Yellowriter

I just finished a dad duty.  One of the things that never goes away is the need to be there for your kids.  Natalie, our oldest, needed my wife, Annie and me this week.

The news story of the tradgedy of Annie Le, Yale student and bride to be was a national headline over the past three weeks.  All one has to do is pick up a paper or turn on the news to view the latest in senseless violence.  Most of the time we sigh, pray and turn the page or the channel.  The story of Annie Le didn’t leave the memory as easily because she was my daughter’s friend and roommate.

I was with my friend, Bob F. Schmid, in Washington D.C. when the first call came in.  We were moving toward the Jefferson Memorial as Natalie told me that Annie was missing since the day before, just five days before her wedding.  These are the times you wish you’re close enough for a hug - we had to settle for cell phones.  The FBI had been called and a frantic search was on for the 90 pound Vietnamese woman.

I met Annie Le when I moved my daughter to Connecticut.  They shared the third floor of an old brownstone in New Haven.  The place had three rooms and the third room has had three tenants, but Natalie and Annie were still together as roommates when evil came to call on September 8, 2009.  Annie had an infectous smile and a wit and wisdom seldom seen in young people today.  She looked like a child to me as she stood only four foot eleven inches.  We went for coffee, unpacked and spent one day out to lunch at “The Educated Burger,” a must-do in New Haven.  It makes me ill when I think of her never getting the chance to share that smile or insert that rolling laughter.

I suppose I will always see Annie Le through my daughter because she truly changed Natalie’s life.  My daughter was always a loner and for everything she possesses in Einstein-like mental powers, she lacks in social skills.  I guess I should say lacked because Annie completed Natalie in so many ways.  Through Annie’s proding Natalie went shopping, tried new restaurants and went to parties.  She even went on a date that was Annie’s idea of a set up.  With John, Annie’s husband-to-be, the three made an odd couple plus one.  Natalie never felt like a third wheel around these two fun loving young people.  Annie planned to continue to room with Natalie even after she was wed to John because he will continue his education at Columbia in New York City while Annie was to continue at Yale.

But continue she did not.  The prayer vigil on Friday night is lengthy and goes into the evening a couple of hours.  It is mostly in Vietnamese so I read the faces and gather impressions from body language.  The mother and father are divorced and fail to make eye contact with one another.  The uncle and aunt who raised Annie and her brother, Chris, conduct themselves with quiet dignity and grace.  Many words are said, but I study their faces.  A great uncle speaks, the lines on his tired, tear stained face speaking volumes.  I did not know the words, but I hear the language of a broken heart.

The funeral the next day is long and it is hot at the grave site.  The beautiful flowers on display are torn apart and each person is given a token to leave on the casket as a means of bidding goodbye before the casket is lowered into the earth.  The weeping claws at my spirit like a physical presence.  The aunt, nicknamed “Flower” is escorted away in a state of grief that no actor in Hollywood could ever capture in a role.  I steal a look at the old man in his suffering.  I don’t know how, but I can actually feel his pain.  My body aches as we walk across the steaming grass toward our air conditioned van.

I tell my daughter that life goes on, but part of Natalie was lowered into that symmetrical hole in the ground, never to return.  Annie gave much and took a little with her.  I’m only trying to be a good dad.  I don’t have the right words; no one does.  In the end we must trust God, for all other roads have a miserable dead end.  I’m sorry for all of you who were touched by this fine young woman because you have lost a great deal.  We all have.  Annie lost the most so we won’t begrudge her for taking a splinter of our life joys with her to heaven.

My last thought is for Jonathan Widowsky.  He showed us the photos that were to be part of their wedding collection, now only memories.  I marvel as I look on the wedding band he wears in anticipation of a splendor that will elude him.  He speaks English, but does not need to use such a crude device to show me his state.  I learned a new tongue that day and I suppose I have Annie to thank.  God’s speed, child of the nation - you will be missed.  If there is any doubt just look into the eyes of Natalie Powers.  It is there you will decipher the language of a broken heart.   

I was just sitting on the back porch watching the rain come down.  Rain is something we haven’t had much of this summer so it was a welcome sight.  With coffee cups in hand, Annie and I watched the drops bounce off of the deck as our thoughts and conversation turned to Fall.  Summer, in all of it’s northwest glory is starting to wave goodbye and we are returning the gesture.

