WILD WORLD

They kept playing that song “Wild World” by Cat Stevens all night long.

We had sister Churches, St. Paul Methodist and Hurst Methodist, and between those two Churches and our own Bedford Methodist we had a pretty good group of kids. When I think back it seems like whatever we did, they did as well. And whatever they did, somehow we managed to tag along too.
I think it must have been Halloween 1971, I was in the 8th Grade. The plan was to meet at one of the Churches, bob for apples, take a hayride, watch a scary movie, and then on to Hurst Bowl for all Night Bowling. I remember the movie was ‘Tomb of Ligeia” with Vincent Price, but I didn’t pay much attention to it because I was too busy trying to maneuver myself into the proximity of Nancy.
And it seemed like they just kept playing that song “Wild World” over and over again.

Nancy was one of the smartest girls I ever knew. She was not just a classmate, and not just a church-friend; she was also the daughter of longtime friends of my parents. Our parents had been friends before she and I were ever born. In a strange sort of way that made her a sister, or a cousin maybe. It made her at least very much like family, except I had a crush on Nancy.

After the movie was over we all loaded up the buses and headed for the Bowling Alley, where they would lock us safely inside for the night.. It was on the bus that I was very much entertained by Vickie , who kept sticking her tongue out at me and saying it was really a lizard. I was delighted, and from that moment on I was all past Nancy , at least for the night, because Nancy, never would have you know, shown me her tongue, and now I was all about Vicki .
And it seemed like they just kept playing that song “Wild World” over and over again.

So at the Bowling Alley, all night long, I kept trying to maneuver myself into the proximity of Vickie . Didn’t do any good, but we all had lots of fun Bowling. It was exciting to find that I could have a crush on TWO girls at the same time. Ah, the promiscuous heart and mind of an eighth grade boy!
And it seemed like they just kept playing that song “Wild World” over and over again.

At 6AM the next morning, after donuts, we were turned loose into the world. I carried the silver/chrome tray that had had chips and dips on it to Mikes ’64 Impala, where Vickie, Nancy, and no tellin’ how many kids piled into that car to be driven home. It was on Hurstview as we crossed the bridge only a few blocks from my house that the flashing lights lit up the dawn and appeared in the rear-view mirror.
The cops were pulling us Church kids over!
This was very exciting, more exciting than Nancy's wit, more exciting than Vickie sticking her tongue out at me, surely the most exciting thing that had never happened to me before.
I mean, my dad had never been pulled over. Why would anyone want to pull over my Dad?
But in 1971, a car load of bleary eyed kids driving around at 6AM was probable cause enough for Hurst’s finest to be suspicious.

The officer approached the drivers window.
‘Can I see your license”
“Yes sir” Mike says
“What are you kids doing out this time of the morning”
‘Were coming back from an all night Bowling Party at the Church.”
“Your Church has a Bowling Alley?”
Mike stutters ‘Er, well, um, what I-I m-meant to s-say was….”
But the Officer stops him. “I know what you meant son, its OK.” Smiling, he hands Mikes license back.

But then he glances to the back seat and sees me, holding that darn silver-chrome tray for the chips and dips. He frowns and sticks his head in the window.
“What do you have there son?”
I’m frozen speechless, terrified. I had never been asked any question like that by a policeman.
In fact we are all a bit tongue tied. No one says a word, and his eyes are starting to burn right through me. I feel like I am holding a sack of stolen money, or a guys head, or some kind of contraband.
Just when the officer looks like he is about to draw his weapon, Nancy snaps.
“Officer, that is a tray for chips and dips.” She smiles sweetly, takes it from my hands and gives it to the cop. “See?”
He turns it over in his hands, examines the shine of the chrome and hands it back to Nancy saying
“Hmmm, I thought it might be a HubCap”

What a relief!
We all just cracked up!
And on the radio comes that song, ‘Wild World” for the 10th time that night.
I can’t hear that song without thinking about Nancy, without thinking about Vickie, without thinking about that cop.

click here to see a related post about the majikat.

