If She's Not Dead, Where is She?

About eight or nine years ago the college my wife graduated from published an alumni directory. The directory listed the current addresses and status of its alumni. By status I mean either living or dead.

One of the persons my wife looked up was one of her former roomates named “A”. “A” was originally from the Lancaster area (where we now lived) and my wife hoped to reconnect. Turning to her name we discovered that her status was “deceased.” There was some sadness and some chatter back and forth between some of their mutual friends. Me, the internet searcher took it upon myself to find out more information and every few years when I thought about it I would do a little searching. One place I looked was on Ancestry.Com. As a paying member I have access to the social security death records, but a search a couple years ago turned up nothing there and I searched again a year later.

This past October we were at Esther’s (my wife) class college reunion and again someone mentioned “A” and how she was dead. I again decided to do some searching, guessing that the search engines were better now than a few years ago. So I began my search. I again looked at the Ancestry social security death index. Nothing. I looked through newspapers and for obituaries. Still, nothing. I asked around. Then I said (maybe even outloud), “if she’s not dead, then where is she?” And I went to facebook and typed in her name and a face appeared. Same college, same year. Turns out “A” isn’t dead after all.

The Party Animal

Wrong Assumptions


Even when I know I shouldn’t - I jump to conclusions. I try not to but I do judge people (and because my judgements are based on little or no information I admit I judge unfairly._ That doesn’t mean that I am wrong…in fact by my “own judgment” I am correct 75 percent of the time (Full Disclosure: I just made that number up).

A couple recent examples:

1. In 2009 I bought U-2 tickets for a concert they were going to have in Philadelphia in July of 2010. The concert was rescheduled for July 2011 when Bono or some other band member hurt his back. I bought the tickets because I made the assumption that I would be able to resell the tickets for more. Turns out I was right…and I made about $100 a ticket and if I would have had my price higher I would have sold them for even more.

2. Last winter I got notice of a concert by Kenny Chesney in Philadlphia in June 2012. I made the assumption while not as popular as U-2, that the Kenny Chesney concert would also sell out. While I correctly identified that U-2 was more popular than Kenny Chesney I failed to identify just because I prefer Kenny Chesney music to U2 that it was probably not close enough in popularity. So I overpriced my tickets (using stubhub.com) and sort of waited for them to sell. They didn’t. I then started listing them on Craigslist here in Lancaster (and several mentions on Facebook) offering to sell them at cost. Didn’t work. I had also decided that if I couldn’t sell them I would go to the concert. Another wrong judgment was that Esther would be able to go with me. She had to work however Elizabeth was off and it being so close to father’s day I did call in a favor and together we took the train down to Philadelphia. I also wrongly judged that there may be possibilities to sell a ticket (and there may have been) but the crowds were massive and it was hard to know where to begin. A man waiting at the subway was offering to buy tickets but only would give me $20 per ticket and I wasn’t willing to drop that low. He also warned me about “undercover” cops and I jumped to the conclusion that it 1. might be illegal and #2. ..i would get caught. I don’t know if that is true but he convinced me.

3. The concert started at 4:30 p.m. and I judged (estimated, was pretty sure) it would be over by eight p.m. and we would be able to catch the last train to Lancaster at 9:45 p.m.. The first act did start at 4:30 but we also noticed on the big screen the schedule that said Kenny Chesney would be making his appearance at 8:30. I figured it would take about an hour to take the subway and get back to the Amtrak station. I jumped to the conclusion we would NOT see very much of Kenny Chesney. The stadium wasn’t very full when Jake Owens started his act (the 4:30 concert). Although I didn't know any of Mr. Owen's songs...most people seemed to were sining along. The second act was Grace Potter and the Nocturnals…later I found out that she had been at Longs Park here in Lancaster last year. Those concerts in Longs Park are free. By 6:30 the stadium was full and Tim McGraw came on. I know some of his songs and he put on a good show. I sang along when I could and clapped a bit and swayed an inch or two….this seemed to get the guy with the seat to my left excited…he tapped me on the shoulder and raised his hand and gave me a high Five.

