Eternal Gulag

Always lurking in the controlling mind. A real solution for ‘those people’ that just don’t get it. A safe way to send them back to reality and make a small profit on the deal. As our world gets a fourth of the truth from the sanctioned loud voices, we find ourselves either listening on our secret wireless sets, or reading the rants and being admonished by family members. “Why do you keep reading that stuff if it makes you so upset?” Of course, along with the news sites comes the inevitable ads for cruises in the Archipelago islands and the like.

The collapse comes steadily with the usual shortages and complaints. Why is heating oil unavailable again? I just got back from the bakers and they’re out of flour. Can you get it running? I’d love to fix it but the parts are back ordered. It seems again like all the toilet paper can be found at the Roswell Mall Wart stores.

Then we hear and see cars and trucks that need some work, prowling the roads. Then run down abandoned houses will be occupied with people that don’t mow the grass. I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore Toyota.

Our money is getting worthless and fuel is well over fifteen bucks. Large gardens abound in the country and generators and transfer switches are flying off the shelves. Ammunition is a subject of quiet conversations. It’s only a matter of time until the gentle words come forth: “Hello! We’re from Madison and we’re here to help. How many people live here? We need to keep track of supplies, are you doing OK? Your safety relies on us. We are setting up some shelters now that the weather is getting colder. The protesters have taken out the power grid and we know getting heat in this weather is critical. When you come to the shelter area nearby, we will make sure everyone is safe and warm. Basic food will be supplied. The fences and guards are for your security. Able bodied people will be asked to help with camp duties, cutting firewood and such.”

We will be told that it will be like camping out with our families and neighbors. Even common rooms for socializing will be there. (It is assumed that games such as ‘Go Fish’ and ‘ Monopoly’ will be available). It will be a vacation! Forwarded mail will not be an issue as the Post Office will have other duties assigned to them.

These measures are presented as temporary until the government gets things back in order. Moving into the shelters will at first be offered and when the national guard arrives, interstate travel will be regulated. Travel papers will be necessary,everywhere. The Consolidation of area resources will be accomplished and there will be work that needs to be done. Camp gardens, maintenance of equipment, and clothing repairs and distribution of supplies from the area. After all, “Work Sets You Free.” If we all work together we will survive. For a while. The recalcitrant will simply be let out the gates to fend on their own. To salvage and hide. And die alone.

It isn’t too hard to visualize the transition, it has already begun. When the social security checks that come into our bank accounts cannot buy gas and food. When government subsidy payments are only for ‘those’ people. When the internet news is always filtered for sanctioned good news. Cameras everywhere keeping law and order. It will be too late to stop the rock of Sisyphus from rolling over us. End game. State is our ‘savior!’ Our only savior is Jesus! He’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Born on The fourth of July

The flash and flare in the east and it is time. Move away from the comfort and deep sleep, awaken to dawn.

There are duties and places to be and now, it’s easier to find things because there is light streaming in. A little bit of Brownian movement from the dust and put on the pot. Find the good bread and drop two slices in with the timer set to max. The good bread is heavy. Got to find the cash for that upgrade on my cell phone is important too. Can I afford it? After all, everyone in the family has a new phone. Mine is old and I need to be current.

There is a shuffle and purpose at hand to indeed waken fully and the hot caffeine warms the old ceramic cup. Carefully, set it down besides the fresh toast and open up a book next to the vitamins and various pills.

The accouterments of morning rituals. The book at hand is a collection of short stories that are a bit hard to understand. Sarte, Sallinger and the rabbit eared current selection is Tolstoy’s ‘The death of Ivan Illych’

Nothing to it. Toast and coffee and a little orange juice to sluice down a hearty meal of existential writing and with some of the greatest short stories ever written. It’s still early and Jack’s son is stirring a bit. Jack comes to the part of the story when Ivan knows he is dying and no one will be honest with him about how they feel about it and him. Only a peasant boy that tells the truth.

