Author: Norman Eric Peterson

God’s Grease Monkeys

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It was at a time when I was very enthusiastic about community service. Problem was, I didn’t have a clue why or what that looked like. From earliest days, I was a loner, growing up selfish and smug. Protected. Stuck in the usual ways. Find pleasure and personal peace. The voracious appetite for self importance and recognition. We all have that, it’s impossible to see real land when in the middle of the ocean. We feel alone and adrift most of our lives. A lifeboat existence.

I was an automotive shop owner/ mechanic, and and doing well at making a living . By an amazing coincidence, I chanced to see the head line on the Sunday edition of the Star and Tribune. ‘God’s Grease Monkeys’ Perfect fit! New to the faith, eager, and I had the usual images of what that meant. Be nice and get extra points for doing something for a stranger. It was in the Bible somewhere. God likes that stuff after all. God himself is pretty nice and that seemed to be the ticket for theological success!

I read on and the article outlined a garage in the cities down south that repaired cars for people that had little or no money. Perfect! A shoe-in for me. I picked out a few hand tools, a code reader (that would show the one’s in charge I was a professional and serious)

I showed up and they gladly put me to work. An oil change and a headlight bulb or two for starters. On the floor of the shop. Later, the next month, the staff figured I could do more complex things and assigned me a brake job and a tail light. That helpful team even stuffed my Volvo station wagon with food that was part of the Grease Monkey outfit! “Spread it around your neighborhood” were the instructions.

Right. My neighborhood is primarily lake homes and farmers. We ate most of it and gave some bagels to a fellow mechanic in town. Isn’t that what freezers are for? It was good food, veggies, breads and canned goods. Once a month I went down there, I connected with another mechanic as well and we developed a friendship.

I was racking up God points and then the inevitable for all car ministries occurred: The repeat ‘customer’ with yet another car, and another after that. Judgment time. Point blank. No mercy. The Ministry was buying the parts too. Tires, wheel bearings, blower motors, filters, window regulators (look it up) and lots of light bulbs.

When questioned about those things, often the car owners response would be “oh, I sold that one you fixed a while back” There was disappointment and later, much later, I realized they are just like me. Then I Felt used and ineffective. Just like I usually felt. God seemed silent on the matter, and I needed help in hearing Him. After all, they couldn’t afford to fix their vehicles and this was a way out of financial distress.

The concept of a ministry involving my repair skills still made sense though, and a short time later I started another one, closer by with my new church and friends. Same thing happened. ‘Why am I doing this?’ “I’m just being used!” This time I was ready to listen to the Lord.

“Correct Norm, you are being used. What are you learning, what is happening to you? Do you find joy no matter what, do you connect with Me and talk to me? I will show you things beyond your dark curtain that will give you great joy! It started to dawn on me that I was not praying, not abiding and not listening to Jesus. Why am I here? Good question!

I got better after that. It took some time, and eventually I began to get serious about these things and started seeing and listening to Jesus. The attention I always craved was always there, from Him. I surrendered leadership. Not instantly as most of you know. Eventually I began witnessing to the owners of the cars we were repairing. Now the question came from the car owners! “why are you doing this?” There was, indeed an answer now, a somewhat surprising answer to everyone. “Because Got told me to”. Most people just take these sorts of ministries in stride and as I did, never wondered why anyone would help a stranger like me.

Later now, the car and food ministries are gone for me and my family and other ways to serve have taken their place. Volunteers are always needed in many God centered ministries and those ministries are everywhere.

Examine your own life and you too will find many times and places that the Lord has used people to help and steady your walk (and drive!) As a favorite song goes: “open the eyes of my heart Lord, open the eyes of my heart, I want to see You, I want to hear You”

Guidance as I was guided, to yet another new area of my life. It seems that happens to everyone. It always has. We are led to places and people flow towards us as we live. Myself, I am enjoying the humor and strength that our Lord uses with me as He shows me that narrow highway of Holiness that leads me on to Eternities Eternity and His smile.

