Eternity

Up the Coast to The old Lake Shore

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was a trip that many of us have taken. Perhaps quite a few times for some. Julie and I decided to go North and become relaxed by the worlds containment of a third of all the fresh water on the planet. Lake Superior.

We made a brief stop at the entryway to the North Shore, Canal Park in Duluth. It was a Thursday morning and there was hardly anyone around and parking was a breeze.

An automated parking meter had issues and would not finish its given task. We tried to talk sense into it but the last thing we tried worked. Like a vagrant with an attitude, it wanted money, folding money and not plastic money. I understood that as I was a street busker in ‘The City’. Before credit cards. Only cash or groceries were placed into my guitar case. If you have been to that California city you know where that is.

Square card processing is not a possible sometimes when you are sitting on a sidewalk in front of a parking meter.

There was limited entertainment from the meter and it was adamant about cash. It pulled in our dollar bills and was satisfied and permitted our car to be parked next to it for 4 hours. We went into the basement coffee shop and got coffees and scones and went up to the second floor to the violin shop.

Old friends own it and they repair and sell bow played stringed instruments. A tale was told by Chris, the owner, about the guitar shop on the same floor. An interesting character was there buying a 1920 Martin D28 guitar. He paid cash and stood out side the violin shop with the guitar in his left hand, leaning on the stair case balustrade with his right. No one paid any attention to him as Duluth is rife with odd men. Chris knew It was Willy Nelson who was in town for a gig and was unrecognized and not fawned over either. Willy finally just strolled down the stairs and out the building. Another busker in from the cold seeking treasure. We had no idea what he paid for that Rosewood Martin.

We left for highway 61 to go north. Another famous guitar player wrote a song about that highway. My mind was now peculating along with the lyrics that Bob Dylan wrote back a few years ago about Abraham and his son Isaac.

It was easy to find the cabin they would have for the better part of a week. The really good ones are on the east side of the road where the lake shore is.Forget about the three story mansions and hotels with widows walks and turrets and fantastic views. The quest we were on did not consider those things. It was easy to find the cabin’s gravel road and small sign after acquiring a smoked whitefish from Kendalls just up the road.

The cabin was as close to the shoreline as physically possible. About 25 feet or so and the same above. It was perfect. One room with everything you would need. Toaster, sink, king size bed, table. The civilized things.

Stunned by the almost exotic view, they got everything out of the trunk and made it home there. I made some toast and coffee right away and Julie went down the boulders to the shore. There was some wind and left over waves from somewhere and the crashing waves and foam worked their welcome. She build a campfire and I worked my way down on the big rocks,and with her guidance we settled in. There was a stairway we found later.

We slept with the window cracked and the heater cranked. Two quilts and a wool blanket and we were sound asleep as pillow rearranging was done. The crashing of the waves was a familiar sound to me from my Navy days. The oil on board below the ships compartments made rushing noises as the ship rolled at about 12 knots steaming. It is akin to an ocean beach sound but the regularity is the key. I was rocked to sleep on aboard the old WW II tanker with eight million gallons of bunker oil that was heated by the steam pipes just below deck. it made the compartments nice and warm in Decembers at sea. It was all there in my deep memory and I was asleep quickly. The waves never stopped all night and through the next morning. Storm surf.

A hot cup of coffee and the fingers of foam rising up from the black rocks below was mesmerizing and the anxiety of civilizations rush began to fade fast. Nothing to concern our self with as Eternities Eternal song called us away, calling us home.

Waves for thousands of years on those chiseled rocks. The centuries of time, rolling on and on. Wearing away our world one channel of rock in it’s own ways. It roars and leaps and then there is a passive swirling as the next impact swells up and in seconds, crashes again. Timeless and the soothing power of creation.

We will probably return to Bobs cabins when we hear the Lords gentle voice calling us to the North Shore of Superior for refreshment and reassurance again We rely on the Him for His wisdom and provision for these things. Indeed that time is a gift and a treasure locked in our memories. Forever.

It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson /Jack Gator

Men In Black Productions

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 2 Comments

They are almost invisible, very much so on a web stream broadcast. They move about, trailing thick expensive cables back and forth in their wakes. Appearing to be special force units with communication gear attached to their heads. Obviously someone is telling them what to do and where to go, but what is it they are doing? There are more of them than you can easily see.

