History and Encounters

Often tender moments of Jack’s life

An Actor gets another Role

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I have always been an actor. It’s my nature to behave as though I were someone else. More clever, Experienced, or just dangerous. More akin to a chameleon. Whatever the surroundings demanded,

I made use of it. Often, just for fun. Very seldom, to save my life. My son, in the photo, acts too. He picked up the habit from me. Acting as a well dressed English man at a hotel in Kansas, just for laughs at my son’s wedding just next door. We all act really. As it is said, some of us are very badly rehearsed. I asked at the desk if there was a coffee shop nearby. I was directed and my perfect Peter Sellers accent was believed.

There were several times that I had to be someone else to survive. That time in Oakland when I was playing outside a Safeway grocery with my guitar case open for spare change. A passable country blues player by this time, I made enough money for food and fuel for my house I built in a truck bed. There was change and even a couple bills in the case when a large man approached face on to me and declared: “What you gonna do if I take that guitar?” Menacing. Big, especially if you are sitting on the sidewalk looking up at him. The guitar was a fairly new Martin D28 which I had purchased right after my two tours in the Mediterranean. $400. I casually replied: “well, I’ll just fight you for it till one of us dies” Staring into each other, eyeballs to eyeballs for an interminable time. The would be thief was not used to this calm behavior from a potential victim. I said that. I also meant it. The guitar was my life line to a can of Dinty Moore stew and a bridge toll to get to the ocean. Not to mention gas for the truck. No one moved, no one sweated. The big guy finally said, “ That’s cool” and spun around and walked away. Another acting role success for me.

The would be thieves across the street from my house, coming out the window seeing me, standing with that Luger, calmly. They left. I was not going to shoot them of course, the pistol wasn’t even loaded. Murder though, according to scripture. Not my proudest moment. They were just looking for their forgotten keys. Unknown house guests of my neighbor. They thanked me for looking out for them, but were wary and distant because of how I did it. I thought it was OK. The actor gets a bad role.

In Italy I confronted a policeman as street kid (wasn’t too hard for the costume department as I had been living on the street for a month) I knew the cops were looking for him, so approached the  Carabinieri and in his best street urchin from Naples dialect, asked directions to Trevi Fountain. I knew it was a half a block away. Not fitting nor smelling like an escaped top secret military man, the cop gave me simple directions. After a brief “Grazie” (dropping the last vowel) the cop said disdainfully’ “Napolitan” Whew, that was close! Joining the other urchins in a sub basement catacomb, they all pitched in their begging money and gave it to Pino for his birthday and he ran out and returned with pizza’s and wine. He spent all of the money for a party for us. I never forgot that. Brotherhood of the lowest of the low down citizens in Rome.

The toughest acting was when I had to tell a plausible lie to evade arrest by a Federal agency when I was mistaken for a man I used to work for. It was awkward and is a long story. It came out ok and it was a ‘think fast’ situation. They went away and I left that person’s house shortly thereafter. It was a setup from the man I knew and I turned the tables on him. It was a good thing the house was not searched and that’s another story as well. The man they were looking for had used my military and radio skill set to smuggle heroin. It’s a somewhat long story. I knew the agents figure there was a connection and I put on an angry face and told them that man had stolen my girl and left the country. They went away and I was not brought in for ‘questioning’ I decided to leave that acquaintances house that was on vacation. When they came back there was a kerfuffle, and I was persona Non grata. Better than the other choice.

There were other times I had to act to save my life. It was second nature by now, I was and am a pretty good actor. I believe it is a method of acting. That role I played was a time that I and Bruce, a Vietnam vet, bluffed some bullies down in Kansas with two tent poles held underarm that with the metal ferrules only visible, looked like ‘shotguns’ Stuff like that.

I even acted at the Frederic log cabin as an old warrior, now retired as an inn keeper. It was a film set in the middle ages for a Russian film maker. Acting, it’s natural and scary at the same time. I thank my Savior for that skill that has saved my life so many times so I can write about Him. Jesus, He’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Photo courtesy of my son’s portrayal of a secret agent on our hill in winter. Chip off the old block

Steeple Chase

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I was at an ongoing book sale that a local library has in one of their meeting rooms. The books are arrayed with spines up and a double row so you can see all the titles. Only a dollar apiece and they are in excellent condition.