GODS CASUAL REPLY

ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIGH

Yeah, 9th Grade Church Camp, Russell takes me for a walk into the woods and produces a joint.
It was my first time, and the next thing I knew I was stoned, in a kayak, paddling into this stagnant abandoned swimming pool that was full of algae and frog eggs. It was thick as Lime Jello.
I got to the middle, looked up at the moon, and started a singin’ ‘Rocky Mountain High” at the top of my lungs.

When I got to the part that said
“And they say that he got crazy once and he tried to touch the sun”
I noticed my seat was wet.
When I got to the part that said
“You can talk to God and listen to the casual reply”
my kayak was ¾ sunk and listing badly.

I abandoned the kayak and began sludging my way through the algae, swimming for the shore and when I got to the edge, Andy pulled me out.
I lay on my back, laughing like crazy and finished with
“Friends around the campfire and everybody's High”
and Andy looked down into my face and said
“You are SO stoned aren’t you?”

Church Camp was never the same after that.


Thanks to my pals Lily & Unremitting Failure

"Mandatum novum do vobis ut diligatis invicem sicut dilexi vos"

for many a dark hour, i've been thinking of this
that jesus christ was betrayed with a kiss
but i can't think for you
you'll have to decide
if judas iscariot had god on his side
b.dylan

Man., I went Sunday Morning to my old Sunday School Class to tell them I have been going to Narcotics Anonymous and how much I am getting out of it. I used to go to that class about once a month, and they like me immensely as I do them. I wanted them to know where I've been the last 5 months, and that I am the Chairperson for the 10 and 12 O'Clock meetings on Sundays.
I should have known better….
They were very concerned that it is not a “Biblical” program.
They were concerned with the idea that we seek a "god of our own true understanding" and not their “one True God".
I tried to explain that NA is a simple Spiritual, not religious program and seems to be having a great effect on me and that it may even lead me back to the Church someday. (it could happen)
Its such a wonderful juxtaposition, a dichotomy, and one that they don't quite understand.
Somehow I managed to get out of there without insulting them or starting a huge fight of some sort.

But they invited me to their Maundy Thursday Service tonight and I will probably attend.

My boss and I talked about Maundy Thursday yesterday.
My title phrase is Latin, and we take Maundy from the word "mondatum" which is the first word in a phrase Christ gave us even as Judas was betraying him;

"A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you"

A wonderful juxtaposition, part of a really great story whether you choose to believe it or not.
My boss is very strong in his belief that yes, Judas had God on his side.
He says we all do.

SEARCHIN' FOR MY LOST SHAKER OF SALT

Mother of Invention commented that I have been posting like crazy lately and I have and so I deem this to be Double Trouble Popped Your Bubble Wednesday.
Go see MOM...she has a new post up and could use a prayer and a liitle good cheer.
This is my second post today and also serves as the Epilogue for my Church adventure from last weekend.
I have found when things start to drag, or its a bleak November in my soul, or I feel like knocking someones Hat off and bending their Car antenna into some polyhedral design, all I need do is get drunk, or go to Church, or both.
My Bankruptcy Lawyer years ago told me that
'You can go long way with a smile, you can go even further with a smile and a gun"
I'm not sure what he meant, but so far I haven't needed the gun.

I went to Sunday School last week…the “Singles Class…It had been a couple of months.
They know that I am a Non-believer, but they think I am funny and that there may be hope yet, so they put up with me. With a good nature I am able to thwart their attempts at proselytizing me without offending.
They were thrilled when I said I would go to lunch with them, something I haven't done before.
They like me, and I like them too, but it is almost like we are on different planets.
The one where I live is round.

I was the first one to Desperados, so I got a table for 10 and ordered two plates of NACHOS.
After everyone arrived, the leader-lady of the class started telling me about the Singles class at another Church they had once hoped to unite forces with.
In a fairly critical voice and a sharp eye on me, she says
“They have been renting Humvee Limos, going to Bars and getting drunk. Its all about Hooking-up and getting married with them...with us its all about the Lord”

At this exact moment the Waiter brought the nachos I had ordered and as he placed them on the table I looked up at him and whispered loudly:
“Could you go ahead and CANCEL that Pitcher of Margaritas please?”

There is always that uncomfortable moment when you aren't sure if they will get it or not....
I was relieved when they all laughed.

