Satire and Humor

An Old Fashioned Cell Phone That needs no Contact Numbers

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was over a half century ago that I began contacting strangers and having meaningful conversations with them. It was safe as I was doing it with my ‘Ham’ radio with both Morse code and vocal techniques. It began in early Junior high when electronics took a hold of me and as a very shy and reclusive child I was attracted to actually talking to someone that was interesting and listened to me.

The spectrum behavior that drove a lot of those desires still lingers. Asperger syndrome. I have offended some people with my desire to communicate with them. ‘Complaints’ result very seldom as the public domain is wary to some and my efforts could be seen as intrusive to them. I recently have been made aware of these things and it first seemed puzzling. I was crossing boundaries and they were not on a 20 meter radio seeking communication!

I managed to randomly speak with foreign people from half way around the planet at rare times and all over our country if I planned the time, position of the frequencies that would ‘bounce’ off of the upper atmosphere. Usually from 20 to 10 meter wavelengths. Sun spots were an annoyance and disrupted the ‘skip’ from the heavy side layer. Radio signals would skip in a wave form all around the place when the situations were right. I remember the night when a radio operator in Russia answered my query for a ‘chat’ The signal was a repeated two letters “CQ” Seek you. Asking for someone far away you added the suffix DX which means distance in radio lingo. Lots of those acronyms still linger. 73’s means good bye and 88’s means love and kisses. Careful with that one! QSO means conversation. Cops still use some of these.

I became a fulfilled recluse in my bedroom and became bolder at speaking to total strangers.

Now, things with radio seem very old fashioned. The visions of families glued to their RCA console radios, listening intently to sports activities from Olympic competitions across the world. This has recently been illustrated in the movie ‘Boys in the Boat’

It was exciting and there were no distractions of costuming, personality announcers on the video streams and of course, advertising ‘breaks’ Television has reduced excitement of real time news with entertainment and advertising splash. Not to mention some of the obscene links on the webstream news links. Very distracting on not in real time either. Breaking news of scandal real or invented. Who knows?

You can find those old wood console radios in second hand stores. Sometimes the filaments will glow from the tubes on the chassis in the back filled with primitive electronics when you plug them in. Big capacitors and transformers. Older than the stuff on Apollo 1. If you can rig up a decent ‘long wire’ antenna, you will actually get reception! Those radios were the center piece in living rooms across the country and now, as antiques, they still are. Especially if they still work. The speaker(s) were pretty big (JBL 15”) and the sound is pretty decent too. Usually only AM radio is available. FM (frequency modulation) and SSB (single sideband) came later. Ask me to explain those terms if you want. Electronic geeks like hams, love to talk about just anything about their hobby. Most of it indecipherable by everyone else.

This training in talking to absolute strangers and has stayed with me and makes it natural for me to talk with check out clerks, people at shoe stores or just someone that smiles from the easy stroll we both are taking down the small town street. Everyone has an identity.

King David was a shepherd, musician, Warrior and King. He lost his identity in his fifties when he was up on his rooftop playing video games and stole a glance at a rooftop below. 1

The spectrum behavior that drove a lot of those desires still lingers. Asperger syndrome. However I have offended some people with my desire to communicate with them. ‘Complaints’ result very seldom but as the public domain is wary to some and my efforts could be seen as intrusive. I recently have been made aware of these things and it first seemed puzzling. I was crossing boundaries. Of course they were not on a 20 meter radio seeking communication!

There are memories of elementary teachers surprised at me and fellow students showing me their boundaries by various unpleasant behaviors. Nearsighted, I could not read a face either. Excuses really. Just the old saying “he didn’t have a clue”. Monty Python’s In search of the Holy Grail famous line: “She turned me into a Newt!…Well, I got better” I recently am getting better!

At church, I might ask someone if I can pray for them is usually pleasantly received . I am right where I have been led to be since I was 12 years old. What a coincidence or was it a plan all along? Who designs those plans is a good question too. Ask me sometime and we will have a good QSO.

