Author: Norman Eric Peterson

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

Flashing Lights on the Side of the Highway

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The beginning of the deer rut was in full bloom and visible to our family. Reaching up to take an hour off the living room clock, I saw four deer on the driveway. It’s only about 25 feet away from the front porch and those deer were in top gear. Two does, two bucks. One of the bucks jumped into the fenced garden and seemed confused when he hit the corner pole. Tumbling back into the Brussels sprouts bed, he leaped up and tried another jump. After that try, he ran back where he came in and performed one of those steeplechase leaps over the fence and into the woods close by. We noticed one of his horns was missing. So it goes.

I was running late in the next morning. It was still dark and the vehicles behind me were lighting up the road, same as I was. Of course, being the leader of a string of cars means you are first in discovering fur covered obstacles in the right of way. I swing my electrical side view mirror glass away from my vision to reduce the glare. It’s nice that their high beams reach miles ahead but it can be deafening optically.

As expected, all the cars a distance behind passed me on the flats. Good, now I can drop down to five under instead of ten over! Remembering from my youth, the two speed signs that had day limit and night limit. Usually ten under for nighttime. Coming up to ‘deer alley’ I saw a vehicle on the opposite shoulder with it’s hazards blinking. About half ways down the hill. Very close to where a few years back an eight thousand dollar deer was encountered by our car. I pulled over to the shoulder, put on my emergency flashers and went across to the other car. I brought my tactical flashlight as well.

The driver of the car met me and filled in the blanks. “Hit a deer, front right tire went flat and I’m trying to get this original equipment toy jack to lift the car.” I held the light and we finally got the plate under the pinch weld. The car began to rise and there was a hopeful lug wrench coming out of the trunk. Custom wheels, it didn’t fit. At least they weren’t theft proof lug nuts but the size was bigger than stock. A sixteenth of an inch bigger than the wrench for stock wheels. A rough guess but after 40 years of wrenching I was confident my guess was correct.

They began to chat about the coming election for governor and other offices. It quickly segued into the state of our country. As the two of us began to share our analysis of the unbelievable destruction of the economy and morals, we agreed to do what we can to counter this disassembly of our democratic republic. The last things we said to one another was about our money. “It’s worth about seventeen cents on the dollar since a few decades ago, but the money we have has not changed in one way. Yet. Our wallets and pockets all contain the reassuring statement, ‘In God we Trust’ They both agreed this was a very good idea in these times! Faith and Trust in God.

The stranded motorist had a friend that lived close by and he was contacting him on my cell phone as I got ready to leave. Knowing about the lug nut socket and wrench to turn it, the man had heard from his friend it was handled and the tools would soon be there.

Saying thanks to one another and I then turned on my flashlight feature again, it flashed bright and I waved it to the vehicles approaching. No one had stopped when myself and the stranded motorist were at work, and not one even slowed. The oncoming cars, seeing both hazards on and my flashing light swinging, slowed down. I crossed safely and headed off to my late appointment with my son at the coffee shop, still miles away.

I did not speed but kept the limit. I looked behind me on a long hill descent into Saint Croix Falls and the vehicles behind were perfectly, safely spaced. It resembled a string of pearls going down the road.

Very surprised, I pulled up to the coffee shop right on time, a little ahead of my son!

I was only one minute off rendezvous time. The shop had just opened up. It didn’t compute as I had spent at least ten minutes with the stranded man. Compression of time. It has happened at various times and in different ways throughout my life. It made interesting conversation after the Bible study that my son, Bjorn and I brought our coffees and Bibles to.

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator aka Norman Peterson

It’s Not Right, But…

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There indeed is a ‘but’ in our in all of our thoughts and actions. My brother and I were at a local eatery/bar and our waiter was ‘interesting’ to us. The waiter seemed to be a rude woman. Very sarcastic too which to me, can be charming . (I have become aware that being sarcastic is not a very good conversation trend) It’s fun when you are with a close friend. Just don’t make a habit of it.

