Written as an introduction to a family cookbook on May-30-98 at 06:27P.
Our Story--The Beginning
I sat drinking my coffee in a small café in Mexico City in an area called Collacón, on one of those days when the air clung to you like a heavy jacket. It was one of those hang outs where members of the upper middle class go to drink fancy coffees and smoke cigars, and talk about their golf game. People were milling about as if ants on a militant journey. They walked around me in pursuit of their daily mundane lives and I observed them with keen interest. Outside of the fact that I was sporting a pair of sunshades, it was impossible to tell that I was the only person on the street that didn't belong. I had managed to blend in, to become one with the culture, to become one of them. However, despite the state of contented bliss in which I was enveloped, one thing weighed heavily with me.
I remember her well; she was constantly on my mind. Every time I turned around, I was catching a hint of her perfume. Relentlessly, she was the soul of my thoughts, my focus of energy, and my reason for smiling. I hadn't known her long, in fact, I had only met her a few times, but everywhere I looked, I saw her face.
I spoke her name often in those days, Brenda Zuniga—it just sort of rolls off the tongue. She was the exact double of a famous movie star in Mexico and I was determined to fall in love with her. The fact that her father was wealthy didn't discourage me much either. I sat there waiting for her to join me over a cup of café mocha, or café con crema, and I was lost in my thoughts when she arrived. We talked for hours, and as we prepared to leave, I agreed to attend her school graduation party that evening. I remember dressing in a nice suit that evening, a Spanish style suit that resembled a tuxedo, and I looked like Sylvester Stallone. Well, I wore a pair of glasses that looked like the ones he wore in a movie. However, as excited as I was to be Brenda's date, I will never forget Juan Carlos. He was the one that stole her away and sent me home with a cut rose and a commemorative handkerchief.
Looking back, I can say that, in a way, I owe all I have to Brenda and Juan Carlos. For it was a few months latter that I stole fifty dollars from a girl I knew at church.... But that is another story. Oh, what the heck, let's tell it anyway!
I had been home from Mexico for a short visit. I had a rough time of it there. I had just been run over by a car while riding my bicycle, and I badly needed some R & R. It was while I was visiting my home church that my father introduced me to a girl I only knew by sight. She was a preacher's kid, and you know what they say about them, they always are in trouble because they hang out with the deacon's sons. Therefore, I kept my respected distance. Only I had trouble not staring at her, and then after church I had trouble not talking to her. I was worried about my reputation, hanging out with that PK. Yet, there was mystery in her eyes and I wanted to know her better. So, when the opportunity came, I jumped on it quicker than a duck on a June bug.
Our parents were involved in a church meeting, so I accepted her invitation to go join her at the Dairy Queen for a Coke while we waited for them to join us. Well, that's when the Preacher's daughter showed her true colors.
I was in my car and (let's call her Sarah, for now, in order to protect the innocent) Sarah was following in her Oldsmobile. Her mother had given her a 50.00 bill to buy cokes, and I was appropriately impressed that these folks would drop a fifty for refreshments. I thought it over and decided that it would be funny to hide her fifty and watch her search for it. Heck, she probably had a handful of them. Then when she was desperate for money, I would produce that fifty and offer to buy the drinks and let her keep the change. When you have ears like mine, you have to use every advantage you can.
That's when a fly got into the ointment. After I had lifted the fifty, (I learned lots of things in Mexico), I saw that my brother Jeb was on the side of the road with a flat tire and I went to see if he needed help. I told her brother Roy that I would be right there, and went on my Good Samaritan trip. I was only gone for a short time, but upon my arrival, I saw Sarah digging frantically through her purse and Roy standing behind her calmly sipping at his straw. Well, I arrived with my fifty to save the day but Roy gave me up like a little stool pigeon. Sarah acted offended and I suspicioned that she might become angry. So I said, “I guess that this is not a good time to ask you to marry me?”
She launched into a speech that involved her mother and the last fifty dollars they owned, but I sat down and tuned her out, listening to Roy talk about his favorite football team, the Philadelphia Eagles.
I knew that she spelled trouble, but I ignored the warning bells screaming in my head. Throwing caution to the wind, I began to fall in love with her—and even married her. Living with Sarah has been something of an adventure, to say the lest. As I think back on all the things that have happened to me like, when her cat urinated on my last clean shirt, or when we over filled her waterbed, I think of Brenda and that rat Juan Carlos. All in all, I guess things haven't been that bad. We have gone through more pets than salmon factories go through cans. We have moved more times than gypsies. We froze to death in the mountains because we couldn't afford to run the heater, and we cried when we couldn’t afford to make a cake on my birthday. We laughed as thirty insurance companies dropped our coverage in a span of two years, and all over a misunderstanding. We have traveled throughout the US and had adventures in foreign countries. On one particular incident, we found the Holy Grail—or was that Indiana Jones? Anyway, we struggled through the years I was in prison and the years that followed where I made no money. I put up with her family and all the misery they can deal out, only to discover after we got married that the only reason Sarah dated me was because I had horses! I bet that rat Juan Carlos is spending all of Brenda's money right now...
I suppose that things aren't all that bad, the other day I had a dream that Sarah and I were getting married again. The preacher says, “Is there anyone that thinks this couple should not get married?” I looked around and everyone in the building was forming a double line behind us. Now that we are in the Army and have a child on the way, I can only think back and say that I, we, owe it all to Brenda and Juan Carlos. Of course there is the story of Irma Angelica Zamorano, but we will save that for the next cookbook, The Squat and Gobble Eatin' Guide. Until then, I leave you with this word of wisdom, don't spit in the well, you might want to drink from it later!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
You Can Count on Me
Well, as promise, I will deliver to Alison a copy of When Love Calls, as the winner of the "Name that Story" contest. Congratulations on your victory, Alison.
Now, I present to you a fully titled short story that has some personal meaning to me. I pray this story will encourage your participation in the American experience.
You Can Count on Me
Fall 2003
Wendell Ingles sat in the center of a large prayer circle. His friends and family surrounded him and beseeched God for His favor and grace. They had been praying at the church for the better part of an hour and were just about to close the prayer meeting. Brother Jeff finished a lengthy and detailed examination of a Christian’s duty to serve as the nation’s moral compass and ended with, “…and all the saints said…”
“Amen.” The group sounded in unison. Jeff dabbed the tears out of his eyes and offered a hand to Wendell, who was still sitting in his chair in the middle of a now emptying room. “Brother, I really felt the Lord ministering to us tonight.”
“Yes, so did I” Wendell agreed. “I believe that the Lord is leading us, I mean, me,” he smiled, “to run the race set before me. Since the Lord has put this idea in my heart, I have no choice but to follow it.”
“To not follow it is sin, and we don’t want that.”
“Yes, thank you, Jeff. I suppose that I can count on your vote?”
Jeff stretched his hand. “I want to be the first to shake hands with our new mayor.”
One by one the church members walked past him and shook his hand, each of them assuring him that their vote was a sure thing. The men would slap him on the back and say things like, “We expect great things out of you” and “Don’t forget the little people.”
The small community of Sand Bend, a town located along the banks of the Salt Fork of the Brazos River, and just south of the county seat, Justice, began with a population that was just over 10,000 people at the turn of the century. Sand Bend was a mining town that specialized in salt and cotton, but as the years advanced, the salt mine dwindled and the cotton industry was all that remained. Now the town survived on a steadily declining populace of 3,000 people—most of whom were old and getting older. Of those who were registered to vote, only a third traditionally voted in an election year, but only if that year bore the weight of a presidential election. At best, the government of Sand Bend would ultimately be determined by less than a thousand socially conscious members of the community.
As his campaign progressed over the rest of the year, Wendell counted 200 people who were absolutely committed to him and assured him of their votes. He still needed at least 200 more votes to guarantee a victory, and the election was still almost a full year away. From the Barber Shop to the Old Salt Café, the townspeople generally stopped Wendell to offer him their support and to wish him good luck.
Wendell had been a public personality for several years. He first ran for office in a school board election. He had noticed that the members of the current school board had been seated so long that they no longer had any children who were still in school, but were making decisions as if they were still living in the past twenty years. The school was falling into disrepair and the busses constantly needed mechanical attention. The prevailing opinion of the board was, “it has worked for us all these years, why change now?” The last member to have a child in the school was Jimmy White, and his son graduated over eight years ago. Change was needed, but no one was willing to step up to the plate and take charge. Wendell listened to the community complain beyond the ears of the school board long enough to realize that no citizen was willing to commit to the problem. Therefore, he ran for school board and was elected by an overwhelming majority. Over the next 12 years, he fostered new policies and hired a superintendent that had a vision to see a small town school become a modern and effective educational force. Slowly, the school population grew as people from the nearby town of Justice realized that Sand Bend, despite its size, offered a higher quality of education. Soon, the entire county was paying attention to Sand Bend Independent School District as it began to receive awards and recognition from the state. Wendell had generated positive change for all of Justice County and was recognized for his contribution. His final act of responsibility was to step down from the school board when his youngest son graduated. The entire community begged him to reconsider, but he realized that the school would only grow stagnant if some new ideas and new people weren’t introduced to the system. He had fulfilled his purpose; it was time to move on and let someone else take up the reigns.
He considered himself removed from politics until the current mayor, David Donaldson, decided to build an enormous hospital upon the backs of the small tax base. The town didn’t need a new hospital, as Justice was only 15 miles away, and Justice had an 85 bed medical system that was perfectly adequate for their part of West Texas. Mayor Donaldson was simply making a grave mistake, but no one was able to convince him otherwise. Sand Bend couldn’t support a 15 million dollar hospital, but they were about to build one, unless someone stepped in with a voice of reason. So Wendell, once again realizing that no one was willing to be responsible, threw his hat into the ring and filed his candidacy for Mayer of Sand Bend, at a cost of $500.00 filing fee.
As 2003 turned into 2004, Wendell placed his third order for political signs that read, “A vote for Wendell is a vote against the hospital.” The signs were in practically every yard throughout the town of Sand Bend. Wendell’s campaign appeared to be a sure thing.
However, a very desperate Mayer Donaldson refused to give up without a fight. Using fear tactics, he convinced all the senior citizens that the hospital in Justice was threatening to close and that they would no longer have medical care available. Then he promised the local businesses that the materials for hospital construction would be purchased in their stores. Slowly, greed and fear began to replace reason and logic. Then the Mayer began to play upon social issues and campaigned that the facilities in the adjoining medical complex could house the only abortion clinic within 75 miles. The Mayer then decided to promise Internet access in the library that was dedicated to research pornography sites, so that the beauty of the human body could be expressed, for those who appreciate art. Donaldson also revealed his vision of proposing an adult bookstore and a liquor store. The race began to heat up.
In the last week before the election, Wendell made one last attempt to secure his voter base. His various friends throughout the community all guaranteed their vote, but that was only a total of 220. He still needed another 200 votes to assure a victory. He still had not counted his friends at his local church, whose membership was well over 275 steady members.
