Author: Norman Eric Peterson

Vocare’

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And there I was, with a dual citizenship of a prayer volunteer and a media volunteer. I thought I was going to do something else and moved my ‘vocation’ or calling to another location so I could pray for musicians that pray with their music. Vocation comes from the the word Vocare which means To Call. It’s not a career. A doctor who has a career has first been called.

If we have found the peace that passes all understanding and can wait patiently, we will indeed be called. In the waiting room in hospitals, we wait to be called. That is somewhat similar, although we do not sit and wait for 30 years or so in that room, reading magazines that are not to our liking. I have been ‘called’ many times in my life and often it was after waiting a while. More than 30 years actually. I moved about a bit however and did do a lot of reading. I was waiting for Vocare and I did not know that.

Student, laborer, Naval radioman, movie projectionist, musician, auto mechanic and other ‘random’ occupations, traipsing through life and falling into various professions. Random it seemed and some of those jobs are better left unwritten about. Why this drifting about with a precious life to enjoy? Dependent on a breeze to detach me from the branch of my life and float down to yet another location, a wandering sign. It seemed so random but here I am, my odometer has spun around and my body is rusty and noisy but it still works.

One night, I was called and that Vocare has led me places that have utilized skills that I acquired along the snow drifts traveled. Lately, that calling has led me to a place that I would not have guessed but the life and training has equipped me to do so. Ears trained to hear beauty and eyes to see it. There is more to come, always is for us all. Singing prayer with others for years, often just us facing a room filled with empty chairs. This led to a Vocare to pray for other people as I knew prayer was a connection to eternity and it’s creator.

A good friend introduced me to a large church to help him pray. I was immediately struck by the hunger I felt there because it was the same hunger I feel. Now those chairs were filled with people that felt the way I do. I knew what to tell them. He is with them and He is for them. It was the connection with my calling to feel the presence of our Lord.

I was gently reminded by the team leader not to reveal details or struggles of my life, just to listen to people and reassure them and pray with them for their fears and sometimes with tears between us. It was good and right and I felt fulfilled and called to this. Compassion.

It often takes a wounded one to extend healing to another. 1

An opportunity to join my son at another campus came up. He is the director of the media team there and I could ride with him as well. (it’s quite a commute of 60 miles)

I immediately requested a transfer to the prayer team to that campus. It was hard as I had made friends of volunteers and with team leaders. The transfer came through and I began at the new location. When I arrived, the prayer team leader informed me that his team was adequately staffed and I would be put in reserve. I began praying for staff and volunteers as the opportunity arose. It was my main desire at the first location actually. My son and I get to the new location early and it is easy to connect with staff and volunteers.

It works well and I am also able to visit and pray with the band. My son invited me to join his media team. There were vacancies most of the time and some of the positions were advantageous to good production. I began training in various consoles As I write this, I am in the position of assistant director. Very rewarding. I have access to the rehearsals and just listening to them I visualize where the story is being told with the musicians. This enhances the visual and auditory structure of the story we are responsible for presenting.

Now I enjoy that dual role of prayer and media volunteer! Another combination of vocations. My background in radio production was a great help. Communication headsets and lots of dials and switches were familiar. I was called to communication at the age of 13 after all. Amateur radio and attendant electronics and Morse code skills. The initial contacting of other radio operators begins with the letters CQ or Seek You. It seems to be a similar calling to Seek and connect. Perhaps that was the training I needed to enter into these two worlds of prayer and production of an environment that embraces it.

People on the production teams are successful if they are never noticed. All the lights, sound and video screens enhance the story, the greatest story. We even wear black clothing that does not reflect light so we are not seen by the cameras which need reflected light.