After all is said and done, that’s why I write about it! It’s getting pretty good. Jack

I Escaped

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

Mine has been an interesting life. So I have been told by people who read what I write.

It seemed normal life to me, what did I know about life? A weirdo and a geek and I have written a few columns about myself. Inward when outward isn’t working. Reasonable when most people are not.

Brilliant and surprising and not understood why. Asperger syndrome, a variation of Autism, a precursor. Advanced in mathematics asking grade school teachers about soil stratification. Then obtaining my novice class amateur radio license in grade school. General class a year later

Dad knew I was different and catered to my interests. The rest of my family stayed at arms length when I acted normally by my thoughts. Knowing the joke about Santa Claus as I waited obediently in my room for my father to knock on the front door and great the great Satan in his red suit with warmth to fool us. I knew Santa clause was evil for his behavior and indifferent attitudes towards people with anti social tendencies. I was used to it after all. Truth is truth.

I would have welcomed coal as we burned it in our basement stove with all it’s steam punk gauges and clinking doors.

As I age, my brilliance has faded somewhat but the wariness remains. Conversation and acceptance always seem to go hand in hand. I like genuine smiles and try to do so. I engage people in places that are not usual for most and use ruses of my own to do so. I complement a vehicle that I see and engage the owner with a complement on it. Conversations fascinate me and I always learn something. Mechanical or even better. I have learned to ask names and even origin of different ones. I guess at the country of origin of their name and this begins the game I reveal to them. It softens the spirit of strangers and lets them know they are seen.

“you’re so friendly and easy to be with!” That is what I have been developing over decades and the wish to bridge the chasm between me and the world. As the improbability device on the Pot of Gold in the hitchhiker movie says: “now approaching normality 2 to 1 and falling”

I am at a loss for words often to express myself and that is why I write and edit over and over till it makes sense to readers. I put the blame on the world and then exalt the cure for us all by mentioning Jesus who is healing me of many things. Mental and physical, I love to pray on the spot for anyone that needs and wants it. It’s a gift from God who has gifted me to do so.

After all, the first thing of communication is to seek it. The early days of my amateur radio were obvious to me. In Morse code the first call tapped out to speak with someone you do not know are the letters, CQ. Seek You. Makes sense to someone looking to communicate with the world. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe to K0JMV.

Junk Drawer

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It is a missed opportunity for a Game Show! “ I am a plumber, what’s in my junk drawer in the kitchen?” Easy one to start with rubber drain plugs, Teflon pipe tape on a roll, Monkey wrench etc.

“I am a philosophy professor and writer, what’s in my junk drawer?” Used dialectic cliff’s notes, puns to cause groans during a debate. Disarming platitudes, Names of noted Greek philosophers, half full glasses of water.

“ I am an atheist and my wife is a deist, what’s in our junk drawer? Slightly tarnished valuable shelf gods of antiquity, pocket tracts of Richard Dawkins, various colors of silly putty for repairs to the idols and a small bible with “don’t panic” taped on the cover.

Our junk drawer is good to use as a collectible at the Smithsonian as Americana sculpture. The Norman Rockwell of junk drawers. It would be a hands-on installation starting out with a drawer that was sticky and had a screwdriver at the top that prevents it from opening.

Compartments that have several paper clips and stamps on a roll intertwined. Small flashlights that don’t and are empty of AAAA batteries.

I can give you an absurd compendium but I tire of trying open it and then find a small set of pliers that I wanted last week. There is a small Phillips screwdriver in there that I needed to disassemble a worthless scanner in there that we inherited. Being a ham operator it was irresistible to try and get it to work. The junk drawer revealed it on the bottom in the back of course. Stuck under a large pencil sharpener.

I recycled the old scanner because the batteries in it came from a pyramid excavation and I recycled it before the charger caused a melt down. There is a gap in King Tuts hand which the ancient scanner would fit. I saw that in Washington’s Smithsonian where his body is on show. Who can refute that? Another conspiracy story akin to the fake moon landings. I have made an offer for the used Moon rover but the shipping was out of this world.