Before the service there is a ‘huddle’ at ‘front of house’ (control booth in the sanctuary that controls sound and lights) We gather and share, musicians and techs to solidify and encourage one another. Of course, there is prayer from the worship band leader. It is a very important bonding for those who do their best at presenting Jesus Christ in song to the audience. It is not an opera or a performance. It is a privilege to do so. There is pay for some that work 5 days or so a week setting and rehearsing it all. The camera operators and some techs are volunteers. The best pay for all of us is His presence.

Trolley cameras run on tracks and do those smooth side to side shots just above the audience view. It really helps those watching engage in the worship. There are separate grips at the ends of the track to stop it and push it. That grip job is an excellent class on momentum and velocity. Hand held (often on one’s shoulder) move around and can catch momentary shots of the musicians or their instruments. The director instructs operators where to look, sometimes at the audience that are engaging and worshiping.

Big ‘Jib’ cameras with large booms and complex controls do those impossible flying shots but can focus closely on a keyboard. Those cameras have ‘fences’ around them to prevent people from being hit by the wide range of movement by the operator. Complex camera operation.

Tripod cameras are elevated on platforms and are a real asset too. Sometimes there are remote cameras that are run with a joystick by the director or switcher. They can zoom in and out and swivel. It’s all a’ bit more complex’ compared to the usual cameras we use in our cell phones. It is always distracting when people hold their cell phones up to capture a performance. I wonder if they are really engaged with what is going on before them. A small 8 millimeter would not be quite so intrusive but of course, as a technical dinosaur I have opinions on progress and regress.

Leave video tasks up to the men in black. They have time afterwards to be moved by the totality of the production. A review in the room of a recent set shows the crew how to improve the experience for the viewers so there is nothing seen or felt besides the worship. Working on video production is a thing that can distract from the reasons they are there in the first place. They help Convey story, and the story of Jesus beauty can often be accompanied by tears and spiritual engagement to the audiences. There are ‘huddles’ before every service at ‘front of house’ (control of sound and lights) In the sanctuary to encourage and bond production teams. Prayer is essential at those times as well. Almost akin to the ready room in the military.

Hand held, Jib, tripods all have their positions and are numbered through the comms everyone has. Those Cameras are heavy and very complex. There is a director in touch with them and exact instructions are given as to what to capture, how close and the next shot to prepare for. It’s a choreographed dance. A lot of training and experience for both sides of the production. There are ‘grips’ that make certain the camera operators do not trip nor step on the fiber optic cables that send the video feed, in the control room there are aperture operators that control iris settings, lyrics panels that are just for the screens to show words. It’s fast and fascinating to listen to. Timing and broadcast (simulcast) adds to the complexity.

As with many technical occupations, there is shorthand and acronyms. ME mixed effects, SHADER is a control panel that adjusts camera aperture, MI, musical interlude, Load the band, CP campus Pastor, PUSH go closer with the camera control. I like ABLETON controlled by the drummer to add a CLICK track to the other musicians which sounds a click in the IEM’s they wear to keep everyone on beat (IEM is an in ear monitor) This is a beginning list and at first sounds like another language which it is.

So many sounds bouncing around that must be accounted for and the volumes are carefully set. There is a handheld unit that measures that as a sound tech walks through the room during rehearsal. ( It’s called an SPL sound level pressure.) It’s all highly technical. The control rooms and electronics remind you of Houston’s launch control for spacecraft. Blinking lights and fast button pushing and many screens for each person. Of course, the only sign of failure is an audience confused and the sound booth failure joke is; An audience looking backwards towards the the booth. They know who is screwing up.

The main reason the camera folks are dressed in black is to not be visible on the video feed. The camera iris is quickly set for different light situations and most of the people on the stage are dressed in lighter colors. The lights show those video shots so they can be seen by the viewers. As a result, black does not bounce back (it absorbs light). You can see them if you look for them but it isn’t a distraction on the whole. The lighting is another job that works with the director.

The audio for broadcast is another technical job. That audio engineer that controls the ‘in house’ experience. You can only imagine the electronics, cabling, simulcast and internet connections to be set up and tested every day. One day events involve semi-trailers of equipment and adds a lot of work to those teams. At many churches, many of the team are volunteers and do not get paid for this work. They do it for the joy and camaraderie.