A quote from la Rochefoucauld is at hand: “One can neither stare long at the sun nor at death” During the war the thought was, it will come quickly perhaps? It did to that shipmate on the horizon. It was close but I am OK. Next stop, Palma De Mallorca. Great liberty!

As the inevitable death to Ivan comes, close behind is the funeral. All attend and all contemplate what this means to us as perhaps connections for work. How will the widow get by? Really, there is nothing we can do financially for her. Our own debt is big and that new payment for the big pickup is going to really strap our finances. Of course, how could I forget that vacation to Venice! I think I have enough saved.

We go on, inwardly feeling we will live forever and poor old Ivan, it must have been his diet or that he just wouldn’t go to gymnasium as we advised him so many times. After all, his whist game was more important to him. There was nothing to be done and here I am, dressed as though I was in a church service. Listening to one after another speak of Ivan. The fact that we are in that silken and narrow box does not cross our conscience.

Even when the preacher tells us we are off the hook by death of sacrifice, we do not comprehend the sacrifice not really understood. Put a few quarters or even a dollar bill in the red kettle. Tithe well and perhaps, just perhaps, we will walk as Enoch did and not have to suffer as Ivan did. That’s it! The second coming and it will all work out! Don’t worry, be happy.

Death was defeated lingers and we are all good to go. Mourning seems to have passed us by. Ask not who the bell tolls for, it’s you. Old Ivan, it was his time to go. Is there lunch after this, should be. It’s pretty good here at the church of endless life. Maybe I should get in line before every one else does. Jack Gator

Quotes of Current Times

I thought I wanted a career, turns out I just wanted paychecks.

Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

I just discovered the purpose of shinbones: They’re devices for finding furniture in a dark room.

I’m never sure what to do with my eyes when I’m at the dentist. Do I close them? Do I stare at his face? Do I look at the ceiling? What’s the proper etiquette here?

I have all the money I’ll ever need – if I die by 4:00 p.m. Today.

Google Maps really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

You can go anywhere you want if you look serious and carry a clipboard.

To err is human. To arr is pirate.

I feel like getting something done today, so I’m just going to sit here until that feeling passes…

Tip of the week: When going through airport customs and the TSA agent asks, “Do you have any firearms with you?” do not reply, “What do you need?”

I just read a list titled “100 Things to Do Before You Die.” I’m pretty surprised “Yell for help” wasn’t one of them.

I when a fly or small bug lands on your computer screen, has your first reaction ever been to try and scare it with the cursor?

People think I’m too patronizing (that means I treat them as if they’re stupid).

“Dammit I’m mad” is spelled the same way backwards. Think about it

.Wife just told me that her birthday is tomorrow. Wow, like maybe more of a heads-up next time.

Son: “Dad, there’s a monster in my room, can I sleep in here?” Dad: Look, it’s you he’s after, why make it my problem too.

2020: We aren’t allowed to go out in public. 2022: We can’t afford to go out in public.

Thanks to fellow Blogger Mitch Teemley for the research and laughter!

Sproul Plaza in the Genteel World

Some of you older folks may remember the ‘free speech’ movement in Berkeley back in the 60’s.
There were all sorts of speakers ‘for the people’ declaring the freedom to say anything they wanted to and thus, enabling everyone to do the same.


Mario Savio, Jerry Rubin and others were up there on the steps at the college,ripping up the air with
megaphones and every filthy word they could muster up. The lizard was let out of the cage and it really
still belongs in there today. I have noticed things that are acceptable nowadays that were not so a short
time ago. Movies, literature and people on some sort of insane voyage seem to be heard and amazingly, understood and endorsed by many. It seems as though Allen Ginsburg and his ‘man/boy’ agenda has been given a new look and found politically correct this time around.


It appears that insanity and the collapse of thinking is here. Turning our children into the opposite sex
and actually having people in Washington unable to define the difference between a man and a woman.
That sort of thing happens in fantasy movies. Usually it is some sort of super power that appears in those
kind of films.