Collectibles are an American tradition along with second hand stores. I can do away with the humorous and self sarcasm but there is a collectible that is often found in many homes and it is bound with old leather sometimes and dates back to the family for generations. A book written in 1611. The originals are priceless and can still be read! The King James Bible. The only thing in my junk drawer is an old Yad from Israel for reading such books. A pointer used to read scrolls of the words of wise antiquity.

If I just dig it out of the drawer, I know it has to be in there! I did find an old 5 shekel coin once and gave it away but I don’t think I gave away the Yad, Or did I?

I know it’s old and most of those sorts of things are pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe.

I need a break from hauling firewood up to the porch.

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

I like the results when the wood rack is full and lately, two wheelbarrows are next to it. The rack can hold plenty for a few days IF the night temperatures stay mild. The low single digits or below need more choice opportunities. Our vocabulary has evolved over the decades of burning wood , the big round logs are called ‘all nighters’.

It really is an established science to setting a fire in the beautiful wood stove. All firebrick sides, top and bottom. Heavy steel and a glass front door. Brass around the door. It is right in the middle of the house and has been on it’s hearth for over 30 years. It’s predecessor did not have firebrick nor thick steel. Julie was on her way to the bathroom when she saw a red glow from a hole in the firebox.

Quickly the research was done, a trip to the cities and the stove we have now was delivered and we even got a brass dragon that is filled with water in the winter and breaths steam out of it’s nostrils. With wood heat any humidity is welcome. Leave the bathroom door open during showers and lastly, buy a really good humidifier and use the special fluid!

How many tons of oak, birch, maple and box elder have we gone through? Some elm too (it splits stringy and tough) The woodshed is about 50 feet away down a small hill from the porch. It’s got a metal roof and plywood sides. We go through about 4 full cords a year, depending on below zero nights (or days too) Simple calculations come to 120 to 150 cords. Simple guesses really. 340 tons of wood.

That’s a few chain saws, a lot of chains and mix gas. Now we have a hydraulic splitter and that helps. It saves splitting maul handles replacement. By the way, I replaced a lot of spike mall and sledge hammer handles when I was a track worker for the railroad (gandy dancer) and after removing the stump and punching it out, you put the new handle in as tight as you can by hand and then hold it with the business end down and hit the end of the handle with another hammer! Momentum does the job. The hammer blow is faster than the heavy tool can move.

Stoking the stove is an art and Julie is an artist of renown around here. I just do the daytime fires and burn all the weird pieces length wise. I also clean out the ashes and learned not to dump them until a few days sitting in the sealed ash bucket. Fires in the brush back of the parking lot bring excitement to life.

Cleaning the chimney is a family operation. I take down the stove pipe that goes to the chimney and Soren goes up on the roof to run the chimney brush. Cleaning the creosote that comes down is fun and cleaning the pipes are too. I pull the brush back out sitting on the shop floor and hold the pipe end with my feet braced with a short 2×4 across the end to get the brush out.

You can see how much work and danger is involved. I used to do the roof job before I hit 80 and since I play the fiddle, the inevitable Teve in ‘fiddler on the roof’ joke came with the job.

Daily writing prompt
Do you need a break? From what?
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Worship

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A common word, found in everyone’s vocabulary and is used quite often in many signs and personal conversations. The tricky part is, what and where does this occur?

The most seen places are church bulletin boards or big outdoor signs. My personal preference is to call them by their resemblance to marble cemetery markers. Tombstones. Often lit. Sometimes they have times listed and can be read if you are going slowly. They always say Worship.

I studied worship at a school down in Kansas City and it became clear to me where the words and body postures came from! Hebrew origins from a while ago. A long while ago.

The first one is very familiar, Hallal. It shows up in a lot of singing and is the base word of Hallelujah. It means to be clamorous and be seen as foolish in praising the Lord. I have been surprised at my own responses when a band sings Jesus, Jesus, you make my heart tremble. I toss up my hands and weep at His name. I am reserved because I do not want to smack someone nearby in my enthusiasm for His name.