Another volunteer is a time traveler. The job is to be an assistant to the director. The music rehearsal is listened to a half dozen times before hand and the assistant director charts which instrument, and singers are in a certain part of the music. There are soft sections and loud crescendos. Then all that assistant has to do is tell the director and the camera operators which shot is the best depiction of the musicians. Before it happens. 4 bars beforehand, gives everyone time to literally focus on the next solo or high point (or ending soft or quickly) Stage lighting is a factor as well.

the director tells the camera operators what shot is indeed coming up and also when their shot is being broadcast to the screens in house. All the camera operators and other control people have headsets with microphones to help them be part of the dance. It’s beautiful and often breathtaking when it comes together.

The main campus that broadcasts throughout the world has the most precise and skilled media teams. It’s called ‘simulcast’ and if you watch on-line, that is the music you see.

The director sees all the camera shots on separate screens, selects and instructs movement and image constantly. “One push, ready 1, take 1, Four push right, take 4, Five push cymbals, take 5.” As fast as you can read this. Things speed and slow according to the songs. Verse, pre-chorus-chorus. bridge. The sound pushes up to emphasize the chorus as the room gets intense with singing praise to Jesus.

It’s not manipulation, It’s invisible and correct and if done right, no one watching is aware of the team doing this. It is energy, very much the same thing that broadcast and movie directing use. Tell the story and no one thinks about it that is watching. That is a good as it gets. The director gives a brief “great shot” over the comm line now and then and that is very well received. Augustine stated “teaching is essential, praise is sweetness but persuasion is victory”

There is a lot more to production. It’s fascinating and now you know why the team is called ‘the men in black.’ Not seen but essential. It has nothing to do with agent K and J.

“My own eyes are not enough for me. I will through those of others. Reality, even seen through the eyes of many is not enough. I will see what others have invented…literary experience heals the wound, without undermining the privilege of individuality. In reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself…I may be full of goodness and good sense but still inhabit a tiny world. If I was content to be only myself, and therefore less of a self, I am in prison.” a.

It’s pretty good, Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

picture courtesy of Bjorn Peterson, my son, at a One Thing Conference with a hand held camera.

a. C.S. Lewis An experience in criticism

Local Lingo and Accents

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It’s something that comes naturally, growing up locally or even relocating and adapting here.

You’ve used these phrases and everyone around you has such as: “how’d she go dis weekend? Ya get out and get anything?” or “ s’hat new boat easy to launch?” Didge yah go up nort to the lake wit da fam to da cabin or just chill and cook out?” “ Hews she goin? Ya look a little foofed.

It’s perfectly normal and not even noticed unless you are just up from Chicago. Relatives that own a new cabin just around our neighborhood up here. Wisconsin actually has more than ten thousand lakes and the traffic is astounding around weekends. Especially the three day ones on holidays that fall conveniently on Friday or Monday.

I count the out of state license plates just for conversation at interstate bridge highways and on this last three dayer there were a hundred vehicles in rows bumper to bumper separated by quarter mile gaps. Usual comments from us about drivers getting ahead on the double yellow by a few cars. I call it ping ponging. Rushing and getting a few seconds ahead game that we play with anxiety and some skill depending if you are quick enough and like to take chances

On the times I am passed by anxious drivers I hold my breath to avoid the inevitable unburned hydrocarbon emissions from catalytic converter overloads, especially from older Buick’s and pickups that do not display led taillights as new stuff. Oh well, we used to make a lot of money replacing those things and erasing the inevitable check engine lights from the mixture fails of over loaded oxygen sensors.

As I have quoted a few times from C.S. Lewis: “Rushing is not of the devil, it IS the devil” some writers capitalize devil, I don’t, he isn’t worth it, it’s not a ‘proper’ name.

Nowadays I pray after laughing when someone passes me and a quarter mile ahead turns off. Sometimes I count the seconds saved and that really generates humor and puzzlement.

Relax, soon we get to relax with the man who is more alive than any man has ever been. We can watch the universe unfold and drift away and still be alive with him.

“Eternity’s eternal song, is calling to me, calling me home.” Misty Edwards

It’s pretty good, Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

Dancing Alone, Written During the Covid Debacle

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I wrote and copy-wrote a song decades ago when I thought the world was my burger to devour (with fries) and songwriting and performing were my destiny. Only the title of the song now makes perfect sense in the situations we have found ourselves in. Anxiety, fear and restlessness abound.