One of the things that I have had the time to do since retirement is think.  I’m not talking about the balancing of the checkbook type of thinking.  What I am referring to is pondering.  I sit and stew over items in my mind.  I come up with some surprising notions and I like the fact that I can still surprise myself, mentally at least.  We played tennis with our neighbors, Carla and Homer, yesterday and I can say that I surprised myself this morning, physically, hurting in places that I had forgotten existed!  Back to the point, Powers! 

One of the things that is on my mind is National Health Care.  It is front page news.  Everyone seems to be riled up over the topic.  I got some coffee, sat down and pondered.  That is what retired guys do - they ponder.  It occurred to me that a national plan is logical because it solves one of America’s most pressing problems without addressing it directly.  It solves our illegal immigration population (and subsequent health care financial support for this mass) by giving health care to all Americans.  If you are an illegal and your child gets very sick you can still get free treatment at any emergency room.  The bad news is that because you don’t have a government health care card, INS agents will be there to escort you and your family out of the country when your child is well again.  In five years everyone who doesn’t legally belong here will be ousted from the borders.  National Health Care solves our biggest problem and California’s, paying medical bills for people who don’t belong here.

I can see the racist accusations being formulated.  You see, us retired ponderers see this stuff coming!  It is not a race issue at all.  This is one for the beancounters, my friend.  Just crunch the numbers.  With the cost of health care soaring to record heights, no state or country has the money to pay for millions who cannot pay for themselves.  Just look at California’s record deficit.  They just raised state income tax again and the user fees from everything to water to streetlights to property tax are being escalated on the shrinking (and leaving) middle class.  It doesn’t work in the ledger books and it doesn’t walk in shoe leather.  Something has to give and National Health Care fills the bill quite nicely.

The unions love it as well.  The price of cheap labor just went up.  What a revelation on the last weekend of summer!  The trade off is something we don’t want to talk about.  The $45 an hour aerospace job is gone.  My brother-in-law is one who had that job.  His Southern California existance is being threatened as his unemployment benefits run out.  His house may be repossessed, but still he waits for the call from the big job boys, as do so many others.  Nationally, we are in a state of denial.  Mary, my dad’s girlfriend, asked me when the economy will be turned around again.  I told her about the state of denial and said, “When the $45 an hour former aerospace worker accepts his/her fate and accepts the long-term position as a manager of a fast food restaurant, we are back on track.”  The big money days are over, folks.

So are we becoming Canada?  Yes and no.  America will still have a class of wealthy elite that play by different rules than the masses, but for the first time in history kids in America will not surpass their parents in economic prosperity as a group.  Sure, they’ll be success stories - this is the land of opportunity, but they’ll be far and few between.  College graduates will be mowing lawns and working in mini marts.  The times, they are a-changing!

So how will this affect your plans?  Just grab your cup and watch the rain.  Spend some time thinking.  Join the Ponderer’s Club.  There is no fee to join and a lifetime membership is guaranteed.  I plan to ponder (after I clean the fountain in the back yard) and then I’ll make an afternoon resolution - no labor on Labor Day!  Look, it’s raining again.

My dad and his girlfriend went back to California today.  They were here for five days and we did a lot of the tourist things.  In Seattle we went to the Space Needle, Pike’s Market, Ye Olde Curiosity Shop and rode the ferry to Bainbridge Island.  We took a jaunt from Port Angeles to Victoria in British Columbia, Canada.  My father had never been to Canada and we marveled at the beauty and granduer of Butchart Gardens.  It was a fine five days and I think Annie and I did a fair job of entertaining Marv and Mary.  They’re already planning another trip up to “God’s Country.”

I have been thinking about my blog and have tried to fit it in with all of the rest of the technological changes I have had to endure in my 51 years.  Blogging really is obsolete.  We don’t want to admit it but the Twitter is sending the blog the way of the pager.  When I was a kid we had TV and that came in via an analog signal (also obsolete) so if you missed a program you had to wait for the rerun.  There wasn’t cable (also going the way of the dinosaur) or Beta Maxes, VCR Players, Laser Disc Players (remember their 15 minutes of fame?) DVDs, Blu-Rays, TIVOS, Cell phones, I-Phones, Laptops, Home Computers, Floppy drives, hard drives, Zip Discs (another technology flash-in-the-pan) or WIFI.  Life has changed.

