Faithful lovers of Music

What a gift to have met and then be offered friendship with the beautiful ones. Living in the Forty Acres of musicians neighborhood, Norm found himself with room mates that still astonish him decades later.

Bill Hinkley and Judy Larson took me under their wing and taught me well about music and love. The romance of Kismet. Poets with guitars, a fiddle and a mandolin, Coleridge and Tennyson did not anticipate these two.

A gentleness with much laughter and brilliance. Together they astonished people coast to coast. The little coffee houses, the folk music cafe’s. Platforms and postage stamp stages. It was the same show every time. The musical score was different from place to place, but the humor and duet solidity was always the same. They got invited back all the time. It was a dance with romance that never grew old, for all of us and them too.

I was invited along on a road trip with them, way back in the early 70’s. That’s a bit over 50 years ago in the last century if you like doing math while reading. Small town colleges were a significant place to perform on the trip. From Indiana to Pennsylvania and then way up in northern New York state to finish off. Four of us in the old four door. Myself, Mike Cass on dobro and pedal steel and Bill and Judy. The trunk had a few small packs of personal “stage clothing” (no cowboy hats) and a few changes of underwear. The rest of the trunk was instrument cases lined up. Fender to fender with guitars, mandolins, a dobro, several fiddles and a pedal steel.

We ate at Campus’ lunchrooms (Wittenberg in Ohio was the best) and made do with sleeping quarters. Often the sleeping bags were used on the living room floors of the friendly families that arranged the bookings. No extra money for a motel. Airbub was not even a concept and hotels had good water pressure with room costs to match.

It was a grand time and music poured out like anointed oil upon this rag-tag quartet. Gas was cheap and the car didn’t use any oil either. There were tips from impromptu sidewalk venues and generous amounts of coffee and sandwiches from club owners. We ate well and for the most part, played well. Plenty of obscure folk and country blues songs that resonated with us and the young folks that go to those sorts of places.

When Bill was dying at the VA (he was fluent in Japanese. Hush hush military stuff) I stood on his right and Jim Tordoff, an excellent banjo player, stood on his left. We prayed and told him, if it works this way, we would like him to meet us when it’s our turn. Meet us with that Lloyd Loar Gibson with gold tuners.

We can then go worship the risen Lord forever together. Kiss the son indeed. We loved Bill and Judy, still do. It’s pretty good.

Norman Peterson / Jack Gator,

Warranty

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

Railroad Wreckage

I lost half of my seniority with the railroad but it was worth it to transfer up to NW Wisconsin. Commuting to my job on the Dinky Town railroad section was getting a little dreary when I moved ‘up north’ to a small house with 30 acres. Driving every morning with my blue 1947 Ford coupe to Minneapolis was the cost of the veteran’s loan approval. Of course, getting the loan in the beginning was harder than the drive to pay it off.

The paperwork alone helped heat my new house in the wood stove that I had little experience to run. The better words would be ‘no experience.’ I bought a chain saw, a bicycle and a splitting maul from my old friends hardware store on the West Bank in Minneapolis. I also had an old GM pickup to haul the firewood from the state forest about 15 miles north of my new digs. I had that pickup out in California and lived in a little house I built on it. I gave the little house to a friend for his child’s playhouse.

Of course, at that early time [1975] there was not much commuter traffic as the concept of commuting had not taken hold. That was a good thing as Led headlights had not taken hold nor been invented either. Being blinded by a new pickup these days with lights that illuminate about twenty miles of road is now somewhat of a hindrance to a long drive.

At those early times the drive was dreary and dangerous too asI had to keep a wing window open for fresh air to keep the CO gas out. Tiring it was to drive a long way with an exhaust leak. It seems white tailed deer had not been invented yet either, at least the ones that commuted across highways. However, back then, cars weighed a lot and had real bumpers. Sometimes you knew when you hit one. my job was on the section at DinkyTown, right across the river from my old neighborhood, The West Bank.

So, pulling into the section yard and perhaps being called to do some ‘back breaking’ jobs outside of the section. Derailments, road crossings and laying ribbon rail were some outside jobs. The section would survive a few days without continuous maintenance. myself and big Leroy were called out to put in the dome spikes on crossings. They were about two feet long and had to be pounded through the crossing planks down into the heavy black ties beneath. Swinging those 16 pound malls was a young man’s task. The spikes would rotate going down and had teeth that would engage the plank at the last swing. The deterioration to L4 and L5 began then. Leroy was well over six foot seven and weighed around 250 or so.

When I transferred up to the ‘farm’ with it’s pump jack well and log barn I was green to the isolated rural life. A few new friends I met at the local watering holes helped me adapt. Wood burning stoves and chimney rebuilding it was made doable with these other young men who grew up working the farms. It was quiet and the only link to the outside world was the black wall phone by the sink and a new princess phone next to the wall in my bedroom. The phone was out of reach unless I was in bed.

I got transferred to a section gang closer by over in Minnesota and gained respect with my strength and accuracy of work. The road master would call for me to put the pin into a switch actuator while he held the pin at the two holes. “Get Norm up here” I never missed with the spike mall, never. That back damage was still lurking but not complaining much yet. It was good work and respected by the locals. They knew strength from farm work. In spite of all the good camaraderie with my new crew, I was transferred to another section, closer to home.

When I showed up, the foreman immediately insulted me about my pony tail and gave me a job in the yard that was hard, demeaning and unpleasant. It involved jumping from a ladder into grain cars to sweep them our of grain dust. Just punishment for being different, an old hippie from those years of the San Francisco days. I found out later that no one ever did that sweeping job.

This was the last straw for my back. At home after work, I suddenly could not get up from a sitting position on the porcelain throne and collapsed in agony on the floor. I could crawl but standing was impossible. It was also impossible to call for help. “The first day and night was the worst. The second day and night was the worst too. After that and no water, I began to go into a bit of a decline”. 1.