On that Sunday morning, Wendell stood and made a short speech about his concerns for the future of Sand Bend. When he mentioned the moral and social implications of the proposed abortion clinic and the Internet porn access at the library, the congregation shouted amen until he was proud to be a member of the church. He then pointed out that the risk of losing this election would mean an unbearable tax burden upon the property owners. Again, the church shouted approval of his position against the liquor store and the proposed pornography access and applauded until their hands were sore. After the service, he stood in the back of the church with the pastor and shook hands with all of the members, who repeatedly swore their allegiance to him.
That Monday morning, the newspaper published the results of the poll taken over the weekend. The projected winner of the election was clearly predicted to be Wendell by a margin of 70 percent. Sand Bend was not ready for a liberal social reform; Mayer Donaldson had overplayed his hand. The voters were confident that Wendell was to be elected Mayer and protect their interests.
On Tuesday, as the polls closed, Mayer Donaldson sat at the local bar and soaked his troubles in a bottle of gin. He hardly noticed when the phone rang in the distance. He only wanted the miserable election to be over. He could hardly imagine how bad his losses must be. Only 30 percent of the voters approved of his candidacy, and most of them were the senior citizens that were convinced the hospital in Justice was going to close. He saw the bartender approach him with the phone in hand. This was it. The Court House was calling to notify him of the tragic results. Just get it over with….
Wednesday morning was a buzz of activity as Sand Bend emerged from a night of fitful sleep. One by one the good citizens unrolled the morning newspaper to confirm the victory of the votes from the night before. One by one the shock and dismay experienced by each member of the community was felt as the earthquake of reality overwhelmed them all. The headlines read, “Mayer Donaldson Re-elected in Landslide Victory.”
It seems that the entire community was so certain that Wendell was going to win that only 25 people turned out to vote for him. Donaldson won by an enormous 200 to 25. The next Sunday in church, every member of the congregation expressed their regrets and promised him that they were one of the twenty five that had voted.
Now, I present to you a fully titled short story that has some personal meaning to me. I pray this story will encourage your participation in the American experience.
You Can Count on Me
Fall 2003
Wendell Ingles sat in the center of a large prayer circle. His friends and family surrounded him and beseeched God for His favor and grace. They had been praying at the church for the better part of an hour and were just about to close the prayer meeting. Brother Jeff finished a lengthy and detailed examination of a Christian’s duty to serve as the nation’s moral compass and ended with, “…and all the saints said…”
“Amen.” The group sounded in unison. Jeff dabbed the tears out of his eyes and offered a hand to Wendell, who was still sitting in his chair in the middle of a now emptying room. “Brother, I really felt the Lord ministering to us tonight.”
“Yes, so did I” Wendell agreed. “I believe that the Lord is leading us, I mean, me,” he smiled, “to run the race set before me. Since the Lord has put this idea in my heart, I have no choice but to follow it.”
“To not follow it is sin, and we don’t want that.”
“Yes, thank you, Jeff. I suppose that I can count on your vote?”
Jeff stretched his hand. “I want to be the first to shake hands with our new mayor.”
One by one the church members walked past him and shook his hand, each of them assuring him that their vote was a sure thing. The men would slap him on the back and say things like, “We expect great things out of you” and “Don’t forget the little people.”
The small community of Sand Bend, a town located along the banks of the Salt Fork of the Brazos River, and just south of the county seat, Justice, began with a population that was just over 10,000 people at the turn of the century. Sand Bend was a mining town that specialized in salt and cotton, but as the years advanced, the salt mine dwindled and the cotton industry was all that remained. Now the town survived on a steadily declining populace of 3,000 people—most of whom were old and getting older. Of those who were registered to vote, only a third traditionally voted in an election year, but only if that year bore the weight of a presidential election. At best, the government of Sand Bend would ultimately be determined by less than a thousand socially conscious members of the community.
As his campaign progressed over the rest of the year, Wendell counted 200 people who were absolutely committed to him and assured him of their votes. He still needed at least 200 more votes to guarantee a victory, and the election was still almost a full year away. From the Barber Shop to the Old Salt Café, the townspeople generally stopped Wendell to offer him their support and to wish him good luck.
Wendell had been a public personality for several years. He first ran for office in a school board election. He had noticed that the members of the current school board had been seated so long that they no longer had any children who were still in school, but were making decisions as if they were still living in the past twenty years. The school was falling into disrepair and the busses constantly needed mechanical attention. The prevailing opinion of the board was, “it has worked for us all these years, why change now?” The last member to have a child in the school was Jimmy White, and his son graduated over eight years ago. Change was needed, but no one was willing to step up to the plate and take charge. Wendell listened to the community complain beyond the ears of the school board long enough to realize that no citizen was willing to commit to the problem. Therefore, he ran for school board and was elected by an overwhelming majority. Over the next 12 years, he fostered new policies and hired a superintendent that had a vision to see a small town school become a modern and effective educational force. Slowly, the school population grew as people from the nearby town of Justice realized that Sand Bend, despite its size, offered a higher quality of education. Soon, the entire county was paying attention to Sand Bend Independent School District as it began to receive awards and recognition from the state. Wendell had generated positive change for all of Justice County and was recognized for his contribution. His final act of responsibility was to step down from the school board when his youngest son graduated. The entire community begged him to reconsider, but he realized that the school would only grow stagnant if some new ideas and new people weren’t introduced to the system. He had fulfilled his purpose; it was time to move on and let someone else take up the reigns.
He considered himself removed from politics until the current mayor, David Donaldson, decided to build an enormous hospital upon the backs of the small tax base. The town didn’t need a new hospital, as Justice was only 15 miles away, and Justice had an 85 bed medical system that was perfectly adequate for their part of West Texas. Mayor Donaldson was simply making a grave mistake, but no one was able to convince him otherwise. Sand Bend couldn’t support a 15 million dollar hospital, but they were about to build one, unless someone stepped in with a voice of reason. So Wendell, once again realizing that no one was willing to be responsible, threw his hat into the ring and filed his candidacy for Mayer of Sand Bend, at a cost of $500.00 filing fee.
As 2003 turned into 2004, Wendell placed his third order for political signs that read, “A vote for Wendell is a vote against the hospital.” The signs were in practically every yard throughout the town of Sand Bend. Wendell’s campaign appeared to be a sure thing.
However, a very desperate Mayer Donaldson refused to give up without a fight. Using fear tactics, he convinced all the senior citizens that the hospital in Justice was threatening to close and that they would no longer have medical care available. Then he promised the local businesses that the materials for hospital construction would be purchased in their stores. Slowly, greed and fear began to replace reason and logic. Then the Mayer began to play upon social issues and campaigned that the facilities in the adjoining medical complex could house the only abortion clinic within 75 miles. The Mayer then decided to promise Internet access in the library that was dedicated to research pornography sites, so that the beauty of the human body could be expressed, for those who appreciate art. Donaldson also revealed his vision of proposing an adult bookstore and a liquor store. The race began to heat up.
In the last week before the election, Wendell made one last attempt to secure his voter base. His various friends throughout the community all guaranteed their vote, but that was only a total of 220. He still needed another 200 votes to assure a victory. He still had not counted his friends at his local church, whose membership was well over 275 steady members.
On that Sunday morning, Wendell stood and made a short speech about his concerns for the future of Sand Bend. When he mentioned the moral and social implications of the proposed abortion clinic and the Internet porn access at the library, the congregation shouted amen until he was proud to be a member of the church. He then pointed out that the risk of losing this election would mean an unbearable tax burden upon the property owners. Again, the church shouted approval of his position against the liquor store and the proposed pornography access and applauded until their hands were sore. After the service, he stood in the back of the church with the pastor and shook hands with all of the members, who repeatedly swore their allegiance to him.
That Monday morning, the newspaper published the results of the poll taken over the weekend. The projected winner of the election was clearly predicted to be Wendell by a margin of 70 percent. Sand Bend was not ready for a liberal social reform; Mayer Donaldson had overplayed his hand. The voters were confident that Wendell was to be elected Mayer and protect their interests.
On Tuesday, as the polls closed, Mayer Donaldson sat at the local bar and soaked his troubles in a bottle of gin. He hardly noticed when the phone rang in the distance. He only wanted the miserable election to be over. He could hardly imagine how bad his losses must be. Only 30 percent of the voters approved of his candidacy, and most of them were the senior citizens that were convinced the hospital in Justice was going to close. He saw the bartender approach him with the phone in hand. This was it. The Court House was calling to notify him of the tragic results. Just get it over with….
Wednesday morning was a buzz of activity as Sand Bend emerged from a night of fitful sleep. One by one the good citizens unrolled the morning newspaper to confirm the victory of the votes from the night before. One by one the shock and dismay experienced by each member of the community was felt as the earthquake of reality overwhelmed them all. The headlines read, “Mayer Donaldson Re-elected in Landslide Victory.”
It seems that the entire community was so certain that Wendell was going to win that only 25 people turned out to vote for him. Donaldson won by an enormous 200 to 25. The next Sunday in church, every member of the congregation expressed their regrets and promised him that they were one of the twenty five that had voted.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
I Need Your Help
As one might imagine, it's a tad difficult to title a story. To me, it's as difficult as naming a child. The wrong name will place the wrong emphasis, and that is something none of us want. For example, I have a cousin named Rowdy. Yep, he managed to fulfill that description. So, a couple of years ago I wrote the following story, but I've never been able to properly title it. My readers are some of the brightest around. Therefore, I've thought of a fun way to get everyone involved. Please read the story, and if you have any suggestions about a good title, please let me know. I'll throw in a free book, autograph and all, to whomever comes up with the best title, even if I decide not to use it. (Provided they want or need a book). At any rate, enjoy the story and contact me with your suggestions.
The fine China rattled as breakfast was being prepared in the kitchen. Beatrice carried a stack of plates into the dining room, where Joe sat sipping a cup of coffee. As was tradition, he never looked up while the places were set, but sat brooding over his newspaper.
Joe and Beatrice had been married for thirty years and their routine was almost a work of art. Joe was always the first to arise in the morning, as he was the product of too many years of reporting for work by 7:00 AM. While he stood in front of his shaving mirror, his whistling would stir Beatrice, who would make her way into the kitchen and plug in the old coffee pot. She would stir around the house while Joe dressed, then she would crack open eggs for their family meal.
Jackie was the hardest of their 4 children to wake up, but in recent months, she had ballet practice earlier than normal, which forced her to get out of bed with minimal fighting. Jimmy, her twin brother, was very much like his father. He would rise before the sun so he could share the paper with Poppa and brush over a chapter in his text book for a morning test. Joe immensely enjoyed sharing his morning paper with Jimmy. Every day, Little Jim would peek around the corner while prying his foot into an already tied shoe and say, “what’s in the Wall Street this morning, Poppa?” He would then sit down in front of the sports, which was neatly folded by his breakfast plate.