I like to think about my grandmother.  She was born in 1906 and died in 2005 at the ripe old age of 99.  She saw Hailey’s Comet twice.  I saw it with her in 1986.  She had spied it out as a child in 1910.  We went from horse and buggy to motorcar to airplanes to jets and then to the moon and beyond in her lifetime.  But what about me?  When I was born in 1958 there were only 48 states!  The real change for me has been conveniences and creature comforts.

I remember when we got our first microwave oven.  I refused to use an ATM for a year after they were commonplace.  To this day I have not sent a text message.  I got on the blog bandwagon and was replaced by a device that gives second to second updates.  I just can’t compete with that.  The question arises Should I care?  My dad gave me the answer.

We did all of that fun stuff and the answer came on my pack porch.  Amongst all of the hub-bub and sightseeing, our best times were drinking wine and watching the sunset.  We didn’t need a twitter, a blog, the Internet or a pay for view event.  We simply enjoyed the company and conversation as we looked over the Strait of Juan De Fuca.  Life is good.  We joked, talked of some serious things, and generally just relaxed.  The digital world moved on without us and that was just fine.

One of the serious things was the passing of my father’s brother, Jerry Power.  Jerry went home to be with Jesus last Friday, confessing Christ as his Lord mere hours before his death.  For me, I’m glad that my beloved uncle is in glory; he suffers no longer.  For my dad it is the loss of his younger brother, a man he loved very deeply.  We told stories and drank a toast to this wonderful man who has gone the way of all the earth.  His dear wife, Phylis, grieves for her best friend.

I suppose that it all fits together in some cosmic sort of miracle.  I likened it to all of the lines drives a baseball player makes out on.  Over a career they probably equal the bloop hits that just drop in for base hits.  Like so many of life’s seeming unfairness, in the end, it’s probably a wash.  Let this mad generation text, talk and generally become slaves to the need to have to be entertained every waking moment.  I’ll sit on the back porch and enjoy a sunset with my dad in reverential silence.  I guess I’m joining my predecessors in the category of being out of the mainstream.  The funny thing is that I like it.  Yes, I’m oblolete and obsolete isn’t so bad.

I had a dream last night that got me thinking.  In the dream I was talking to someone whom we (my wife and I) used to be close to.  A situation happened and there ended up being a great deal of hurt feelings.  I think that Christmas cards weren’t sent for a couple of years!  That’s serious!  The crux of the dream was her trying to put guilt on me for the poor decision she had made.  Of course she played the “Christian Guilt” card saying, “I thought you CLAIMED to be a Christian!”  Her tone was accusatory and I responded by telling her that I did not plan to rehash that event.  It was over, there is forgiveness, and it simply would not be profitable to bring up all of that ancient junk.  I was calm and controlled, but then again, I’m in the ten percent.

The word “tithe” used to be more common than it is today.  It is a reference in the Bible to the percent of giving that was the standard for Jews in the Old Testament.  It was more than money and more often than not included animals, produce and olive oil.  The stuff you cook with, not Popeye’s girlfriend.  The ten percent in those times often equated to about twenty-three and a half percent.  That sounds stiff, but it was actually a deal.  Before the Kings of Israel, the Jews lived under a theocracy so the twenty plus percent covered the government and the Lord (who basically was the government).

Today we talk about tithes.  You can always tell a Mormon because they use the noun, “tithe,” like a verb.  They say, “I paid my titheing.”  This is an improper use of a noun as a verb and should be punished, but with all of the other abuses in the English language, I suppose we can let this one slide.  I’ve done my share of butchering words and phrases so I’m probably not the best judge.

The tithe I want to discuss is the reality tithe.  I’ve learned that about nine out of ten people don’t live in the same world as I do.  About ninety percent of people create their own reality.  When Annie and I are going to make a decision that requires resources, we sit down with pencil and paper and crunch the numbers.  In five minutes we know whether this can be done.  It is real world stuff and it is so basis, but so many people live in a bubble.  It isn’t just about money, but a side note is that if millions of people would have run the numbers instead of trusting creative financing wizards we would not be in the economic slump that we find ourselves in as Americans.  “But I want” rules the day.  When I married before my ex-mother-in-law (the most beautiful phrase on the planet) was always pressuring me to buy a new car.  My response was “I cannot afford a new car and continue my tithe and charitable giving.”  When my marriage was in trouble I ignored the math and bought a new vehicle.  My giving stopped and so did my marriage.  It is real world stuff that I had to learn the hard way.