I looked and muttered authors and titles to myself as I fingered my way down the front row. Most, if not all were novels. The impression I instantly got was they had all been read by a handful of devotees to the genre and were not getting checked out anymore.

I was startled when one of the back row books had a title of Spiritual Literacy. Quite a change from Danielle Steele’s work. Nice bindery and excellent glossy cover that book had. It seemed it was not checked out much as it wound up in the ‘cut out bin’ too. I quickly grabbed it up and flipped a page or two and what I read was enough to make the dollar price insignificant. Yard sale gem or a find at the second hand stores.

The Quote I randomly turned to was indeed on spiritual awareness and in a most direct and refreshing statement of truth. The statement tendered the astonishing way contact with the spirit of all life occurs and how we expect it to. A full range of eastern sages to modern thought was summed up. We think of a spiritual department of our life. Activity at the penthouse of our minds. Top floor.

If you are feeling a need for such things, get going and punch that 43rd floor button and get ready to pray, meditate, chant, focus on something to get in touch with the real deal of life.

Hence the steeple chase for western minds that a steepled building is the place where these things are talked about and experienced. I do look for the pointed buildings as I drive and wonder what they mean, why are they pervasive and how do you build and keep one?

Those steepled buildings are an excellent place to taste the sacred and also a good place to trigger the hunger for more. It’s the whole idea to grow and mature in our faith.

That one reference I randomly turned to goes on to state we can experience the sacred in everyday life. One simple statement startled me: “I come alive when I hear or play music” or “I come to life when I am in the garden, working with my hands” A.

Those are the areas when we are spiritual. To be vital, awake and aware. I did this today when I was swimming my laps. I started looking through the water as I swam and began to pray for the other swimmers I saw and often knew. Strokes and styles and finishing pushes. I have a really good instructor that almost won gold in a relay race. The only reason she didn’t was that a teammate jumped into the water at the triumphant finish and the whole team was disqualified.

She is my wife and I firmly believe the win. She taught me things and I teach them to fellow swimmers when they are receptive to small changes.

I like to do that and it makes me feel alive. It is connection with spiritual activity. I did not realize that until I saw the wisdom in that incredible book.

Another example: A small group of people get together regularly in a home or in a church and discuss and answer one question. They go deep and share their lives stories.

Spirit led and gifts of spirit. Volunteer work is as rewarding to the people served as the servers are. I was not aware of why I felt fulfilled working on weekends in a large church gathering, helping in media production. Visual and sound. I found people approachable and eager to share their lives with me. If I was asking questions of them instead of banging on about myself it usually ended in mutual prayer. There was connection and an uplifting spirit.

It’s easier if you allow the spirit to move within and give you guidance for the hungry and open hearts. It’s very enjoyable and often leads to continuing growth and friendships. Growth in us and them.

Recently I have been mourning the deaths of so many close friends and immediate family. Why me? Now things have changed and I am seeing the Spirit moving around me, with me and in me. Church is great and we have heard that we are the Church.

As Thomas Aquinus reminds us: “ Diversity is the perfection of the Universe” 13th Century Jack Gator Scribe

A. Brother David Steindl the music of silence

With many thanks to the Grantsburg Library andThomas Moore, and Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat

Jesus on the West Bank of Minneapolis

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There it was, there it still is. A two story mural depicting Jesus with his hands open to all who would come to Him At the intersection called Seven Corners, visible plainly from Washington Avenue. It was the building housing Souls Harbor.

That mural was painted there some time ago, it was there when I was working at the New Riverside Cafe back in the very early 70’s. Several columns in Gator’s Grace Notes have been printed in various newspapers about those times. ‘40 Acres of Musicians’ is one of them.

Seven corners refers to a major intersection that signals the end of Washington Ave and Cedar Ave and an on ramp to the freeway, Highway 35. Perfect spot really. “And there shall be a highway and a Road and it shall be called the Highway of holiness” That quote is found In The Bible, Isiah 35. As an aside to this story, I am going to use that verse as the title of my upcoming book.