Things were quiet this morning—too quiet. Joe sat by himself as he read the best analyst’s predictions of a bull market. He placed his cup on the corner of the table, and in a few minutes, he could hear fresh coffee being poured. “Thanks, my Love.”
“Always a pleasure to serve.” She held the pot in one hand and reached over his shoulder with the other and rubbed his chest vigorously. He grunted at her and then tried to bite her hand, which she withdrew in a shriek and said, “Don’t make me pour this coffee down your neck. So help me, I’ll do it.” She then proudly waggled back into the kitchen while Joe watched and whistled as her shapely figure disappeared around the corner. “Now there goes a fine woman, Jimmy. You’ll do good to find such a woman for yourself.” After an awkward silence, Joe looked over his paper and saw the sports section lying by Jimmy’s plate—untouched.
Joe frowned at himself for his thoughtless routine and stared at the empty plate. Things were not the same around here. Their charming practice was about to change; in fact, it had already changed. This was their first weekday after the twins had gone to college. Joe had taken last week off work so he and Beatrice could drive to Michigan with the kids and help them settle into the dorms. Hillsdale College was an even stronger family tradition for the Langley family. Each of the men in the family had attended and graduated Hillsdale from the very first year it opened in 1844. None of the women in the family enrolled until Joe’s eldest daughter, Juliet, attended in the 80’s. In fact, Hillsdale was where Joe met Beatrice. They were in the same freshmen class, even though they rarely took the same courses…
Joe’s thoughts were suddenly closed as he realized that Beatrice was crying in the kitchen. The paper hardly hit the floor when he poked his head around the corner and saw her huddled over the stove holding a towel to her eyes.
“Bea?” He asked softly.
“Oh, I’ve ruined everything.” She folded the hand towel twice and pointed at the skillet. A large Spanish omelet sizzled in the pan, complete with sautéed onions, diced tomatoes, and small pieces of corn tortilla strips. There was enough food to feed 4 people.
Joe reached and pulled her to him as she buried her head into his chest and wept. She missed the kids. This was the first time in their marriage, save the first ten months, that they had no children underfoot. Joe felt the same longing in his heart, but it wasn’t his way to cry. He became quiet and still, and reached over to turn off the burner on the stove top. After a long minute, Beatrice sniffled and retreated to her omelet. “Oh, look at that. I’ve ruined breakfast.”
“Nonsense. I like it like that. Now let’s eat before it gets cold.”
She nodded meekly and gently sliced the omelet into 4 parts, dishing 2 pieces into their plates. She placed a bowl of salsa next to Joe’s coffee cup and began to butter her toast.
“Sit down, my Love. Eat breakfast with me.” Joe reached for her hand and she settled into her chair, placing her toast on the edge of her plate.
“You need more coffee,” she blurted out and bolted to her feet.
“No, I’m fine. Sit back down and relax for a moment.”
“I can’t let you eat breakfast without coffee.”
“I’ve endured worse in life. Now sit down.”
“But I need to start the dishes.”
“We haven’t even started to eat yet.”
“I can’t enjoy my meal if there’s a mess in the kitchen.”
“Dear, please sit with me…” His voice failed and he stared at his plate.
“Oh.” She touched her lips as concern flooded over her. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment he was silent and he drew a deep breath. “It’s just that, well…It’s too quiet. Look what a fool I am. I went and folded the sports section and placed it there for Jimmy to read.”
“Yes, right next to the plate I placed there for him.” She slowly settled into her chair. “I just miss the kids, I guess.”
“I never realized that I was so comfortable around them until they were gone.” He sipped his cold coffee. “I wasted all those years.”
“Wasted? What are you talking about?”
“All those breakfasts we ate, all those mornings we sat in silence, I could have been telling the kids how much I loved them and how proud I was of them.”
She frowned. “Oh, Poppa, you did tell them those things.”
He stared into the depths of his black coffee. “Not nearly enough.”
“Nonsense. You sat quietly each morning because the kids were comfortable in the fact that you loved them and that you were proud of them. They were content just being with you. You were there for them in every way.” She stood to her feet. “They enjoyed the quiet mornings as much as you did. I think it was like a sanctuary for them, like the calm before the storm.” She walked into the kitchen and emerged with a fresh cup of coffee. “There. Now drink your coffee and be happy.”
“Thank you, my Love.”
She frowned. “At least you still have your work to go to today,” she said shortly.
He looked at her. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, come on! I’m not going to bear my weakness and let you slide by without a thought.”
She sat on the very corner of her chair. “I’m just glad you have a good job that helps sustain our family.”
Joe sat silently and waited on Beatrice, as he learned to do so many years before. It was her way to prime the well, if you will. She would give part of her thought, which would be complete at first glance, but she really wanted Joe to investigate her, to make an effort to hear what she wanted to say. “I do have a good job,” he finally offered.
“Oh,” she started. “I do know it’s a good job…”
He placed his hand over hers. “But?”
“But what am I supposed to do?”
“What are you supposed to do? What does that mean?” He frowned as he realized his voice had more edge to it than he intended. Her statement was so unexpected that he reacted rather than acted. He was expecting her to be after him to retire, just as they had always talked. After the kids were gone to college, Joe would retire and they would travel the country, becoming camping nomads. Now he could tell by her sunken shoulders that she was starting to close her emotions to him. “I’m sorry. You just surprised me, that’s all. What do you mean?” He picked up the hand he was covering and gently rubbed her knuckles.
“You have a place in life. You’ve had the same job for thirty some odd years. Every morning it’s the same for you. You get up, eat breakfast, go to work, come home, and spend time with the family. That hasn’t changed much. You will still do all of those things that you have done for so long. But…” she sniffled. “What am I supposed to do?”
Joe rose to his feet and walked across the room to a Kleenex box on a corner table. He handed her a tissue and returned to his seat in silence. Beatrice dabbed tears from her eyes and began to twist the tissue into a long, thin snake. “Every day, I got up and fixed breakfast for you and the kids. Then I helped prepare homework, drive someone someplace, repair a torn skirt, fix someone’s hair, bake cupcakes for a fundraiser, go to a ballgame, chase down a prom dress, cry over a lost boyfriend, rehearse play lines…” She shrank into her chair and wept again, frail and vulnerable. “What am I supposed to do now—now that those days are gone?”
Joe sipped his coffee and handed another Kleenex across the table. Several seconds of unawkward silence passed. “Do you remember the summer I had to work in Alaska for 3 months?” He leaned back in his chair.
Her face brightened at the memory. “Oh, do I! That was the best year ever. I hated to leave.” She examined his face. “Do you think we might go back?”
“I imagine we will return to Alaska many more times, but do you remember how much the kids hated Alaska when we first arrived?”
She smiled. “They were miserable.”
“They were horribly miserable. They sat around and moped for days. They kept whining about how they missed their friends, and how they wanted to go to the movies or do something that was fun.”
“But we were miles and miles from any theater.”
“Or malls.”
She giggled. “Or malls. They thought they had died and their lives were over.” She sat upright. “They couldn’t just drive back to town, either. We had to fly in and land on a lake. I thought Juliet was going bananas with boredom.”
“Well, that’s exactly what they did. They just sat around and cried because everything was changed. They didn’t know anyone. They didn’t have anywhere to go. They didn’t have any of the things they were used to having. But, what they failed to notice, was that they were in Alaska, the most beautiful place on Earth.”
“Oh, it was so pretty. We must return this summer.”
“I’d love to go back. Well, if you remember, I sat down with Little Jimmy and explained how he was doing everything wrong. He was waiting for the world to come to him, rather than going out and finding the world. I told him about gold mines to be discovered and caves to be explored. I gave him a copy of Jack London’s Call of the Wild, which he inhaled, and his whole perspective changed. He went out the next morning and found a beaver dam; he was so excited about finding that silly old dam, but he caught the vision. Suddenly, the great outdoors swung wide open, and he was alive. The next day he was piddling down at the creek and found a little, bitty, flake of gold, which he brought home as if it was the Heisman Trophy. That day, the girls caught the vision and I got them some gold panning equipment and they started an enterprise. They hardly found anything but dust, but they were finally happy. When that played out, Jimmy discovered fly fishing and off they go!”
Beatrice laughed. “We actually had to make them stop bringing home all those fish. We had trout for breakfast and dinner.” She stared up at the ceiling. “What I would give to eat some of that trout again.”
“But it all started when they caught the vision of something out there that was bigger than they were. Suddenly, being miles away from home and in completely unfamiliar territory was a challenge instead of a curse. They went out and found the world instead of waiting for something to happen to them.” He folded his newspaper and pushed back his chair. “It’s about time for me to get going.” She leaned forward and kissed him; it was a long kiss. “Woman, you make a man wish he didn’t have to work everyday.”
“But if you don’t, then we will never get back to Alaska, so get out of my house.”
He grinned at her and walked out the front door. Beatrice sat and stirred her coffee absentmindedly. For thirty minutes, she sat in silence and then stood and walked into the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Blanche? This is Bea. Good morning to you, too. Well, we had a good trip, but it was hard to leave the kids. They didn’t want us to leave, either. Yes, it is quiet here at the house, but I was thinking. Do you remember in the church bulletin about how they were looking for volunteers to help at the Senior Center? Well, I wondered if you and I might…”
The fine China rattled as breakfast was being prepared in the kitchen. Beatrice carried a stack of plates into the dining room, where Joe sat sipping a cup of coffee. As was tradition, he never looked up while the places were set, but sat brooding over his newspaper.
Joe and Beatrice had been married for thirty years and their routine was almost a work of art. Joe was always the first to arise in the morning, as he was the product of too many years of reporting for work by 7:00 AM. While he stood in front of his shaving mirror, his whistling would stir Beatrice, who would make her way into the kitchen and plug in the old coffee pot. She would stir around the house while Joe dressed, then she would crack open eggs for their family meal.
Jackie was the hardest of their 4 children to wake up, but in recent months, she had ballet practice earlier than normal, which forced her to get out of bed with minimal fighting. Jimmy, her twin brother, was very much like his father. He would rise before the sun so he could share the paper with Poppa and brush over a chapter in his text book for a morning test. Joe immensely enjoyed sharing his morning paper with Jimmy. Every day, Little Jim would peek around the corner while prying his foot into an already tied shoe and say, “what’s in the Wall Street this morning, Poppa?” He would then sit down in front of the sports, which was neatly folded by his breakfast plate.
Things were quiet this morning—too quiet. Joe sat by himself as he read the best analyst’s predictions of a bull market. He placed his cup on the corner of the table, and in a few minutes, he could hear fresh coffee being poured. “Thanks, my Love.”