What gifts I have been given by our Lord! A Vocare to listen and to see and then help others hear and feel the presence of the eternal God. Random it is not. You too have been prepared for a vocation to serve the world and reflect the love of Christ. Even if you wear black clothing you reflect that light. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

1. H

Inward

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It seemed to have started back in the fifties, An uneasiness, the knowledge that there was no future, for anyone. There was a war and it wasn’t the usual war for a child in grade school. Suddenly the sirens became active and it sounded like the battle for Britain in the old grade school classroom. Becoming a musician playing piano, I liked the low bass notes as the siren dropped octaves and finished akin to a huge motor coming to a stop. You know the sound, every small town in America has one.

It’s a horn and it rotates just like a Leslie B3 organ. Whooping and penetrating with incredible sound pressure from high on the highest building in town. The tornado warning horn. It means extreme danger and take cover. Right away. ‘Duck and cover’ under your desk, the one with metal and wood and then you will be safe from imploding windows. Waiting for the brilliant flash and having seen the Nevada test sites from WWII, the houses blown to bits by a wave of impossible destruction, obliteration. The desk and you would be vapor and the world, as you know it, would disappear along with your Hopalong Cassidy lunch box with a delicious Skippy peanut butter sandwich inside and a tasteless ‘delicious’ apple included. Maybe a thermos of chocolate milk too.

The bomb did not show up, but my belief in a world of wonder and beauty would disappear into the vapor of a lost reason to live. Many times I have had similar excuses for my behaviors.

Those things made me who I am but now, I can glimpse what I am becoming because of Divine providence. This side of eternity, we do not understand many things. I don’t.

It was so easy to look inward for my purpose and my strength. To believe I was the captain of my life and as I stated in one of my columns, inconvenient, every one and every thing was in the way of my fulfillment. Fatherless and basically homeless while living at home gave me the opportunity to create my own world. The church I was taken to every Sunday, all the special clothing and titles and programs was organized by what seemed to be a circus director. Keeping the show going and making certain everyone knew their place. The stained glass ceilings were pretty high up there. Even a scaffold wouldn’t take you high enough to break through. Corporate.

I went inwards and created a world I could control. All the pitfalls were mine to enjoy and even embrace counter culture that embraced me as one of their own. Timothy Leary’s famous quote, [Smash your brains, crack em] Communes that promised freedom became another church with rules and behaviors. Give us your truck, we need it for the farm project. Living in a house that had 30 people with only one bathroom. There was no such thing as privacy. It became surreal and everyone had a path they couldn’t wait to share.

I was in several communes for awhile, a long while. I grokked the ‘youth no future’ crowd. Again, we were masters of our universe that was a spinning cluster of stars within our bellies. Wisdom abounded and it was rubbish. More circus acts. I got older and eternity knocked so gently on my spirit and bid me come. “Leave that life behind and follow Me” Jesus said, a real life, real moral values not special robes and adoration. Just be who you were meant to be and embrace real life.

When asked what his goal was in life a man responded “ Get to college and get a good degree. Then go on to increasing positions in the work place to gather wealth. Then I will have enough money to send my kids to college.”

There is a song by Blood, Sweat and Tears , spinning wheel and it ends with a verse that says:
“ Some one is waiting, just for you” Who is waiting just for me and for you? Special us and all our wheeling around is just on training wheels.

I’m going to hop on that Norton Commando 650 and catch up to Elijah and his flamed out chariot. We can ride, side by side, and park on the sea of glass and shout and sing. Creation and created in awe and wonder with eternity to wonder and see Him turn his face towards us and give us peace. It’s pretty good, Jack Gator, Scribe

With much thanks to Henri Nouwen‘s The Wounded Healer

Acronyms and Uniforms

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It starts out simple enough. Mama and Papa. Our first acronyms of our world. Mamma E Papa in Italian (of course if you live in southern Italy you drop the last vowel. Mamm E Pap.

It’s easier to communicate in ‘shorthand’ it saves time and everyone knows it anyway.

We all use them and sometimes, it distinguishes us as belonging. For example: ER for emergency room, scrubs for clothes therein. DX or WX for radio lingo which translates to Distance and Weather. If you use those you are either a radio guy or an officer of the law.