I was a hippy at this time and I was happy. Living in an apartment on Cedar Avenue a few blocks away, 605 ½ Cedar. It was a hot spot of the musicians in the city as was the New Riverside Cafe, referred by the in crowd that worked there as simply “ The Cafe” Pronounced as ‘the Kafe’ by these in the know and we who staffed it. Ground zero for me, fresh out of the Navy and growing my beard and hair as fast as possible.

Lots of bean sprouts and other veggies on the menu as the Cafe was vegetarian. Cheaper and better for you and the neighborhood. The favorite menu item was soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. We fed the neighborhood, most of it pretty poor folks. I would give the soup for free to many of those people and and when they asked for the sandwich I would offer bread, good bread and explain to them that this was what we had to do for free food. For quite a time there were no prices for food there and a price for the world class music in the big room, overlooking Riverside Avenue.

The entire neighborhood is now Somali and the business’ there all have NE African names, but the people are pretty friendly. The buildings are still the same but none of them have old hippies staffing them. The free store, Cafe Extempore, Durable goods, Dinsaur Motors, and Bellvile and Hoffman’s guitar shop are all gone. As am I. I miss it sometimes and think about walking around the old place just to get the new flavor. (If I figure out the menu of the west bank restaurants) who can tell? We will trade stories!

We worked a miracle in urban development then. Stopping the development of Heller and Segal’s dream of “A new town in town’ A rent strike and political rally’s and the help of the local Anglican Diocese was the protest plan. A lot of publicity in the Tribune and it worked. At least most of the west bank that was left stayed undeveloped into high rises. Since the West Bank was so close to the Mississippi, it housed a lot of northern European immigrants in the early days before us. It was known as ‘Snus boulevard’. Chewing tobacco and sidewalks as spittoons was the Scandinavian way of nicotine consumption.

The movement of America’s Revival, the Jesus movement was in full swing. Almost everyone who worked at the Cafe’ were not interested in Jesus. Hippies were more into mantras and Eastern versions of wisdom. The impetus for the very low or non existent food prices came from Father Teska, an Episcopal priest that helped fund the whole adventure.

(His diocese was very helpful for me later on.)

We were all clueless to creation and our Creator. I became aware that my only faith was in me and as a result, I was not really satisfied with my life. It took a few decades before I understood what that mural of Christ was telling me.

The diocese helped with the legal issues I was in with the military after discharge. I was still living on the West Bank, but I left the Cafe to work for the Burlington Northern as a track worker. My first job with them was shoveling ballast for a section surfacing a hump yard. It was more physical than the work of a cafe worker. I survived and thrived. Real money then, over 6 dollars and hour! After a summer of that I got pretty jacked and confident in manual labor. It was like military comrades. Joking and sharing hard work.

I shoveled ballast for months and noticed that the guys moving the tracks just hung onto their lining bars while I shoveled constantly. Ballast to be thundered under the ties by a massive surfacing machine. I worked right next to it. I asked one of the men how do the lining bar men get assigned that position? “First one to the work site gets their choice of tools”.

The next day when I stepped off the old school bus that took us to the work face, I yawned and stretched and then burst into running and grabbed a lining bar. Lots of kidding about that for all of us. New guy wises up. I did a good part of a year on surfacing gang and then I listened to my old veteran friend, Bruce, who lived in NW Wisconsin and he bluntly told me to ‘get out of there and buy a house a half mile away from his. I got a GI loan and bought the house. I had no idea what I was getting into, it’s not like buying a truck. (more of Bruce and I in the “motorcycle diary” series.

Living rural, 75 miles away was different than the west bank and it took some getting used to. I then began commuting to a section crew that was in Dinky Town, just across the river from the west bank!

A few visits to an old friend from the cafe, Raplh WhItcoff at the Durable Goods store got me a nice new Josnereds 80 chainsaw that really helped me with the firewood production. I can’t run it now but can still lift it up. My gandy dancer muscles had no problem back in those days. It’s all right, It will break your wrist to start it, when it will start. My son, Soren, recently restored the old 80 and it is an amazing saw for it’s era. Determination to start is still the key. 80 cc’s of engine is enough for a small motorcycle.

Fifty years later, we still heat with firewood in our parlor stove and Soren does most of the acquiring and splitting the wood. I stack and split kindling. I do remember how to swing wood hand mauls and have a good time doing so. Keeping my oar in as the saying goes.