{Dancing alone.} The original column was written during the Covid19 scare and so called pandemic. Most of us remember the dystopian and totalitarian government actions during that time. The death tolls were not even close to the Spanish flu. None of the draconian measures worked. Masks, isolation, closing everything except for big box groceries and bars. The vaccine did not work either. What a disaster.

We were indeed dancing about. Whizzing down the road, against all declarations of our leaders.

Going somewhere, anywhere, just to once again be free to go somewhere. It didn’t work. Coming home to safety without the plague hitchhiking on us, we did the usual things. Make supper, get the parlor stove laid in and lit. Do the family business out in the shop, get ready for planting and go to one of the few shops down the road deemed necessary by the government. What? We can’t gather with our friends and worship the living God?

We can’t, we can’t, we should not. We are in danger, we are all in danger under a death threat as is the whole planet. Inconceivable! But we accede and say, As you wish. Those who resisted and kept their restaurants open were prosecuted and fined an absurd amount. Especially in Minnesota.

I felt so much disconnect with almost everyone on the planet except a handful or so. The imposed oddness, the imprisonment before imminent execution as we read about in scripture and history. The comfort of my cell, even driving in our car. A cell with bars, not bars of signal from Verizon

I felt the shrug of being rapidly passed. Don’t look at me, don’t get close to me. The hurtling shopping carts filled with toilet paper. Don’t don’t don’t. Please wear a disguise around your face for I know you fear me as I fear you.  Social distancing which our head of CDC at the highest level told us was useless and just made up. Six feet apart. Six feet under. Make your choice while fully masked. The masks were ridiculous and actually caused carbon dioxide buildups and not prevent a 5 micron virus with the 24 micron mask materiel used. Fake news? Reality? The Matrix is a documentary, I just heard it on Fox News.

 Shop till you drop dead and we’ll send the wooden cart for you. Wear the white or yellow or blue mask, it won’t help. Those helped you feel how I felt about you. Isolated and confused. Fearing the plague.

With due reverence, but very plainly, let it be said that God can do nothing for the man with shut hand and shut life. There must be an open hand and heart and life through which God can give what He longs to. An open life, an open hand, open upward, is the pipe line of communication between the heart of God and this poor be-fooled old world.

…S.D. Gordon (1859-1936), 

I am stretching out, looking fondly upon memories of freedom I fought for in the military. My leaders for this time are many and none of them make any sense to me. It is a dream forgotten as I stumble in the dark at 1 in the morning to the bathroom. Walk back to bed and actually try to remember the power and lack of it in my dream. It’s gone with a few remembered scenes. A mission of sorts, confusion and almost palpable in my real life.

The blue pill or the red pill. Got to remember at least to take my pills in the morning. I look upon my desk when I awaken later and cast my eyes upon books, journals and the book with all the answers if I would just open it and read. Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong, we are weak but He is strong.

Indeed, I am not dancing alone. I am never alone and David knew this as he danced before the King of Kings thousands of years ago.

It’s pretty good, Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

Letter Writing and Reading

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There is a loss in our communities that seems like a gain! The texting phenomenon has made writing letters obsolete and to many, cheaper and faster. Pen and Ink started to loose ground when the typewriter was introduced. The expense of ink wells, and ink stains was replaced with typewriter ribbons and skill.

I learned to touch type in the military and I got fast. Electric typewriters and carbon paper worked well. With top secret letters there were no carbon copies allowed. Now there is a new skill, typing on the screen of a cell phone. I have not embraced typing with both thumbs while holding a phone. I am fascinated and irritated at our civilization that has become hunched over while walking or standing, holding ‘the phone’ and writing and reading letters of sorts. Texting along with fun emojis and video clips. How about a three pound Bakelite model? I remember our bag phone and of course, my hand held Amateur radio. The ham radio did not need a phone number to talk to someone. A call sign worked but many times the beginning message was; CQ anyone there?

What I am getting around to is the act of writing and reading. Sitting down quietly while doing so.

I love to write and these columns are much easier to type with Word Press as it checks my spelling and syntax as I type. I have a short term memory issue, often real short time when I am physically writing a word and leave off a letter and skip on to the next one. Leaving off a vowel for instance. I can see my mistake and the software catches it and shows it to me. But that is a byline for this column, I revere actual writing with pen or pencil and using a stamp and an envelope to have USPS deliver my letter.