Annie (my wife) had lunch with a bubble woman yesterday.  She sat there in her dream world talking about her two daughters.  She painted them as angels, but let’s just say that they don’t live up to their billing.  This woman (in the 90%) believes what she says.  She simply has to make her own reality - the truth is too hard to bear.  It is a form of denial and I’m telling you it is rampant in our culture.  The sad part is that bubble people rarely change; they can’t.  It would destroy the empire that they have mentally constructed.  So what’s the answer?

The answer is not to knock them over with the truth.  Yes, Jack Nicholson’s words are ringing in your head, “You can’t handle the truth!”  And Jack is right.  The best thing to do is to lead by example.  To tell them what may happen on their current path will not be received.  I had two friends with young sons.   They were both bubble dads.  In the early eighties I told both of these men that they had to alter the paths of their boys.  They both laughed when I confronted them.  I should say that these two men I knew did not know one another.  One was a friend from my youth and the other was a man I met in college.  “If you don’t step in your son will one day go to prison,” I told them on separate occasions.  Today, both of these fathers have ex-convicts for sons.

Just because you live in the real world it does not mean that you have the power to change the ninety percent who don’t.  Try to be kind.  Hold back.  Don’t give advice unless asked.  You can’t change someone else.  They have to have the “want to” to live in the real world.  Just let them live in their made-up domain and think that they are happy.  The real world is a cruel and cold place.  If you are part of the reality tithe then welcome to the trenches.  It isn’t that we are smarter or more gifted than the ninety percent.  We aren’t.  Our perception is simply different from theirs.  The reality tithe used to bother me, but then I got realistic about it.  Maybe God wants it this way.

Most of us take the time to look over the past year every last week of December.  I do this to try and understand where I have been, and hopefully, where I am going in the new year.  Quality Control is a big deal for me because I’m a goal setter.  I believe in specific, attainable goals.  July 31st is a day of reckoning.

On July 31st, 2008 I retired.  I had a bunch of things that I wanted to accomplish in my first year of retirement and I think I did okay.  The house in Port Angeles was new (built in 2006) so most of the first year had to do with putting in the yards.  The backyard alone took 35 yards of cement, yes, that’s 5 trucks, and it was quite a project.  I ended up having to take down my gazebo and cut down 160 squre feet of deck because I failed to check with our Homeowners’ Association before I hired a work crew.  That cost me a couple of thousand bucks due to my arrogance/stupidity.  Well, the yards are in (you don’t want to know the pricetag) and it all looks great.

Digging the trenches for the sprinklers cost me some time and pain.  I hurt my shoulder swinging that pick ax and ended up in physical therapy.  The sprinklers turned out fine and are a constant reminder that old guys and manual labor are sometimes not the best mix.

I go to the YMCA now and lift weights for my shoulder.  I’ve met some neat folks and have got a good solid routine for exercise.  I’ve lost 55 pounds since I retired and I want to lose 25 more.  That’s another goal.  Inch by inch anything’s a cinch.  I need to plug WeightWatchers here because without the support from the people at our weekly meetings it would be a tough road.  Annie has lost 62 pounds and is looking and feeling great.  She wants to shed some more but talking about a woman’s weight can be hazerdous to one’s health so let’s move on.

We got involved at a local church and are starting our Covenant Divorce Recovery group in the Fall.  I teach an adult Sunday School class with 70 members so it is no small responsibility.  We hope to also start a home group in January.  We didn’t retire from serving God…we can rest when we get to heaven.

Lilah was born in April and my granddaughter is the sweetest little gal in the world.  Talon, my grandson, is a bundle of energy and at 21 months of age likes to headbutt grandpa!  That boy is a linebacker in progress!  We loved seeing them in May (on a huge road trip that took us through Idaho, Montana, Yellowstone,Wyoming, Utah, and Colorado.  I tell you we need to scale back!

I’ve heard from many old friends.  My buddy, Bill Galarneau, was killed in a tragic motorcycle accident in May.  I think about him a lot and pray for his widow, Mary.  Bill and I were stationed in the Air Force together in Columbus, Ohio in the late seventies.  We later worked together at Los Angeles Center.  I heard from my old friend, Rodney Lewis, last week.  All is well with the “Nieshy-man”, as we call him, and he is enjoying retirement.  I got calls from two of my friends from kindegarten last week on my 51st birthday.  Bruce Grave and Pat Egan have been my amigos for 46 years.  Strange how the time seems to pass so quickly.