Our property has increased in value after paying off the GI loan. Paradise in it’s own rolling hills valley with a private beaver lake and a prayer cabin overlooking it. 30 acres of peaceful country life. It was twenty six thousand five hundred dollars when I bought it. I now have a beautiful wife, two boys and indeed, blessings that just came. I found Jesus was right beside me my whole life and eventually surrendered my being and soul to Him. It took a while, I can be pretty dull and unobservant sometimes.

As I quote Monty Python at times: “Well, I got better” It’s pretty good. Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

Promises

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Our world exists on promises, made and sometimes kept. I was reading another book from my stack near ‘my chair’ in the living room and there was quite a few older promises from well known people in that book. Quite a few of them. It seems that Kings and rulers of all kinds made the same promises, huge and very encompassing ones. ‘I will give you half of my kingdom’ types.

The one given to a woman at the beginning of nations that she, at ninety years old would give birth to another son. Quite a promise! As a side note, one of her earlier sons would become the founder of the Arab nation. Look it up if you have a Bible. It’s in the first chapter.

Earlier than that time all of us were given a promise we would work the land and our wives would give birth with pain. We, the men from then on would sweat and work hard for our food. Seems familiar whether you work horses to plow or machinery or do other work, we sweat. (If we do real work as we say up North) People who work in tall buildings sweat while they worry but not particularly from physical labor. I assume that is progress of sorts.

There was a promise given to a famous writer and philosopher, Diogenes a ‘few’ thousand years ago by Alexander the Great. Diogenes ( the writer of ‘I think, there for I am’) was sunning himself and Alexander came to him and told him, ask me anything and I will give you half of my kingdom. Diogenes replied, “get out of my light” I assume Alexander was humbled and impressed.

These days, we still promise many things to one another. “I will never forget you” type. Listen every day for them. Mostly without the words I promise but nonetheless, implied. Guaranteed for life (whose or what’s life?) I will build that or do that type of promise. ’till death do us part’ Pretty serious promise!

Somewhat believed ones given with a smirk. ‘I’ll get it to you next month’ a little wiggle room in that one. It seems our world is built on those things, given audibly or implied. Often with laws found in some registry office of some sort. Documented even in the founding of nations. All men sorts of promises. Do this and it will go well for you. Don’t do it and there is a squad behind you with unpleasant flashing lights. You do promise not to trespass? This hamburger will look like the one on the menu?

There is one promise that I know will be kept. As a friend appeared to me at his death from thousands of miles away, he audibly told me, “it’s better than you said!” I told him of the beauty of God and His kingdom when months before I saw him in Maryland. It was a promise shown to me that whatever I promised him was kept. I treasure that vision and it is a solid promise I treasure from our God that he told me decades ago. Real life. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe

Lobbyist In Oz

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

And there he was for Dorothy to discover, the man behind the curtain. Pay no attention to him but how could she ignore the blustering sounds? The thundering and loud voice, sending out many thousands of oversize postcards that were so slick that other mail slipped over it. Going to the mailbox for real information was difficult as the lobbyist’s large glossy mailings were in the way. She saw her attention was drawn to the fearful words written in Red or Blue.

She felt she was dreaming when the source of confusion and fear came into view. Pay no attention indeed. As though she can pay no attention to the wind.

There was a battle going on for Oz and it was hard to tell friend from foe.

She met new friends and they were very odd and in many ways, just like her. There was a tough guy that she knew had no heart for the battle and the thunder coming from the Lobbyist. He was very shiny but weak as tin foil.

There was a very peaceful man that also appeared tough in a softer way but confessed he had no courage for battle of any kind. He appeared to be a huge orange cat and roared instead of purring. He was very furry and gentle.

The third one was very odd and actually was trying to be scary! A scarecrow that stood among them all and waved arms of straw and obviously had no brains whatever. The scarecrow made no sense but kept up the behavior nonetheless. The scarecrow seemed friendly enough and had a big smile and with lot’s of laughter but was hard to understand as it kept repeating words. It said a lot of unkind things about Oz and everyone who lived there too.