It’s been pretty good. Norm Peterson K0JMV /Jack Gator

picture of ham radio shack courtesy of KB1SF 1. Jamie Winship Living Fearless

Warranty

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

We have all been there, done that and almost given up on it. I know I had a ten year warranty on that leaf-blower! Oh dear, I will look in my pile over on the desk, OK? Otherwise we can look on line. Could you get me the serial number? When did we get it and is there a model number on it?

Paperwork, endless claims sent to claims department where the phones are manned by well meaning people who don’t speak your language very well. An insurance claim has the same rigmarole with hidden clauses of abuse of product or subparagraph B. which states you have no claim if you are living in one of the following states: A state of exhaustion, bewilderment or confusion. Of course the warranty is a lifetime one, but whose lifetime is tit?

There is one warranty query that comes up often, throughout the world and the forms are quite direct and to the point. I wanted to check and make sure the warranty was OK so I inquired the maker. Name and model number. Norman Peterson, Human. Serial number, XY. Date warranty was issued, December 1970. Regular maintenance performed? Yes.

Amazingly, the warranty contract forms were issued about 1960 years ago and are still solid and in effect for anyone that ‘fills out the form’! You can find the warranty in books, on line or in small pamphlets often found in nightstands in hotel rooms. Your contract can start at any time. Payment for this all inclusive contract is to completely follow the maker’s instructions. Give up all thoughts and actions and give those things up to the manufacturer. He will gently give you directions on how to do so. This is not the fine print at the bottom, it has to be read over and over and there are supplemental readings that can help and assist you. There are also offices throughout the land where you can get encouragement and help.

The forms are more specific in the last chapters of the book which spell out the terms and conditions. They seem rather difficult the first time you read or hear about them. Complete and utter surrender of all assets, life holdings and your life itself! No other payment required.

You have probably guessed by now who honors the warranty. It’s pretty good actually, your make and model are warranted forever. Eternity. Actually your old model gets a complete overhaul and is made perfect when you move into the Arms of Jesus.

It will be good, feels right and the warranty is now eternal. If you understand what eternity is. The best I have read is a parable about pinwheels!

Spin one with all the colors and it will look white. Spin one with past, present and future and they will all look the same too. It’s a package deal. You also get to read a book that no one on earth has ever read! Every chapter is better than the one before.

I haven’t a clue. I’ve tried to understand a place with no time and filled with incredible beauty. And us. Would you care to view the warranty and guarantee? Let me know, I’ll help as best that I can.

It’s pretty good, Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

It’s so easy when you’re an Adult (1)

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Everyone, I mean everyone had to learn the basics when we were children. It’s obvious even to me. 81 trips around the sun now. Riding a bicycle for example. Did anyone climb on to a 10 speed racing bike and right away began strongly climbing hills with it? Of course not. So how did we get to that point of an understanding and skill to pull it off (starting with a smaller bike with training wheels of course) There had to be a teacher, an adult with knowledge and strength coaching, encouraging and helping us do so.

Another example: Writing and understanding language that is written. No one, not even Einstein, could do so right out of the gate of childhood. First huge flash cards perhaps, gentle words and skill as a teacher-parent to help. The the writing part (Gators handwriting could use some improvement) but as sloppy and ill formed the letters are, imitating the adults writing words to teach. Maybe even holding the child’s hand to help. It works, it’s the way things are done for every child ever born, even you.

As adults, we still need this training. Some call it school or primary, secondary, college an upward learning which still needs an adult with skill and love to ‘hold our hand’ to continue learning. As an example: I play stringed instruments, my son plays a percussion instrument. A side note; the piano is considered a percussion instrument! How did I and they learn how to do this? Another Adult who knows these things.

