’ve done, than it is to harbor anger and bitterness and to take it out on others. Only through Christ can you truly become a forgiving and loving person. Your Children are your heritage and your spouse is more than likely supportive of you and your decisions. Unfortunately trust can be removed from your relationship by saying the wrong things at the inappropriate times. The memories of those nasty moments will be remembered for a long time.
Talk it out
For some reason we tend to think that our situation in the military was so unique than no one could ever understand. In God’s word he says, “he that hath an ear let him hear”. Without taking this completely out of context I would like to remind you that your loved ones care about you and want to hear some of the issues that you are dealing with in your transitional period of becoming acclimated into society. Let them hear some of it. If it’s good enough for your buddies to hear over a beer it should be good enough to share with your wife even if it’s on a limited basis. She is after all your best friend and the one you said I love you to.

The next thing is you are a responsible person and if you find yourself in constant anger or frustration, it’s time to get professional help through the VA. Many times fellow veterans who are older such as a retired master gunny type or officer are a good source of wisdom in dealing with such issues. The VA. has allot of experience in dealing with vets and it’s your responsibility to get help if you need it.

The healing factor

40 years have passed and as I look back on it , I had it made at the young age of 18. I lived a life of travel and adventure, free cloths, food and a place to sleep. I had a steady job and had the world by the tail. I carried an automatic weapon and went off to serve my country. When I came home I had a story or two to tell only to realize everyone was tired of hearing about it. So I learned to shut up, lead a quite life and work with my hands. I kept my thoughts to myself and learned who to and who not to tell my stories to. I even had people who ask questions and before long they were checking their watches to see what time it was. Bottom line is no one really cares except for your loved ones. Most people just want to be entertained because they can’t relate to what you went through.
As a healing factor God cares about you and his people care about you. Therefore it is up to you to help make the transition smoother and shorter. If you are having a hard time adjusting back to the civilian culture seek professional help and most of all Christian help and know that there are those of us that care. Christ said come unto me and I will give you rest. Unless you have the peace of Jesus Christ you will never have true peace within yourself or with friends.
Hopefully this was somewhat helpful.

Last night i talked to my dad!!!

2009-05-15T20:47:00.000-07:00

Last night i talked to my dad!!! As i saw him standing there he looked content in his heavenly body, and even though it was brief he and I began to talk.

I said to him, "so Dad, what is heaven like"?
He replied,"it is good, very good".

Are you "ok"?

"yes i am, I'm doing well".

So I said, "what does it look like in heaven ,are there flowers and normal things there"?
Then he said, "well i can't really describe it to you but.......

then right in front of me were two men on a bench (i assumed here on earth) and one of them began to say to me,

"if you knew someone that didn't have long to live, what would you tell them"?
I said, "well, i would say, "Read the scripture and memorize as much of it as you can, and then tell as many as possible about the love of Jesus"........

Then, just like that, I woke up!!!

wow !!!!, The dream was so real!! His face, his voice, and mannerisms were all him and the dream was so real that I couldn't get it out of my mind all day. I savored those moments that I had visioned him. I don't even know what it was all about, except that it was as though in my dream he knew that I needed to hear my own answer as a reminder.

Before my Dad died, he had a brief moment with each one of the grand children and told each one of them individually to study the scripture and serve the Lord.

So many times we are often too busy with our own schedules that we don't take the time to sit down and read the scripture and to memorize it. I loved my Dad, and as it gets closer to the end of May when he went home to be with the Lord...i can't help but think of the good times i had with him here on earth.

I'm sure my Dad is doing fine in heaven and it was just a dream on my behalf however it was quite realistic and I'm sure it would be too difficult to explain to those of us here on earth what heaven is really like. However, Gods word is with us and the comforter is with those of us who have believed.