It was a pretty drunk crowd and he had probably had more than most but with very tight security to get in and beer at $7:50 a bottle I don’t understand how anyone can afford to drink very much so I have jumped to the conclusion my neighbor and most of the crowd started before they got there (OK I saw several people on the subway drinking from a paperbag...and the parking lot was one big party). Drunk or NOT it was during one of his "HIGH 5's" that I realized I had met a soul mate… A man who also jumped to conclusions. But unlike me he was probably always right...because he leaned over to me and said, “You are a party animal!” High 5. And so it goes.

Saturday Morning Stare-down

I should be typing my list. It is 7:00 a.m. and it is Saturday and all week I have been saying that I was going to be mowing the yard on Saturday, cleaning the garage, cleaning the basement, painting the lamppost, taking the air conditioner plugs out, taking the insultating plastic off the windows (in the sunroom), planting garden, weeding, taking the garden tiller and snow blower in to see why they won’t start and oh yes and I want to go to the funeral for an elderly man from our church. I know I left off a few things. Not listed above was the thought that I was going to sleep in this morning, but instead of that I woke up at 6:30...it seems to me my plans for the day are off to a bad start. Some of the projects are ongoing (I am not sure the garage and basement will ever be organized – at least not while I am living – that sort of sounds morbid but its really a acknowledgement of mortality that someday that basement and garage will be emptied of all my stuff). Some of the projects are once and done, like walking around the house and pulling out the plugs that keep the warm air from going up into the air conditioning duct system during the winter. It was warm and sticky yesterday and a few more like that and we are going to want the A.C. to be working. So here I am I made my list. Wow. Let’s see how I do. Saturday Evening Update Snowblower and Tiller to repair shop Got lost twice on way back from the shop - somehow ended up in Reemstown Went to funeral sprayed for weeds in yard primed (with paint) the mailbox post and gave the lamppost a 2nd coat of primer puttered around the garden (which included pulling up a "weed" that was growing next to a blueberry bush that turned out to be a potato replanted potoe with the potatoes (not sure it will grow) went pitch and putt golfing with my daughter - 10 holes she shot a 50 I got a 54 made mint tea from fresh mint growing in the flowerbed/fig orchard/ rhubarb patch helped Esther clean some cupboards watched Kentucky Derby Layed on the floor with the dog on my shoulder Moved everything on my Saturday to do list to sometime early next week.