“Always a pleasure to serve.” She held the pot in one hand and reached over his shoulder with the other and rubbed his chest vigorously. He grunted at her and then tried to bite her hand, which she withdrew in a shriek and said, “Don’t make me pour this coffee down your neck. So help me, I’ll do it.” She then proudly waggled back into the kitchen while Joe watched and whistled as her shapely figure disappeared around the corner. “Now there goes a fine woman, Jimmy. You’ll do good to find such a woman for yourself.” After an awkward silence, Joe looked over his paper and saw the sports section lying by Jimmy’s plate—untouched.
Joe frowned at himself for his thoughtless routine and stared at the empty plate. Things were not the same around here. Their charming practice was about to change; in fact, it had already changed. This was their first weekday after the twins had gone to college. Joe had taken last week off work so he and Beatrice could drive to Michigan with the kids and help them settle into the dorms. Hillsdale College was an even stronger family tradition for the Langley family. Each of the men in the family had attended and graduated Hillsdale from the very first year it opened in 1844. None of the women in the family enrolled until Joe’s eldest daughter, Juliet, attended in the 80’s. In fact, Hillsdale was where Joe met Beatrice. They were in the same freshmen class, even though they rarely took the same courses…
Joe’s thoughts were suddenly closed as he realized that Beatrice was crying in the kitchen. The paper hardly hit the floor when he poked his head around the corner and saw her huddled over the stove holding a towel to her eyes.
“Bea?” He asked softly.
“Oh, I’ve ruined everything.” She folded the hand towel twice and pointed at the skillet. A large Spanish omelet sizzled in the pan, complete with sautéed onions, diced tomatoes, and small pieces of corn tortilla strips. There was enough food to feed 4 people.
Joe reached and pulled her to him as she buried her head into his chest and wept. She missed the kids. This was the first time in their marriage, save the first ten months, that they had no children underfoot. Joe felt the same longing in his heart, but it wasn’t his way to cry. He became quiet and still, and reached over to turn off the burner on the stove top. After a long minute, Beatrice sniffled and retreated to her omelet. “Oh, look at that. I’ve ruined breakfast.”
“Nonsense. I like it like that. Now let’s eat before it gets cold.”
She nodded meekly and gently sliced the omelet into 4 parts, dishing 2 pieces into their plates. She placed a bowl of salsa next to Joe’s coffee cup and began to butter her toast.
“Sit down, my Love. Eat breakfast with me.” Joe reached for her hand and she settled into her chair, placing her toast on the edge of her plate.
“You need more coffee,” she blurted out and bolted to her feet.
“No, I’m fine. Sit back down and relax for a moment.”
“I can’t let you eat breakfast without coffee.”
“I’ve endured worse in life. Now sit down.”
“But I need to start the dishes.”
“We haven’t even started to eat yet.”
“I can’t enjoy my meal if there’s a mess in the kitchen.”
“Dear, please sit with me…” His voice failed and he stared at his plate.
“Oh.” She touched her lips as concern flooded over her. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment he was silent and he drew a deep breath. “It’s just that, well…It’s too quiet. Look what a fool I am. I went and folded the sports section and placed it there for Jimmy to read.”
“Yes, right next to the plate I placed there for him.” She slowly settled into her chair. “I just miss the kids, I guess.”
“I never realized that I was so comfortable around them until they were gone.” He sipped his cold coffee. “I wasted all those years.”
“Wasted? What are you talking about?”
“All those breakfasts we ate, all those mornings we sat in silence, I could have been telling the kids how much I loved them and how proud I was of them.”
She frowned. “Oh, Poppa, you did tell them those things.”
He stared into the depths of his black coffee. “Not nearly enough.”
“Nonsense. You sat quietly each morning because the kids were comfortable in the fact that you loved them and that you were proud of them. They were content just being with you. You were there for them in every way.” She stood to her feet. “They enjoyed the quiet mornings as much as you did. I think it was like a sanctuary for them, like the calm before the storm.” She walked into the kitchen and emerged with a fresh cup of coffee. “There. Now drink your coffee and be happy.”
“Thank you, my Love.”
She frowned. “At least you still have your work to go to today,” she said shortly.
He looked at her. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, come on! I’m not going to bear my weakness and let you slide by without a thought.”
She sat on the very corner of her chair. “I’m just glad you have a good job that helps sustain our family.”
Joe sat silently and waited on Beatrice, as he learned to do so many years before. It was her way to prime the well, if you will. She would give part of her thought, which would be complete at first glance, but she really wanted Joe to investigate her, to make an effort to hear what she wanted to say. “I do have a good job,” he finally offered.
“Oh,” she started. “I do know it’s a good job…”
He placed his hand over hers. “But?”
“But what am I supposed to do?”
“What are you supposed to do? What does that mean?” He frowned as he realized his voice had more edge to it than he intended. Her statement was so unexpected that he reacted rather than acted. He was expecting her to be after him to retire, just as they had always talked. After the kids were gone to college, Joe would retire and they would travel the country, becoming camping nomads. Now he could tell by her sunken shoulders that she was starting to close her emotions to him. “I’m sorry. You just surprised me, that’s all. What do you mean?” He picked up the hand he was covering and gently rubbed her knuckles.
“You have a place in life. You’ve had the same job for thirty some odd years. Every morning it’s the same for you. You get up, eat breakfast, go to work, come home, and spend time with the family. That hasn’t changed much. You will still do all of those things that you have done for so long. But…” she sniffled. “What am I supposed to do?”
Joe rose to his feet and walked across the room to a Kleenex box on a corner table. He handed her a tissue and returned to his seat in silence. Beatrice dabbed tears from her eyes and began to twist the tissue into a long, thin snake. “Every day, I got up and fixed breakfast for you and the kids. Then I helped prepare homework, drive someone someplace, repair a torn skirt, fix someone’s hair, bake cupcakes for a fundraiser, go to a ballgame, chase down a prom dress, cry over a lost boyfriend, rehearse play lines…” She shrank into her chair and wept again, frail and vulnerable. “What am I supposed to do now—now that those days are gone?”
Joe sipped his coffee and handed another Kleenex across the table. Several seconds of unawkward silence passed. “Do you remember the summer I had to work in Alaska for 3 months?” He leaned back in his chair.
Her face brightened at the memory. “Oh, do I! That was the best year ever. I hated to leave.” She examined his face. “Do you think we might go back?”
“I imagine we will return to Alaska many more times, but do you remember how much the kids hated Alaska when we first arrived?”
She smiled. “They were miserable.”
“They were horribly miserable. They sat around and moped for days. They kept whining about how they missed their friends, and how they wanted to go to the movies or do something that was fun.”
“But we were miles and miles from any theater.”
“Or malls.”
She giggled. “Or malls. They thought they had died and their lives were over.” She sat upright. “They couldn’t just drive back to town, either. We had to fly in and land on a lake. I thought Juliet was going bananas with boredom.”
“Well, that’s exactly what they did. They just sat around and cried because everything was changed. They didn’t know anyone. They didn’t have anywhere to go. They didn’t have any of the things they were used to having. But, what they failed to notice, was that they were in Alaska, the most beautiful place on Earth.”
“Oh, it was so pretty. We must return this summer.”
“I’d love to go back. Well, if you remember, I sat down with Little Jimmy and explained how he was doing everything wrong. He was waiting for the world to come to him, rather than going out and finding the world. I told him about gold mines to be discovered and caves to be explored. I gave him a copy of Jack London’s Call of the Wild, which he inhaled, and his whole perspective changed. He went out the next morning and found a beaver dam; he was so excited about finding that silly old dam, but he caught the vision. Suddenly, the great outdoors swung wide open, and he was alive. The next day he was piddling down at the creek and found a little, bitty, flake of gold, which he brought home as if it was the Heisman Trophy. That day, the girls caught the vision and I got them some gold panning equipment and they started an enterprise. They hardly found anything but dust, but they were finally happy. When that played out, Jimmy discovered fly fishing and off they go!”
Beatrice laughed. “We actually had to make them stop bringing home all those fish. We had trout for breakfast and dinner.” She stared up at the ceiling. “What I would give to eat some of that trout again.”
“But it all started when they caught the vision of something out there that was bigger than they were. Suddenly, being miles away from home and in completely unfamiliar territory was a challenge instead of a curse. They went out and found the world instead of waiting for something to happen to them.” He folded his newspaper and pushed back his chair. “It’s about time for me to get going.” She leaned forward and kissed him; it was a long kiss. “Woman, you make a man wish he didn’t have to work everyday.”
“But if you don’t, then we will never get back to Alaska, so get out of my house.”
He grinned at her and walked out the front door. Beatrice sat and stirred her coffee absentmindedly. For thirty minutes, she sat in silence and then stood and walked into the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Blanche? This is Bea. Good morning to you, too. Well, we had a good trip, but it was hard to leave the kids. They didn’t want us to leave, either. Yes, it is quiet here at the house, but I was thinking. Do you remember in the church bulletin about how they were looking for volunteers to help at the Senior Center? Well, I wondered if you and I might…”
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
April 15--A Day That Forever Changed the World
Grit your teeth, bite your tongue, weep, wail, and get out your checkbook and write one to Uncle Sam, for this is the week of April 15. People all over America will experience tremendous heartburn and anxiety, and all for the cause of money. There are a few grim reasons for dreading the 15th, but few of them concern our cash supply, or lack thereof. Journey with me through one day that has forever changed the course of our history….
April 14th. A cruise ship plows quietly through ghostly still waters on a dimly lit night, unaware that she was about to create an incident that would forever alter nautical laws and traditions. Her captain was sound asleep in his extraordinarily comfortable quarters. Never before had such comfort been built for the purposes of luxury and everyone was taking full advantage of their fortune. Telegrams were constantly being sent over a newly developed telegraph system for ocean voyages; the rich were showing off their prestige. In fact, so many messages were sent that the lineman had to issue a command to all other ships in the area, “shut up and get off the line” due to their transmissions concerning icebergs floating into the northern routes. The accommodations were so posh that even the third class and crew’s quarters were better than the first class on most contemporary ships. Truly, the lap of luxury was at the customer’s beck and call. After all, a ticket on this ship cost several thousand dollars, why shouldn’t the rich boast of their achievements? Then the night watchman, from the crow’s nest, signaled, “ICEBERG AHEAD”, and the world would never be the same.
April 15th. The great ship was mortally wounded, her flood compartments were full, and the metal beast was about the split in half due to the pressure on her hull. Electric lights were flickering off and on as screaming passengers and crews fought to maintain control and panic in their efforts to save lives. Women and children were evacuated as quickly as possible, while the men dressed in their finest attire and went to the lounge for a last brandy and cigar. For there weren’t enough lifeboats for everyone on board, some one had to die, the men immediately recognized their duty and held their heads up as they sacrificed all they ever would be for their families. Of the 2228 people on board, 705 survived to tell the truth about that horrible night. A ship named the Carpathia rescued the survivors and became known as the “ship of widows.”