Sitting up front with no one in front and room to step out works well for me.

I have asked camera operators if it is OK that I am there and they understand and try not to hit me with the back panel of the hand held camera. I tell them I am aware of their fiber optic cable and will not step on it. (stepping on a coil of it when it is on top of itself is a cardinal sin) Fiber means glass. Operators worship too but it is easy to forget when you are working to tell the story.

I am involved with media production of worship and the simultaneous thrill of the clarity of worship can goof up a good camera shot when you are dancing with joy at the same time. It’s good to be close and among the leaders of the room’s worship. You know it’s real.

Shabach means clapping and shouting. That encourages musicians and if it offends you then you are probably in a bad mood or in the wrong place. Pentecostal worship is exciting and easy to engage with. I love it when the singers Shabach. It’s spontaneous in many places.

Zamar is worshiping our Lord on musical instruments. Plucking strings and joyfully singing praise. Zamar at nine and eleven would catch my attention! I especially like Banjo Zamar.

Barak is kneeling down or bowing down. Rhythmically bobbing works for many. I have seen a few people in a sanctuary just disappear as they fold up in front of their seat. It’s easier if the seats are further apart. Don’t worry about the carpet, facilities staff cleans it after every service.

Yadah is the extension of your hands. There is a separate word for halfway up in the air, I will have to look that one up sometime. You have done all of these things! It’s quite OK as the posture of worship is very traditional and as we all know, God never changes so it seems we should pay attention to that fact. Worship is a romance and Love is most of it but astonishment and joy are hooked on. It’s impossible for me to ignore knowing that I am involved in the timeless and overwhelming beauty of meeting with the creator of all things. Crying happens.

“Don’t you get shy on Me, come on and praise the Lord” Joy, it’s pretty good. Norm the Gator

A Sister at Laguna Beach

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The Laguna greeter.

There was a time in my life that I was a dedicated surfer. I moved in with the president of my old high school class (King?) and far from being the outcast weirdo in high school, now I was one to be admired. With borrowed a surfboard from a slightly older young man who lived downstairs from the apartment in Hermosa Beach. There was a bond instantly between them as they both had the same last name and were both slightly autistic and emotionally intense in various ways. Different and knowing they both were.

So, I went to the beach every day and learned how to surf. Readers of this column will remember that time in the article, ‘Super Chief’ I just loved surfing and was totally committed to it. I slept on the floor of my room with the board next to me so I would rise early without disturbing the other young men and walk a half a block down to the beach. Except for the jellyfish, it was a time in my life that means a lot to me 50 years later.

At one of the parties in the apartment, a young woman (girl) took a fancy to me and slipped into my room during the party and I offered her the other side of the surfboard to lie on. No seduction. Genuine friendship and it astonished her and there was a bond, a different young man that treated her with respect and friendship. Carrie is her name

She never forgot that and after a year or so, I was in San Diego, Navy training base. After basic, I went to A school at the same base. and was then training young Naval men radio operations. I had a background in radio from my amateur radio days and still held a general class license.

I wondered if Carrie, was still at her Uncles place in Laguna Beach. I called her and she was pleased. She asked me to visit on a weekend. Since I was now on staff, I had every weekend off. I even had civilian clothes to wear. Little did I know I was in a pretty good situation right out of boot camp.

Because I washed out of the nuclear submarine service (bad color vision.) I was no longer striking for nuclear technician,so they told me I would be a radio operator. They knew my skills at being one. I trained young men in Morse code in A school and basic electronics. It was the best duty assignment I had with the Navy. Myself, I learned how to touch type listening to code. Nice thing to know when the code comes at 30 wpm

The San Diego bus to Los Angeles went right through Laguna Beach and I went to see Carrie. She picked me up at the bus stop and drove me to her Uncles place in the hills. She drove 1957 Corvette convertible, bright red and powerful with the first stock fuel injection in a sports car. Her Uncle was on an extensive art tour in Europe at that time and the car was there for her to use. A wealthy art dealer in Europe and he had a pretty good ‘duty station’ too! I never met him nor know his name.