We The Jury

I received my first Federal Jury Summons in Sept or October of 2009. The summons said I would be required to do my jury duty in Philadelphia (South East PA) in December. I had just started my current job and everyone was telling me how the end of the year was extremely busy so I wrote back and requested that I be put off until after the New Year. So I think in December I got another notice that I was to appear I February. The summons tells how you may or may not be required to actually show up on the day you are supposed and that they will pay for travel and a place for you to stay. If you are a potential juror you are to call after 5 p.m. on the evening before to see if you are to show up the next day. So the secret is to find a hotel you can cancel at the last minute without having to pay for the night. The summons says that a potential juror will either serve 3 days or one trial. I had made my hotel reservation and I don’t remember the exact date but it was right about the time of one of our horrific February snows in 2010. I did make my call and I learned how they decided if you are going to show up, they use the juror number that is printed on your summons. That particular day they said only jurors with the number 0 to 80 needed to report. My number was over 300 but since I still could be called the following day I cancelled my hotel reservations for that night but kept it for the next two. The next day they said no jurors needed to report for either of the next two days. I was done or so I thought. I got my next summons in the spring of 2011. Again I made my hotel reservations and when the day came I called. My juror number at that time was 152. They said jurors with the number 0 through 150 needed to report. Of course one can’t plan anything for those three days even if you are at work but come the third day again I was no longer needed. In January of this year I received the now familiar brown manila envelope and the first thing I looked for was my juror number. This time it was 15 and I thought, “I’m going.” The previous two times I immediately made my reservations at the Hampton Inn. I chose Hampton because, it has a good breakfast and , it was pretty close to the federal courthouse, it is across the street from Reading Terminal Market (where I hoped to get a cheesesteak and some soft pretzels) and lastly because it wasn’t too expensive. The summons explains that if you live more than a certain distance away that they will pay for your lodging. They say they can’t say where you can’t or can stay and their listed of close hotels had some pretty fancy ones but just because someone else is paying and in this case it is taxpayers like me I don’t think spend too much money. Like I said previously I had made my reservations right away, this time I waited. When I went to make my reservation the Hampton was now one of those expensive hotels. I am not sure what changed or if they had a convention that week but all of their rooms I felt were too much. So I waited a week and the next time I looked there weren’t any rooms at the Hampton. I ended up getting the government rate (federal jury duty) at the Comfort Inn. The Comfort Inn is located between several busy roads and right up against the Benjamin Franklin Bridge. I had a lovely 5th floor corner room with a fantastic view of the bridge and out the other window the highway leading down to Penn’s Landing. Unfortunately this non-smoking room reeked…I asked about changing rooms but figured I would probably still get a room that smelled but with a less attractive view. I opted for letting the bathroom fan run all night and turning the heater on low. The room had a couple other minor flaws but it was o.k. as was the breakfast. It wasn’t Hampton but it was o.k. (note: I had just decided to stay in the room and had turned on the TV when the phone rang and Esther was crying. She told me that Jim Weaver (our brother-in-law) had died.) The next morning after breakfast I walked to the courthouse. I got there early so I strolled down to the house where Thomas Jefferson had written the Declaration of Independence and then along the street across from the Liberty Bell. Security was similar to the airport. I ended up in a rather large room on the second floor. There were hundreds of chairs and there were already a handful of people sitting there when I arrived. We were to be there by by 8:45 a.m. The 20 minute video introduction by the top judge started about nine and the last two jurors slipped in around 9:30 shortly before we all took our oath…which we could either “swear” or “affirm.” I felt very Nixon-esk when I said “I affirm.” We were given information on how we were going to get paid and given the opportunity to as questions. We were also given two vouchers for free drinks from the little store just down the hallway. At 9:45 we were told we had a 15 minute break. I had brought a book written by the mother of one of my co-workers and I found my way to the soft sofas at the front of the room. There was already one woman sitting there reading and a third joined us shortly. We got to talking and I discovered the one woman lived about two blocks away but had to run her grandchildren over to school that morning because their parents were moving that day. The other woman was a 4th grade school teacher from Abington who had taken the train down that morning. She said her husband had had to stay home from work to get the kids to school. I had just started to start reading again when about six people walked into the room. One it turned out was the bailiff and the others were lawyers from the defense and the other lawyers from the District Attorney’s office. Of course we didn’t know that at the time. They were there to observe us as we were numbered off. Apparently we had all been randomly assigned a number. They began by having us sit according to the number they read off. I was thinking they might stop at some point but when they reached #27 they called my name. When the finished reading at number 44 everyone in the room was either seated in the four rows of chairs as jurors or they were up front calling our names or watching us as we were called. The lawyers all left and then the bailiff said we needed to wait a few minutes until they had gotten up to the court room. We then headed for the elevators. It took 4 elevators with us packed like sardines to get to the 8th floor. We then waited a few minutes before entering the courtroom of Judge Tucker we went in according to our assigned number. Fifteen in the first row and 15 in the next and 14 in row three. On the left side facing us was the defendant and his team of three (only two of which eventually took an active role). On the right side the Assistant District Attorney, an