When the Titanic sank in 1912, the world reeled in shock at the loss. Shortly thereafter, the Commerce Act of 1912 went into effect that forever altered our naval laws. One of the foremost of the laws stated that radio operators could not turn off their radios for the night and go to bed. The Coast Guard was formed to keep a watch out for icebergs. The Titanic also coined the term, posh, which was an acronym for Port side Over, Starboard Home.
April 14th. A war torn nation was welcoming a permanent declaration of peace, for a full surrender had occurred less than a week before. The war was all but over. At last, American lives would no longer be lost fighting to preserve rights and liberties. The President, in an effort to enjoy a night away from the pressures of politics and the restoration of a needful nation, decided to take a night off for some meaningless entertainment. His plate was full in the terms of establishing new and previously uncharted laws and practices. Never before had so many American soldiers fought and died. Never before had such a sacrifice been demanded in the name of liberty. Never before had the policies of our great democracy been so blatantly and forthrightly challenged. Never before had an attack by a military power occurred after so many years of peace. Never before had a nation needed their President more than they needed him now. A lone assassin lurked in the shadows, waiting for a moment when all attention would be on the stage. At just that moment, he stepped forward, placed a pistol against the President’s head, and fired. He was heard yelling, “Sic semper tyrannis,” which ment, “thus ever to tyrants.”
April 15th. The President was taken to a lodging house across the street where he was placed in bed while doctors worked through the night in a desperate attempt to save his life. At 7:20 A.M., 1865, Abraham Lincoln died. His attending physician pulled a sheet over his head and Secretary Stanton said, “Now he belongs to the ages.”
More? On a related note, on April 15, 1861, Robert E. Lee, son of a Revolutionary War hero, and a 25-year veteran of the United States Army, is offered command of the Union Army, an offer he refused. In 1969, North Korea shot down an American Airplane over the Sea of Japan. In 1986, the United States launched an air raid against Libya in response to a terrorist attack on April 5th.
So, when you feel blue over the tax money you have to pay, remember that this day has much more significance than you ever imagined. Some very positive events also occurred on the fifteenth:
1738-The bottle opener was invented.
1878- Ivory Soap was developed by Procter of Procter and Gamble.
1923- Insulin was made available for diabetics.
1960- 04 x 15 = 60.
And, most importantly, Ray Kroc opened the first McDonald’s in Des Plains Illinois, selling 15-cent hamburgers and 10-cent fries for a first day’s total of $366.12.
April 14th. A cruise ship plows quietly through ghostly still waters on a dimly lit night, unaware that she was about to create an incident that would forever alter nautical laws and traditions. Her captain was sound asleep in his extraordinarily comfortable quarters. Never before had such comfort been built for the purposes of luxury and everyone was taking full advantage of their fortune. Telegrams were constantly being sent over a newly developed telegraph system for ocean voyages; the rich were showing off their prestige. In fact, so many messages were sent that the lineman had to issue a command to all other ships in the area, “shut up and get off the line” due to their transmissions concerning icebergs floating into the northern routes. The accommodations were so posh that even the third class and crew’s quarters were better than the first class on most contemporary ships. Truly, the lap of luxury was at the customer’s beck and call. After all, a ticket on this ship cost several thousand dollars, why shouldn’t the rich boast of their achievements? Then the night watchman, from the crow’s nest, signaled, “ICEBERG AHEAD”, and the world would never be the same.
April 15th. The great ship was mortally wounded, her flood compartments were full, and the metal beast was about the split in half due to the pressure on her hull. Electric lights were flickering off and on as screaming passengers and crews fought to maintain control and panic in their efforts to save lives. Women and children were evacuated as quickly as possible, while the men dressed in their finest attire and went to the lounge for a last brandy and cigar. For there weren’t enough lifeboats for everyone on board, some one had to die, the men immediately recognized their duty and held their heads up as they sacrificed all they ever would be for their families. Of the 2228 people on board, 705 survived to tell the truth about that horrible night. A ship named the Carpathia rescued the survivors and became known as the “ship of widows.”
When the Titanic sank in 1912, the world reeled in shock at the loss. Shortly thereafter, the Commerce Act of 1912 went into effect that forever altered our naval laws. One of the foremost of the laws stated that radio operators could not turn off their radios for the night and go to bed. The Coast Guard was formed to keep a watch out for icebergs. The Titanic also coined the term, posh, which was an acronym for Port side Over, Starboard Home.
April 14th. A war torn nation was welcoming a permanent declaration of peace, for a full surrender had occurred less than a week before. The war was all but over. At last, American lives would no longer be lost fighting to preserve rights and liberties. The President, in an effort to enjoy a night away from the pressures of politics and the restoration of a needful nation, decided to take a night off for some meaningless entertainment. His plate was full in the terms of establishing new and previously uncharted laws and practices. Never before had so many American soldiers fought and died. Never before had such a sacrifice been demanded in the name of liberty. Never before had the policies of our great democracy been so blatantly and forthrightly challenged. Never before had an attack by a military power occurred after so many years of peace. Never before had a nation needed their President more than they needed him now. A lone assassin lurked in the shadows, waiting for a moment when all attention would be on the stage. At just that moment, he stepped forward, placed a pistol against the President’s head, and fired. He was heard yelling, “Sic semper tyrannis,” which ment, “thus ever to tyrants.”
April 15th. The President was taken to a lodging house across the street where he was placed in bed while doctors worked through the night in a desperate attempt to save his life. At 7:20 A.M., 1865, Abraham Lincoln died. His attending physician pulled a sheet over his head and Secretary Stanton said, “Now he belongs to the ages.”
More? On a related note, on April 15, 1861, Robert E. Lee, son of a Revolutionary War hero, and a 25-year veteran of the United States Army, is offered command of the Union Army, an offer he refused. In 1969, North Korea shot down an American Airplane over the Sea of Japan. In 1986, the United States launched an air raid against Libya in response to a terrorist attack on April 5th.
So, when you feel blue over the tax money you have to pay, remember that this day has much more significance than you ever imagined. Some very positive events also occurred on the fifteenth:
1738-The bottle opener was invented.
1878- Ivory Soap was developed by Procter of Procter and Gamble.
1923- Insulin was made available for diabetics.
1960- 04 x 15 = 60.
And, most importantly, Ray Kroc opened the first McDonald’s in Des Plains Illinois, selling 15-cent hamburgers and 10-cent fries for a first day’s total of $366.12.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Heidi's Hero
This is an unsual story, even for me. I'll be curious to hear your thoughts.
Jack was an ordinary man. He had a family and a regular job. He paid his taxes, he voted at every opportunity, and he watched every Super Bowl. According to society, Jack was the life-blood of mainstream America. However, Jack had a problem.
A peculiar change overcame him when he saved the life of a small child—a seven year old. He was walking his dog on a lazy, Saturday afternoon when he noticed a woman walking sporadically, dragging a little girl by the arms. The girl was whimpering, almost inaudibly, but willingly submitted to her mother’s harsh demands.
Jack grew curious as he watched the woman drag the girl into an alleyway, between two large, forbidding buildings. He followed quietly; his one vice being nosy. His curiosity transformed into horror as the woman produced a pistol from her purse and held it to the girl’s head with shaking hands. The girl’s eyes pleaded for mercy that would not be granted, for her mother cocked the pistol with grim determination.
Springing from the shadows, Jack tackled the woman and started wrestling her for the gun. The woman squealed, out of fright, or defiance, and counter attacked with a martial arts maneuver that sent Jack spiraling face first into the concrete. The woman quickly climbed to her feet and retrieved her pistol, lifting it to the girl’s head. Jack, shaken by the blow, staggered to his feet and charged the would-be killer again. He caught her on the chin with a closed right fist; the woman dropped to the ground, but refused to yield her weapon. He threw himself upon the woman and started to restrain her, but the woman screamed again and managed to position her body where she lay on top of Jack. She lifted the pistol and squeezed off a shot that clipped the little girl’s pigtail.
The girl shrieked in terror, but stood frozen in place. Jack yelled at her to run, but she was a statue, a tribute to terror. The woman recocked the pistol and held it level again. Jack, out of desperation, grabbed the woman by the head and twisted her neck with a furious effort. A grinding, popping, sound, and the woman was dead, her body twitching as if stung by a thousand invisible bees. As her dead fingers yielded to her nerves, the pistol erupted again, and it flung halfway across the alley. Jack threw her lifeless body aside and ran to attend the little girl. Pedestrians on the street had heard the gunfire and were shouting to dial 911.
Jack became a celebrity. He was the lead story in every legitimate publication through out the world. He was dubbed “Heidi’s Hero,” after the little girl he saved. The change that overcame him was immeasurable, it even him was caught unaware.
Here is what happened: Teresa Carol, the girl’s mother, was a woman heavily taxed with burdens. She grew up under an abusive hand; a series of scars that even time could not heal. Teresa was never married; she bounced from one meaningless relationship to another. The more relationships that exploited her, the worst her behavior became. Then came Heidi, an unwanted child in an unwanted life. Teresa, upon learning that she was pregnant, tried to have an abortion. She went to a clinic and sat down with the counselor, who was concerned about Teresa’s well being. The baby was going to be a terrible burden on a woman that wasn’t even stable herself. The baby would most likely grow up dysfunctional, and therefore, deserved to be spared the anxiety of repeating her mother’s life. Teresa was in trouble, and only an abortion could save her. Her counselor quickly surmised that Teresa must act now, or it would be too late. She agreed to have the procedure—until she discovered that it cost money. When the procedure cost more than she was able to pay, the counselor promptly dismissed Teresa until she could produce the funds.
Devastated, Teresa returned to her pregnancy and determined to find a buyer for her baby. However, Teresa had not realized the emotional attachment she would have for the child. No one had ever loved Teresa; maybe this child would love her.
After Heidi’s birth, Teresa realized love for the first time. Truly, she could not sell her baby. However, as time passed and Heidi became a burden, Teresa decided that child raising was too hard for her. Her boyfriends would yell at Heidi and some of them would shake her when she cried. Secretly, she started to hate Heidi for invading her life. The baby was a terrible burden, just as the counselor had predicted. Teresa wasn’t a good mother. She simply wasn’t ready. After all, she wasn’t very old herself. She kept remembering the words of the counselor, “The baby will grow up as dysfunctional as you are, is that what you want? We must embrace the truth that the procedure is the only option that really works. You are not ready to be a mother. Fortunately, you still have time before you become a mother. Act now, get yourself out of trouble, do the responsible thing.”
For seven years, Teresa heard these words echoing in her sleep until she became obsessed with them. If she simply ended Heidi’s life, then her problems would go away. After all, Heidi was not a woman until she grew older. She served no real part in the community; she was only an added burden. To perform the procedure on her is the only responsible thing to do.
The next morning, Teresa took Heidi to the abortion clinic and asked to have the procedure done for Heidi. The counselor looked at Teresa and then at Heidi for a very long moment. “Are you telling me that Heidi is in trouble? At such a young age?”