In my case, even bowing the violin while fingering the notes. Such off key and bumbled sounds caused myself to wince but so did my learning bicycle riding. At least I did not fall off the violin. ‘So easy when you know how’, is said. These are simple thoughts that I am just reminding you of reality, perhaps so obvious, we do not even have it cross our minds. Even potty training. Teaching is a skill not all of us have but potty training is a skill that all parents realize they must do. It’s one of the first classes along with eating spinach.

When we are all grown up adults (except some adults who never grow up), there is a class which I will call finding purpose and the reason we are alive to have one. It’s the big question which, amazingly is put on our ‘back book shelves’ until the inevitable urge to press in and get answers comes.

Many people do not want a complex answer, or one that looks to an older adult that has some answers. Often we ignore them as foolish and misled in their ‘professed wisdom along with other adults. Or their class on a ‘Higher Power’ which is a very beginning of purpose behind door 101. In the beginning class.

There even is a book which starts with those very words! Here is the the name of that book which many dismiss as ludicrous. The Bible. As I have stated in a previous column, It is a book that is written by and for adults and if you don’t want to read it, please don’t dismiss or talk trash about it. Read and understand it’s answer. The answer could be 42 1. That is the number of generations from Adam to Jesus.

There are also many other books which address the reason we are here and what to do about it and I have read many of them. A lot of them say we are here because of a random event that occurred long ago and we are also a result of randomness. These are not books made by and for adults to read. They are a child’s stories that are fun to read. Like most really intriguing fiction that engages our imagination. Many of them tell us there is no purpose to life except to enjoy it and die wealthy. How comforting and absurd.

The Bible tells us the God of all, created us just to give us the choice of loving Him or not. Love cannot exist without us choosing to love. We question the Bible, some dismiss it, some read and understand it. Akin to a Parent that shows us why we are here, and how we got here. God is that Parent and we are His children. At first reading it can be challenging. That’s the best part! You will read it over again. You can start anywhere in it. This book tells us the real meaning of life and why we are living. An old book, written by many authors, and they all have the same subject and the same Hero. It’s pretty good. (To be continued ) Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

1. deep thought computer from Douglas Adams hitchhikers guide to the galaxy.

This Sparrow is an Rare Entry in My Bird Book

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There is was, at the debris pile on the ground. The shells and some whole black sunflower seeds fall there from the feeder above on a rope line. It’s easy to fill with pulleys and latches on the feeder when we lower it down. The woodpeckers have their own cage of suet nearby.

The whole works is visible from the floor to ceiling windows near the kitchen table. It is in the kitchen but all meals are served there. We tried putting the table in the parlor by the wood stove but that was ridiculous. The food is always prepared in the big kitchen!

So one morning over coffee and eggs we saw the scavengers chowing down on the seed shells on the ground and the population diminished by one and after flying away, the birds came back from their safe perches in the lilac bush/tree. After all, one of their kind was already back and seemed to be satisfied with the menu.

Squirrels, espeically the red ones, were dispatched from the corner of the house with a zeroed in 22 and that worked well. The red ones are the corner gang members that hang out in the wood shed and are mischievous and easily seen with their gang colors. Browns and blacks avoid them.

Julie is getting pretty good with the 22 and when humor is needed I mention to casual visitors she likes to kill just for entertainment. She is pretty safe too. When the nasty squirrels run up one of the big black walnut trees, whe switches to the .410. Even though we have 30 acres and are in a perfect valley, the 22 round can travel a long ways if the shot is missed.

The story I tell Keeps the unwanted salesmen not apt to return. No doubt there is scuttlebutt with the men who approach with good intentions but can be distracting when we engage them in polite conversations about their stances that differ somewhat about our faith. It’s pretty good. Norm / Jack Gator

with thanks to Mitch Teemley for the rare photo

Surrounded by Plant Life

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Our sumptuous original home surrounded indeed by incredible and astounding life. Our home and delight everywhere. A garden of plenty and loved,

Then the garden began to grow other other things. Besides the rows of tasty vegetables, there was the tenderloins of wandering animals. It was refereed to as a garden of delight and a sign says Garden of Eatin’ right on a bench in the middle of the garden

But then unknown neighbors came drifting in, just visiting but extending their brief visits. There were thorny things that had the audacity to spring up with nice flowers with thorns that made them painful to face and even harder to show the gate to. Another tenacious weed family that overstayed their welcome. The worst was the Pampas family. They came so well dressed, nice and tall and promised to give beauty. A pretty family that never got taller than their kids and they stuck together, all year. We noticed they liked to huddle together and never let any other plants in.