assistant and a person from the Immigration department. On the far left behind the defense team were two people who turned out to be there to do language translation as apparently the defendant did not speak or understand English. I don’t remember if Judge Tucker had come in before or after Introductions of all these people were made but we all had to stand when she did. We were told the defendant was being charged with re-entering the US after having been deported. Judge Tucker is a middle aged African American woman with the amazing ability to stay awake, alert and engaged through what seemed to be a very tedious process. Judge Tucker asked us a series of questions about how we felt about law enforcement, the legal process, whether or not we had been victims of a crime or convicted of a crime, and several other questions and to those who responded it was the same questions to each. Will this affect your ability to act fairly and impartially in this matter? Each person was given the opportunity to either state certain things publically or go to sidebar. I am guessing that if I had ever been convicted of a crime I might have asked to go to sidebar but I was somewhat amazed how there were either 3 or 4 people who at one time had been arrested for DUI. We had a fairly large number who had been burglarized and several who had family members who were policy officers. Almost a quarter of us had previously served on a jury and all but two of those had actually reached a verdict. The other two were involved in cases that had settled before the case got that far. The questioning went on for about an hour and half. I never felt drowsy and almost always felt alert as I was taking it all in. One of the questions I raised my hand for was whether being on a trial for two days would be a hardship. Several others like me had raised their hands but we were told not to give the reason but to all wait and we were brought up individually for the sidebar discussions. One of the people who went up besides me was juror 30, the teacher with three young children. I had called and talked to my nephew and my sister in law that morning. When I called they weren’t sure when the funeral was going to be. I guessed it would be during the weekend but I also felt I needed to tell the court that a trial on Friday or stretching into Monday would be a hardship for me. They don’t give you yes or no they just say “thank you.” Other people were called up for no apparent reason…maybe because they had said they had a brother who was a cop or the lawyers thought they looked suspicious I don’t know. The toughest question the judge asked all of us was if we could really be impartial to realize that the defendant was innocent until proven guilty. That it was up to the District Attorney to provide the evidence that we would convict on. For me, I felt all the surges of the assumptions I was making about a defendant. Charged with re-entering the U.S, how could be here if he hadn’t come back…but I found it cleansing to really dig down and say Yes I could. Finally about 12:15 the judge said that now the lawyers would start examining us and it would take about 10 to 15 minutes. I thought that meant they were going to ask the questions but what it meant was they began looking at us and looking at our names and looking at their notes and then handing the list back and forth between the District Attorney and the Defense. I also watched Judge Tucker during this time and she seemed busy doing something and by that I mean it looked like she was really working and not doing Sudoku or Words with Friends or reading a book (or sleeping…I think if I were a judge and this repeated itself over and over, well I might be tempted to sleep). Shortly after 1 p.m. (definitely longer than the promised 10-15 minutes) they had agreed on the jury. The bailiff after apparently copying each name down from their sheets to his began reading the names and numbers. They then went to sit in the jury box off to the right side of the room. There were 14 people chosen (12 jurors and two alternates…I don’t know if they were told which one of them were the alternates). The first seven chosen were women and there were only two men. One of the women was the grandmother who lived two blocks away. I think for me the most interesting thing was I had started counting people as they came in and observed what seemed to be a shortage of minorities. Of the 44 of us there were 5 people of color. Four of us were of African heritage (3 were woman) and one man appeared to be perhaps SE Asian (perhaps from the Philippines). Of the final jury selected, three were African American. The fourth African American (a woman) had had a sidebar conversation with the judge when asked if there were people who physically couldn’t sit for extended periods of time. The one other event that happened while we were in the courtroom which I don’t know if everyone saw, I don’t think the judge noticed nor the district attorney and that was that I heard the door open behind us. I looked back and saw two Hispanic women start to come in. Then I noticed the defense team and the one woman sitting there who wasn’t active in the selection process was waiving with her hand for the two women to leave…she then got up and went back and walked them out. It was soon after this the defendant who had been sitting there very stoically began to cry. For me there seemed to be a connection between the events and his emotion…perhaps family he hadn’t seen in months, but certainly family that lived here…I know we all promised to only weigh the evidence but for me it certainly made me feel more sympathetic to the defendant and I don’t think it would have affected my verdict (if he had been proven guilty) but it reminded me that this whole immigration thing is a lot more complicated than we want to believe. I think there was more to this case than the simple charges but I guess I will never know. Those of us not selected were initially told we were going to get lunch then they said that we would be going back to the jury room and probably released for the day. Back in the jury room they did come and after most of us had gotten at least one of our “free” drinks with our coupon they told us we were done for the day and then said, in fact you are done for the week as there are no more jury trials needing jurors the remainder of the week. We were free and told to go home. I went and check out of the hotel (stopping for a cheesesteak at a restaurant on Market Street) then caught the subway to 30th street station and then next train back to Lancaster. When I got home I realized I was exhausted. It was a fascinating experience but I am glad I will not be selected for federal jury duty for at least two more years.