I'm just glad no one saw my
"HONK IF YOU"RE HORNY" Bumper Sticker

I NEED A NEW PRAYER

Last week was a poor week for Bulletholes. I managed to offend just about everyone I talked to. I have a friend that likes to tell lies and another that likes to tell me what to do.
I have as sister with a degree in child Psychology and she stays on my case.
I practically told them all to go to hell.

Then there is Lana-nana-bofana.
She is my friend and she will even dance with me.
She sent me an E-mail asking for prayer and added that she was sending it to me because most people she knows that say they pray….don’t!
I responded that I was the exact opposite of them in a bit of a twisted way…
“I say I DON’T pray, but sometimes I do, so in your case I’ll say a prayer”…
This is pretty much the truth, and probably a sweet thing to say but I had to ruin it with an example of one of my favorite prayers. I never heard back from her, and given the nature of the Prayer I shared with her, I have probably offended her as well.

It was with this in mind that I went to Razzoos for an Oyster Sandwich Friday. An Oyster Sandwich and about 4 Beers. I get more POP out of two beers than anyone you know, so by the time I left there I knew everybody in the place and was having my own personal Mardi Gras.

Then Sunday morning I woke up and went to Sunday School and Church.
In the foyer they have a little Coffee House called Java Junction and it was there that I ran into the Preacherman. He was thrilled to see me.
“How long has it been Steve?” he asked.
‘About two years Good Doctor, give or take….of course I cooked Breakfast for the Full Gospels last May”
“Right” he says “Your Grits are to die for. So to what do we owe todays visit?”
Well” says I ” I think have offended quite a number of people this week including one in particular over a prayer I shared with her”
“Well” says he “Let me hear this prayer”

“It is a prayer before supper given by James Stewart in the movie “Shenandoah” set during the Civil War “
I explain
“and it goes like this:"

"Lord, we cleared this land. We plowed it, sowed it, and harvested it. We cooked the harvest. It wouldn't be here and we wouldn't be eating it if we hadn't done it all ourselves. We worked dog-bone hard for every crumb and morsel, but we thank you Lord just the same for the food we're about to eat, amen."

I looked at the Preacherman, pleased with myself that I was able to recite this prayer so well and asked
“Isn’t that a great prayer?”
He didn’t even blink; then gave me a soft but unsympathetic smile…
“No, not really Steve”

"Well, I reckon thats why I am here, Doctor!"

WOMAN, GO AND SIN NO MORE

When I was in the 8th Grade we had a Lay Witness Mission at the Church. On Saturday night at the Youth meeting I accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal Savior. I was not alone in doing this, as Kandi , Steve, and Nancy were among the many that night having similar experiences. They would come to be among the best friends I ever had and for the next two years some of my fondest memories were made.

I was awkward, I was not cool, I was shy, and like a lot of kids, still looking for a group that would make me feel at home
I was still a few weeks away from being elected President of the Rocket Club and the honor of being “Rocket Renfro”.
I was’nt too sure if I liked Rock and Roll or not.
I was the skinniest knock-kneedest kid to ever drag a Trombone with him everywhere he went. I was on the Football team, but tied for last place with another skinny knock-kneed kid for ability and whatever else it takes to play the game.
I had a crush on the girl that lived across the street, Jeri, and had not a clue as to what to do about it. Sometimes clueless is best.

At the Lay Witness Mission I learned that God loved even awkward me and even more stunning, he loved the Rock and Rollers and the Band people and the 'Ropers and the Jocks and the people who hung out in the restroom smoking cigarettes.
On a folder I carried I put a sticker on it that said
“GOD LOVES ME AND HE LOVES YOU TOO”
and waited , hoping someone would ask me about this so that I could help to spread the good news, and strengthened my Faith through daily fellowship with Kandi and Nancy and Steve.

In Mr. Georges Math Class I got my wish.
My fervent prayer for the opprtunity to Witness was answered.

There was a girl who sat next to me, a bad girl with too much mascara and too much lipstick. She smelled faintly of tobacco. I think her name was Debbie and she wore miniskirts and fishnet hose and high heels. She had long dark hair and hung out with thugs.
One day she saw my sticker and asked if I believed what it said.
This was my big break because not only was I going to spread the GOOD NEWS but I was going to spread the word to someone who so desperately needed it.