The major point is keeping in touch, not speedily but with intent beyond the rush of our current lives. “Rushing in not from the devil, it Is the devil” I believe that impatience is included. C.S. Lewis

I have sent a few letters lately to some friends. Some of which I have not seen nor heard from in decades. Several of them have never been answered although I know they were received because they were not returned with address unknown or such postal information. Phone calls work too but we are usually in a rush and an unexpected phone call from a friend of years past is surprising and hard to respond to if you are driving or setting down to lunch in a cafe. I like re-reading and even have a manila envelope for personal letters. It’s good. Phone numbers are passe. There used to be a book called a phone directory. They were hanging by a chain in phone booths. The is no cell phone directory hanging there.

Is there someone you send letters to and wonder if they will ever answer? There is also a very important type of letter that is spoken in private! These letters are referred to as prayer. It’s just me and the Lord alone and I tell Him how things are going and ask questions and have requests too. If my heart is calm and I am speaking in truth and love, I know my prayer is being heard. Peaceful and knowing and feeling His presence.

Often it seems my prayers have not been answered. The way I wanted them to be. Healing, provision for me or someone else. There is also the conversion to faith of someone that I have known a long time or just met. Evangelism. God hears these requests and stretches out his mighty arm and strong right hand and fulfills that prayer. Instantly in many ways we do not see and is always a perfect response from Him. Prayer is essential for all of us. Letters to the lover of our souls.

Someone obviously prayed for me to reach out to Christ, years ago, decades. It happened just the way it was supposed to happen. Why did it take so long? I have no idea and there is no answer until I read the book about me that no one this side of eternity can read. As C.S. Lewis says: “Every chapter is better than the last one you read”

“What is truth?” An old question that goes back to Mars Hill in Greece. Also the original question in the garden. “Did god really say?” Also the question that Pilate asked Jesus a few thousand years back. Jesus did not answer as the Truth was standing right in front of Pilate.

He knew this question of all philosophers as an educated citizen of Rome. Pilate spoke and wrote in Greek, Latin and Hebrew. He wrote the sign above Jesus on the cross. In those 3 languages.A letter posted for all to see throughout history. ‘Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews’ . Some of the locals disagreed and Pilate said what I have written stands.

The very gift of God will be all we need to keep sending those prayers/letters to him. I know so little of these things but I rely on that gift that gives me peace and confidence that my prayers are heard. Faith.

Do you ever wonder what happens when someone you know or someone you just met, says “I’ll pray about it” Do we follow through? I used to fudge it and forget the promise within a short period of time. Those four words were a dismissive phrase for me. Not anymore. I am growing up and taking responsibility for my life and the things I say and do. There is so little time left for me, and for you.

I was on an official Prayer team at a very large church that seats over 2000 people and we were told to stand in front of them just as the service had ended and with lanyards that said prayer, be available to anyone that came ahead. I loved it. Many times no one came, but the few that did are sharp in memory.

I had to be vetted and interviewed to be on that team and that is very correct to do so. You can surmise the interviews that took place. The teams prayed a lot and I learned how to do so from them.

I am now in production at that church, media, and I also love that. Presenting the songs to the room as messages of praise to the Lord right then and there. The professional musicians know that it is much more than having a good time or playing a good song. We all sing with them and we get to touch eternity.

It’s pretty good. Norm/ Jack

The Cocoon and Rebirth

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It seems so long ago that the Re-birth occurred for me. An epiphany is a good description or a sudden awareness of being (that one sounds new age) This event was sudden but had many events and a ‘cocoon’ before it occurred. I wrote about it in the column, ‘Consuming Fire Fan into Flame”.

The back story was an escape from hibernation, a cocoon that I did not see nor notice. I was swaddled up comfy in my life of sorts before the re-birth. You have read some of those stories as well. They are all true. There is one thing about a cocoon that is necessary, growth and strength acquisition. It is common and I saw one last spring, it was hanging beneath a milk weed leaf. A place where a Monarch butterfly was taking shape.

Dangling from that leaf, built by a worm that crawled up and used it’s spit to anchor itself. It spun the chrysalis (another name for cocoon) somehow. It’s called metamorphosis and the study can be described as such. A good word would be a scientific focused study on the metamorphic process’? One such study answered the question: “Is it painful for the butterfly?” Through extensive electric wave analysis on an oscilloscope, it was determined that it was not painful. Go ahead and chuckle at that one.