Happy Birthday "Nasson"

Today is my son’s 21st birthday. I remember his birth and I remember the ride home from the birth center. My daughter Elizabeth was talking nonstop to her new brother the whole way home and every sentence starting with, “Nasson.” He still looks and listens to her for advice. “Nasson” or as he is now know “Nathan” has grown into a fine young man with a loving heart. He cares deeply and passionately about things. His shy and creative and despite the shyness, he is able to express himself in his writing. As an introvert myself I think it is great to be able to verbalize in a world that seems dominated by talkative Type “A” extroverts. He is a talented artist but he seldom draws, he is a talented musician though he seldom plays and I wish he would do more of both. He is a talented writer and sometimes I wish he would write less ( a little word play I couldn’t resist). Truthfully, I don’t want Nathan to write less but as a parent it is hard to see you child to struggle let alone on a public stage and since Nathan is blogging (like I am here)it truly is very public. I am reminded of the play Les Miserable that Nathan acted in during high school. After one of the performances I was talking to my friend Jerry, ( Jerry’s daughter played Eponine who sings a heart wrenching song as she is dying), and Jerry said it was hard watching his daughter die. Whether it “dying” on the stage in a high school production of Le Miz or the stage that is life it is difficult to see our children going through struggles and pain. I hope Nathan continues to write. I know he keeps a journal in which he jots down funny or unusual things that happen. He says he will use those in a movie script one day. I am sure he will. That excites me. I want to see that movie. And not just that movie but I want to continue to watch and be part of the movie that is Nathan’s life. I thank God every day for both my children and that I have been able to be part their film. Yes, it is a little harder now that I am older and I don’t have as big of role and have moved from being the star to being a supporting actor, but it’s a good part. I love everyone in the cast. Happy Birthday Nathan.

The Rose on the Windshield

She came into class clutching a rose. “Someone put it on my car window. It’s not the first time, I have gotten other presents and flowers.” Some people in the class thought it romantic, others said it was scary. The girl said “I don’t know who is doing this?, I don’t know why?” About a week later someone who I had gotten to know as a friend came to me, “you have class with ****?” I said, “Yes.” “Do you know if she got the flower?” “Yes she did.” “I gave them to her.” “Why?” She then told me a story, “I was adopted. It took a lot of hard work but I found my birth mother and I called her and we met and talked. My birth mother told me I have a sister but made me promise not to contact her." My friend went on, “She’s the girl in your class. Don’t tell her. It’s why I transferred here. I just needed her to know that I was out there.” “I won’t tell,” I said. Years later I ran into my friend again. I asked her if she had told her sister about the reason for the rose. “No I never did, I kept my promise.” (this is a true story, it all happened over 30 years ago so the conversation and events are true the exact wording and what happened when may be a bit mixed up..the things my friend told me came over a period of several weeks...the alternative open that my memory also brings up is the girl came into class and said something to the effect that if someone in the class was leaving her flowers she wanted to say "thank you so much." Maybe both happened. I still remember the girl who got the flowers first name (and I remember very few from my college classes (especially electives)but because of the promise to my friend I am not putting it here. If by some strange feat she were to contact me I would confirm...but since very few people even read my blog i don't think that is going to happen...although I wish it.)