As Wallace and his dog would say, “no use prevaricating about it” The lion was very tired of the scarecrow and all the lobbying that ‘shouted’ to listen to the laughter. He had enough, and found enough courage to tell the scarecrow to stop waving arms and laughing at him. He pushed back and the scarecrow toppled over rather quickly.

Astonished, the Tin foil man and the huge cat looked where the scarecrow had stood and there was nothing left but what appeared to be blue pants and a blue suit coat with the straw whispering around it. The straw blew away and the gust of wind that brought Dorothy to Oz now awakened her when her red slippers fell and made a loud sound when they came together next to her bed.

It was quite a dream and somehow, she felt it was also a part of her life. Things have never been the same since. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe Esq.

The World is confused and We Don’t have to Be

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Some years ago, before the 16th century, our world, and everyone who lived on it believed that our planet was the center of the Universe. Sometimes referred to as the Ptolemaic theory.

An easy thought to digest for mankind up until that time in the late 1500’s when it was proven it wasn’t by Copernicus. He was a genius as a doctor of law, physics master and also a Canon in the church in Poland. Also a master of mathematics by the way.

He proved with calculations that we were a heliocentric system that revolved around the sun. It seemed reasonable with all scripture pointing to our wondrous place in the eye of God.

He made us, He blesses us and is for us not against us. This it truth. We are not the center of the Universe, He is.

Then why was it so easy to miscalculate the orbits of our planets and our moon when we have always been gifted with intelligence and wondrous minds, eager to explore and find new things and even give names to the new things? It is written we named all the animals further back at the beginning of all things. Sounds reasonable. How can you tell a story to your wife about some friendly furry thing without naming it?

So we settled in to this world and almost instantly decided it was a philosopher Descartes moment to declare, “I think, there fore I Am”. No confusion there, I want to be just like God so I Am. No longer confused about anything because I know truth and it is centered around me.

I am tempted still to have those thoughts in a way. I am the most important person around and so, it’s all about me. I don’t expect everyone to acquiesce to me, but it wouldn’t be out of place. Isn’t that a core belief until we realize it isn’t the truth? A baby knows these things about being the absolute center of the world. We grow out of it with a few tears in our wake. Some of us regress back to childhood and becoming egocentric and selfish are the result.

The truth is, in our neighborhood here in our small solar system, we all revolve around the Son and He is glorious and indeed gives us life and light. We have been given all things and the little we can even see about physical orbits, there is an impossible explosion of light, heat and the source of growth itself visible. The Revolutionibos Orbium Colestium or the Revelation of the Celestial Spheres from Copernicus. He was fearful of blasphemy charges when his discovery was made known. Fearful for his life. 1.

I have dreams and visions of the rest of our ‘known’ universe and since I was born here, reared here and grew up here I know absolutely nothing about things millions of light years beyond the beyond. Someday after the usual right of passage we all go through, I will know about these things.

Numbers that fascinated Copernicus and now me that are incomprehensible. There are a billion seconds between us and when Christ walked with the Apostles! A billion minutes between us and creation has been calculated. That one is up for debate, but it is probably pretty close.

There is even confusion about XX and XY in our times and how to define life itself. I think that has been pretty well figured out for quite a long time. Confusion resulting in separation between God and government on these things. It’s a very non brave new world indeed if we don’t have the courage to stand for truth. I shave in front of a mirror and it still shows the front of my face. “How many fingers Mr Smith do you see?” “six”

At the very least, I am not confused about the center of our universe that has the Son there.

Again, as a friend wrote and sang: “I’ve never seen a Son like this before” 2.

1. famous scientists. Org 2. Jon Thurlow Thanks to Richard J. Foster for research archives

Facing The Lions Den

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A very famous story, known by many people. Daniel in the Lions den. I first saw this painting by Henry Tanner a few days ago when my pastor showed it to us. What does it mean in a much deeper way? Very deeper.

It is the way of survival, it is the way of freedom. The only way to live and be free indeed.

In today’s times there is much unrest and many choices to face the lions and listen to their snarling and growling, or turn our backs on them and listen to the only truth there is.

This wisdom is not only found in religious gatherings, it is everywhere if we listen. An old story from Milano, Italy. A famous orator, Victorinus, was questioned by Simplicitius with a simple question about the orators Christian faith: “But I do not see you in church” to which Victorinus replied “ do walls make a Christian?”