Now, the super power is saying things that are not real and people that hear these things
believe them. These new believers get angry when those of us see absurdity spoken and written. Easily
seen if you haven’t drunk the cool aid. Feminine personal products available in men’s public toilets just in
case they are needed. Men competing in Women’s sports events because they have changed their
names to female and wear clothing to match.


Our country is on a acid trip that Timothy Leary stated would be so cool if LSD was put in all the water
we drink. Conspiracy theories abound. Free injection needles for drug addicts. Creating ‘safe zones’ for
rioters we now call disenfranchised and troubled youth. Shootings every night by criminals that ‘we
created’ because of our racist history (which is being re-written by George Orwell’s ministry of truth)

Now we have criminals from other countries who just drifted in to enjoy the home of no savings and the land of free stuff. It is insane and we wait to awaken again in the morning to unlock the doors and peer out down the driveway to see it is still calm. Even here in rural American farmland.


I experienced the tip of that iceberg a few years ago at night. I was at a public reading by a university
professor with many endorsements and accolades from the usual foundations and politically correct
intellectuals. Books for sale too. Autographed as soon as the cash was given. An author that I worked alongside decades ago in a local food co-op we put together. It’s still there. I was eager to see her again and reminisce.


It was Sproul plaza again. This time without the megaphone. A totally inadequate sound system and
refreshments for those of us who need those sorts of things. It was put on by a government funded
institution, the St. Croix Falls Library. We were out in the delightful perfect summer evening on a plaza. Nice chairs and very friendly people.


A lot of them were friends too. The main speaker, my old friend, was reading a book of her own and it began to segue into language that is now free to use. Language of bar habitués in questionable parts of cities.


The small gathering of intellectuals began to titter and appreciatively express their delight in the continual use of curse words and the denigration of our Lord. As though He was the cause of sorrows and arbitrary wrong doing. “Is He safe? Of course not, He’s a lion but He’s goodA.


The lemonade and grapes and crackers were leaving traces to follow the crowd along. It was a
courtesy by the staff to comfort us and prepare us for the endorsing of the cool-aid of the times. How
exciting to hear an endorsed intellectual (with the mandatory book signing afterwards) speak those words
that we all want to speak casually. Polite society is not ready for that yet. It was sad for me to experience such drivel and ‘worldliness’ from an old friend.

Before I left, I asked why she used so many F bombs and added I was offended. She replied, “I was just reading a book!” That disconnect was incomprehensible. She wasn’t reading an old Ginsberg book, she wrote this one and she owns it.

I had brought some of my columns for Sharon, my friend and fellow author, to enjoy later but I tucked them back into my journal and left. It was not very good. I was sad. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

A. C.S. Lewis. ‘The lion, the witch and the wardrobe.

Galleria Umberto

It was Jack’s first duty station. Sent overseas to Italy and the only destination was the mysterious, Comservron 6. It was exciting and only the third plane ride for Jack. First one was a DC3 out to Michigan to set up a curtain display. Second one was boot camp in San Diego and now international!

Naples, Italy sounded official and perhaps some sort of embassy duty! A few weeks leave to remember where home was and it was off to the airport to fly overseas. Jack was just barely 21 and away he went. Jack was just getting used to Camp Nimitz in San Diego. Teaching Morse code to other Sailors in A school It was rather pleasant after boot camp actually. Jack had a sister in Laguna too. She had a red Corvette and let Jack drive it now and then to Las Angelis.

Instead of some villa with radios and communication for an embassy, Jack found the duty station was aboard an old WWII fleet oiler. His first duty on board was back in the mess decks, peeling potatoes as finally the ship left port and steamed off to the east Mediterranean sea. The ship anchored out (she always did because no one trusted a ship filled with millions of gallons of fuels. Oil, gasoline, JP4 and kerosene. None of this bunch had ever exploded but you can’t be too careful with floating bombs.