Starts Like A Duetz

I mowed my lawn tonight, well at least most of it and if it hadn’t gotten dark I think I would have finished it all. Mowing lawn doesn’t take a lot of brain cells and my mind tends to drift into many directions sometimes the same direction over and over. I know last year I thought of the same thing over and over (I can’t remember what it was but I am guessing sometime this summer while mowing it will come to me). Anyway tonight I got to thinking how nice my mower starts. It started on the first pull and last time I mowed it started on the first pull and in fact after sitting all winter it almost started on the first pull and if I would have put the one switch in the “start” position I think it would have. It even says “starts easy” on the top of the engine. As far as a mower goes it is about the same as any mower I have owned but it definitely starts the best. As I was mowing and thinking over and over about how great the mowers started I suddenly said or at least thought, “it starts like a Duetz.” Now only two people in the world fully understand that expression and one of them is me and the other is my friend Merrill. It was January 1978 and I had just finished a year and a half as a volunteer with Mennonite Voluntary Service. MVS was a program of mostly young people who worked in community programs. I had worked as a volunteer at the Marion County Juvenile Detention Center in Indianapolis. We lived in a communal house and we volunteers came and went usually stay one but sometimes two years. My term was up and Merrill had volunteered to drive out from Montana and pick me up. My mom had lent us her car. We did make a slight detour to Harrisonburg Virginia to visit some of his family attending Eastern Mennonite College. After our little trip to VA, It was then back to Indiana to pick up my stuff and go home. On the way back from Indy we took the more scenic route with stops in Iowa and Nebraska. We were headed for Nebraska to visit one of the girls (Judy Swartzendruber) who had been at Indianapolis while I was there and Iowa because it was on the way to Nebraska. In Iowa we stayed at the home of a girl who was still in our “unit” in Indianapolis (Jolene Roth). It had snowed much of the previous few days and we barely made it out of Indianapolis. I remember literally plowing our way through the snow on to the on ramp of the interstate. The snow stopped somewhere in Illinois and had been pushed eastward by a cold front. Jolene’s parents had a farm near Washington Iowa. Her dad also had a Duetz tractor and during breakfast he had been telling us about his tractor. I had never heard of a Duetz but they are made in Germany and they may be more common on American farms these days but in 1978 I am pretty sure they were rare. It was minus 30 that morning and I am guessing we had plugged in the head bolt heater on the 1969 Plymouth we were driving or maybe we had parked it in the shop. But Jo’s dad was telling us about this wonderful tractor and how it would start in the coldest of weather. SO before we left that morning we wanted to see this marvelous machine. The tractor had been sitting out all night and Merrill asked him if he was sure it was going to start. He assured us it would set about to show us. It didn’t. Try as he might it wouldn’t start. I am guessing he eventually got it started, maybe when it warmed up to minus 20. From then on whenever Merrill and I would mockingly praise something we often used the expression, “starts like a Duetz.” I tried to tell that story to Harold Funck when we visited his farm in Germany a few years ago and I saw my second Duetz tractor. Harold thought it a very good tractor and I had no reason to doubt him (nor Jolene’s dad). I tried to explain to Harold what, “starts like a Duetz” meant but he didn’t seem to understand. So when my lawnmower starts right up and I say, “starts like a Duetz” I am really saying “starts like a Duetz is supposed to.” As good as my Honda mower starts I am guessing if I were to take it to Iowa when it is minus 30 it might now start either, but who knows it might start right up, “like a Duetz.”

It's Not so Bad - Really!

If I had a dollar for every Colonoscopy that I’ve had I would have….? Well $2. So I am obviously not having colonoscopies to get rich. In point of fact I worry about the high cost of having a colonoscopy even though the health insurance company paid for both of them. I don’t like having a procedure that I wonder if I would have had to pay for it out of my pocket (if I had a high deductible or a health savings account.) More on the cost later but first you need to know… Colonoscopies can and do save lives. A small little polyp (a growth inside your large intensive) can eventually grow larger and become cancerous. During a colonoscopy those little growths are snipped off and never have a chance to do that. Colonoscopies are recommended for everyone over the age of 50, but a lot of people don’t get them and there is certainly a negative stereotype which probably has a lot to do with the fact that having a colonoscopy means that you roll over on your side while a Dr. sticks a tube with a camera up your anus. Actually that part wasn’t as bad because they gave me an amnesia and I slept through the whole thing and I woke up groggy but generally feeling pretty good. You also can’t drive yourself anywhere and they tell you “not to make any important decisions.” The worst part actually is the day before when you are required to clean yourself out which no eating and taking heavy doses of laxatives. As bad as this sounds the good good news is that if you every have been sick (ie stomach ache and diarrhea) this is a lot better. It’s also over in just a few hours and despite the fact you have consumed a half gallon of liquid with laxative in a 4 hour time span your stomach doesn’t feel too bad and you can sleep and you are ready for the morning and to have it all over. I don’t know if most spouses are into this sort of thing but if you know my wife Esther you would not be surprised. She asked if she could sit in and they welcomed her as a fellow medical professional spending time explaining what they were doing and what they were seeing and it was all on a big screen high definition monitor. I of course missed all that. The good news and the bad news for me is that they found some polyps (that’s bad news) the good news is that those polyps were removed and they will never turn into colon cancer. If there had been no polyps I might not need to get tested for ten years as it is it will be three years. I read someplace that this testing in the U.S. can cost up to $9000. That’s a hefty bill for anyone…even an insurance company or the government (in the case of Medicare or Medicaid) so I think in three years if I am still healthy and have an urge to travel I think I might go to Costa Rica. Medical Tourism is big there and I think I will be having my next colonoscopy in January or February of 2015 right before I spend a week at the beach. Suggested Reading: Do a search (google?) for an article by Dave Barry on his colonoscopy.