I told her that yes I did believe it and that I knew it too be true beyond any doubt.
She said she didn’t think it could possibly be true.
Being young and awkward and shy and somehow very attracted to those fishnet hose I was unable to just come right out and witness.
I needed a little nudge to get me started so I asked why she could not believe that
"God loves me and he loves you too"
I just knew I had the answer as to how God Could love a mascara wearin, tobacco smoking miniskirtin, Rockand Rollin girl like her, because God Loved everyone.
I expected she was about to "open up" to me and confess her sins, all her deepest most Carnal desires, and that i would be able to lead her into self-acceptance.

Instead she looks at me like I am an insect and says
“I can’t believe that God could love a numb-nut knucklehead like YOU!”

I never saw it coming!

I look back and I think this story is hilarious, but when I tell it to a group of Church people, they always look at me with sad and sympathetic eyes and say something like "Oh how horrible for you!"

Maybe I have just gotten to be too cool to know the difference.

FOR GRIZZBABE

FISHING REPORT #2

FROG JUICE

I went to Church Camp last week with my old friend Kem. We have been friends for 4 decades, but we are not as good of friends as we used to be....I stopped smokin' pot and he found Jesus Christ...
It bothers Kem a lot when I cuss...especially if I manage to drag his heavenly Father into the mix which I quite often do. I do try to watch my language around Kem. The main reason he wants me to go to Church Camp is so that I might find Jesus too..even while he smokes his joint...but the other reason he wants me there is so that I can help the youngsters catch some fish. I enjoy that immensely and that is why I go
This year I hoped my 16 year old son, Rip, might be of some help getting 12 6-8 year olds baited up and their poles in the water on the side of the bank and keeping their lines from becoming impossibly entangled, but Rip was more interested this year in collecting tiny frogs on the bank and putting them in a Gatorade bottle.
They were a smarmy slimy mess in there and in the 100 degree heat I kept begging him to get rid of that bottle and give me a hand with all these kids.
It took about 30 minutes to get everyone baited and in the water.
One of the young-uns, Joshua "fit the Battle" I called him, looked up to me and says:
"Thanks Mr. Steve, You sure look hot"
'Thirsty too" I replied.
I was sweating like a Pig and I reached for my drink. My eyes were stinging as the sweat rolled into them and I pressed my lips to my once cool bottle of Gatorade.
I tilted my head back....
...As the first frog passed my tongue I knew there was something wrong. I froze in mid-gulp. There had been no Frogs in my Gatorade before and as the next Frog entered my mouth...
....I knew what was happening....I had accidently grabbed the Gatorade bottle Rip had been doing his little Biological Swamp Torture Experiment in... and now I had a mouthful of frogs in frog juice.
In front of God and Kem and 12 little Church camp Kids I spat the vile liquid out of my mouth and let loose with a
"GODDAMMIT"
that echoed up and down the Lake.
All heads turn to me, and up till now I have been the figure of charity and compassion and a mentor to some of the nicest little boys and girls you would ever want to meet and generally a good influence.
But I see Kem out of the corner of my eye and hear him whisper very loudly
"Steve, please, watch your mouth"
Well, that did it for me and I turned to him and said quite loudly
"KEM, WOULD YOU GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK, JUST ONE TIME?"
And all 12 of those kids just cracked up!!!

I owe Rip one... I do.... and I'm gonna get him good!

THE FLESH IS WEAK

I have noticed a bit of a trend since blogging that I tend to come off as being a little touched in the head. I don't know what to do about that, so I will just have to continue being my unabashed, unapologetic self. I will say that there seems to be a certain Spirit of Surreal Events that follows me around, giving me ample opportunity to have a good bit of fun, and lending itself to support the notion that I am bonkers.