He later was baptized and stated; “We are in this together and we walk our pilgrim path in fine company, fine, faithful company indeed”

Walls indeed, do not make us Christians. Walking the narrow road, looking neither left nor right and although we are fools, we shall not go astray. This is the pilgrimage we face today. Is the world OK and in our life, everything is fine and we do not mind the insanity of our times. You know the things I write of. Sacrifice of lives, chasing the world’s ‘wisdom’ of our own creation. Making ourselves the creator of our own version of life and becoming the new slaves of popular choice and political correctness. Ostracized, cursed and sometimes, thrown into the den of iniquity where we face our accusers and the lies that spew out calling us haters and such.

The only place we can look to for the truth is to Jesus the Messiah, the Christ and his Rock of eternity will make us free, free indeed. Turn from facing the lions loud and fearful voices. And face your creator for his voice. Our choice, that is why we were created with free will.

With thanks to Edward W. Schmidt and Jason Strand Jack Gator

Painting by Henry tanner courtesy of the National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C.

Bullfighter

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A saying I attribute to Sitting Bull. He spoke of the two wolves inside of us as well. I wondered about this wisdom this morning and ran across more wisdom from Michelle O’Rourke. The little bulls are the battle we have with the little deaths we all must experience in our lives.

The loss’ of physical strength or stability in using what I have left. The bull of my early times swinging spike malls and 16 pound sledge hammers. I agonize over that when I should just join that death with me being the matador and the bull, joined with that blade.

We all have them, those little bulls we embrace. The world inside that speaks failure and personal weakness or loss as the source. To rise up from the sand and brandish the blade and put that snorting thought to death. There are also the worlds many wolves that linger, just beyond the glow of our inner campfire. Eyes lit and eager to pounce upon our sense of worth and trample the fire.

That indeed is the leader of the wolf pack, sense of worth destroyer. I think I am worthless because of changes that come to us all. Physical strength, provision fears. What will become of me when those around me see this?

We indeed do change as we approach death. In old age or in disease or accident. All of us.

My favorite quote from Woody Allen: “I am not afraid of death, I just don’t want to be there when it happens” Why do I cling so hard to my little bulls when I know they must die with me as everyone knows. Playing games within that Jesus will return and I will just be caught up with Him. Maybe I am akin to Enoch and will just ‘leave’ (after a long life) or Elijah who ascends in a flamed out custom chariot with really fancy custom wheels.

Better to listen to our God with his Mighty hand and outstretched arm that delivers time after time and tells me how much He loves me and will never leave me. Loves me the way only He does.

Many times He has shown me my true worth. Small things that are even bigger than the wolves that whisper and howl. He says, “Go here and talk to someone I will show to you” A purpose and all I have got within me. The reason I have had things happen that I can’t explain as excellent and good. My life unfolding with a mystery of loss and gain. Not embracing my mind and the abilities that I have been given as my very own brilliance and creation.

Indeed, the blade must go deep and true to put to death all those thoughts of self importance.

Listen to the creator of all things brilliant. He will give you all the encouragement and worth you ever have needed. He will turn your losses, your grief, and sadness into joy as you dance in the light of His light. Sit at His campfire and the wolfs of the world will not dare approach. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Old and Useless

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Not very long ago I was meeting some new people and was introduced to their family. I looked upon one of their children and he said to me “ You’re Old” I agreed and was nonplussed at the child’s observations and his immediate truth telling. Yes, I agreed, I am at least 8 times older than you. I felt a little sting. Aren’t we supposed to say afterwards: Wow you look great! I never would have guessed that you are that old.

I’ve said to several people and meant it too. I’m doing pretty good as my scribe puts it. Very active physically but there are deterioration’s that come with age. The saying is with age comes wisdom! Sometimes.

I can get a bit cranky without any knowledge of the segue to judgment. Usually these days when I am driving and get passed by a roaring vehicle on the double yellow only to have to slow down a half mile ahead as they turn left. Thinking quickly that I am commanded not to call anyone a fool, I use a Russian word and of course, the Lord does not speak Russian.