Doughnuts and Bees

I have been waiting for today. Today was the annual Pennsylvania Relief Sale with Proceeds that benfit Mennonite Central Committee. The sale is held at the Farm Show Complex in Harrisburg and we go almost every year. My favorite food are the doughnuts which are "FRESH" since they are being made in a room about 20 feet behind where they are sold. I like the glazed. It is probably good that the relief sale only happens once a year because people have been asking me if I am losing weight and I can happily tell them "yes." But I doubt if I would if the relief sale were more than once a year. My second favorite food is the milkshakes. Unlike the doughnuts the taste of these can be pretty much created at home with ice cream, milk and blender but they are good. I also like the strawberry pie but I didn't have any this year. I supposed because I got to talking to Paul Zook who was working at the apple dumpling stand so I bought one of those. I actually think the apple dumplings are somewhere else and they just reheat them but whatever the case they contain absolutely the worst apples. I seldom throw food away but I snacked on the outside crust, which in itself was a meal, before dropping the rest in the garbage can. My second favorite thing is watching the auctions. There are two of them going on simultaniously - the one is a quilt auction. They keep a running tally of how much they have made and sometime before I left I remember it was at $50,000 and still going. The paper tomorrow will probably have the total amount the auction made and may break it down to what they made selling quilts. I have never bought a quilt. The second auction is called the "Country Auction" and they sell all kinds of stuff, from tools to art work and some stuff in between. I had looked at the tables of stuff and had pretty much determined that I wouldn't be able to afford the one thing that did interest me (a hand carved releif painting of an East African Scene) and was sitting in the audience talking to my friends Jerry and Ann. Ann said something that the auctioneer said it was good deal and I looked up and the next bid was $22 so I bid. The other bidder then put it at $25 and so I bid $27. Then I turned to talk to Jerry and Ann again. I heard the auctioneer say something about $30 and then "sold to the bidder in the back for $27." So I hurridly had to get my number (which was 655) out of my back pocket. Turns out I bought a complete set of the state quarters which includes (and I didn't know this) Guam, District of Columbia, American Virgin Islands, Purerta Rico, American Samoa and the Northern Mariana Islands. It was a total of 56 quarter in all so I guess my donation (or actual cost was about $15). My first favorite thing is seeing and talking to people. There were a lot of people and I saw a handful that I know (mostly from church). Today was a good day for that. Usually Esther comes with me but today she had to work so I didn't know exactly when to leave but I had some yard work I wanted to attend to and I had bought Esther some chicken so i left early afternoon. There was a wedding at church today and I would have been able to get back in time to do the sound for it but I am very thankful that Jonathan came in last evening for the rehersal and I think he knew what to do and did it very well. At least he didn't call me saying he had problems. Which brings me to today's real topic. Bumble Bees. Today was warm and sunny and when I heard the forcast I was looking forward to warm and sunny. My blueberries started blooming earlier this week and because it has been cool (too cool) there haven't been any significant number of bees visiting the flowers pollinating them and making sure that in June and July that I will be out eating massive amounts of fresh blueberries fresh from the bush. So this afternoon there were several varieties of bumble bees (some BIG and some smaller) and some other bees (some very small) all being who they are and that benefits all of us. Thank you God for Bees and help us (me) to remember who I am and do what I do because that will benefit everyone too. So as much as I enjoyed the doughnuts I think I like Bumble Bees more.