So, I would come up every weekend and lounge around the pool that overlooked the ocean and do a little painting (with Uncles paint equipment. The brushes, canvas, tripod and acrylic paints.) Occasionally my new ‘sister’ would bring a young man home and introduce that man to me as her brother was a way of overcoming the puzzled look I got from the men. I liked that immensely. My ‘organic’ sister never liked me.

They were one-night stands and that was understood by all. A new sister that liked him, I liked that. One weekend, I called my old high school president that was living in the Hollywood hills and asked ‘sis’ if he can borrow the Corvette.

The occasional boyfriends never even got a nod with that question. She knew when they started saying “Hey Carrie can I….NO” I drove up to LA and visited my old buddies who were living large in the Frank Lloyd Wright Circular apartments. Class. The red Corvette fit right in at the curb and I got a smile nod from everyone I saw. Poseur.

That corvette was fast on the freeway!

Back at the beginning of the city of Laguna, the Greeter there gave me a wave. (The greeter was a man that stood for years at the north end of the city and waved at cars)

All in all it only lasted a season of my life and made a big difference in both of us. She shared her heart in a way nether of them thought they would do or even contemplate and it was a good start on real relationships for them both. They had no idea they were both being trained in their hearts near the ocean and some of it stuck. Carrie treasured my paintings too, she said they would be worth a lot of money when I became famous. Still waiting for that, I’ll send her my book if she is still there.

It’s pretty good.  Norm Peterson RM4 Comservron 6 Naples, Italy

What is Happening to Higher Education

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A shock to myself at the closings of our universities across our state of Wisconsin. I cannot believe that declining enrollment and expenses have caused 6 campus’ to be closing within the next year.

Wisconsin is or was ranked 43rd of the states for funding in spite of community support and reasonable tuition costs. Beautiful campus sites with environmental programs, an observatory, and healthful and well staffed. What happened suddenly where this occurred suddenly this season? We all took them as rock solid, after all, many of them go back a ways.

Northland for example was founded in 1892 and has been a beacon of college education in Northern Wisconsin for as long as I can remember (and no, I was not around at the turn of the last century to consider be matriculated there) Outstanding bedrock of Ashland community.

Lack of student enrollment and not enough funding even though alumni have gathered millions to save these institutions. Some say it was just the lack of students of college age. Another group say it was funding from the state government that falls short of needs. Many theories are put forth.

There is change afoot in our federal government that is too late to rescue our treasure of education with the beauty of Wisconsin integrated with these campus’. A trillion dollars of our money has been spent on ridiculous efforts to promote racism, revisionist history throughout the world. The ‘deep state’ that has existed for decades is now refusing to give in to mandates from our president to step down and stop this nonsense.

A sign with a falcon mascot remains inside the closed University of Wisconsin Oshkosh-Fond du Lac campus Friday, Aug. 9, 2024, in Fond du Lac, Wis. Angela Major/WPR

Bureaucrats that bring to mind a Russian story by Saltikoff . ‘There were two generals that worked in a registry office of some kind. They were born there, reared there and grew up there and as a result knew absolutely nothing about anything whatever.’ Sound familiar?

Jack Gator Reporter

Politics and Religion

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

A famous author from England was known as the Apostle of common sense. I would earnestly recommend reading anything he wrote! In our most recent times the term common sense has been said by our current president and so I delved into that phrase and it’s origin.

Many dialectic courses use the phrase ‘common sense’ but as a consequence there is always a position in the discourse that does not seem very sensible. The way of discovering truth in any topic was handed down to us from the Greek philosophers and they were pretty wise guys.

This type of truth seeking was very commonly taught in school “back in the days” of education. Redire to the English primary schools and these sorts of things were absolutely a foundation of logical thinking and debate. In a forensic class? Scientific discovery which in Latin thousands of years ago was referred to as ‘Ache’ finding beginnings of all things.