Financially, we are doing fine.  Retirement is about living on what you get and have.  We did get to travel a bit and our goal in the next couple of years is an extended trip to Ireland. 

The books are getting published.  Specter of an Accident will be mailed to me in a matter of days.  It was a blast reading over the drafts and making corrections.  Annie has become quite the proofreader!  I hope to be working on my next novel in a month or so.  It is written except for the last three chapters.

My dad and his girlfriend, Mary, will be here next month.  It will be great to see the old guy.  He is 81 and still runs marathons and works trail.  Mary is active and keeps Marv on his toes.  We plan to show them a good time Port Angeles style!

So there is my year.  I have to admit that I’m pretty pleased.  I praise the Lord for the blessings in my life.  Like the saying goes, “It’s all good!”  I’m looking forward to another super year.  Not that I’m counting on tomorrow.  I’m living in the moment as I think about a year in review.  And what a moment it is!

The last time I took the time to sit down and write a post Michael Jackson was still the King of Pop and Farrah Fawcett was battling for her life.  Things change fast, don’t they?  When I was a kid Michael Jackson was a blossoming star.  Back then it was the Jackson 5 that was all the rage.  I have their greatest hits CD.  I remember that the first time I officially fast danced with a girl and it was to the tune, “ABC.”  Michael Jackson was a unique and talented man.  His “Thriller” collection will probably sell for decades to come.  But in the end, the dream died.

Farrah was so hot that she sizzled.  She was actually larger than life when I was in high school.  We all had the poster, you know the one I’m talking about.  She was dead sexy and now she’s just dead.  That sounds cold and insulting, but it is not meant that way.  Farrah got to live her dream.  She believed in her ability when few in the craft took her seriously.  She was tenacious, driven and managed to stay in the public eye for four decades.  Here’s to you, Farrah Fawcett.

I was weed whacking the edge of my lawn yesterday and I noticed a huge bee flying around my head.  I swooed him away.  Bees are important and killing a bee is a sin.  At least it is to me.  Without Bees our crops would fail and life would come to an end.  Bees are that important.  I swooed him again.  I then realized that the hum of my weed trimmer was probably a mating call for the amorous insect.  I swoowed him away a third time hoping he could hook up with another of his species.  The last swoop I didn’t see and it was his last.  I sinned.  The edge of his dream was destruction.

I think it is wonderful to dream.  This blog is a dream in and of itself because I like to write and I want to be heard.  I self publish my novels, poetry and Christian literature for that same reason.  It is a dream.  But all dreams have an edge to them and some are razor sharp.

A friend of mine had a dream to start his own business and things are looking bad right now.  Business is down and overhead is up, like way up.  He is a nervous wreck and he should be.  There are alot of people counting on him.  He failed to see the edge when times were good and he’s got some tough decisions to make.  Usually there are warning signs.

I tell Annie, my wife, “My spider sense is tingling,” when I feel a bad vibe.  She has women’s intuition on her side.  Once, after we were first married we entered into a venture to purchase a home with creative financing.  The deal was for us to pay a large sum of cash upfront to save the sellers from going into bankruptcy.  We met with the couple and our agent and came away feeling the man’s frustration and the woman’s rage.  They were very angry about losing their dream home.  A couple of weeks later we went to seal the deal with a cashier’s check in hand.  We were to do a walk through on the vacated house and get the keys.  When we arrived we found the angry couple still in the house.  The man came out and stared us down and the woman folded her arms in total defiance.  The windows were down and we heard her tell the agent, “We’ll leave when we are good and ready.”  The agent began walking to our vehicle.  Annie and I exchanged a look.  She said, “Spider sense?”  I nodded.  She said, “I’m not comfortable with their body language: let’s get out before it’s too late.”  When he asked for another day I showed him the check.  “Tell them that this money to keep them from bankruptcy is going back in the bank.   The deal is off,” I said, rolling up the window and pulling away.  They mocked us as we drove away.  They drove to bankruptcy and divorce.  The edge was there and we heeded the warning.

I guess the meassage is not to quit dreaming, but to look for the edge.  Most things do have a downside.  In the end we all end up a memory anyway just like Michael and Farrah.  This life is a cruel hoax at times.  It is times like these that turn us to God and His eternal plan.  It isn’t wrong to dream.  Sometimes dreams die, just like all of us will someday.  Beware the edge of dreams.  Sometimes it ends in love and satisfaction…but sometimes it’s just a weed trimmer.    