I had a lot of fun at the Craft Fair at the beginning of December being Santa Claus.. But it pales in comparison to the fun that was available on Christmas Eve- Eve, at my kids’ Church during the “Living Nativity”....
It was quite cold and they needed someone to fill in for one of the Wise men. Baltazhar, I suppose. And by “they needed” what I mean to say is ‘The Crazy Church lady needed”.... thats what my kids called her, anyway. Of course, I am glad to help anyone out. I donned my Robes and Turban and Shepherds crook and took my place at the side of the road.
Now if you can imagine, I play one hell of a wise man... especially if you put me beside a busy intersection in the "Freezin (expletive deleted)" cold. While I was instructed to just "stand there and try to look Wise”, this is just not my style. Its not how I roll.

So after a period of contemplation (six seconds) as to why a Wise Man was carrying a Shepherds Crook, I made my move.

I was everywhere, with my Crook, commanding attention to our little Nativity scene, leading traffic and urging Drivers and passengers alike out of their vehicles, at crook-point, if you will, and you would be surprised at how many aquiesqued to my threatening gestures. There were a few times that I actually stepped into the 4-lane road and stopped a car by virtue of the notion they simply did not want to run me over. The whole scene took on a “North by Northwest” meets "Halloween at Christmastime" "Miracle on 34th Street" look.
The end result, however was that we had a whole lot of people stop that otherwise would have kept on driving. I don’t know that any souls were saved because of my exuberance, but I can tell you the Crazy Church Lady was thrilled to no end.

In one of the backrooms of the church, she helped me disrobe.
“You were just wonderful’ as she took my crook and Turban.
‘Why have I never seen you here before?” as she removed my fake beard and looked into my eyes, smiling.
“Well, Ma’am, my kids go here but I generally don’t attend Church”
‘Oh, you must start” and she removed my robe.

I have to admit I was feeling a little uneasy as she began to unbutton my shirt. Then I realized that she thought this was part of my costume, and that what was about to happen was just another of those things that just seems to present themselves to me at times.

An Event of the Surreal Spirit served up on a Silver Platter.

I wanted to laugh, but it wasn't funny yet.

When she got to the last button on my shirt and found her hand on my belt buckle, she noticed my bare chest. A slight gasp barely escaped from her lips, and she raised her eyes to mine.
Our faces are only inches apart and her breath fogs my glasses a little and I say VERY SOFTLY ....
“You better stop right there, Lady, or you are going to know everything there is to know about me!”
And I give her my most disarming smile.
From her lips comes an “Oh” but it is so soft, so barely discernable, that it sounds more like “peep”. She ran from the room.

My daughter told me later that the “Crazy Church Lady" asked if I were single...

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime!!!

HE FORGOT THAT IT WAS SUNDAY

Ninth Grade MYF

We all sat up in the very front at the morning service and filled the first three rows in front of the pulpit. We were very earnest in our prayers and for the most part very well behaved.
On the morning in question, before church in my room I gave my Wild Animal calls a little inspection, and as a young boy will do, dreamed of calling in a Fox with my Fox call or a flock of Mallards with my Duck call. Mom called me to go and I absentmindedly stuck the Duck Call into my front pocket.
Really.
Sure enough I found it about 1/3 of the way into the Sermon and passed it down to my best friend Steve at the end of the isle for his appreciation. Having been duly appreciated, it was passed back to me where I discovered that I would have to stand up in order to put the device back into my pocket.

The previous week my best friend Steve and I had gone golfing together. My Dad dropped us off at the Golf Course. It was his first time but Steve was always a Natural. We got him a set of rented left hand Clubs. On the 11th hole, a Par 3, Steve hit a hole in one. We thought it was hilarious and were rolling on the ground at the Tee box clutching our sides in laughter. No one believed us. I still wake up at night thinking about it. Last time I saw Steve I said something to him about it and he claimed to have forgotten about it.

I discovered that I would have to stand up to get the Call back into my pocket.
I held the call in my hand and had no intention of using it.
Really, I ddin't.
About ½ way through the Sermon I felt the tickle in my throat. I brought my hand up to cover my mouth and (cough)

Q-QUAAACK-K

The echo bounced off the choir loft, rounded the foyer, shook the rafters and brought the Sermon to a dead stop.
The row in front of me turned around and all heads to my left and right turned to the center.
I looked at the end of the aisle where Steve is giving me the “Thumbs Up" and cracking up.
My friend Nancy sitting right beside me, pinches me on the leg and whispers angrily "Give me that thing RIGHT NOW!"
I look up to the Pulpit where the preacher, Brother Jimmy, is looking me right in the eye. His face at first is very stern , but begins to soften as he whispers into the microphone:
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I do not know what that was but I can assure you it was not the Holy Spirit!"