Echoed in the TV series ‘all things great and small’ with James Herriot? Darwin had his day with his dialectics that he believed explained evolutionary theory. This is also taught in schools throughout our country. It is a vary controversial topic, Ache or origin. It delves into a political stance in the hierarchy of our education system and is not taught as a dialectics course.

This is not common sense and is a recent phenomenon of indoctrination in education. Have you had enough large words for a while? Do you take notes when these topics or opinions are presented in this type of dialectic? Lets talk! It’s good to exchange ideas and stances on important things like this.

The writer I was referring to at the beginning was G.K. Chesterton and when told he was not to write his newspaper columns about Religion or politics he responded: “There is nothing else to write about” That was The Illustrated London News, a very famous London newspaper.

As a side note, I have had the same thing happen to me and I found great comfort in this common issue throughout our country. Every discussion, every controversy, is about religion and politics. Religion is about our relationship with God and politics is about our relationship with our neighbors.

As Chesterton again stated: “We are told to love our neighbors and also to love our enemies: probably because usually they are the same people”

A great thank you to Dale Ahlquist and G.K. Chesterton Norm Peterson aka Jack Gator

Never betray Love

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It was a child’s romance. A romance brought into full bloom by trauma and the need to escape it somehow. Fresh from the military that literally tortured me, my path beckoned me strongly to dissolve myself in marriage, somehow.

The only job I had when I got home after discharge was performing songs learned from warm and scratchy vinyl recordings. Joan Baez, Peter, Paul & Mary, Carolyn Hester. The job at the YMCA for youth was better right away than the red line brig in Spain and got me the attention I craved. A brand new Martin D-28 Helped it happen.

At that time the Brazilian rosewood model was an even $400. I bought it right off the exhibition wall at Schmidt music instantly when I came home. I had one shipped overseas a year before and it never showed up and no one knew where it had gone. I had paid the cost and Schmidt’s had the invoice. No charge with hard-shell case ready to play. They even tossed in some strings. I still own it.

I met my fiancé at the YMCA gig and she ditched her date and I drove her home that night. I began to meet her family and she and I became young lovers. I was living in my Mother’s basement and we spent times down there accompanied by the washing machines loud symphonies. An old habit of hers surfaced and she ditched me.

My beloved disappeared. I frantically swam through all the places she should be, and finally, a good friend told me years later that she had run off with an actor from the famous Guthrie. She was a ticket taker at the theater and easy sexual prey to be taken by a Lothario of the stage. After all, better prospects than a recently discharged service man living in his mother’s basement.

Stunned again by sudden betrayal, I went deep into the rabbit hole and gave up the promised good life and got involved with another vet who hooked me up with some heroin smugglers in California.

(check out Motorcycle pilgrimages on gatorsgracenotes.com)

Money, a mansion in the hills of Berkeley and using my Military skill set, I became a member of the air force of drug smugglers. I was an experienced radio operator and built a portable air to ground Ground to ground radio. Flight plans were Mexico to the California desert.

We had a steady customer in The City, Sly stone and the musicians that lived there. My pilot gave me the magic white powder that the whole team was using. I thought, wow what a gift.

Heroin gave me relief from all the pain of life. The poppy blooming in my core became the path to victory. No back pain, no mental anguish, no fears. Just nirvana and total oblivion. Betrayal covered by powder on glass.

Deep into addiction, a voice entered my room in the mansion just as I was getting ready to snort a line of the drug. The voice said Five simple words: “Life or death, choose now” Stupefied and thinking hard about voices from the thin air, I chose life and was instantaneously delivered from my death path. No withdrawal. No craving.

Of course, the swell new job was over and the usual reaction was another betrayal and a narrow escape. I left the flying circus of Berkeley close to the ocean trade, alive and another life came upon me. I lived in my home made camper truck for a while and played that Martin front of Safeway stores. I got rescued again by a friend and finally made it back to Minneapolis.