The landing craft was launched and Jack actually set foot on yet another foreign country, first one was Tijuana after boot camp. Now Turkey. Exotic and quite a bit like movies that feature bazaars with people jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Exciting to Jack and still so foreign. The street vendors closed in on Jack and began offering to buy his dress blue pants. Jack thought about Dr. Suez and the story of the green pants with nobody in them. Jack got back to fleet landing and was glad to get aboard. So much for Izmir. Jack’s pants still had somebody in them and he quickly changed into his utilities.

Being home ported in Naples, Jack was entitled to have a room in town. What a surprise when Jack heard this! There was an advisory contact to obtain a room or apartment and Jack chose this room on the seventh floor of a galleria. There was a balcony leading to the room and at the middle of it where the elevator came up, a view of the building unfolded. Stupendous falls short. It was about eight stories down to the interior which was laid out in a cross. At Jacks floor, the glass dome covering the galleria was right above him. As the development in Jack’s home town began to take off, the concept of an interior shopping ‘mall’ which began in Europe, was very attractive. Jack could see the shoppers way down there and he could see right to the north of the Galleria to the Napoli Opera house.

Jack set out to get some ‘civvies’ and chose wool Harris tweeds and the accouterments that went with that style of perhaps an English professor on holiday. Jack met a British art student at a local cafe’, and over small demitasses of espresso, Jack invited her to take a train to Pompeii. A delightful excursion until they arrived and the ruined city was very pornographic in it’s statuary and frescoes. That was the end of that and she left for London and Jack went back to the Galleria. The elevators all ran on 10 lire coins and once Jack came up to his floor, he realized the gate to his room was closed for the night. Jack tried not to look down as he climbed the railing and swung around the gate. Oh well, the room was a refrigerator in construction. Marble floors that would not warm anything. Jack had a little sunflower propane heater and it kept his bedside table a bit warm.

Foolishly leaving the beauty of Galleria Umberto for a seedy apartment rented by his new friend Chuck. Was a dip into the seedy side of Naples. The elevator up to Tonino’s apartment also ran on 10 Lire coins and if you hit the call button just as it was getting the bottom and climbed in the open door, it would go down a few feet and go up to your floor. It was that kind of alleyway apartment area. Trouble was brewing for Jack with the local pharmacy at the end of the alley that legally sold methadrine over the counter. Chuck called them ‘pep pills’ for the mid-watch. This adventure, Escape and Capture I and II was in the Leader last year. (Drop me an email and I can forward them to you) Gatorjack75@gmail.com It’s all pretty good. Jack Gator

Musical Pathways

There are many ways as perhaps there are people to engage with music. It’s a bit of a stretch to think that way but it seemed apparent at a recent conversation. Three of the Gator family were discussing response to music played live. Not recorded. Ex Ante or before the music is heard, versus Ex Post afterwards.

Jack began seriously thinking about why he likes certain experiences of music, including music he has played ensemble. Is it the gestalt of everything, the singing, the instruments or the attitudes seen and felt? Perhaps at least all three, but one aspect stood out for Jack. The rhythm. When Jack played for years with a local square dance band, rhythm was everything. Even if the perceived pace was two or three times the chords or notes played. The dancers listened to the ‘caller’ we played the tune. No body in the band sung anything.

Before long, after joining the band at the invite of the mandolin player, Jack realized the gift he had been given for all of his life. He loved music from childhood onward but until he joined that band ( Duck for the Oyster) Jack did not know what really moved him about music. They knew after a short time of playing together. It was a four piece band consisting of a fiddle, a mandolin, a stand up bass and Jack on Guitar. Jack became dubbed “The Rhythm Monster” The playing of a chord slightly ahead of it’s usual place. Doubling up the time signature while the band played in ‘half time’. Adding extra beats to change a waltz so if the dancers were not careful, they could be a bit lost.