On Gardening and Getting Old

I enjoy gardening or at least going out into my garden and eating something fresh from the vine or tree. The second most exciting thing is picking out the plants or seeds and reading about how beautiful and delicious it is. It is almost like I am pre-eating it as I read. I also enjoy watching the plant grow, again with the anticipation of the tasting the fruit (or vegetable). I am less excited when it comes to watching the weeds grow and even less excited about actually pulling them.
One thing I have notice as I get older is that I start thinking about my age when I am reading about a plant. If I read that a particular fruit tree won’t be producing fruit for 3 or 5 years I do the math in my head. Five years??? Wow I will 61.
I have had wonderful blueberry crops the past couple years and even though I made some major changes this year such as finally giving up on five plants on the south side of the house which get too much shade and see too many bird and squirrel visits but there is that lingering question of how many more years I will be able to take care of them. Blueberries don’t take a lot of work but they do need regular watering (if it doesn’t rain) and I need to put up nets to keep the birds off of them. So it is work and right now it is work I can do. But I have to admit that getting old and the anticipation of getting even older has taken some of the thrill out of gardening.

My God, My God, Why have you Forsaken Me?

So Good Friday and Easter are over but for me there is still the lingering satisfaction of having learned something new. I have been reading N.T. Wright lately (Not the thick 800 page theological discourses but the more recent aimed at the people like me). I finished “Simply Jesus” a few weeks ago and have moved on to “How God Became King”. I have only just started the second so I can’t say absolutely it is a must read but yes I think “Simply Jesus” is.
Both books talk about the crucifixion and the resurrection and how the kingdom has begun and that God is now King. Which brings us to “MY GOD MY GOD WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?” and an article I read online http://www.internetmonk.com/archive/cry-of-dereliction-or-trust
The internet monk article is based on an article in Christianity Today http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2012/aprilweb-only/my-god-forsaken-me.html?start=1
Those at the foot of the cross would have heard Jesus’ cry and recognized it as coming from Psalm 22 and just like if we only heard “our Father who art in heaven.” They would have known the rest. Psalm 22 was considered a prophetic passage (a song) that tells of struggle but of God’s eventually victory.
This take on “My God My God” was all new territory for me as I had often heard the explanation that Jesus was saying that having the sin of the world on him that God couldn’t even look at him. But as the article expresses it might not be saying that at all or at least not with that simplistic of explanation. For myself I grabbed the only Psalms available to me when I was reading the article…which was from “The Message” and the verse that grabbed me was, “Yahweh has taken charge; from now on he has the last word.”
Jesus was alone, he was on the cross, God in the form man having joined us and like us facing death and Jesus’ cry is one of triumph. “My God My God Why have you Forsaken me?” is just the start of the song a song (Psalm) that ends in victory…God has become King.

Going Public

Up until now this blog has been a personal and private excersise into the very public world of the Internet Blog. I never advertised the site. I told no one its address and in a what can only be described as randomness would I post and then only photographs sent with the briefest of explanation from my cell phone. Some were pictures I liked and some were posted because I found the subject interesting. So why now? I am not sure and I don't know if it is something I can continue on any kind of extended period.

What I hope not to be writing about is politics (although I would suppose it could be argued that most things have a political tint to them). I also think I will probably not post very often. Often we (I) set out with the best intentions but....

I like to think of myself as a deep thinker (not sure if I really am) but even though the well may be deep doesn't mean I hvae the rope or bucket to pull anything out.

I am very private and guarded and find that the few times in my life I have acted or reacted hastily that I found I was either wrong or evne when I was correct that I should have used more discretion. I try to write and speak by the philosophy thay says, "it is better to be quiet and thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt."

Wow, all of that makes the blog sound like it is going to be boring...I hope not. I do hope to dip into the well as deeply as I can and pull up something worth reading about. So If you are reading this...Welcome aboard and thanks - I think. Comments are welcome but screened. I reserve the right to edit, censor and delete entire posts.

Also if you scroll to the very bottom of the page you can actually subscribe to email updates or at least notifications that I have updated. I did draw up a list today of some topics I want to write about. So for the next few weeks at least we might not be boring and fairly regular.

Darrel

Another film scene in Las Angeles

Sent from my Droid Charge on Verizon 4GLTE

Los Angeles
Sorry I haven't figured out how to turn pictures once they are posted.

Street closed for filming in L.A.
Sent from my Droid Charge on Verizon 4GLTE