Uniforms usually pocket protectors or turn outs and vests.

Lately, I have been accepted into an invisible society that wears all black and uses some neat acronyms. Bogo, Shader, Switcher and ME’s. There are a LOT of them in every subset of our world. I like ‘worlds’ describing command structures. They either confuse and you respond with “Hmm or that sounds interesting” instead of another acronym that shows they are also a member. AD or lyrics would work. At least there is no secret handshake.

I became aware of different societies at an early age when I became an amateur radio operator, or ‘Ham’ we communicated with Q signals showing we belonged and because it made long sentences into an acronym. Police have the same thing going for them. I can always tell if someone has a background in communication when they use A as in Alpha, B as in Bravo and so forth. Q is Quebec by the way.

Hams had uniforms too. Quick draw slide rules and pocket protectors were De Rigueur. Flannel shirts were optional. All the jocks had special words too. Not worth the ink to repeat.

We all do it, we all belong to a segment of society that has special words and language. Deacon, Bishop and repentance along with special clothing at times. Nothing wrong with those things either. All this is how we deal with the world and try to understand it. It’s tribal. If you believe in evolution, the concept of a trousered ape. Authur C. Clarke comes to mind with the movie featuring a thrown bone by a ‘caveman’ turning into a space station.

We use everything to make distinction between us. I belong. We do so wish to belong don’t we? Family is sweet and feels reassuring. There is certainly a family that we can join together and there are no uniforms and very few acronyms involved. The one uniform that seems to be recognized is a light in the eyes and a demeanor that draws you. There is desire to share lives and the excitement of encouraging one another. Jesus and His spirit and belonging to Him. You don’t even have to dress the same. Just draw a fish in the sand and you are bonded. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Inconvenience Store

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They seem to be popping up everywhere. In the garden even, inconvenient plants with pretty blue flowers that creep along the ground and invade your strawberry beds and choke out those tender flowers that are usually in the middle of the garden.

You know them, we all do and it’s very inconvenient to remove them and all their offshoots.The dandelions that are relatives and show up at the same time. Akin to the neighbors that come over a lot and want to borrow your chainsaw so they can break it for you.

You are supposed to love those people, really, it’s the actual words of our leader and the man who was God on this planet. A very difficult thing to do. To love these people. Well, he did tell us about the weeds and the good crops but People are not weeds, but often they feel like them unless I am one on the highway. Causing other hurrying ones to point their long leaves at me they grow faster on by me.

I began to wonder about a store that sold all inconvenient things. They too are everywhere and are popping up like dandelions in your neighborhood.

Outside of town and very prominent, lots of them now. They sell many things you really don’t need but it is inexpensive (another word with the prefix of ‘In’) Before you even enter, there is a machine that dispenses movies you won’t enjoy. Monsters destroying things like cities or the world. Heroic men that survive danger to kill the inconvenient people in their lives.

Inside the store (which has an odor of soap you would never buy or use) are things to buy that are not easily obtained without driving a great distance from your small town. Left handed chewing gum and cross threaded light bulbs. A plethora of baked goods that have labels not quite big enough to list poison ingredients and taste bad. Bread that squashes when you grab it.

Clothing that will not fit and as mentioned before a whole aisle of soaps that you would not even want to put in your car for the drive home. The list goes on, but it is convenient to get these things because those stores are close by, Everywhere. They all look the same and are lit like airport runways as another convenient light source for their neighboring homes.

The list is long. Alarm clocks that always slow down ten minutes so your job becomes inconvenient for human resource departments. The help all have respiratory problems, as to be expected. Most of them do know where everything is by aisle and within them. I try to imagine myself, just out of high school in a small town and working the cash register nights. I remember my first job when I was in high school and it was a breeze compared to this work.