The first thing I have to tell you about is my brother.  After numerous phone calls and e-mails, we found him.  He made contact with our 81 year old father and assured him that all was well.   That was a bit of drama.  When a 49 year old professional musician goes missing in Alaska, that’s news!  Actually, it was a minor annoyance for which I am grateful.  It could have been tradgedy.  I’ll take the theatre of the real when there’s no catastrophe waiting behind door number three anyday!  Welcome back, Craig, to the land of the living…or at least to the land where people care about you!

Today is Annie’s birthday.  Yes, my blushing bride is 46 today.  She is a low maintenance person with three exceptions.  She likes nice perfume, gets her nails done, and she prefers expensive jewelry.  The last one I don’t mind for three reasons.  One is that she hardly asks for anything so when she does really want something I can usually afford it.  The second is, and listen to this one fellas, the jewelry she wears is a reflection on you!  Don’t be cheap.  She is the woman of your dreams so don’t be afraid to let the whole world know that this princess can wear some shiny stuff!  The third reason is that she knows that the biggest is not always the best.  I tried to up the size on one diamond and she said, “No, thanks.  It’s too big.”  I wondered about that and she set me straight.  “If it’s too big you’re a mark to be robbed.  Also, many people will think it is cubic zirconia if it’s huge and gawdy.  A medium-sized pristine diamond is classy, won’t be thought to be fake, and is easily hidden in crowds by spinning the ring to one’s palm,” she explained.  And it costs less!  That’s for the boys!

We don’t do birthday presents, but plan time together instead.  Thursday, we are heading over to Seattle for a baseball game.  Yes, there might some sea food for me as well.  Annie will be content with chicken.  Since she saves me on jewelry I can overlook the fact that she depises dinner from the sea.  She can have her chicken and I’ll have the chowder.  I better write faster…that made me hungry!  My birthday is next month, sans presents as well, and we are going to take the ferry to Victoria and go to Butchart Gardens.  Check out their website.  The place is absolutely gorgeous.  www.butchartgardens.com will hook you up.

The kids are gone back home.  Natalie is back in New Haven, Connecticut and David is shipping out of San Diego for Kuwait this week.  It is all quiet and I’m enjoying the lull.  We have some church responsibilities and Annie has some work on the pageant stuff (she is director of the Port Angeles Community Queens), but we are in a bit of a coast right now.  On July 31, I will have been retired one year and I can tell you it has been quite a transition.  Most of the hard stuff is history.

There was a commercial that was on years ago.  I think it was a beer ad and the guy was building his dream house.  While seated next to a pond with one hand in the water and the other holding a cold brew he was asked, “When you finish this place what are you going to do?”  The actor looked at the camera, stirred the water a bit, and then replied, “Just what I’m doing now.”

Maybe you are like us and are “in-between” events.  I would urge you not to be in a hurry at filling the drama gaps.  Take a deep breath and a break.  More drama is on the way…I promise.  All of that talk about stopping to smell the roses is spot on.  Don’t feel guilty to get quiet and stir the pond.  If God is giving you some downtime, take advantage of it.  I have to sign off now.  I was dreaming about the Japanese Garden at Butchart…there’s a pond that’s in need of a stir.  

I realize that I’ve been gone for a bit, but David, my son in the Navy, is visiting from San Diego before he heads off to Kuwait at the end of the month.  Natalie, my daughter who is getting her P.H.D. at Yale, will be here this afternnoon so I had better blog now before the family time really gets moving.

David and I are finding things to do.  Annie, David and I went up to Hurricane Ridge for a picnic last week.  Usually it is too cold up there even in the summertime, but the heat wave last week let us bask in 70 degree sunlight while we dined in style.  We all participated in the Port Angeles 5 and 10 k’s on Sunday.  Dave ran the 10K while we walked the five.  Baby steps, man!  Annie wants to do the half marathon next year so I guess we’ll be training for that.

Yesterday David and I went to Olympic Hot Springs.  We had a great hike and a great time.  The only wierd thing was seeing two people, buck naked, in the throes of passion.  It was pretty strange.  We ate a snack and let them alone to “finish up.”  By the time we got back to the car we were tired and hot.  We drove over the Cresent Lake, got some refreshment at a snack bar type place and drove home.  Thursday we’re planning a picnic by the Dungeness River in Sequim.  We plan to sprinkle Papa Butch’s ashes in the river because Sequim is a place he loved to hunt and fish.  Annie’s dad, Rubbert Erskin Hooker, died January 24, 2002 at the all-too-young age of 58.  My new novel, Specter of an Accident, will be available in August and is dedicated to Papa Butch (Rubbert “Bob” Hooker).