The same folks that track the emotions of carrots that know you are coming to yank it out of the ground. I don’t even want to know what that would see in me. More later on that. my growth was very painful but also necessary. You don’t need an oscilloscope to see that.

To get on with the epiphany I experienced, just thinking about that monarch’s life was stunning enough.

Why was it designed that way? And the pivotal evidence seen, was the gold ring around the very top of the chrysalis. Small gold dots, perfectly spaced and a very strong message indeed is there, if we choose to look at it.

First off, what do we usually associate with gold rings? Marriage and crowns for honor. A king or a Queen. Soon enough, the chrysalis splits open and the Monarch begins to emerge. Can you even imagine what process this is? The wings fully developed and folded up like a plane in the hanger of an aircraft carrier, just waiting for the freedom of flight.

How does this miracle of transformation apply to us? I have found myself just trying out those wings I was given not too long ago. Wings that not only speak freedom but purpose and direction. A flight path, a sudden internal gyro that stabilizes my glide path or flapping through this short life I have been given. It seems short when many decades cruise by with the longing for something more.

We have been built and created for something more. We hunger for it. We do everything in our power and wisdom to live as long as possible, but it is only vanity to grasp the wind. As we grasp at the wind, the astonishing thing is an answer to that hunger for more. A meaning and purpose and beauty that we, in our chrysalis have been waiting for. Eternity to wear that gold crown and hang out with the creator of all and gaze upon His glorious splendor as he grasps us and gives us the crown, as we gaze upon the beauty of real treasure, Him.

The story and promise of crowned beauty beyond description. If we wish this transformation with all our heart, soul, and spirit, the treasure will be ours forever. It’s pretty good. Norm aka Jack Gator

The Joy of Music and Art

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

As it is, so shall it always be. Music, an indescribable and fleeting thing. The string is plucked, the drum
resonates, the bowed instrument plays one note that blesses the fleeting sound. One second it is there.
An eternal second, there is no time involved and the resonance goes into eternity and the joy flows
abounding within the players and listeners.


There are many things that liken to music, draftsmanship or painting the light. Again, the romance of the
stunning scene to the love of creating the painting. Both the musician and the painter are vulnerable to
elevation of self. We do not realize the breaking of our admiration of our talents and contributing one or two notes or a splash of sienna releases real joy and appreciative laughter of the hearing and seeing the Master of all of it.


Images of musicians with the anticipated music played on perfect instruments abound. Especially for ones
that have felt the joy and dance with a word sung or a set of notes played. An image from Lewis: “If
one could just read the score of that heavenly music, they would never be ill nor grow old.”


So many years, so many bands and sitting in with other bands. I was consumed with applause. For
me. A brief smile from a waltzing couple as they swirled past the stage as I played Faded Love is still remembered. The pride of even placing in a fiddle contest would make me proud. Of myself. I am not as fast these days (As I edit this I am 80 years old) and actually, that helps. There were so many
instrumentalists in my life and the attaining of blazing speed with difficult passages was the goal and
passion of so many. Just listen to bluegrass sometime. The song is over before you can even remember
the words. Nice music, don’t misinterpret my words here. Nice music and really nice people play
bluegrass. There were, unfortunately, some artists that would overplay and smirk at my waltz’ or
jazz. That is OK now, I know who was guiding my music in that instantaneous beauty.

Emulating Bob Wills and his stunningly beautiful waltz’ was my goal. I tried the classic Orange
Blossom Special when playing the bar circuit. I would not play it until the third set when the patrons
were drunk enough to enjoy my fiddling of that song. I did OK with it, even the double stop slides, but it was not brilliant as the original. Still, it brought hoops and yells and that satisfied my need of acceptance.


I went to playing in the church..not A church, but THE church was my now my wish. A little mandolin to fill in the missing notes that I hear in spirit. The mandolin is referred to as the violin’s ‘walking stick’. (The tuning is the same as the violin) my last worship leader mentioned when the really high notes of
vibrato ring out, it made him laugh inside. Good description of joy in worship.

Third position on the mandolin is a LOT easier than on the fiddle. It has frets. Those incredible stratospheric violin passages are pretty swell if your fingers are doing OK and you spend every day in the practice room. Playing Since a person was young child helps. I am in awe and joy when I hear those players. I wonder what they are thinking and feeling during those concertos.