Our world is filled with inconvenient things, troublesome things but as an old friend sang, “old and in the way, they will never care about you because your old and in the way” We are not dandelions and we are precious, every one of us. I know this now because my Savior tells me so. He made me and you and loves us all and our creator bought us at a very great price. Not Very convenient to everyone and valued no matter where we are on the shelf of life. It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator.

A Moment of Silence

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It was one of those wonderful, stunning, and even a personal world changer kind of movie. Perhaps you can bring one to mind right away. For a while, we just watch the film and enjoy and laugh at the times that laughter is perfectly appropriate. It’s a good film I thought. I like it and it describes a bit of real life that speaks to me.

Unexpectedly, those films grab a hold of your past. So clear and so relevant a grabbing that with an astonished response, I became the emotion brought out in the film. It was a well done film and it was expected that the main character would be changed somehow. Brought out of brokenness and somehow, restored to the way that he should be.

There was a scene in the movie that this wounded man was given a simple task by another man, sitting with him in a crowded restaurant. Asked to just think of the people in his life that made him the unique man he was. The only one like him ever made as are the rest of us. Unique and loved and nurtured in ways we do not understand often. One minute of silence. I watched and was silent too. The actors were silent and it was a perfect time for me to do the same thing. Thinking of the people that grew me up and made what I now am .

There were sudden tears as I remembered a long remembered wound. My precious cat that slept with me every night, a real life teddy bear that purred and loved to be with me. It was the most precious thing in my life. The cat loved me and I loved the cat. Grade School onward. A solid thing that a lot of us have or have had that is really special. Some of my friends and family know the story, especially my recent counselor, who at the time knew right away what the cat meant to me.

I came home from junior high school and did not find the cat in my room. Puzzled, I asked my mother when she came home if she knew where the cat was. “Grandpa had him killed because when my new husband and I go on our honeymoon, it would be inconvenient when you stay with Grandpa when we are gone” Speechless and wounded beyond repair, I disappeared into myself for decades of my life. No one ever again be trusted with my precious emotions and loves.

The man in the movie was crying and so was I. The people who grew us up and made us who we are. One of a kind. Special. Loved. Some that I never forgave. Interesting word, forgive. It seems it means to give something special, a before giving leading to freedom. And yet, Grandpa was kit and kin and had a lot to give in some way to make me who I am. The man in the movie forgave and at the same time, watching and listening, I forgave Grandpa and realized what had just happened.

I am forgiven too. For betrayal, for hurting others, and a list of embarrassing and painful things I have done. Now I realized what was learned. To forgive as I have been forgiven by my eternal best friend. The friend who talks to me and can actually forgive all the bad things and the thoughts that I have kept within. The only man in my life who can do that. When I cry out for freedom from the pain I have embraced so long, Jesus embraces me.

“In the morning and the evening, in the darkness and the daylight, he is with you, He is for you. He is before you, and behind you, and beside you and within you, He is with you. He is for you, He is for you. Amen!” 1.

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator 1. thanks to Steph Mcleod for the inspiration in ‘The Blessing’

Random Life or Free Choice

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

The brilliant Irish Physicist, Erwin Schrodinger put out some philosophical and even Religious thoughts and writings. Nobel prize winner, friend of Albert Einstein and a fellow at Magdelen College. I speculate he possibly met C.S. Lewis who was a Don there (near Oxford) Both of them brilliant. Erwin, the discoverer of the double helix, wrote about Quantum Orbits and illustrated it in a unique way.

Schrodinger’s cat is a famous piece that speculates on a cat in a box that could be affected by a random quantum event. That event would kill the cat BUT the only way to find out if the cat is alive or dead is to open the box. Some speculations of the unified field theory speculate that the cat be both alive and dead!

What does all this high calculation lead us to? There is more to it than meets the mind. In fact, in the year I was born, Erwin wrote a paper titled, “What is Life” It was 1944 if you must know.