Some of my best days were spent in that Church.

THUS SPOKE ZARATHUSTRA

PART FOUR

I went back to that Church yesterday.
The one from http://srevestories.blogspot.com/2006/11/sunday-mornin-comin-down.html . And I was loaded for Bear. I had let them slide a few months back but today I was going to have a little conversation with them concerning Rosa Parks. I had a few other subjects as well.

It had been since May and they were all very glad to see me. I took this opportunity to tell them that they might should wait to hear what I had to say before they decided whether or not they were glad to see me.

I told them I had been looking real hard for a long time for this spiritual thing they claimed to have. That if God were truly willing to meet someone halfway He better step on up. And that every time I turned on the TV and saw Benny Hinn and that other guy that sweats like a pig, I felt personally offended and it offended my search and what’s more it offended their very own position.

Confrontational? Me? What are you talkin’ about?

As they looked a t me somewhat dumbfounded, one of them managed to say that there were times that they were offended by Brother Benny Hinn, they would give me that.

I was just about to launch into my next subject... Miss Rosa Parks and how they had offended not only myself and their own position, but the entire Civil Rights movement with their STUPIDITY THAT COULD ONLY BE A PRODUCT OF THEIR BIGOTRY and what I wanted to know was how did they feel about that...when in walked the newest member of their class...a Black lady named Angela. Not wishing to poison their well, I said nothing. It was the right thing to do.

After the class, they talked me into going to the service. I told them I didn’t understand a word of it, but I went any way.

This is where it gets good.

At the end of the service, the preacher said there had been a man that came to him the previous week. The man was trying to start a Church and had 30 members but nowhere to meet as they had outgrown the house they had been meeting in. the preacher had gone to the board of Trustee’s and right now, as he spoke, there were 30 Rwandan and Congolese Refugees meeting in room 115.

It occurred to me then that if there is a God he must be bigger than the Sunday School class. He has to be.

And if he is bigger than the Sunday School class, then He might be bigger than the Church.

If He is bigger than that Church, then maybe He is bigger than Christianity, bigger than Judaism, bigger than Islam.

He just has to be.

If he is bigger than all of that, then maybe everything is going to be alright.

WANG- DANG- DOODLE

PART THREE

I gather from yesterdays comments that its not just me....and even though my disappointment and confusion were hard to express ya’ll seemed to know what was on my mind. Of course I would not be the first to rant about religion and maybe that’s why I should just stick to the story and let you guys do the brainwork.

When Barbara http://looking2live.blogspot.com/ came home from France she talked about her dream of having a get together with her Blog friends and wondered if they would be all that she envisioned in her mind and if they made as good of company live as they do on-line.
I’ll bet they are and do and here is why.
Bloggers are good listeners. I enjoy looking at the stories and the way they are told and making a comment as much as actually writing one of my own. And I know that the several folks I visit regular are the same way. Ya’ll heard me better than anyone did down at the Lonesome Dove Church of Historical Error and your comments explained better the follow up than my post did. I went to that Church looking to better understand a Spiritual realm that seems to be far away from my life and found my self uplifted, not by that Church, but by the affinity evidenced in the comments while trying to rant about that Church. I kept going for a few more months before losing interest entirely. I may go check on them this weekend, just for the hell of it.
He works in mysterious ways...
I have friends that would probably blame the whole thing on me!

So here’s what Stephen King says that I like a lot:
“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of because words diminish them, words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when brought out. But its more than that, isn’t it?
The most important things lie too close to where you’re secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly, with a lump in your throat so big you can barely say it, only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you have said at all or even why you said it. That’s the worst I think, when the secret stays locked within, not for want of a teller, but for lack of an understanding ear.”

Barbara, I think we would have us a time. It would be a Wang-Dang-Doodle.