I indeed am old and gnarly but I have a nice smile. Shoppers at the big box smile back when they see me. Why am I not as blocked or mission focused as others are? They roar by me too, only to turn one aisle ahead and stop with another cart parked in front of them. I just shake my head briefly and cruise by as I look upon the crowded aisle of indigestible instant meals in boxes. I like Ramen but it’s not in that aisle. Betty Crocker meets the Roadrunner on aisle 5.

A piece of wisdom comes to mind from a Chinese story from approximately 2400 years ago. Looking upon a very old and twisted tree and relaxing in its shade were a young man and an older one. The older man said the reason the tree was there for them was it was useless for lumber and so left to grow old and large and give us comfort from the sun. Useful indeed.

The stumps around it testified to many chairs and tables There were no benches there. It indeed had grown well and it was very old. I like that story as gnarly as I am, I indeed am not useless either. You are now reading the wisdom I have read from before Christ our Savior. He does not consider me useless and neither does he consider you useless either. The vehicles that pass me on the highway are just eager people on the highway of Holiness. Perhaps they are eager to meet our Creator and lover. I must embrace that wisdom and I will smile and bless them. I’m getting better! It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe.

Many thanks to Chuang Tzu amd Henri Nouwen.

Silo

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

On my way down the local 2 lane, I started counting barns and old farms. A way to stay alert besides scanning for deer with my fog lights on for extra vision on the shoulder. I had already noticed most barns had all equipment of a dairy operation, but no lights on for early morning milking, no bulk trucks and a silo cuddled up to the barn. The blue Harvestore silos looked fresh and functional. Most of the rest of them had no caps often the barns were at their service life end.

I remember the past time when I visited a neighbors dairy farm and was asked to shovel silage to the cows. It was either that or start hooking up the Delaval milkers. Some of the farmers showed me how to hand milk. “Just hold her up higher with your closed hand and squeeze gently from the top down.” Splash splash into the stainless bucket. Wow.

Mostly, when I shoveled the silage from the convenient opening in the barn, I liked the smell of it. Almost tasty like a good granola smelled. Rich and nutritious and sweet. I asked a few questions about the ease of loading the wheel barrow in the barn and how silage was made and how did it come out of the opening in the wall. Silos, snugged up to the barn and filled with crops grown during the summers. I didn’t taste the silage.

I saw the cycle of dairy farming that made sense. Some of them even made cheese. The milk house vat was scooped for breakfast coffee or baking. It was good and special to me. Daylight was breaking and after we finished and let the cows out to pasture, it was time for that coffee and pancakes. I felt like I was experiencing farming and did not stick around for the planting, tilling, praying for rain and the harvesting.

Hard work, many hours of it and a connection to the land that was comforting and astonishing for a city transplant. I respected my neighbor and understood his life.

I was a railroad track worker and knew hard work but I was working for someone else for wages and there were only wooden ties, spikes, fish plates and ballast to go around for 8 or 10 hours. A city job with commuting in my old 41 Ford. I miss it in some ways, mostly the wing windows when it was summer. I am sure air conditioning was in the works for cars but expensive as a choice. I was used to sweat and my old farm house had good screen windows too.

Now, fifty years later, I look at that old dairy farm as I drive by and the silo is empty, there are no cows getting muddy at the pond and the house chimney has a little pipe sticking out of it for the propane furnace. There are no lights visible in the small barn windows either.

A gigantic green tractor with all the implements scattered around is warming up and getting ready for work. Field work. There are gravity corn boxes and big corn cribs but no bulk trucks backed up to the barn.

Hundreds of acres of corn and soybean fields surround the old farm and all that vegetation gets trucked to a buyer nearby, usually called a dairy. No cows there either, just huge corn cribs and drive through scales for the trucks filled with glowing kernels of corn.

I feel the world has changed and it isn’t neighbors farming. They are cropping for money and not getting much pay for their labor after buying more land and very expensive equipment. A lot of older people I chat with notice this change in rural life too.

Everyone in the township works hard and some of them move south after they feel their work is done. Good beer and restaurant food and relaxation comes with the cost of leisure. Cruise boats are not Glastron fishing boats at the local lake. Fast food and leisure engenders visits to the clothing big box stores. The patio parties and ocean views do not have neighborhood charm. The good old days are replaced by the sirens call from the Odyssey of Homer.

It’s pretty good, Norman Peterson / Jack Gator