Wow, on our land! Well dressed but smarmy. Little by little they began a commune and made a small settlement that was a circular lodge that was closed to outsiders. The circle got bigger every year and soon took over the back lawn.

We gave them a stern notice “no more” and removed the latest arrivals somewhat forcibly, it made no difference. Green tuxedos that our visitors commented of the beauty and summitry of. The Pampas family had no intentions of leaving moving. Somewhere, even into the woods nearby was strongly tried by us.

Desperate, we hired a daredevil pilot to fly his helicopter upside down over their settlement. What a mess to clean up! We also hired a relative, he is a rake at heart, but works hard when he comes out of the shack he lives in. We helped him focus and it seemed the Pampas tribe was gone for good.

You have met them or seen their settlements. A word of advice, be polite but firm and tell their weedy well dressed relatives they are not welcome, even as a visitor. DO not let them plant their roots in your space! No matter how well dressed and polite they are, show them the door.

Call us if things get bad and we will come by with our rakish uncle and upside down Pompous the Pilot (he is related and somewhat shows his greedy origins but knows the score. He’s not cheap, an under the table payoff is needed, but he, as stated, is always on the downside of history and not thought of well. Get rid of the pompous ones and their relatives from Sanhedrin.

contact their money man, Just Scardalot Good luck to you neighbor.

Norm/Jack

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

Featured

Motorcycle Pilgrimage The beginning chapter 1

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment


The trip was instantly planned with my new friend Bruce, just back from ‘Nam’ and anxious for safer adventures. I was fairly fresh from overseas as well, with Comservron 6 and several tours in the Mediterranean and the six day war with Russia and Egypt. We were on the Israeli side. It was dicey over there too. Lot’s of military muscle being deployed. Older Navy people know the nomenclature. It seemed our nation was muddled up in several wars. Fubar was the term. Bruce and I knew the score, or we thought we did. I was better off at sea. Bruce had just recovered from the Jungle and I had just recovered from a shipmate trying to kill me. We were both suffering from PTSD and it felt so good to just go on our own. It was the summer of love and we needed some of that whatever it was, it sounded good to us.

Older motorcycles and younger riders seemed just the solution of affordable transportation.

We had an easy itinerary: Route 66 to California. Just head south and take a right. Back in the days of paper maps and freedom to improvise and walk the line between a long trip and danger. I sold my Austin Healey Sprite and Bruce had his Chevy Bel-Aire to trade for the bikes. I was offered a Matchless 500 single cylinder. I chose an Indian-Enfield 500 twin instead. Bruce got a BMW 500. The offer to me was a Matchless single cylinder. I declined that one for a long trip. It was like riding a vibrating pogo stick.



Off they went, both bikes with ‘sissy bars’ and their guitars strapped on behind us upright and some luggage and a camping tent. Money and a hunger for vistas unseen.

Good weather and full tanks and some spare parts, we left to head south first and catch 66 down by the Oklahoma panhandle. Camping was first choice and other than that, we didn’t have a clue about what was ahead. Just in our early twenties and now free to make our own travel choices.

Bruce had made some friends when he got back from China Beach. Those friends of his lived in ‘the city’ out west and that was good enough a destination as any. Money was tight. First adventure was in Omaha. Somehow we met a group of hippies, and were embraced as sojourners to the headquarters of the love movement; San Francisco.