Tomatoes and Potatoes

2009-05-14T16:55:00.000-07:00

Many years ago my wife and I were watching a movie on TV which took us way past our normal bed time. The movie had just ended and before we knew it we began to be intrigued by the next movie that came on which was called; “Tomatoes and Potatoes”.
In the movie there was a small country diner located in some unknown town in the Midwest complete with round chrome bar stools bolted to the floor with upholstered red vinyl seats that you could spin around on while you ate your food. It was located next to a two story brick 1940’s era machine factory and you could see who was inside the diner as you passed by in your car.
As you pulled into the crushed lime stone parking lot you could see that the diner was open for business and there was some activity happening inside.
As we sat there in a vintage car with a big dash board and steering wheel in front of us this unusual story began to unfold in front of our eyes.
The dim lit metal diner was visible through the windshield wipers as they were flapping across the big window of the car as the rain continued to pour.. Just then the factory whistle blew and without hesitation the steel door on the side of the building burst open as a herd of men began to pour out across the parking lot to the diner in the rain to get a bite to eat. As the men arrived in their dirty baggy bib overhauls, they placed their hats on the hat rack and one by one went into the restroom to clean up before they went to the food line to be served.
The waitresses were already in place behind the counter in anticipation of their arrival. Each waitress who had a hair net on and wore a typical apron from the 50’s and would take turns asking the men what they wanted on the cafeteria style buffet and then they would plop it on their plates.
All night each waitress had her hot metal food trays to serve in front of her and would ask, “ chicken or ham”, “Corn or beans”? Someone else would ask, “tomatoes or potatoes”?
As the night wore on one waitress who had been there for several hours was somewhat tired and aloof as she was preoccupied from thoughts of her boy friend that had just dumped her, ask the man; “Tomatoes or Potatoes”? The worker with a stern face and messed up hair promptly said, “potatoes” but she thought he said “tomatoes” and she quickly plopped a helping of tomatoes on his plate. Then the worker dude became enraged and said, ” I said Potatoes”!!!. Then the waitress stared at him and her eye’s became glassy, her jaw dropped, her face turned beat red and she began crying uncontrollably and then hesitated for a moment and then screamed at him, as she belligerently banged her spoon on the tray she shouted , ” tomatoes!!!….Potatoes!!!! Humiliators!!! Just then the other waitresses came to her rescue and tried to calm her down but then she saw the embroidery of an alligator on his designer izod shirt under the dirty baggy bib overhauls she went ballistic ….. “Alligators!!!!, Agitators!!!!, and with that she took a butcher knife and stabbed one of the waitresses that was trying to calm her down.
Just then we drove off into the rainy night as the ambulance arrived and everyone was going crazy inside the diner trying to cope with what had just happened.
This story reminded me of a situation that happened to me this week as I was staying up late because I had a lot on my platter namely a mid night snack of Chinese food leftovers. It was so good that I said , ” if there was more I’d eat it”, but instead I scraped out what was left in the bowl and took the one and only last bite and went to bed at a little after 1:30 am
As I tip toed quietly into the bedroom I notice that my wife was very much asleep so I carefully slipped under the covers to avoid detection. As I lay there I could hear her breathe with a soft snore and I relaxed enough to fall into a deep sleep within moments. Then about 4:45 something woke both of us up and as we tried to fall back to sleep we engage in some small talk and begin to review our concerns of the day, namely the state of our business which has totally come to a halt therefore throwing us into delinquency with all of our bills. As we lay there we try to think of different ways to get out of this embarrassing mess because we realize this time it’s a bigger problem than we can handle by ourselves. I made the comment about how many businesses have collapsed and how people can’t pay each other off. The conversation goes straight to Obama and “how dare he get our nation so screwed up so quickly”. If you are in a hole don’t dig it deeper to get out!! Then I said, ”well if for some reason he gets booted out of office Vice president Joe Biden will take over, but he is just as liberal. And If Joe Biden gets the boot then it’s Nancy Pelosi speaker of the house will take over. And if Nancy Pelosi gets the boot, then it’s Hillary Clinton Secretary of State would become the next President”. Knowing that I was thinking in terms of a scenario, all I could do was say, “boy what a mess our country is in, there’s not a lot we can do”.
Then I start to review a current customer who said, “My wife and I are in Florida with the family and we won’t be back for two weeks”. I said in my mind, “yea but I need to be paid now, I did the work and I’ve got a ton of bills to pay and the phone is not ringing accept for the bill collectors.
Then I review each one of the bills out loud with my wife! “Home mortgage is past due by two months going on three, rent at the shop is due, Two electric bills, (one for home and one for the shop), two phone bills, two water bills , two gas bills , fuel for the vehicles, food bills and medical bills that seem to reach the clouds and the list goes on as I conclude that this is one time I need help”! I can feel my blood pressure mounting! .
Then I start to think about my kids and how they are trying to find jobs in this suppressed economy as they look to us for advice and return home for a place to stay. Then I think about selling the house or our contents and that becomes an issue of, “no one will give us a dime for it because there are other homes that are more expensive that aren’t being sold for what we are asking for ours”.
Then I think about the condition of our situation and run a quick compare and think about others who are living in far worst conditions in the world and I become shamefaced and feel guilty for ever investing in a home or furnishings which are typical in most homes of America.
I say things like “boy what a mess our country is in, there’s not a lot we can do”. If customers don’t come to the shop because they are afraid to spend their money I can’t pay the bills and we are stuck in a real jam.
Then I find myself reviewing verses in the scripture such as: “come unto me and I will give you rest”, or “trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not to your own understanding”. I think of Simon Peter, and Thomas called Didymus, and Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, and the [sons] of Zebedee, and two other of his disciples fishing all night and how that’s what I’ve been up to….not catching a thing!!! No fish/ no customers no money no food. Then Jesus comes along and says, Cast your nets to the other side…..boom!!! they’ve now have more fish than they know what to do with but Jesus has something better for them to do and that is to become fishers of men.
I told my wife, “ya know, I think I’m beginning to sound like the waitress in the movie “Potatoes and Tomatoes that took it all too serious and went postal”.
Just then my wife says Mark let’s get some rest and before you know it the alarm goes off and it’s time to go to church.
As I review my own situation, I realize that Jesus has the ability to say, “Cast your net to the other side”. I realize that I’ve got a lot to be thankful for and yet I have a lot of earthly burdens that are seemingly a noose around my neck. Somehow I’ve got to learn to reach up and unclasp the latch on the necklace of burdens and place it all at the feet of Jesus.