So I needed applause to feel wanted and accepted. Now there is joy in worship heard or played when everything makes a brief tapestry of beauty. Offered to Jesus with love and adoration. It’s the only thing that goes to another plane of experience for me now.

As it is, so shall it always be. Music, an indescribable and fleeting thing. The string is plucked, the drum
resonates, the bowed instrument plays one note that blesses the fleeting sound. One second it is there.
An eternal second, there is no time involved and the resonance goes into eternity and the joy flows
abounding within the players and listeners. Nevertheless, beware!

” Every poet, musician and artist, but for grace, are drawn away from the love of the thing he tells, to love of the telling, till, down in deep hell, they cannot be interested in God at all, but only what they say about Him” C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

Applause reflects how others in the room feel that too. It’s heart felt. The thing is, that I now know they are really applauding the beauty revealed of Jesus, the creator of worship music hearts and all things. It’s pretty good. Playing or listening, it’s all the same thrill of eternal music on that sea of flaming glass.

We were blessed indeed by grace to avoid the love of the telling when my family worshiped for four years alone in a house of prayer in a storefront on main street in our local town. We had all the sound system stuff and a drum cage too. There were chairs for anyone who wished to be there, but most of the time we were alone. It fostered intimacy with our Lord. When we left after the building was sold, we had a last set that lasted for hours and started it at 7:20 in the evening. After an obvious finishing song, we looked at the clock facing us and it was 7:20.

Norm Peterson and Jack Gator

Emotion and Worship

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

We’ve all heard it before in some context; “ you’re so emotional!” My response now to that is

asking, What is wrong with that? We are reluctant to endorse or engage with emotion in many situations. Many psychobabble voices tell us to calm down, damp down our emotions and be calm and ‘clear headed’ I am not sure that is appropriate. I get emotional reading a book or listening to Beethoven’s beauty. Weeping with pleasure and letting my emotions release it.

I have recently been trained in helping people to engage with emotions presented by ‘performance’ in worship music. Live performance, seen on a screen. It’s the same way we watch and listen without knowing we do so. Our eyes are drawn to different things as we move through our lives. We watch and are engaged with our surroundings. Constantly scanning the roads for dangers or beauty. Looking at the dash gauges. We don’t just stare straight ahead, we move our heads and eyes to see the world passing by us.

I have been taught that those are the natural movements and as an example: When zooming in on a singer ( it’s called pushing in) we don’t do it fast. Unnatural, it causes a distraction. We change focus as we look near or far and that is controlled as well. We open or close our iris according to dim or bright reflections or light. That’s called shading. The excitement in video production is different angles and being shown changes and solos we miss if looking elsewhere.

There are also many facets to production that are not noticed but essential. Lighting with movement, color, focus and the use of ‘haze’ to show light beams which catch our eye and help us focus where the light is showing us. Sound, very important and very technical for music and speech. To hear everything clearly, the spectrum of frequencies and to not overpower but to enhance experiences. If the sound feedback happens with a loud hum or a singer overpowers other singers, the room full of people instinctively swivel their heads to the place they know this control is. It’s called a sound booth solo and sound booths are called ‘front of house’ (more media lingo)

It’s an art and if well done, not noticeable if done well, to a person watching or in the room during a live production. Movies are complex and a good example of these things too. You don’t even notice the technical camera work and perfect sound and dialogue that conveys a story. The story engages you and emotions below the surface, sometimes with excitement or tears.

What is our story? The real stuff, the romance between us and Christ. God the Father lifts His eternal baton, Jesus intercedes for our failures and the Holy Spirit whispers songs of Faith and love to us.

Emotion is a gift from God. I can only imagine Biblical descriptions that movies try to capture. The parting of the Red sea, burning bushes and the sea of glass mingled with fire. Do those things stir you? I have heard about production, “oh that’s done to get you emotional” Of course not. As the song says, I can only imagine being there and seeing these things. Ask Him when you show up at those Gates of Heaven. I believe He will be delighted to take you there and be one of those in the Cloud of Witness’. I will ask to help with the run through in the Holy Production for you if I get there first. You will be an operator and we can work together with a lot of help from the Producer and Director. Eternal Productions bring you the reality of all life.