I asked if they had french fries and our waiter replied. “it’s a bar, do you want a beer too?” The fries were good, not hand cut but OK. I still did not know what to say to him. His costume was pretty good. He had nice trim razor bangs and hair with slight blue coloring. Oh well, so what, It was a person which the establishment had hired, Most certainly followed by local whisper gossip heard in small towns.

A saucy Lisa Minelli with menus and a pad and pencil. Cute, attractive but giving us a wry inward thought. A movie actress pose with hips slightly bent to the side accompanied by a wry smile. Both my brother and I are very humorous types and attend the same church which is very scriptural and very welcoming. To everyone. Love one another is a prime focus. Everyone.

The recent topic that was being preached was about the ‘buts in our lives’ Spelled with One T. Many ways we all use that modifying word. I will do that, but I do not have the time thing. In our immediate situation, I will accept this waiter but without judgment. Respect and the usual friendly banter we all have towards people in the service industry. Good tip always.

We continued our delicious meal with our usual brother to brother ways. “ what do you think our waiter is?” Not sure. “Sarcastic and forgot my refill on my coke!”. In my usual direct way, I asked our waiter if they were a Christian? A firm NO came forth with a disgusted description of his mother that was a woman of faith and how controlling and offensive she was. Boldly replying to my question. Instantly I asked “would you like to be one?” No never!

My brother then went up to the bar and showed our waiter the bill and he said “it was wrong as it was too little”. “No one has ever done that before!” the waiter said. Our sodas were removed from the bill for being forthright and honest and the bill was then the ‘correct’ amount. Outside as my brother readied his Austrian motorcycle and I prepared to walk to my truck, we smiled and I swept my hand towards the ground and said “seeds were planted”

We both smiled and agreed, indeed that was good. Declaring our Christian belief and showing respect and honesty. It was pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe

my brother Bryan

Casa Del Pas

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Sitting in my comfy chair and reading in the morning. The snow sneaked in last night and the small step ladder outside the kitchen window shows six inches on the three steps. A sturdy little thing of aluminum that helps the reach to the kitchen roof with the snow rake. Just clean around the two vents and try to control the ice dams.

Musing on writing something and finding solace in a brief Tennyson quote: “Death closes all, but but something near the end, some work of noble note, my yet be done” 1.

It occurs to most of us, that what have we yet to do now that the curtain is getting close to coming down on the play? As most of us, I have worked hard and made a few good choices to be where I am now. The great dream of a beautiful wife, younger than I! Two great sons of intellect and achievements that love us and our 30 acre homestead.

We have all worked hard and with sweat and satisfaction through most of it. The gardens of provision and beauty, our mechanical shop of provision and repair, still usable now for us and friends. Tools that only need an occasional handle because we use them. Heating with wood and always splitting and stacking and calculating supply. I have gotten so fussy in the winter that I have a tape measure out there to make certain certain lengths are put in the wheelbarrow. Long, short and gnarly for day and night fires in the stove. It’s in the middle of the house.

All of the accomplishments great and small some of which are still visible. Some are tenuous and need conversation to reveal them to one another. Pictures on the stairway wall of births of the kids, a summer kitchen and a field all limned by a photo of Julie, very pregnant with our first son, Bjorn. Myself, just our of basic training taken by a pro in town with my cover just so, leaning to my right in my dress blues. I look happy and am looking to my right and smiling.

Another accomplishment that I just heard today from my son Soren’s good friend Zeke. I asked

him before a Saturday breakfast what he would call our home. He only paused for a few seconds and said; “Casa Del Pas” house of peace. A good handful of men come to join us at times. Good strong young men that are bonded with Soren and us. All of them live in the area but many times Julie and I awaken to extra boots in the entry.

Making sure the coffee maker is filled with water and the fire is properly set and banked is my job as I rise earlier. Breakfast on Saturday mornings with pancakes and eggs/bacon and good coffee after an hour or two. One bathroom and the ballet for it and the preparation for breakfast is done as the snow keeps coming. Pastor Zeke blesses the food and our meal is shared. House of peace indeed. “The author appears on the last act, the best of all” 2 1 and 2 Lord Tennyson

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator scribe for Norm

Autobiography of Norm Chapter 5

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Things in the sixth fleet were perking along pretty well. I was informed by my team that I was allowed to have an apartment in Naples as it was our home port. I found one through shipboard scuttlebutt and moved into a classy five story shopping center, the Galleria Umberto. The entire roof was glass and the view from the top floors was magnificent.