Many speculations from recent time, Greece in old times from philosophers abound. Aristotle and his pupil, Plato is a good place to start on logic. Perhaps Douglas Adams and his classic “Life the Universe and Everything” or even my treatise: The beginning and the end and all the important stuff in between. There are a few others at the website.

It all seems pretty heady and things left to those smarter than we are. Are they? Or are they much to same as us. Filled with wonder and trying to find meaning to their lives. As you have discerned, I am having a lot of fun writing about these things. It helps me look deep and find myself in the fabric of life. I have made some very bad choices and also some pretty good ones.

There is a great gift from our creator that enables us to make choices. We can love other people or hate them. We can choose to embrace our lives or live in fear that we are the cat in the box. Waiting for some random event to do something to or for us. Random things like car crashes or winning a lottery. An early death or prolonged life (figure it out, 1944 for me means pretty old).

We want to live forever, all of us and we have a free choice to do so. It’s a promise from our Lord and Savior.

A friend thinks he is just “worm food” when he dies, his choice really. I have been given a very rare gift in choice. Free choice. What a blessing when I heard five words in a locked room: “Life or death, choose now” Addicted to heroin at the time, I chose life. The quantum particle headed for me was gone. Life has it’s weeping and it’s joy and those are with all of us. We can choose life and trust that Jesus is for us, not against us, and he is good no matter what our circumstances. Let Him be your guide, no matter what, and choose him. He will even show you what choices you have if you listen to Him. It’s pretty good, Jack Gator, scribe

Three Shades of Purple

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The death sentence was hovering over all the graduates in the early sixties. The draft. Norm’s classmate, Vern Norton, came home in a box draped with an American flag. I always liked his last name, Norton. It reminds me of a bike I have always wanted, the Norton Commando. It did not seem pleasant to be shipped of to Viet Nam and die in the jungles for a war most of us did not comprehend.

Most of my classmates were still in college or married and had draft deferments. I was 1A and before being drafted, volunteered for the submarine service and was quickly sent off to Camp Nimitz, San Diego. Upon arrival, the laughing Marine DI told me me my draft notice had just been forwarded.

However, some enjoyment ensued as I was recruited into the Blue Jacket’s choir. Singing at graduations and church services for the officers on the base. Three sung notes was enough to either get thumbs up or down to join the choir. The director was a retired Mormon tabernacle choir director and knew music pretty well.

We got to wear dress blues right away and had ‘crows’ sewed on our sleeves so It appeared we were experienced sailors and a little older. Mine was an E6 and the other boots in our basic training were puzzled. I was designated as education petty officer, first class.

Upon graduation I was excited to go on to New London for Sub school and was interviewed with a few more tests. The high school straight A’s in advanced math and a general class amateur radio license at age 12 were the recruiters logical path to the nuclear technician promised. The new interview caught a color vision issue as I could not discern several shades of purple wiring. No tech job for me. No subs. (they are called Boats in the Navy)

A natural move was ‘A’ school as a radio operator and I was immediately put into a teaching position for Morse code and elementary electronics. Weekends off with liberty to visit old friends up the coast was a bonus. I really wanted those dolphins on my uniform though.

Later, serving on the surface Navy in top secret communications, I learned of the accidental sinking of the submarine SkipJack near the Azores. All 99 men lost, the nuclear boat still deep at crush depth. 1965. It might have been me on that boat and I would not be writing these columns nor be the father and husband I am now. The dates are possible, Nukes were new and the Thresher had sunk shortly before.

Saved from my dreams? How and why was I born with a slight color vision problem? It seems there was a plan for my life that has brought me to this place of writing about the one who saved me from an early death.

I am Telling you, the reader, about the plan the creator had for me that does not make sense very often to us. Time and again, I began to see a path that has put me right here. If you examine your life, you can see life changing episodes or decisions that have changed your life as well.