It made things cook and now and then when Jack would do these things, the guys would give a brief chuckle and join in the fun. Just adding a harmonic note instead of a chord would work too. They were all fantastic musicians and the joy they projected was palpable.

Nowadays, Jack plays with a small ensemble that is always a different group except for the guitar player and lead singer. He is, of course, the leader that gets the songs, the charts, the order and picks just who he hears in his mind to play. He picks Jack to play mandolin and violin every month or two and whenever they rehearse and play, Jack has fun with the rhythm with his instruments. The real high notes that are played with a tremolo makes the leader ‘laugh’ with delight. The fiddle Jack plays sounds more like the square dance and waltz things Jack learned playing country western music in the middle 70’s. Double stops with chops and more harmonics. It’s Jack’s love language.

This band is a worship band that plays in front of a sizable group and the hard part is playing a short period of five or less songs. The goal is to project the joy of the subject (whom Jack has some experience with) and the sure pathway to projecting this joy is to experience it in front of the singers, the congregation. A quick smile or a nod of a head. A quick glance by the leader with that smile, conveys the joy sought with all their hearts. It’s preaching on a different level. The message is always the same. The living God Jesus, deserves all the glory and honor. He dances and gives His joy to those in the room along with Him. Nothing else comes even close.

Do what you love and love what you do. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Early Zoom Meetings

Fairly recently, Jack started doing Zoom meetings for a committee he is a member of. A local outfit it is but still, easier to chat with neighbors within a radius of 10 miles or so.

There is a mute function at the top of Jack’s screen that shows his face on the screen. Clicking it silences any vocals or noise from Jack’s workspace. Clattering pencils, coffee cup clanging, all silent for the other participants. Of course, the camera showing everyone in a smaller space on the screen is difficult for Jack. No matter where the camera is located, Jack seems to be looking up or sideways. The other folks don’t seem to have that problem. Jack will have to ask why.

Recently, Jack remembered a similar chat format that he had with some friends in the big city in the late fifties. Most of the guys in the chat were friends of similar age except for Brother Dave in South Minneapolis.

Since home computers and cell phones were decades away, the multi chat ‘room’ was done over Amateur radio. Jack was in eighth grade as were most of the participants and all of them held General class licenses. This allowed them to use audio transmissions and more ‘bands’ of short wave to do so.

The chatting was done on the Ten Meter band which was much wider in bandwidth than the popular citizen’s band radio. That slot in radio bands was much higher around two meters and was disdained by Jack and his friends. No training or knowledge of circuitry, antenna construction and Morse code was required for that citizen’s Band. Elitist Ham juveniles. Citizen’s band is still used by OTR drivers as a useful tool, but the range and power is very limited.

So, there we were, a group of nerdy young amateur radio operators and we came up with a plan for a ‘network’ or net to join us all at the same time. We decided on a frequency at the edge of the ten meter band and called our little group the ‘Fish Net’

We would log on when we should have been in bed on school nights and talk about school and ‘social’ events that it seemed we were on the outside of: football team stuff, flirtatious gossip and the ‘In’ crowd. You may have been in on that or if not, you know the isolation of not being approached to join one. No doubt, we radiated (pun) our superior minds and scientific abilities that made us total outcasts. Jack went on to a custom loud chopped Harley in the early 60’s and confirmed his rebellion. Another column. (Jack sold his ham gear to buy chrome plating and engine parts.)

So, late at night, Jack and his friends would establish contact. One at a time we would announce our monitoring the exact frequency we would meet on. Jack rigged up a string to his foot switch which would switch from listening to broadcasting. Switching antenna for receiver to transmitter and standby to both parts of his ‘rig’ The string went up the ceiling and down to his bed.

Jack took his microphone to his bed, laid down and would pull on the string to make the switch. It worked and a few times, Jack would fall asleep at the switch. It was fun and almost impossible to convey to school mates. Several times, a ham operator from another part of the country would log in and chat a bit too. A bit of another difference between Citizens Band Radio or CB. That can not be done with 5 watts of power. We had a hundred watts or more and ionosphere radio wave ‘skip’ now and then.