My landlady was very experienced with navy borders and gave me all the lowdown on her rules of the place and the lack of heat in this beautiful masterpiece of a building which is made of marble. The use of a gas space heater was available to me. It was winter in Naples and there is no snow but it was chilly. The galleria was built in 1887 and central heating was not part of the construction plan. It was, and is, a shopping center. Way ahead of the Mall of America.

Also as an advantage to having Naples as my home port I also wore ‘civies’ when I was ‘on the beach’ (civilian clothing and on land) We weren’t in Naples a whole lot of the time, but it was pleasant to buy clothing to wear in town and not be conspicuous as a military person.

I met a very pleasant English girl touring and dressed in my Harris tweeds looked respectable.

I invited her to join me on the local train to Pompeii to view the very old ruins from the eruption of Mount Vesuvius 79 AD. The town was buried in 9 feet of volcanic ash so there are a lot of body impressions and quite a few buildings there. I love history and so did she. Unfortunately all of the extremely pornographic frescoes also were preserved and the train ride back to Naples was pretty quiet and she left quickly at the station. She did not understand it was the first time for me to visit the ancient ruins as well. The brief friendship was nice but later on I lost all the nice clothes including the Harris tweed jacket. A total misunderstanding with the Navy.

Once I was out late and walking out of the elevator to get to my room, the iron gate to the extended walkway was locked. No problem. I just hopped up on the railing and twisted around to the other side. I did not look down to the marble floor five stories below. I was surprised that I would do this bold move but I wondered about the real sailors who climbed the rigging to the top gallant sails back before my enlistment. The elevator took a 10 lire coin to go up but the sailors who used them had a trick to avoid the coin slot. Press the call button and just a moment before the elevator stops, push the stop button, open the door and push the floor you want to go to. It hits bottom and then heads back up with out a stop nor complaint. 10 lire which was nicknamed the ‘deech’ worth about a penny or two. Old time game console just for fun.

I had an alarm clock in my cold apartment so I get back to fleet landing in time. It would have been interesting if it was built at this time so if I recorded a wake up sound of my own. “Reveille, reveille, all hands turn to and trice up. Sweepers, sweepers man your brooms. The smoking lamp is lit in all authorized spaces. Now reveille, reveille”

That greeting at 6 comes every morning on the 1MC speakers. (Except when we were in the war and everyone was standing 24/12 watches.) This wake up call was accompanied by a bosun’s whistle in the beginning which started out high and dropped about two octaves at the end. It was very akin to a locomotive steam whistle at RR crossings on the last of the letter Q. Long-long-short-long. I always liked that sound of the lonesome long end note. Sounds like a lonesome loon call. I Still like it. Not the reveille part though. Old navy stuff. Sweepers? Smoking lamps? Back again to the tall ship sailors who slept in hammocks. (that’s the trice up part) Another tradition that all military embrace. Comforting to be linked to the past. We did not sleep in hammocks but the bunks were tightly placed. Your head, next bunk beside you, his feet.

Rising up in the morning, getting my dress blues on and walking down to fleet landing to catch a ride on the liberty boat. There was a push cart vendor on the dock that sold hot sugar donuts that were big around. On those cold winter mornings in Naples those warm donuts were a saving grace to an espresso picked up on the walk down. Still like that morning sugar and caffeine blast. I use cinnamon and sugar on my toast now. Tradition.

As I reminisce and still see and hear those things of 60 years past, I also thank my Lord Jesus for the memories and the sharp recall of those times. Memories I can give to others and the stories found to be uplifting and reassuring in many ways. He has told me so.

Think upon your past as you also realize this miracle of life and a lot of the lessons learned. I must have a lot to learn as I realize I am still here and getting somewhat older. Or old period. He loves me, he loves you. As my favorite movie of all time, is titled “It’s a wonderful life” Indeed Clarence, it is.

Norm Jack Gator