Myself, I was told I would be fired from being published by a newspapers new owner for including Jesus in my columns too many times . I didn’t like that after four years of being published every week (hundreds of columns) It seemed odd to be admonished for being a successful columnist. My readers that I met or knew were encouraged and often entertained by what I write. I assumed the new owner is not a fan of Jesus. I was not allowed to meet with him either. It would have been an interesting conversation.

I quit before I was fired, I was allowed to write a peaceful good by column. That newspapers editor said that he envied my faith. We are still friends. So many things happen in our lives that become path openings to more revealed beauty of the Lord. You know them when you look for them. The good and the bad times, the sorrow and rejoicing. He is with you, He is for you.

Hallelujah! It’s pretty good, Jack Gator

Memory

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 2 Comments

The majority of our brain functions is memory. As we age, we rely on a different section of the interconnections, and become fully integrated with past and present reality. Having conversations with spouses or other very close ones can be confusing with this transition.

“ We had the experience but missed the meaning., and approach to the meaning restores the experience” 1. When young, perhaps in grade school, there isn’t much memory to go on. Recent events dominate behavior. A fellow student trips us on purpose and many decades later gets translated into anger at unknown people that bring us right back to that moment. A driver tail gates and roars past, or there are too many children running around us in a crowd. Those things can be amusing and simply dismissed, or we can turn Descartes “I think, therefore I am” into “I am irritated therefore I am”

Memories, warehouses of experience can give us reason and purpose for trauma and the old mistake of saying bad things happen to good people. Bad things happen to all people. If we can see the meaning and growth from the ‘bad things’ the memory becomes a light and the anger and resentment against our lives fades. True living opens within us and reality is seen as growth and substantive building blocks of the sculpture we become.

Almost all the old allegories of much older times recognized this and had names for our behaviors. We are shocked at stories of rage from Hera, Poseidon and Zeus.

The anger of Yahweh visiting plagues, floods and slaughters. That last one is the truth from Scriptures. Anger, made in God’s image indeed. Anger at unrighteous behavior of us. All of us. We imagine ourselves as ‘good’ but we know we are not.

The invention of the Lie Detector, Haller, knew that anger in lying was detectable as irritation.

So what can be done for our human condition of the two edged sword of beauty and anger? How can we be healed from becoming grumpy old men and gossipy old women? We abound, look around. Truthfully, look at yourself. Great aged saints knew these things and left us with sage advice to guide us in our getting ready to leave and getting ready to join. Jesus told us the be still and listen to him. He has told us, He will mold us and He will uphold us with His peace, that indeed passes all of our understanding. Going with the flow works for dead fish but going with the glow brings us alive. May His face shine upon you and give you peace. Jack Gator

It’s pretty good.

1. James Hillman

Put Out the Sails

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A process from the beginning of Norm’s life to the present. A purpose to communicate and to give information, sometimes critical information for survival and meaning to life. To himself at first and then soon afterwards, to others.

As a very young teenager, I passed the General class radio license and began this calling to others to talk and listen to other seekers. A beginning of a calling those two letters on the radio waves: CQ. I seek you. Training me throughout my life to seek. The only way to call someone in the world that you don’t know and will probably never meet. Texting without a cell phone. Protocall was essential and strict. You could loose your license if you used ‘bad’ language or manipulated with advertsing. It was great training to be a radio operator in the Navy and to have a top secret job, communicating with the CNO ( chief of Naval operations) to convey his instructions to us and our ship. To give specific instructions to our battle fleet. That fleet would be an oiler, a few destroyers and escorts and an aircraft carrier. Our carrier was the Enterprise, one of the first nuclear ones. Boy, was she fast!

Now, I am on a different ship. A warship of sorts actually. Called to another electrical job, helping a church communicate music and the Word from the Chief of Life to the ones who are drawn to seek Him. I felt it was a good path and it always has been so. I work at another desk with all sorts of knobs and switches to ensure communication is flawless and seamless to tell people drawn to where they can come and open their ‘sails’ to be filled with the breath of God.