Black and Blue

2009-05-13T15:43:00.000-07:00

I remember one day when I was a kid; I went to the garage for some tools to work on my tree fort. So I picked up my Dad’s claw hammer from his work bench and a bag of 6 penny nails.
It wasn’t too long before I was heading to the tree fort to make some repairs. With good intentions and a pound of misguided steel I missed the nail and smacked my thumb with the blunt end of the force. As you can imagine it hurt so bad that I saw lots of stars, and the moon, even though it was in the middle of the day.

My mouth froze wide open and I locked my eyes straight ahead as I tried to process this one of a kind unpleasant event. My lower lip instantly began to quiver and the tears began to fall and the reality of what just happened took a grip on my central nervous system. I quietly screamed inside of my head as the adrenaline kicked in and forced me to dance like a chicken with its head cut off in the back yard. My spontaneous reaction misguided my thinking and I grabbed on tight to my wounded thumb which amplified the pain!

So I promptly tucked my thumb in my mouth and sucked on it like a little kid, but the pain grew worse as my finger grew numb.
Then all the sudden it turned black and blue so I decided to get a needle from my mom’s sewing machine to release the pressure as it built up. I pulled out the thread and turned on the stove to sterilize the tip as I forced a hole through the top of the finger nail just to release the pressure. The heat of the needle didn’t help much more but just like that the blood oozed out from the pin hole and the throbbing started to subside.

On that hot summer day so many years ago I learned a few valuable lessons on how not to hold a nail, or how not to grab a throbbing thumb, or not to shake a wounded thumb just after it was hurt. I must confess that even though there have been one or two rare occasions where history has repeated itself and I’ve missed and hit my fingers just like I when I was a kid, it still hurt and brought back some memories that would have like to have forgotten about.

Now as an adult I must admit that I’m not as dramatic as I once was when I savored the pain and cried out for sympathy. Hitting your thumb with a hammer is not fun and yet it happens to the best of us and it should never be regarded as normal because it will always hurt no matter who does it. As an adult you tend to develop a greater tolerance for pain and you seemingly find comfort in just shaking it off and say “ouch” a little less.

I got to thinking about this while I was writing this story and I this thought popped into my head. “Could it be that there may be a bigger problem lurking in our society of being too insensitive towards our own pain and the suffering of others because over the years we’ve learned to cope and endure pain but in turn it causes us to be calloused?