“Yes, and I believe that a baby in my life would be too much of a burden. I am not responsible enough to raise a child. I am in trouble and I need you to help me. Will you help me?”
The counselor nodded gently. “Oh course dear, of course. We have never done the procedure on a child so young, or small, but it seems to start earlier all the time these days.” She shook her head as if scolding young girls for getting pregnant. “Of course we can help you. How long has, I’m sorry, what is the little girl’s name and age?”
“Heidi, age seven.”
The counselor looked cautiously at Teresa. “And you think that Heidi is pregnant?” She quickly brushed off the question before Teresa could answer her. She could see the potential to make some quick cash on Theresa. “Of course, you realize that this is a special procedure that we have never done before. It will cost much more than normal, after all, the child is so small.”
Theresa nodded. “My boyfriend gave me one thousand dollars to take care of Heidi. I am really not sure, but he could be the one responsible for her.”
The counselor shook her head. To realize that this woman allowed her child to be molested by her boyfriend, why there should be a crime against that. Of course there was, but there was money in this situation.
“Where should I leave Heidi?”
“I’m sorry? I don’t understand.”
“Where should I leave her so you can do the procedure? I need to meet my boyfriend soon.”
“Well, we can do it now, in just a few minutes.”
Theresa’s eyes watered. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t cry.” She dried her tears with a tissue. “Heidi, I love you and I will miss you a lot. Bye bye.” She turned to leave.
The counselor jumped up. “Ma’am? You can’t leave such a small child in here by herself. You will have to accompany her for most of the procedure.”
“I don’t want to watch Heidi die. I think it would be too hard.”
In a moment of clear realization, she grasped that she was negotiating euthanasia, not an abortion on a seven-year-old. “I think that you have misunderstood, we can’t help you with your problem. Please leave immediately.”
“But you said that an unwanted pregnancy can be terminated. You said that I was not responsible enough to raise a child.”
“Ma’am, this child is a living person, you can’t just kill her!”
“But you told me that my baby was alive, but not a person, just tissue. Heidi is alive, she is tissue. I don’t want her; she is an unwanted child. What is the difference?”
“Ma’am, please leave my office.”
Theresa, thoroughly confused, approached a drug dealer she knew and offered him a thousand dollars for a gun. He accepted her offer and she started walking down the street with Heidi, looking for a place to kill her daughter, to terminate her existence. That is when Jack got involved in Heidi’s life.
Jack had never done anything in his life that impacted society. He had always lived an average life, under average circumstances. He had always imagined that if he had served in the military during a war, he would have been awarded the Medal of Honor. He was always burdened by a strong sense of civic duty that he owed more to America than America had given him. He could feel tears invade his eyes every time he heard the National Anthem. He was a patriot down to his red, white, and blue ties.
He was intoxicated by the feeling he experienced when he saved Heidi’s life. He wasn’t struggling with pride; rather, it was a sense of accomplishment that ignited in him a desire to be excellent again.
Jack was also a very moral man. He would not steal, not even a pen from his office. He hated thieves, for they took what they wanted with little regard for other. He despised liars. He felt that a man must represent the truth, no matter what it cost him. Truth was a matter of conviction, a brand that was burned on his heart.
He also loved life. He loved children, especially babies. He loved the way new babies were perfumed with life, how it enamored them. Once he watched a news story about a family that burned cigarette holes in their baby’s stomach, and became irate.
It would outrage him to see an abusive hand placed on a child. Jack also hated abortion. He believed in the sanctity of human life. He believed that any abortion was a matter of murder, and any doctor that performed abortion should be treated as a war criminal. Even in the cases of incest and murder, abortions were unjustifiable homicides.
Jack had walked in the light of a hero, and could see only what a hero has eyes to see. He saw an opportunity to be a hero again. He would fight for those that were unable to fight for themselves. He would prevent the silent scream, even if it ment his own life. He started a crusade to end the world of abortions.
__________________________
Jack attempted to reason with the doctors, but they refused him an audience. He pleaded with them to stop murdering unborn babies, but his words fell on deaf ears. He surmised that the doctors were too influenced by the money that was in abortions to be objective. He would have to take another approach. However, the politicians seemed to avoid him. He joined lobby groups, but accomplished nothing. He wrote letters, but received no answers. The Republican platform praised his voice for speaking out, but was powerless to change the laws. The religious community hosted him on their television shows and promised to pray, but did not act with him. He was determined to find a way to stop the madness of abortion. He would find a way…
_________________________
Perched just above an abortion clinic with rifle in hand, he waited for the doctor to step out of his BMW. Jack had a perfect angle for a kill; one shot was all he needed. He allowed for distance, he allowed for wind, and then calculatingly squeezed the trigger. The doctor was standing before his Maker before he knew he was dead. This was a doctor that Jack had plead with to stop the murders. The doctor laughed at him and called him “just another wacko right-wing religious nut.”
Jack was stunned at how easy it was to defend the unborn babies unable to defend themselves. The news swarmed the story like flies searching for a pile of defecation. Jack watched the news. He watched an interview with a prominent Pro-life speaker who estimated that the assassin had saved potentially thousands of unborn lives. He disagreed with the action taken, but was thankful for the babies who that doctor “would no longer rip in half and suction through a tube.” Jack also watched an interview with a doctor that publicly condemned the unknown terrorist. The doctor swore an oath, on public television, that he would stand up for the rights of the woman, and work overtime to make up for this injustice. He called on all abortion clinics to increase their working hours to accommodate the violated women, who must also fight for their rights.
Jack wasted no time in closing the doors of that clinic, at lest for a few weeks. Terror engulfed the world, as doctors were being shot all over the Untied States. Three doctors were shot on the same day by three different men. All of whom were arrested that same day. Conservatives had declared war on abortion.
Women were terrified to attend the clinics, for one woman was shot as she exited a clinic in Alabama. Jack would have never killed the mother, for he felt that she was a victim also. Jack now used his public stance to make a television appearance. He declared that the killing of the women must stop, for they had been lied to by the government and by the press. They were victims of the money hungry abortion industry. He made no mention of the doctors slain. He too rejoiced that so many babies had been spared.
The media crucified Jack that night. He was labeled a terrorist, at least by his words. What right did he have to endorse the murder of the doctors, who were only providing a public service? The laws of the Untied States allowed for abortion, therefore it was a just practice. A woman has the right to choose what to do with her body, and no one else could say anything about it.
Jack decided to give a rebuttal. He pointed out that Teresa had the right, under the abortion laws, to choose freely whether or not Heidi would live. What difference did it make if Heidi was breathing the atmosphere? A mother should have the right to choose, regardless of the child’s age. He spat sarcasm at the media and the Pro-choice community. They hated him for it. That night, as the war raged across America, Jack was shot, through the head, by a sniper shouting, “Freedom to the people!”
Heidi’s Hero
Jack was an ordinary man. He had a family and a regular job. He paid his taxes, he voted at every opportunity, and he watched every Super Bowl. According to society, Jack was the life-blood of mainstream America. However, Jack had a problem.
A peculiar change overcame him when he saved the life of a small child—a seven year old. He was walking his dog on a lazy, Saturday afternoon when he noticed a woman walking sporadically, dragging a little girl by the arms. The girl was whimpering, almost inaudibly, but willingly submitted to her mother’s harsh demands.
Jack grew curious as he watched the woman drag the girl into an alleyway, between two large, forbidding buildings. He followed quietly; his one vice being nosy. His curiosity transformed into horror as the woman produced a pistol from her purse and held it to the girl’s head with shaking hands. The girl’s eyes pleaded for mercy that would not be granted, for her mother cocked the pistol with grim determination.
Springing from the shadows, Jack tackled the woman and started wrestling her for the gun. The woman squealed, out of fright, or defiance, and counter attacked with a martial arts maneuver that sent Jack spiraling face first into the concrete. The woman quickly climbed to her feet and retrieved her pistol, lifting it to the girl’s head. Jack, shaken by the blow, staggered to his feet and charged the would-be killer again. He caught her on the chin with a closed right fist; the woman dropped to the ground, but refused to yield her weapon. He threw himself upon the woman and started to restrain her, but the woman screamed again and managed to position her body where she lay on top of Jack. She lifted the pistol and squeezed off a shot that clipped the little girl’s pigtail.
The girl shrieked in terror, but stood frozen in place. Jack yelled at her to run, but she was a statue, a tribute to terror. The woman recocked the pistol and held it level again. Jack, out of desperation, grabbed the woman by the head and twisted her neck with a furious effort. A grinding, popping, sound, and the woman was dead, her body twitching as if stung by a thousand invisible bees. As her dead fingers yielded to her nerves, the pistol erupted again, and it flung halfway across the alley. Jack threw her lifeless body aside and ran to attend the little girl. Pedestrians on the street had heard the gunfire and were shouting to dial 911.
Jack became a celebrity. He was the lead story in every legitimate publication through out the world. He was dubbed “Heidi’s Hero,” after the little girl he saved. The change that overcame him was immeasurable, it even him was caught unaware.
Here is what happened: Teresa Carol, the girl’s mother, was a woman heavily taxed with burdens. She grew up under an abusive hand; a series of scars that even time could not heal. Teresa was never married; she bounced from one meaningless relationship to another. The more relationships that exploited her, the worst her behavior became. Then came Heidi, an unwanted child in an unwanted life. Teresa, upon learning that she was pregnant, tried to have an abortion. She went to a clinic and sat down with the counselor, who was concerned about Teresa’s well being. The baby was going to be a terrible burden on a woman that wasn’t even stable herself. The baby would most likely grow up dysfunctional, and therefore, deserved to be spared the anxiety of repeating her mother’s life. Teresa was in trouble, and only an abortion could save her. Her counselor quickly surmised that Teresa must act now, or it would be too late. She agreed to have the procedure—until she discovered that it cost money. When the procedure cost more than she was able to pay, the counselor promptly dismissed Teresa until she could produce the funds.
Devastated, Teresa returned to her pregnancy and determined to find a buyer for her baby. However, Teresa had not realized the emotional attachment she would have for the child. No one had ever loved Teresa; maybe this child would love her.
After Heidi’s birth, Teresa realized love for the first time. Truly, she could not sell her baby. However, as time passed and Heidi became a burden, Teresa decided that child raising was too hard for her. Her boyfriends would yell at Heidi and some of them would shake her when she cried. Secretly, she started to hate Heidi for invading her life. The baby was a terrible burden, just as the counselor had predicted. Teresa wasn’t a good mother. She simply wasn’t ready. After all, she wasn’t very old herself. She kept remembering the words of the counselor, “The baby will grow up as dysfunctional as you are, is that what you want? We must embrace the truth that the procedure is the only option that really works. You are not ready to be a mother. Fortunately, you still have time before you become a mother. Act now, get yourself out of trouble, do the responsible thing.”