He breathes over us with His Spirit and then, with our hands lifted high to the rigging, we rejoice once again to that movement and sway and even dance with Him.

The reason I have been called to this calm sea of people is to pray for that breath to be felt and even seen when they come to the calm waters. Sometimes I pray for the musicians as they are in the ready room (It’s called the ‘green room’ from old entertainment venues.) Also it is essetial to pray for staff to hoist the sails, knowing that His life giving Breath is coming to once again give the bread and water that lasts for all who come to eat and drink.

A hunger fills the sanctuary as the doors open and the ‘sailors’ that feel the wind of Jesus’ life, begin to worship. The people hear the navigator and then feel that Breath and rise as their sails billow and move them with delight and they raise their hands to the sky and worship the giver of life that moves them.

We man the boat, up in the rigging and drop the main sails off the main mast. Crank them tight and secure the lines. We Put out the jib and the top gallant too. There are uniforms that make us, the sailors hard to see. Getting out of the way as the room experieces beauty and the message carried of it. It is the reason people gather there. We together ride the waves of life as they splash and wet our hungry souls. We rejoice and know the voyage is true and right. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator, scribe

The Thin Yellow Line

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There are a few sayings that mention ‘ lines’ Drawing a line in the sand, You just crossed a line. A story line and what’s your line? A reference to a thin line has been used in describing one thing that stands between lawless behaviors and citizens. The thin blue line. Protectors in blue.

There is another odd line, lots of them actually, all over the country. We see and respond to them as we would to a movement hazard. Railroad crossings. Roundabouts, sometimes.

These lines of paint separate us every day from death and other unpleasant circumstances. Respect the paint! Don’t cross over it unless it has another line next to it that is dashes rather than solidity. Road paint, double yellow. Drivers ED 101. How do we do it, day after day just staying away from death by avoiding painted lines? On freeways there are barriers between Going faster but no barriers between passing and being passed.

It’s a stampede, follow the leader and it’s best to be the leader. Perhaps, this is a reason a person will pass you on the road and then a mile or so later, turn off. Sometimes making you slow down, even stop to stay on the right side of the yellow line. I used to think it was just selfishness but now, it seems to be instinctive to lead the pack. Clear road ahead. I am the powerful leader and it causes one to think, ‘what was that all about?’

At least the yellow line is honored and respected. Sometimes. Of course, crossing the double yellow is illegal and if a patrol car sees it, there is a loss of the 20 to 30 seconds gained and then some. Sometimes the loss of life and which is unpleasantness if you are involved in a crash.

Same thing in the grocery store with our carts, I have been ‘rear ended’ several times when the cart behind me could not pass because of oncoming carts. Running the invisible stop or yield sign at the end of the aisle can result in the inevitable “Ope” word. Even a ‘scuse me’ Slow velocities, no danger. I try to just nose out to check cross traffic and stay to the right!

We are in a hurry, always to get somewhere else. Yield signs can be ignored if you have a bigger engine and are in a hurry. Everyone does the ‘California stop’ just keep the vehicle rolling a little bit as though you can catch up in a relay race. The old pickup that was behind you floors it and if you are going a bit slower, the result can be a hand gesture that causes ‘road rage’ No one would be foolish enough to do that to a squad car however. That yellow line will draw that thin blue line in a heartbeat. I drove the chiefs squad on a windy country road and the the chief said “ slow down to 40. They will never pass”. No one did. There is a bit of respect still remaining. I’ll bet the shopping carts would yield with Open carry, It could result in the shootout at the OK chips aisle. Civilization deterioration. Frustration and anger linger just below our civil surfaces.

No one rode past the Roman Centurions either. They had open carry and respect was the rule of the times. You never know what a cloak conceals and a center console either. Take it easy, that’s what the thin yellow line stands for. Tailgating to acquire 40 seconds isn’t worth it. Be safe, Jack