It was fun and connecting as we all went to different schools. Early Zoom, about fifty years or so. Pioneers in communication as it were. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Judgement

It’s natural. It’s necessary. There is danger that must be realized at times and to be avoided. Of course, the downside is we tend to believe that the danger extends to those around us of our ‘tribe’. Jack knows this is one of his obvious problems, is it yours too? Not physical danger but religious danger. We all have religion in us. After all, the philosophers on Mar’s hill centuries ago were religious too, as we all are. Every one of us. Paul of Tarsus was not successful in convincing these men of the truth of Christ. Why? Because they are just like us. Comfy in their own religion and not open to anything else. Well presented and truthful by Paul, but judged as wrong.

Jack has had a lot of experiences that can and have been judged by others. Is it your experience too? It isn’t too hard to see the response of incredulity and rejection immediately. A slight lift of the eyebrows or a small pulse in a carotid artery. Closure of the mouth slightly and an upturn of the head. The most obvious response is a crossing of the arms in front. Subtle, there are other ‘tells’ of emotion. You can see them if you get good at it. Oddly enough, they show when you lie too.

There are many subjects in conversation that trigger judgment, Jack finds the most reactions are those referring to conversations shared about communications from God, Lord of lords. Personal events of beauty and love. Especially if there isn’t any understood point, or worse yet, a prejudgment of himself as deceived or worse. As in Jack’s life, a judgment of doctrine or scandal in another church body or chain of faith. It leads to a loss, always. Jack has mentioned some mentors that have assisted him in his faith growth. Miracles of healing and visions while with old friends or where they were at the time.

The gossip usually goes on within and it is a ‘hot button’ often resulting in a total rejection of music written and sung. Music using scripture as a base as well! It is disappointing to Jack as he knows how he is being delivered from this what is called ‘discernment’. Jack has been a musical performer with folk music and country blues for a great portion of his life. A lot of songs that are not too useful in a faith gathering but this does not necessarily condemn everything Jack has done or will do. . Jack’s mentors of worship however, are shrugged off as soon as he mentions them or even exposes a sticker on his instrument cases. ‘Oh them’ Heretics, deceived people

Beautiful songs that bring tears to Jack and when Jack mentions them in groups or personal conversation some extraordinary things, miracles really that he has experienced; they are quickly ignored and put in the judgment bucket as the result of brainwashing or hypnotic occurrences. Jack has done this too and he is the lessor.

Think of how John’s Revelation was and is received. It’s similar in many ways. It is the way our life is supposed to be at times. Stunning to us and extraordinary to others. Why are we like this? Jack guesses it is his arrogance and belief that he is the judge of all things. After all, beasts with many eyes, a Man with eyes of fire and a burning sea of glass with infinite musicians playing and singing. Some folks even reject musical instruments.

Try and open up without the feeling of being dragged away on a sledge of sludge. Listen and look at something else, something that can have a lot of beauty and truth in it. Ask Jesus how he looks at these things, the song of songs which is dismissed as a fleshly song. Solomon was out of his mind and hallucinating perhaps? Actually, it’s pretty good. “I am lovesick, tell me if you find Him”. Jack Gator

Unknowable Visions and Unsearchable Questions

The oldest question man continually asks: Where did we come from and where are we going? It’s a reasonable question. There are many answers that are sort of reasonable as well. Some of them are rather humorous and some of the really old ones are much better than new musings and mutterings from the landed authorities. Gator gets puzzled by philosophers that haughtily pronounce we came from the expansive struggle of lessor forms of life. Over billions of years, a microbe of impossible life decided to move into a nice condo and developed that dream. It’s natural they say, after all we developed intelligence from nothing to stupendous heights. More towers of babel perhaps. A hearkening to go where no man has gone before, Intelligent awareness. At warp 10, passing the aptly named black hole library where those sorts of books can be found.