On occasion when I was at home I was referred to as “Doctor Map”, because I was the one assigned to pulled out the splinters, put on the bandages, comfort my kids and rubbed their backs when they were sick and threw up, or once I sewed in my own stitches when I accidentally stabbed myself deep into my hand with a chisel when I was carving.

As I’ve looked into the blood shot eyes of my own children who have cried out in pain when they would stub their toes or experience pain from a fall or from a friend who betrayed them or a pet that died, I can’t help but think how many people in this world truly suffer daily with a persistent pain and sorrow and have no one to comfort them, instead they literally have to suffer internally on their own.

As you can imagine, there are probably millions of individuals tucked throughout the world who suffer daily under the authority of misguided leaders and wicked individuals who love to control populations through sinful motives, countless criminal activities, money, wars, famine, and sickness and in death.

The world has groaned and moaned with pain since the beginning of time and yet Jesus the son of God came 2,000 years ago to save the lost. As the authorities had him crucified, the soldiers pounded nails directly into His feet and hands. Jesus as he was in pain cried out and said “father forgive them for they know not what they do”. Jesus said come unto me and I will give you rest. The scripture teaches that we need to weep with those who weep, and laugh with those who laugh, but most of all to encourage others put their trust in Jesus as their savior. I believe that being calloused causes insensitivity towards the lost souls of this world.

Hitting your finger with a hammer is not normal but being insensitive to the suffering of others is truly abnormal.

Who is this Jesus?

2009-05-11T14:21:00.000-07:00

Today I briefly pulled into a garage sale because i saw a vintage chair that caught my eye, but as it turned out it was not for sale and my time spent there ended up being at least an hour.While i was there i engaged myself in a conversation as i often do with the husband who was 84 years old. We talked a bit about my dad who had recently died and some of the issues of political nature. As we talked he told me how his mom was a strong Catholic and how he became a Methodist and was also a member of the Masonic Lodge. He also let me know that he believed that as long as you believed in a supreme being that you would be saved. After about an hour of talking to him about the Lord i had to once again bring it back to whether or not he believed in Jesus as his savior. All it did was stir the pot, but on the other hand I was instrumental in giving God the glory and establishing a moment that someone did in fact tell him about Jesus Christ and his responsibility before God to make a decision. So... with that said my question to you the reader is: Do you know Jesus? If you do I'm sure you won't be offended by me talking to you about him.
First of all, not everyone is a believer in Christ and will not be in heaven some day even though they have good intentions to serve a "Supreme Being" . They never have been and they never will be until that day that they stand in front of Him. According to the Scripture "every Knee will bow at the feet of Christ" on judgment day. You don't have to agree with me and i did not ask you to but It's just what I've read in the scripture and i believe it. As you can imagine countless numbers of books have been written about various individuals who claim to be gods, but i can assure you that there is one at the top of the pile and it is the one and only true God. It is God who created us, and the world we live in and was worshiped by Abraham, Issac and Jacob. He was the hope throughout history that men such as Martin Luther, and Charles Spurgeon, Billy Sunday, and D. L Moody and Billy Graham, Chuck Smith, Alistair Begg,Adrian Rodgers and others spoke of with great passion for the souls of the lost. We as a Family continue worship God and have placed our confidence and trust in His Son Jesus Christ who shed his blood on the cross for our salvation. May I say this...The story of Jesus demands that you to say "i believe" or "i don't believe" and yet no matter which way you lean time will prove that He lived and still lives to this very day because He is the one and only God. For those of you have believed, you will be offended by this painting of our Lord being beaten and humiliated by these merciless Godless individuals. And for those of you who aren't believers you will not moved by such evil being administered!!! My hope is that you will see Jesus as the "hope" in your life and for this world. I once spoke with a man who said, "Oh yea, we did that "Jesus thing" when we went to some church and went down an isle and we all gave our hearts to Jesus!!". What a tragedy that this was a person who thought it was just a "thing" to do.
I personally know God from what I've seen and what I've read and experienced and I can assure you that it all makes sense and it is what makes me who i am this very day. Churches don't save people only Jesus does because it was he who paid for our sins and made a way for us to spend time and eternity serving God through Jesus.