I’m in a search for my brother.  Craig is a 49 year old musician who lives in Alaska.  He is a bit eccentric to say the least.  E-mails and phone calls go un-returned.  I pray my brother is okay, but this is just another chapter with dealing with a professional musician.  That leads me to the 11th Commandment.

If you walk up to Lauren, our youngest daughter, and ask, “What is the 11th Commandment?” she will tell you without batting an eye.  “Thou shalt not date a musician!”  I know it’s a sterotype, but musicians are pretty much bums.  Nothing is as important as “My music!”  A guy I know is getting married next month.  Twenty years old and you guessed it, a musician.  I’ll spare you the details.  In the pondering department, why do most musicians think that they’ll be the next Beyonce, Third Day, or Kenny Chesney?  It’s a cruel joke, but many fall for it.  When David showed up with his guitar I groaned.  He replied, “Dad, I’m teaching myself to play with a computer program.  Don’t worry.  My career goals have nothing to do with music.  It’s just a hobby.”  That calmed my fears.

The point is that most people have a need for creative expression.  I’ll pick on myself here; I love to write, but it’s a hobby.  Could it take off?  It is possible, but if it doesn’t I still have health insurance and I am going to eat today!  I don’t want to tell people not to dream.  All I’m saying is to have a plan B.  Have a fall back position.  The Seattle Times ran a sad story today about the 1999 baseball draft.  10 players from Washington State were taken in that draft in the first two rounds.  That will likely never happen in a state of this size and population again.  Out of the 10, only one is a success and I have to admit that I’ve never heard of the guy.  The back up plans of the other 9 were pretty woeful.  One guy works in a casino, one guy tries to get construction gigs…and on and on it goes.

To all you rock star wannabees I say, good for you.  If you do make it, don’t forget where you came from and always give back.  If you don’t, enjoy your hobby, but get a job, a real job.  Feed your family before your fantasies.  The real world can be a pretty hard place.  Remember the 11th Commandment.  I have to go…my agent is on the phone with Castlerock Entertainment with a huge movie deal offer on Skinware, my first novel.  Ta Ta darlings!  Let’s do lunch sometime!   

My neighbor stopped me for a visit on the way back from my retrieving my morning paper.  Karla, one of the other retired people on our street, asked me if I ever get bored.  I had to be honest and respond that in the ten months of retirement I’ve yet to be bored.  I explained to her that I got my first job at eleven years old and pretty much worked the 39 years before I retired at 50.  I told her that time has always been ultra important to me (maybe because I’m part German) and that I have always been on someone else’s time schedule.  That is the best part of retirement - your own time.

But filling that time can be a huge challenge.  If you watch any of the slick TV ads that talk about great investment strategies, the payoff is usually being super comfortable or downright rich in the golden years.  The motivation is sound; don’t we all want to be a little more than okay after we quit working when it comes to money and comfort?  A friend reminded me that retirement is not in the Bible.  He told me that we can rest when we get to heaven.  The problem is that all of us age and someday we probably won’t be able to work.

So now we are back at the boredom dilemma.  A lot of people who retire go back to work at some point, many part-time.  The reason is that they want to fill their day and that is a good approach.  It also gives some socialization along with the extra money one earns.  I have gotten offers from the FAA to go back as a contract employee.  My answer, in a nice way, is not for all the tea in China!  I’m just not interested in air traffic control any more.

So what am I interested in?  I’m so glad you asked.  I love to write and re-write books!  It sounds like English homework, doesn’t it?  It actually is a lot of fun and there is a bunch of things to learn about this language that I supposedly speak!  Annie reads through with me and we catch typos and mistakes.  We work about two hours a day and that is about right.  We’re completing a re-write of The Covenant Divorce Recovery Leader’s Handbook and it is about to go to press.  Specter of an Accident, a novel, will be finished in less than a month.  We then plan to re-write The Covenant Divorce Recovery Student Workbook.  After that we plan to do a revision on Skinware.  Another novel is in the pipeline after that.