The hippies took us to their home, right across the street from the big race track, Aksarben, (that odd name is Nebraska backwards). Beds available and very starry eyed girls seemed a pretty good place to stop over. Schedule? There wasn’t any and that allowed leeway. Waking up the next morning, both of us were greeted with a breakfast treat of a small pill. Guaranteed to be an interesting experience. The only thing I remember was being taken to Arby’s and trying to order food. The colorful mushrooms growing out of the counter mans chef’s hat got in the way of comprehending things. ‘Have you ever been experienced?’ went the song of the times.
A quick goodbye and we were back on the road for adventures that seemed to be working out pretty good, so far.

On down the road to Kansas and an uneventful ride until we stopped in Liberal. Foolishly, but with great enjoyment, we gave rides to more starry eyed and bored young girls on our bikes; exotic transportation. the young men on the sidewalk gave squinty eyed stares, the Clint Eastwood trouble for you look. We thought as veterans of two different wars, we deserved good attentions from everyone. We were not wearing our old uniforms.

It was great fun until the town’s police chief approached us and asked if we would like to stay overnight in the town jail! At first thought we wondered what we did wrong that would incur incarceration. The chief stated: “ It would be safer in my jail for you both.”


The doors to the cells only open one way and we declined the offer. that single officer in town told them: “Them boys is a comin’ for you tonight at your camp site”. “Oh. Well, we’ll take our chances chief , thanks for the offer.” was our reply.

The local young toughs came after them later that night.. (to be continued in Motorcycle pilgrimage series)

Junk Drawer

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It is a missed opportunity for a Game Show! “ I am a plumber, what’s in my junk drawer in the kitchen?” Easy one to start with rubber drain plugs, Teflon pipe tape on a roll, Monkey wrench etc.

“I am a philosophy professor and writer, what’s in my junk drawer?” Used dialectic cliff’s notes, puns to cause groans during a debate. Disarming platitudes, Names of noted Greek philosophers, half full glasses of water.

“ I am an atheist and my wife is a deist, what’s in our junk drawer? Slightly tarnished valuable shelf gods of antiquity, pocket tracts of Richard Dawkins, various colors of silly putty for repairs to the idols and a small bible with “don’t panic” taped on the cover.

Our junk drawer is good to use as a collectible at the Smithsonian as Americana sculpture. The Norman Rockwell of junk drawers. It would be a hands-on installation starting out with a drawer that was sticky and had a screwdriver at the top that prevents it from opening.

Compartments that have several paper clips and stamps on a roll intertwined. Small flashlights that don’t and are empty of AAAA batteries.

I can give you an absurd compendium but I tire of trying open it and then find a small set of pliers that I wanted last week. There is a small Phillips screwdriver in there that I needed to disassemble a worthless scanner in there that we inherited. Being a ham operator it was irresistible to try and get it to work. The junk drawer revealed it on the bottom in the back of course. Stuck under a large pencil sharpener.

I recycled the old scanner because the batteries in it came from a pyramid excavation and I recycled it before the charger caused a melt down. There is a gap in King Tuts hand which the ancient scanner would fit. I saw that in Washington’s Smithsonian where his body is on show. Who can refute that? Another conspiracy story akin to the fake moon landings. I have made an offer for the used Moon rover but the shipping was out of this world.

Collectibles are an American tradition along with second hand stores. I can do away with the humorous and self sarcasm but there is a collectible that is often found in many homes and it is bound with old leather sometimes and dates back to the family for generations. A book written in 1611. The originals are priceless and can still be read! The King James Bible. The only thing in my junk drawer is an old Yad from Israel for reading such books. A pointer used to read scrolls of the words of wise antiquity.

If I just dig it out of the drawer, I know it has to be in there! I did find an old 5 shekel coin once and gave it away but I don’t think I gave away the Yad, Or did I?

I know it’s old and most of those sorts of things are pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe.

It’s Not Right, But…

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

my brother Bryan