It’s Pretty good. Norm and Jack

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Name of Middle Names

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A repeat of a dream for several nights. Different places, different people, same impressive sign of the times. Suddenly an impossible thing happened throughout the world. Every man, woman and child had their middle names changed.

On birth certificates, passports, licenses of all sorts. Every thing that is our ID was changed overnight and all the middle names were the same! All men, women and children. Impossible. What government Be responsible for this? My middle name changed in everything in my wallet, safety deposit box, bank and card account! You too? does this mean to us as an impossible event and what are we to do now? All humankind were now ‘relatives’ as we usually are given a middle name for someone in our family line. Thousands of years ago this became ‘set in familial stone’ One time a man deaf named his son by the simple name of ‘John’ while his family was aghast over tradition violated.

The dream I had twice in a row was similar in chaos. As in most dreams, the moving about in unfamiliar houses and cities was a given and easily forgotten in the fog of early rising. Not the middle name though. It stuck in my memory till this was written. Must be written was the inevitable.

I liked my new middle name because it was familiar and powerful. I never grasp the equality of the name. It’s not done. The respect for the original owner of that name was embarrassing if wasn’t for the fact that everyone had it too. The dream meant a new thing was happening.

The dream name is found in several songs that I sang and played. My family knows the name and who it belongs to. Of course, the new middle names are the first name of the real owner who actually was the first person to have it. It is the name above all names and is the first and last of a name for our creator, lover and written on the galaxies and all stars visible and imagined.

The name in the dream was Yahweh. Pretentious to an embarrassing degree, but there it was in my dream. What did it mean? What does it mean? It means family and a precious thought of unity and beauty imagined, only in my dreams to show me something. A time when all mankind will be united to the same family with another new name written on stone, a white stone for all eternity.

Yahweh, the beautiful, wonderful, lover of our souls, gave the dream to me not to call us all gods or think we were. It was the dream of a sign and wonder that God Himself was approaching. The time when old men will have visions. Young men will have dreams. I just got the dream as a gift. It’s pretty good. Norman Eric Peterson / Jack Gator

Atomic Child

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was 80 years ago when the City of Hiroshima was destroyed. It was exactly my first birthday. August 6th 1945. I just saw a friend holding his one year old child Sunday and him toddling off after he reached for my hand. D day was exactly two months before I was born, June 6th 1944. Those things got me to thinking about my life and betrayal by the world. It led to war and destruction and the loss of millions of lives. Lust and greed fueling it.

As many of us, I was betrayed. My best friend in the Navy did so. My first love and fiance left me secretly. The girl I was in love with when I lived on the West Bank had a sexual liaison while we were staying with my father in California. Dad was betrayed by my mother. When my girl visited an ‘old friend’ while we were at my Dad’s, she slept with that friend. My dad’s response when she returned late that night was: “they all do that” It got to be normal life for me.

I grew wary and found it impossible to get involved with anyone, especially women. I never knew why really, as many of us do, we just think these sorts of things are normal life. There are details of my life about these things that I do not reveal, they are too personal and harsh. Even for this writing to the public and my family. Just like the world’s history. I will some day.

Then today, while I was reading about WWII and all of these thoughts were prancing about in my mind, The sun came through the building storm clouds. It shone right on my face as I sat in the living room with a history book in my lap. I heard: “ I was betrayed by my friend too, and I know exactly what you have been through” Comforted and even cradled I was overwhelmed. “I will never betray nor forsake you” Words from the creator of everything.

The last time I was betrayed was the newspaper Editor that printed these sorts of things I write. Too much Jesus and we will have to let you go he said. I am comforted and affirmed now when I remember my response: “Will you then allow me a final column to tell my readers I can’t write a column every week, that it’s a burden”? It was printed and I did not betray him and the owner of the paper. It was a lie of course, but it seemed like the decent thing to do. After all, they would not print the truth of the matter.

The friend that sold me out for his addiction in the navy converted to faith in our savior Jesus shortly after I visited him on his dead bed in Maryland. I was permitted to see him pass into Eternity on the exact time he died thousands of miles away. He told me as he disappeared , “It’s better than you said!” It was a turning point in my life to say the least of it. His wife was comforted as I spoke with her later that day.

There is no room to prevaricate about the state of the world now, it is filled with anger and betrayal and is not surprising to me. The words I heard when that glow of the Son warmed my face this morning are timeless and eternal truth. I am loved and held forever. Norm Peterson “the Gator”