So you can see I keep busy.  The blessings of having a curious mind!  Oliver Wendell Holmes said, “A mind that stretches to grasp a new concept can never return to its original dimensions.”  All of this revision work is stretching my mind.  I’ve also taken to doing word puzzles as a way to increase my vocabulary and challenge my thinking.  It is all part of making your own fun.

Today I told Annie to tell me what she wanted to do.  It was gorgeous today (72, sunny and no wind) so she suggested we walk the path by the beach.  It was a terrific way to spend part of the day.  Tomorrow it will be something else.  A barbeque and a drive.  Maybe we’ll take a detour.  It doesn’t matter because we’re off the clock.  My advice is to invest wisely so that you can be confident in retirement.  But don’t forget to keep it fresh every day.  That’s the key to retirement.  Start out with a goal to find your fun.  Soon your fun will be finding you!

In the Bible there occurs a curious term called “conversation” in many of the translations.  The more modern versions refer to “conversation” as “manner of life.”  What this means is that what we say says who we are as people.  I’ll push the illustration to yet another level and say that what we believe defines who we are.  Yes, that’s right…our heart gives us away.  Not long ago a stand up comedian used a flurry of racial comments while doing a show.  He later apologized, gave excuses, and went on his merry way.  The crux of the issue was that this guy was always a racist and it finally came out because it defined what was in his very soul.  When O.J. was aquitted for murdering Nicole Brown Simpson the outrage was everywhere.  My position was time.  In time, if O.J. was a criminal, his actions would show his true heart.  Now, he’s in prison for probably the rest of his life for more recent crimes.  That was simply who he is, a criminal.  The jury is still out on Michael Vick.  Duped superstar or unrepentant sinner?  Time will tell.

All of these things are worth thinking about.  Are people how they are because of DNA?  What about a rotten childhood?  Is it a combination of the two, nature and nurture?  What about personal choice?  And now the biggie - what about God?  Can the Lord change a person’s heart so that he is no longer a racist?  A crook?  A killer?  I’d like to think so because as the French philosopher Moliere said, “Man, I can assure you, is a nasty creature.”  Without God, we’re doomed.

I know my share of God talkers.  I’m a Christian who prays, reads the Bible daily, and tries to tell people about the love of Jesus.  I have issues and DNA that trips me up, but God is there to help me along.  I spend a great deal of my time trying to be more like Christ, and I struggle.  Some of the God talkers I know don’t seem to share my angst. 

When I was in college I met a God talker named Jaque.  He could not get through a sentence without talking about God.  I’d say, “beautiful day” and he’d reply “The Lord God has given you this day so that others will see Jesus in you!”  That’s fine, but it seemed kind of phoney.  Once when I asked him to pass the ketchup in the college cafeteria he made the comparision to the tomatoes being the color of the shed blood of the Lord Jesus Christ.  I held out my hand, told him I was running late and that I’d like some ketchup for my fries.  I got a lecture and had to eat the taters sans the red stuff.  It was later that month that this God talker was arrested for raping a 13 year old girl.  Pass the ketchup please.

Another God talker was Bill.  He loved the Lord and toted a 12 pound Bible with him wherever he went.  He rebuked all of the big sins and was always passing judgment.  Every discussion turned into a theological debate.  He once invited me to his home for New Year’s Day.  The Rose Bowl was on the TV, but we missed most of it because he wanted to talk about limited atonement and election.  He did a three to five stretch for not paying his income taxes.  His life said that he loved God, but his real idol was money.  Prison was the end for this God talker.

I’m frusterated as I write this.  Some dear friends of ours are divorcing.  Yes, they are Christians and yes, this guy is a God talker.  I tried to recommend a novel from an author I like but he only reads Christian material.  He only listens to gospel music and shares his faith with most he meets.  You guessed it; Mr. God talker has a girlfriend.  His wife and two little girls (aged 9 & 11) will have to deal with the leftovers of his mid-life crisis.  Another God talker bites the dust and the happiest person in the universe right now is Satan, the Prince of Darkness.  I think he has a special list for God talkers.

The point of all of this is “but by the grace of God, there go I.”  I have to stay tuned in, as do you.  Don’t give God lip service - give Him your heart.  The book of James tells us to “be doers of the Word.”  The lingo is nice, but what is in your heart of hearts?  Your soul?  Sure, I want my “conversation” to show God, don’t you?  But it has to be who we are.  Don’t take the O.J. Highway.  Give your life to the Lord, not just your verbage.  We already have an abundance of God talkers.