For seven years, Teresa heard these words echoing in her sleep until she became obsessed with them. If she simply ended Heidi’s life, then her problems would go away. After all, Heidi was not a woman until she grew older. She served no real part in the community; she was only an added burden. To perform the procedure on her is the only responsible thing to do.
The next morning, Teresa took Heidi to the abortion clinic and asked to have the procedure done for Heidi. The counselor looked at Teresa and then at Heidi for a very long moment. “Are you telling me that Heidi is in trouble? At such a young age?”
“Yes, and I believe that a baby in my life would be too much of a burden. I am not responsible enough to raise a child. I am in trouble and I need you to help me. Will you help me?”
The counselor nodded gently. “Oh course dear, of course. We have never done the procedure on a child so young, or small, but it seems to start earlier all the time these days.” She shook her head as if scolding young girls for getting pregnant. “Of course we can help you. How long has, I’m sorry, what is the little girl’s name and age?”
“Heidi, age seven.”
The counselor looked cautiously at Teresa. “And you think that Heidi is pregnant?” She quickly brushed off the question before Teresa could answer her. She could see the potential to make some quick cash on Theresa. “Of course, you realize that this is a special procedure that we have never done before. It will cost much more than normal, after all, the child is so small.”
Theresa nodded. “My boyfriend gave me one thousand dollars to take care of Heidi. I am really not sure, but he could be the one responsible for her.”
The counselor shook her head. To realize that this woman allowed her child to be molested by her boyfriend, why there should be a crime against that. Of course there was, but there was money in this situation.
“Where should I leave Heidi?”
“I’m sorry? I don’t understand.”
“Where should I leave her so you can do the procedure? I need to meet my boyfriend soon.”
“Well, we can do it now, in just a few minutes.”
Theresa’s eyes watered. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t cry.” She dried her tears with a tissue. “Heidi, I love you and I will miss you a lot. Bye bye.” She turned to leave.
The counselor jumped up. “Ma’am? You can’t leave such a small child in here by herself. You will have to accompany her for most of the procedure.”
“I don’t want to watch Heidi die. I think it would be too hard.”
In a moment of clear realization, she grasped that she was negotiating euthanasia, not an abortion on a seven-year-old. “I think that you have misunderstood, we can’t help you with your problem. Please leave immediately.”
“But you said that an unwanted pregnancy can be terminated. You said that I was not responsible enough to raise a child.”
“Ma’am, this child is a living person, you can’t just kill her!”
“But you told me that my baby was alive, but not a person, just tissue. Heidi is alive, she is tissue. I don’t want her; she is an unwanted child. What is the difference?”
“Ma’am, please leave my office.”
Theresa, thoroughly confused, approached a drug dealer she knew and offered him a thousand dollars for a gun. He accepted her offer and she started walking down the street with Heidi, looking for a place to kill her daughter, to terminate her existence. That is when Jack got involved in Heidi’s life.
Jack had never done anything in his life that impacted society. He had always lived an average life, under average circumstances. He had always imagined that if he had served in the military during a war, he would have been awarded the Medal of Honor. He was always burdened by a strong sense of civic duty that he owed more to America than America had given him. He could feel tears invade his eyes every time he heard the National Anthem. He was a patriot down to his red, white, and blue ties.
He was intoxicated by the feeling he experienced when he saved Heidi’s life. He wasn’t struggling with pride; rather, it was a sense of accomplishment that ignited in him a desire to be excellent again.
Jack was also a very moral man. He would not steal, not even a pen from his office. He hated thieves, for they took what they wanted with little regard for other. He despised liars. He felt that a man must represent the truth, no matter what it cost him. Truth was a matter of conviction, a brand that was burned on his heart.
He also loved life. He loved children, especially babies. He loved the way new babies were perfumed with life, how it enamored them. Once he watched a news story about a family that burned cigarette holes in their baby’s stomach, and became irate.
It would outrage him to see an abusive hand placed on a child. Jack also hated abortion. He believed in the sanctity of human life. He believed that any abortion was a matter of murder, and any doctor that performed abortion should be treated as a war criminal. Even in the cases of incest and murder, abortions were unjustifiable homicides.
Jack had walked in the light of a hero, and could see only what a hero has eyes to see. He saw an opportunity to be a hero again. He would fight for those that were unable to fight for themselves. He would prevent the silent scream, even if it ment his own life. He started a crusade to end the world of abortions.
__________________________
Jack attempted to reason with the doctors, but they refused him an audience. He pleaded with them to stop murdering unborn babies, but his words fell on deaf ears. He surmised that the doctors were too influenced by the money that was in abortions to be objective. He would have to take another approach. However, the politicians seemed to avoid him. He joined lobby groups, but accomplished nothing. He wrote letters, but received no answers. The Republican platform praised his voice for speaking out, but was powerless to change the laws. The religious community hosted him on their television shows and promised to pray, but did not act with him. He was determined to find a way to stop the madness of abortion. He would find a way…
_________________________
Perched just above an abortion clinic with rifle in hand, he waited for the doctor to step out of his BMW. Jack had a perfect angle for a kill; one shot was all he needed. He allowed for distance, he allowed for wind, and then calculatingly squeezed the trigger. The doctor was standing before his Maker before he knew he was dead. This was a doctor that Jack had plead with to stop the murders. The doctor laughed at him and called him “just another wacko right-wing religious nut.”
Jack was stunned at how easy it was to defend the unborn babies unable to defend themselves. The news swarmed the story like flies searching for a pile of defecation. Jack watched the news. He watched an interview with a prominent Pro-life speaker who estimated that the assassin had saved potentially thousands of unborn lives. He disagreed with the action taken, but was thankful for the babies who that doctor “would no longer rip in half and suction through a tube.” Jack also watched an interview with a doctor that publicly condemned the unknown terrorist. The doctor swore an oath, on public television, that he would stand up for the rights of the woman, and work overtime to make up for this injustice. He called on all abortion clinics to increase their working hours to accommodate the violated women, who must also fight for their rights.
Jack wasted no time in closing the doors of that clinic, at lest for a few weeks. Terror engulfed the world, as doctors were being shot all over the Untied States. Three doctors were shot on the same day by three different men. All of whom were arrested that same day. Conservatives had declared war on abortion.
Women were terrified to attend the clinics, for one woman was shot as she exited a clinic in Alabama. Jack would have never killed the mother, for he felt that she was a victim also. Jack now used his public stance to make a television appearance. He declared that the killing of the women must stop, for they had been lied to by the government and by the press. They were victims of the money hungry abortion industry. He made no mention of the doctors slain. He too rejoiced that so many babies had been spared.
The media crucified Jack that night. He was labeled a terrorist, at least by his words. What right did he have to endorse the murder of the doctors, who were only providing a public service? The laws of the Untied States allowed for abortion, therefore it was a just practice. A woman has the right to choose what to do with her body, and no one else could say anything about it.
Jack decided to give a rebuttal. He pointed out that Teresa had the right, under the abortion laws, to choose freely whether or not Heidi would live. What difference did it make if Heidi was breathing the atmosphere? A mother should have the right to choose, regardless of the child’s age. He spat sarcasm at the media and the Pro-choice community. They hated him for it. That night, as the war raged across America, Jack was shot, through the head, by a sniper shouting, “Freedom to the people!”
Friday, March 7, 2008
Best Church Bulletin Bloopers
I have a special treat for everyone and a well deserved break from my short stories. I know you will enjoy this little treasure, but bear in mind that I am not the author of these real misprints. In fact, I have no idea who collected these jewels, but God bless whomever it was!
I'd also like to invite my friends from West Texas to join me at the Mardel's in Midland, Texas for a book signing on Saturday, March 8, 2008 from 12 to 2. I look forward to seeing all of you there and I know we will have a good time.
Now, without further delay, I present to you
ONLY THE BEST CHURCH BULLETIN BLOOPERS.
Thank God for churches with typewriters. These sentences actually appeared in church bulletins or were announced in church services:
Bertha Belch, a missionary from Africa, will be speaking tonight at Calvary Methodist. Come hear Bertha Belch all the way from Africa.
Announcement in a church bulletin for a national PRAYER & FASTING
Conference: "The cost for attending the Fasting and Prayer conference includes meals."
The sermon this morning: "Jesus Walks on the Water." The sermon tonight: "Searching for Jesus."
Our youth basketball team is back in action Wednesday at 8 PM in the recreation hall. Come out and watch us kill Christ the King.
"Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Don't forget your husbands."
The peacemaking meeting scheduled for today has been canceled due to a conflict.
Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say "hell" to someone who doesn't care much about you.
Don't let worry kill you off - let the Church help.
Miss Charlene Mason sang "I will not pass this way again," giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
Barbara remains in the hospital and needs blood donors for more transfusions. She is also having trouble sleeping and requests tapes of Pastor Jack's sermons.
During the absence of our Pastor, we enjoyed the rare privilege of hearing a good sermon when J.F. Stubbs supplied our pulpit.
The Rector will preach his farewell message after which the choir will sing "Break Forth into Joy."
Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.
A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow.
At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be "What is
Hell?"
Eight new choir robes are currently needed, due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles, and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
The Lutheran men's group will meet at 6 P.M.. Steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, bread, and dessert will be served for a nominal feel.
Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered.
Attend and you will hear an excellent speaker and heave a healthy lunch.
The church will host an evening of fine dining, superb entertainment, and gracious hostility.
Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 P.M. - prayer and medication to follow.
The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.
This evening at 7 P.M. there will be a hymn sing in the park across from the Church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.
Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10. All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B.S. is done.
The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.
Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM. Please use the back door.
The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM. The Congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church. Please use large double door at the side entrance.
Mrs. Johnson will be entering the hospital this week for testes.
The Associate Minister unveiled the church's new tithing campaign slogan last Sunday "I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours."
Our next song is "Angels We Have Heard Get High."
Alas, our journey has come to a close. If you were like me, I actually laughed out loud as I read through these mistakes. Post a comment and let me know which were your favorites. God bless, and we'll see you sometime next week.
I'd also like to invite my friends from West Texas to join me at the Mardel's in Midland, Texas for a book signing on Saturday, March 8, 2008 from 12 to 2. I look forward to seeing all of you there and I know we will have a good time.
Now, without further delay, I present to you
ONLY THE BEST CHURCH BULLETIN BLOOPERS.
Thank God for churches with typewriters. These sentences actually appeared in church bulletins or were announced in church services:
Bertha Belch, a missionary from Africa, will be speaking tonight at Calvary Methodist. Come hear Bertha Belch all the way from Africa.
Announcement in a church bulletin for a national PRAYER & FASTING
Conference: "The cost for attending the Fasting and Prayer conference includes meals."
The sermon this morning: "Jesus Walks on the Water." The sermon tonight: "Searching for Jesus."
Our youth basketball team is back in action Wednesday at 8 PM in the recreation hall. Come out and watch us kill Christ the King.
"Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Don't forget your husbands."
The peacemaking meeting scheduled for today has been canceled due to a conflict.
Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say "hell" to someone who doesn't care much about you.
Don't let worry kill you off - let the Church help.
Miss Charlene Mason sang "I will not pass this way again," giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
Barbara remains in the hospital and needs blood donors for more transfusions. She is also having trouble sleeping and requests tapes of Pastor Jack's sermons.
During the absence of our Pastor, we enjoyed the rare privilege of hearing a good sermon when J.F. Stubbs supplied our pulpit.
The Rector will preach his farewell message after which the choir will sing "Break Forth into Joy."
Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.
A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow.
At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be "What is
Hell?"
Eight new choir robes are currently needed, due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles, and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
The Lutheran men's group will meet at 6 P.M.. Steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, bread, and dessert will be served for a nominal feel.
Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered.
Attend and you will hear an excellent speaker and heave a healthy lunch.
The church will host an evening of fine dining, superb entertainment, and gracious hostility.
Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 P.M. - prayer and medication to follow.
The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.
This evening at 7 P.M. there will be a hymn sing in the park across from the Church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.
Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10. All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B.S. is done.
The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.
Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM. Please use the back door.
The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM. The Congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church. Please use large double door at the side entrance.
Mrs. Johnson will be entering the hospital this week for testes.
The Associate Minister unveiled the church's new tithing campaign slogan last Sunday "I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours."
Our next song is "Angels We Have Heard Get High."
Alas, our journey has come to a close. If you were like me, I actually laughed out loud as I read through these mistakes. Post a comment and let me know which were your favorites. God bless, and we'll see you sometime next week.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Under The Microscope
This one ought to spark some comments. Stay with the story all the way to the end, I think it'll be worth it.
UNDER THE MICROSCOPE
A man in a white lab coat tapped a pencil on his clipboard, and then addressed the man sitting in front of him. “Okay sir, Thank you for volunteering to help us with our study. Just relax and answer the questions as honestly as possible. This test will serve as a profile of you that will help us catalogue your personality to prioritize the importance of your social hierarchy.”
The man bore a confused demeanor. “Could you repeat that please?”
He smiled warmly. “Sure. Simply put, we are trying to determine what is most important to you between family and country. I am studying how people prioritize the two most important aspects of their…”
“What about God?” He interrupted.
“I’m sorry?”
“What about where we place God in your equation? You know, God, country, family?” He could tell that the psychologist didn’t understand. The researcher was probably only a student.
“What does God have to do with priorities?” He wasn’t sarcastic.
“Well, everything. Without God, what is the purpose of prioritizing anything?”
“But sir, God doesn’t exist. Even if He did, He wouldn’t be tangible enough to figure into my study.” He flipped through his notes and refocused his thoughts.
“God doesn’t believe in atheists.” The man said, matter-of-factly.
“I’m sorry?”
“God doesn’t believe in atheists. Just because you don’t believe, doesn’t mean He doesn’t fit in or exist. And since He exists, He should figure into your equation.”
The doctor placed his clipboard on the table and stopped the recorder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Boone, but my study doesn’t include any religious aspects. It’s purely a social study that evaluates how you prioritize between family and country.”
“I see. Why are you doing this study?”
“Hmm…that’s a good question.” He smiled eagerly. “You see, I have noticed that as the nuclear family breaks apart, our society seems to become less patriotic and more self-centered.” He picked up his clipboard and cleared his voice.
Boone was ready to answer him. “Oh, that’s easy. It’s because we removed God from our culture.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You see, when we removed the Ten Commandments from the schools, our children no longer had a moral and ethical standard to follow. This paved the way for Post-Modernism to begin to devalue humanity. The sanctity of human life is lost. Special interest groups like homosexuals begin to demand rights, now that our moral and ethical system is displaced, and the Tolerance Movement makes Christianity seem hateful and narrow-minded.”
“Yes, well, I see…” he shuffled paperwork for a moment. “That’s all well and good, but I’m trying to identify a possible missing link between people and patriotism.”
“Well, missing link could be the key phrase. When Darwin suggested the Theory of Evolution and began to seek out the ‘missing link’ between men and primates, he helped remove God from our culture. Once God was gone, people no longer felt they were accountable to anything or anyone and could live as they saw fit. In essence, they became very self-serving and sought out only pleasure.”
“Yes, well…”
Boone pressed on. “Well, it makes perfect sense! Don’t you see? Take those Muslim countries over there.” He pointed across the room and the doctor’s eyes followed his fingers. “Those people are devoted to their god and are very national and patriotic. Over here, where there is no God, we serve ourselves first and our country second.”
“Hmm…” he picked up his clipboard once again. “That’s all fine, but for now let’s get back to the questions. If you had to stop a terrorist from killing your wife or a stranger, who would you save if you could only save one of them?”
“It depends.”
The doctor shook his head. “No, you only have to say your wife or the stranger. It’s your only choice.”
“That’s preposterous! There are too many variables.”
“Variables?”
“Of course. You see, my wife is a Christian and I know that if she dies then she goes to Heaven. But the stranger… do I know if the stranger is a Christian or not?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Boone nodded. “Sure it does. How could I send someone to eternity to face God on the Great Throne of Judgment if they aren’t saved?”
The doctor exhaled slowly. “All religion aside, who would you pick?”
“Well, I guess I would have to pick the stranger.”
“Really?” Surprise was evident on his face. “Is it because you don’t love her?”
“My wife?” Boone scowled. “Don’t be silly. That would make me a murderer, which would cause me to violate the 10 Commandments.”
“A murderer? But the terrorist is the one who shoots her, not you.”
“Ah, but Jesus told us that if we have hate in our hearts toward anyone, then we have already committed murder in our hearts.”
“I didn’t say hate, I asked if you didn’t love her.”
“Absence of love is hate, right?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know…let’s move on.” He made some notes and then asked, “If you had an opportunity to make love to the person of your dreams with absolutely no repercussions at all, and your wife would never know, would you do it?”
“Of course not.”
“Why not?”
“God would know. And that would be a violation of the 10 Commandments.”
The doctor bowed his head. “Remember, Mr. Boone, God doesn’t fit into our study.”
“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting that part.”
The doctor was impatient. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Would you do it?”
Boone shrugged. “I thought we already covered that. Of course not.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s wrong. There is no allowance for sex outside of marriage. I would be sinning against myself, the woman, my wife, my children, my family…”
“All right,” he interrupted. “I get your point. Next question, if your wife was sick and about to die, but you could not afford the medicine that would cure her, would you steal it and save her?”
Boone shook his head. “No!”
“Really?”
“Of course not. That makes me a thief and violates the 10 Commandments.”
“But…” he checked his notes.
“But what?”
“But you are supposed to choose to save your wife.”
“And steal?”
It was the doctor’s turn to shrug. “Yes. It’s only medicine. It’s not like it’s money or a personal possession.”
“How could I do that and sin against my God? And in doing so, violate everything I stand for and believe in? Besides, God is not impressed with the value of the item stolen; He only sees the act itself…” he observed the researcher’s reaction. “What’s the matter?”
The doctor hesitated a moment while collecting his thoughts. “You see, there are different levels of truth. You are supposed to pick the one that saves your wife.”
“Then why ask me if you don’t want the truth?”
“I do want it. I just know what it is before you answer.”
Boone’s eyes narrowed. “Not in this case.”
“Seriously? You would let your wife die, just over a few dollars?” The doubt in his voice was evident.
“My convictions in God tell me that He has appointed a day in which we will die. We needn’t concern ourselves with that. If God wants her to live, then He will heal her. If He is ready to take her home, then she will die. It’s not my choice.”
The doctor scratched his head. “But it’s supposed to be your choice.”
“But it’s not. God alone has the power of life or death. We exist according to His will.”
The doctor shook his head. “You aren’t supposed to think that way.”
Boone caught his eyes for a moment. “Do you have children?”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t you choose to die in their place if it would save them?”
He didn’t hesitate. “No.”
“No?”
“That wouldn’t be true to me. Their life is of no greater value than mine.”
“Doc, you can’t be serious.” It was Boone’s turn to be doubtful.
“As a heart attack.”
“Look Doc…” He stopped. “Oh I see. You are a post-modernist.”
“Define that.” He was smug.
“It means that you don’t see any sense in a universe that sprang from nothing and evolved into meaningless life forms without design or designer.”
“In that case, yes.”
Boone pressed him hard. “Do you know Pete Singer?”
“Well, yes. He is one of my colleges and a professor at Princeton. Why?”
“Because he suggested that killing a disabled infant isn’t morally equivalent to killing a person. He went on to suggest that the life of a new born baby holds less value than the life of an animal.”
“Yes, that seems about right.”
“Then you would choose to die in order to save that lab rat over there?” Boone pointed at a cage across the room.
“Well, yes. The rat is innocent and cannot defend itself.”
“But not your child?”
“He is only a new born. He is just an infant. His life has no meaning.”
Boone sat speechless. He stood up then reached into his pocket. “Well, we’ll see about that.” He pulled out a pocketknife and produced a blade, walking to the caged rat.
The doctor jumped out of his seat. “Now see here!”
Boone reached for the cage door and the doctor put his hand on his sleeve. “Stop it!”
Boone spun around and held the knife at his throat. “Okay, Doc. It’s your call. Who dies? You or the rat?”
“But, but…” he stammered. “You can’t be serious.”
“Try me. Are you willing to bet your life on it?” He dug the knife into his neck and a small trickle of blood ran down his skin. “You make the call. Save yourself or save the rat.”
“Oh!” He started whimpering. “The rat.”
Boone shrugged and pressed harder with the knife until the doctor squeeled. “Stop, for the love of God, stop!”
“Are you saving yourself?”
“No.” He breathed heavily. “It’s just that you will be breaking the 10 Commandments if you kill me. That would violate your convictions.”
Boone smiled. “But Doc, you forgot. God doesn’t exist.”
“Oh yes He does, my mama told me so.”
“Then you better make peace with Him, because you are about to be in His presence.”
“Oh God!” He whimpered. “Please, no… I have a family, I have kids. Please have mercy.”
Boone grinned maliciously. “But you said yourself that your son is irrelevant. Remember, you are the atheist here, not me.”
“But,” the doctor looked at the ceiling. “There are no atheists in fox holes.”
“Ah, you are only trying to save your own skin, but…” with that, he released the doctor, who fell to the floor and grabbed his neck.
Now free, he was courageous. “I’m going to file charges against you.”
“It’s my word against yours.”
“Hah! No, it’s not! I was recording everything.”
“No you weren’t, you shut it off, remember?”
With a gasp, the doctor sprang from the floor and looked at the desk. His recorder was placed on pause the entire time. “Oh man…” he grumbled.
“Doctor, you need some new convictions, I believe that you have just outgrown your old ones.”
“You were going to kill me.”
Boone held up his weapon. Instead of a knife, he was holding a comb. Blood was oozing from a pinched mark on his hand.
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