All sarcasm aside, the question still stands and the only studies that go beyond our foolishness fall into the category of theology. It is sometimes referred to as philosophy of the old thinkers: Plato, Socrates and Aristotle. The deep ones we dismiss because they’re dead. After all, we have advanced scientific thought to heights that no man has achieved…oops, back to Star Trek again. We know nothing about origins and intelligence as it comes from our worship of the god of mankind. It’s us, it’s me. Easy to worship myself. Don’t even have to think about it.

Good and honest conversation about these things is refreshing and a good use of time. Perhaps at a conversation ‘pit’ at a local library. A perfect place to speak and converse about anything in print or even a popular debate in the newspaper. Jack enjoys eating his breakfast with a book on his left or perhaps the latest issue of a newspaper. What an archaic communication device, a newspaper. Yet, left with reading the news on a 3” wide screen which seems akin to reading an old letter that is faded and yellow and needs close scrutiny. We all do it, gazing down at that little window of information to see if there is any good news or gossip to share. Copy and paste and send it on. Before newspapers, and that was not really long ago, there were the coffee and tea shops where people went. They read their own writing to one another and then invited comments. This is a quote from a man who did that sort of thing:

Genuine controversy, fair cut and thrust before a common audience, has become in our special epoch very rare. For the sincere controversialist is above all things a good listener. The really burning enthusiast never interrupts; he listens to the enemy’s arguments as eagerly as a spy would listen to the enemy’s arrangements. If you attempt an actual argument with a modern paper of opposite politics, you will find that no medium is admitted between violence and evasion. You will have no answer except slanging or silence.”…G. K. Chesterton (1874–1936),

A wise man and very ‘up to date’ with his thoughts. Perhaps you, dear reader, have experienced what Mr. Chesterton is describing. Polite and respectful listening and conversation is delightful and also, at times, stimulating. Different viewpoints and feelings are opened and thought begins. Civility and respect are not things of the past. Listen well and speak as you are led. It’s pretty good, Jack Gator

The oldest question man continually asks: Where did we come from and where are we going? It’s a reasonable question. There are many answers that are sort of reasonable as well. Some of them are rather humorous and some of the really old ones are much better than new musings and mutterings from the landed authorities. I get puzzled by philosophers that haughtily pronounce we came from the expansive struggle of lessor forms of life. Over billions of years, a microbe of impossible life decided to move into a nice condo and developed that dream. It’s natural they say, after all we developed intelligence from nothing to stupendous heights. More towers of babel perhaps. A harkening to go where no man has gone before, Intelligent awareness. At warp 10, passing the aptly named black hole library where those sorts of books can be found.

All sarcasm aside, the question still stands and the only studies that go beyond our foolishness fall into the category of theology. It is sometimes referred to philosophy of the old thinkers: Plato, Socrates and the deep ones we dismiss because they’re dead. After all, we have advanced scientific thought to heights that no man has achieved…oops, back to Star Trek again. We know nothing about origins and intelligence as it comes from our worship of the god of mankind. Us. Me.

Good and honest conversation about these things is refreshing and a good use of time. Perhaps at a conversation ‘pit’ at a local library. A perfect place to speak and converse about anything in print or even a popular debate in the newspaper. I enjoy eating my breakfast with a book on my left or perhaps the latest issue of a newspaper. What an archaic communication device, a newspaper. Yet, left with reading the news on a 3” wide screen seems akin to reading an old letter that is faded and yellow and needs close scrutiny. We all do it, gazing down at that little window of information to see if there is any good news or gossip to share. Copy and paste and send it on. Before newspapers, and that was not really long ago, there were the coffee and tea shops where people went. They read their own writing to one another and then invited comments. This is a quote from a man who did that sort of thing:

“Genuine controversy, fair cut and thrust before a common audience, has become in our special epoch very rare. For the sincere controversialist is above all things a good listener.