NEXT BEST WESTERN

PART TWO

NEXT BEST WESTERN
It's the middle of the night
Near the Indiana line
I'm pulling in a Christian station
The signal's crystal clear
But I cannot really hear
What he says about the Revelation
I am wretched, I am tired
But the preacher is on fire
And I wish I could believe

Whoever watches over all these truckers
Show a little mercy for a weary sinner
And deliver me - Lord, deliver me
Deliver me to the next best western

Did he who made the lamb
Put the tremble in the hand
That reaches out to take my quarter
I look him in the eye
But there isn't any time
Just time enough to pass the tender
The highway takes its toll
The green light flashes go
And it's welcome to Ohio

Whoever watches over all these truckers
Show a little mercy for a weary sinner
And deliver me - Lord, deliver me
Deliver me to the next best western

At four a.m. on 80 East
It's in the nature of the beast
To wonder if there's something missing
I am wretched, I am tired
But the preacher is on fire
And I wish I could believe

Whoever watches over all these truckers
Show a little mercy for a weary sinner
And deliver me - Lord, deliver me
Deliver me to the next best western

Richard Shindell



'Ol lady comes closer to capturing the feel than I could.
I liked her from the very first post of hers I read.

Once again I have managed to light the fuse but now cannot find the words or direction I want to move. I wish I could tell you that I gave a little History lesson that day. I wish I could tell you that I went the next week with a whole syllabus prepared including a Certification Exam.
I was too surprised, no, shocked...I did'nt see that comin'. No way.
I decided to let it slide.

A few weeks later I had to let something else slide. It was the referendum on what constituted a family and what the rights of the same sexers, ought or ought not be. These people are completely inflexible and cannot imagine a point of view other that the one passed down to them for generations.
I think that they really thought I would vote NO to increasing Liberty for all Americans. The air was thick with the implication.
The only truly original ideas seem to be centered around the numerology of years as money multipliers, protecting their spiritual monopoly and getting Zapped onstage. Damn original.
"I could just about spit".

All of this seems to belittle my own search.
If I say the magic words, the search is over.
And that is what really offends me.

I know one thing... I am not very good at "RANTING".
And they weren't too good at listening.
Barb, you are next.
(TO BE CONTINUED)

SUNDAY MORNIN' COMIN' DOWN

PART ONE
The Sunday School class was studying Ecclesiastes. I was the newcomer. Even so I had seniority. I had grown up in this Church, been 'Saved" in this Church, had the best times and best friends through the 8th, 9th, and 10th grades in this Church.
I was not in attendance in the 11th Grade... my interests had (ahem) taken a new direction.
But when it came time to get married, I got married in this Church.
Fast Forward 20 years;
""All is Vanity" saith the Preacher."
When a stranger had invited me to attend, I accepted. I wondered if any of my old friends from 35 years ago still went there.
There was one, 'ol Norman . He had Salt and Pepper hair even as a Teenager, though he is all grey now. I recognized him right away, but he could not quite place me.
He said there were not any left from those days as best as he could recollect. He said that 'some were called to go some where else and others had, well, just left".
There may have been a time when I spoke that language, but its been a long time.
I said "I suppose they are gone, just the same".
I like Norman.

Fast forward a few weeks to the weekend after Rosa Parks had died back in 2005. The Sunday School class has only 5 members and at the start they always have the prayer request thing that I never seem to have anything to pray about. I thought that it might be appropriate to give a little thanks for having someone like Miss Parks in the world, and said so.
I sensed that this was not well received. The leader asked why this was on my heart.
I thought this was a rather strange question given the setting, but offered that I thought she was a great lady, worthy of honor and respect for a courageous act in a dangerous time for a noble cause.
I was much surprised to be informed that the whole incident had been planned and staged, that she was NEVER in any danger. At all. Wow.
The class of five all seemed to agree Rosa wasnt so special, but being good Christians, they added her name to make me happy.

I "GOOGLED " it up the next day. It was buried about 100 hits deep that Rosa's was nothing more than a PR stunt, and had about as much credence as the staged Lunar landing, Elvis still being alive and no Jews being killed in Nazi Germany.

As my mother would say "I could just about spit".
After writing this, I seem to have lost my desire to rant.

(to be continued)