Back home to a drug free city government gang that drove cabs. I was a Hippie restaurant singer and dishwasher and then got a good job as a steel track worker that finally paid well. The city gang was left for the railroad gang, but Something was awry and had to be done for freedom from the inside pain upon me again. Never trust your heart to another. That was entrenched into my very being, traumas of the past.

Through that old city friend, I found my ex’fiancé’ locked in a mental ward downtown and bluffed my way in posing as a youth pastor to see her. Her father was the senior pastor at Central Lutheran and I knew him from the visits, and meals when I was engaged.

My old lover was heavily drugged and overweight, groggy but she came into focus for a short time and asked me “why are you here?” ‘Because I love you!’ came quicker than thought and the pain of that rejection was over. There is still other trauma within me but I am learning how to quickly recognize it and shut off old learned instincts of survival and to run away from perceived trauma.

The heroin that never lasted and blinded me to the fact that the miracle of deliverance was love. This was Jesus seeing and telling me truth about what I really was. The the light grows slowly but surely. There are plans being revealed to me to take me to places I can’t imagine. Places of trust. Real fulfillment. Reality. Now I am writing columns to others to share that love.

‘Never betray the sword, never betray beauty, and never betray a friend’. It’s a good way to see the life we live as men and warriors of the Word. Freedom from fear and self hatred is a special gift that can only come from our Lord and Savior Jesus.

“I sacrifice the land unto you, all who I love there, and who loved me: I sacrifice this land unto you, and all who I love there, and who loved me; when I have put our seas between them and me, Put Your seas between my sins and thee.

As the trees sap do seek the root below In winter now I go where none but you, the Eternal root of true love I may know.” John Donne ‘Hymn to Christ’

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Common Sense Insights on Love

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So many books, letters and columns are at my desktop and littered around my favorite living room chair. I read them as I am inspired at the moment and that is why I put post in notes at the pages where I leave off.

It’s a mess and a trip hazard if I am not tidying up now and then. Keep them out of the meander lines of nighttime walks to the bathroom. Common sense.

Lately I have been researching for love and what it really is. I have at least been instructed from early writers like Descartes and Augustine as good starting lines to start at. My usual trivial descriptions are easily dismissed. “I love my guitar”, “I love how that sounds” . I love that look or thousands of songs with essential love me or leave me themes. Movies with passion (Greek Eros) those lists are not endless but my point is, they point to opinions and attractions.

Reading an author that makes me look up from the book and wish I had a pen and pad at hand. Astonished at brilliance and clarity. My hero, C.S. Lewis, said he got a lot of inspiration from authors like G.K. Chesterton and George MacDonald and used their clarity and thoughts in his own writing.

Another example of common sense: “The mutilation of children is not “gender-affirming care.” Anti-white racism is not “anti-racism.” Illegal migrants are not “undocumented ‘new neighbors.’” A bisected cow in a tank of formaldehyde is not an important work of art”. 1.

This tells me that love is coupled with common sense which goes back to Descartes, look him up. He wrote thousands of years ago and he pervades truth which is also found in my favorite small book, John Chapter 17. The best example of love which C.S. Lewis expounded upon. Trying to love your neighbor is not easy, Just treat him as though you loved him and eventually, you will. So what is love? It has respect and admiration built in but it is far more than those things. As I have stated, I would not know my wife if I read some books or biographies about her. I can’t love my neighbor if I looked at a plat map. I can’t even really love fully my God and Savior by reading about Him! There is a decision to go deep into myself, to my core and then be silent and listen to the spirit that gently tells me what love is. The flood of love itself moves within me and is love itself. It is common sense and has always been since we were made.

I

Falling in Love with love that is visible in your eyes, your tears and sometimes a tremble of astonishment of Joy that overtakes. This is true love, the words fail me but you know what I am writing about. The breath taking embrace of a long lost person comes pretty close. How about being embraced as a long lost person? I look ahead to that embrace as I enter eternity.

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator 1. Roger Kimball