The really burning enthusiast never interrupts; he listens to the enemy’s arguments as eagerly as a spy would listen to the enemy’s arrangements. If you attempt an actual argument with a modern paper of opposite politics, you will find that no medium is admitted between violence and evasion. You will have no answer except slanging or silence.”

…G. K. Chesterton (1874–1936),

Game Plan

Jack has been studying a lot lately. It seems as though taking a College correspondence course is right in time with the strange times we are in, the whole world is in. Distance work, computer work now made possible with fast internet and social acceptance. There are great benefits to working at home. Good coffee for one. No ground coffee in the cans for Jack. Pleasant contact with family, mostly. Casual clothing too. Just sit at the keyboard in his Wall-Mart shopping pajamas and start working with the bean grinder and French press nearby.

A game plan that satisfies. After Jack passed his philosophy finals, he found something pleasing. He kept studying historical philosophy for more insight. To be more aware of his own thoughts and philosophic views.

A poem by Frederick Nietzsche, translated from German, hit Jack profoundly: “Oh man, take heed of what the dark midnight says: I slept, I slept—and from deep dreams I awoke: The world is deep—and more profound than day would have thought. Profound in her pain—Pleasure more profound than pain of heart, Woe speaks; pass on. But all pleasure seeks eternity—a deep and profound eternity”

Nietzsche, without trust in an infinite and personal God, went insane in beautiful Switzerland. We now realize without that trust we develop what we refer to a ‘Game Plans’ We shut ourselves up in the structure of a plan and do not look beyond it. Perhaps a plan of a secure retirement investment, shaving two seconds off of a 50 yard breaststroke or getting that hole in one. Once the game plan actually comes to fruition, another one is created that keeps us in that focus on our immediate pleasure. Only ourselves in mind, others get in the way a lot.

For the professing Christian, the game plan can work against him. It can set aside the complete and absolute surrender to the living personal God. Only complete surrender to our Lord can make our game plans world toys, suddenly unimportant. Many times Jack has been told to do things, say things perhaps or just go somewhere and quite a few times Jack argues with the Living God. The Lord is gentle with him but very insistent. Patient.

Jack’s worldly game plan was high gas mileage! Until that goal of adding several tenths of a mile was revealed as absurd, he kept to it. Resenting other motorists for being foolish for rushing stop signs and tail gating he began to understand how selfish and isolating he was being. Now Jack can see anxious people in many different circumstances. Driving, shopping, manning a public help desk, many other places where Jack has contact and influence to help. To understand the game he was playing was dominating every thing he did. His obsession with efficiency now has been replaced. Now it’s how he can make life easier for other people, most of them strangers. A life long game plan that will have eternal pleasure generating the immediate joy now and forever.

He still makes plans, but they are short and usually simple. Shopping or writing. With the often gentle presence of the Lord, the plan is given. Jack feels the difference when it’s Jesus’ plan.

It’s a real ‘game changer’. Going to the bank the other day was rewarding. There was a young woman taking all the attention of the two tellers. It was a drama of passwords and ex boyfriends. Complicated. With complete ease, Jack began looking about and found a table with a sporting magazine collection. Sitting in a very comfortable chair he began to read about the expansion of copper in firing chambers.

Once the problem at the teller window was solved, Jack was called up. Profuse apologies were given and Jack made sure that he was very comfortable and not in any hurry. “It’s OK, I found a good magazine over there, I kind of wanted to take it home!” Jack wanted to make sure of their comfort. As a bonus, there was a random survey on Jack’s computer about the transaction. Five stars all the way. I wonder if they hit a button to see if everything was OK and sent the message. No problem. It’s a new game plan. Firm affirmation. Jack’s new focus is on his Creator that shows him these small things. Taking chances when told to instead of retreating. Knowing what to say occasionally after a delightful quick chat with an absolute stranger, “you’re a Christian aren’t you” Sometimes Jack is then asked “how do you know?” “Because it shows” he answers. It’s pretty good. Jack