The cat water bowl helped a little and eventually I listened to another five words from the Lord for a way out of death.

I pulled all the clothes out of the lowest dresser drawers and the bed sheets and blankets and made a ramp I could roll up into the bed. Grabbing the phone next to the wall up there I then called for help, I do not recall any more than waking at the hospital and being somewhat free of pain. Drugs. I remembered the addiction to heroin I had and was a bit concerned about this but the lack of pain was OK.

( The first five word rescue was audible and I wrote that story in Motorcycle Diary 5)

Hot and cold packs, traction and hospital food (motivator) did it’s work and I could walk again and the railroad days were over for good .The railroad docked me pay for not showing up for work and then granted me a few months to recover. I had to get a lawyer to sue for the jumping order and consequences.

I thank the Lord for saving my life. Again. It’s pretty good.

Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

1.. Douglas Adams Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy

Your Incredible Worth

There is a value that was known to be true on an old guitar that I own. I figured it was worth at least what I paid for it, perhaps even more due to inflation. I bought it fresh out of the Navy after another one, just like it, was lost in shipping. It was being shipped to my duty station overseas, not too complicated. Most likely very tempting to someone in the Mediterranean post office I thought. As far as anyone knows, it was never found. Well, it was found by someone. Finders keepers.

After discharge, I went to Schmidt music in downtown Minneapolis where I had it shipped from and they offered a replacement! “I’ll take that one there on display” I have had it since 1967 and recently wondered what it was worth. I paid four hundred dollars for it. Now it is worth twenty thousand or more. Not for sale. It sounds quite nice and powerful. It’s a big Martin D-28, made of Brazilian Rosewood which wood is illegal to possess if you come back into customs. Playing it overseas might be a bit dicey.

So, a pleasant surprise for my insurance agent. I do not wish to sell it as it sounds perfect and it has a lot of history for me. Even down to the small ash burn on the face from decades ago. It needed now needed a little work, but the Martin company warranties it for life to the original owner. Nice feature. The bridge was warped and coming up and the pick guard was warping as well. Free fix. Labor and parts. New strings were needed after the repairs. Total bill was little over ten bucks.

Not long ago, another thing was always seen by me as almost worthless and recently I found it was worth more than I could even imagine. I then sold it to my new best friend and incredibly, He told me I may use it as long as I wished! Not only that, but He paid a price to me that was more than I can even bear to think about or understand fully.

My friend had been killed a while back and left this purchase as a memento to me to remind me of it’s worth. It is in writing and clear as the night sky on a moonlit and cloudless evening. Oh yes, my friend is still around. He was dead for three days and came back to life! Amazing, impossible, but true! A miracle. you may know whom I am writing about if you have had the guarantee offered to you. Take Him up on it, it’s never too late.

The ‘object’ discovered by me that suddenly was revealed to me as precious and warrantied forever. It’ s myself. The only stipulation to the warranty is that I am required to give myself to my friend, all of me even my thoughts and actions. All of them. Past and present. A lot of bad ones. Debts to my friends Father. My friend’s Dad has seen all of those things and His son Jesus, offers to pay if I ask Him to.

All of me given freely, and in a similar way my wonderful friend did the same thing before I met him. Impossible, and yet true. Hundreds of people saw that happen. He gave it all away. Just for me and you. My soul is a bit warped too and can be repaired as my builder gives a lifetime warranty It is written in a book that I read over and over to learn more about Jesus that did not have anything to be forgiven of by His Father. A perfect Son that offers His life for ours. Sort of a ransom type of thing.

In that book, the contract, the blood covenant to me is clearly revealed. What a warranty and testament! So I will see My friend again when I die and He brings me to live with Him, forever. It’s an incredible warranty! Perhaps you don’t know who He is. I will introduce you to Him if you wish. If you already know Him, I would really like to chat with you. If you don’t know Him, same offer. Always a choice of ours to make friends and love Him and his perfect ‘repairs’ . Most likely I will get to play and sing with a ‘big band’ of other musicians on a dance floor made of flaming glass! It’s pretty good.

Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

Lectio Devina

I was reading an introduction to a nice book that was a gift and came across that word, Lectio Devina. [to practice what you read and understand]. Wisdom and truth given by Christ not just for realizing truth, given as life paths to be more like Him.

Just the other day, I was working on putting new handles on a wheel barrow. Quite a few carriage bolts and nuts involved in the process. It was going pretty well, I managed to put them all in order and even get some new ones to replace the rusted ones. I put the handles on after a lengthily process of removing the old ones. Putting needle nose vice grips on the old rusty bolts and keeping them from spinning the rusty carriage bolt tops. The barrow itself is rather rusty and the holes weak. It went pretty good nonetheless.

Finally, putting the new wooden handles in place, I found the holes drilled in them did not correspond with the old handles! The hardware person assured me that all those handles were the same for every application. They weren’t. I had to drill out two of them that were off by 20mm. . Finding the drill bit in my somewhat disorganized tool drawer by size and then carefully marking the place to drill with a center punch, I managed to make the correct holes.

The process started over again the this time, it worked until it became time to mount the wheel. Those holes did not work and the mounting is tricky to start with. The mounts have to swivel a little to accommodate the angles and those holes were off as well. I started to loose patience and pulled up the wheel, dropping the shims and the sliding mounts all at once onto the floor and preceded to start throwing things around. Tools and parts. Julie was there by then and was ‘disappointed’ in my behavior. I Felt justified in my frustration and she observed, I was not acting as I have written about, talked about, even advised on this behavior problem.

We were both upset, to put it mildly, and after lying on the grass outside the shop, I began the process of first beating myself up about my behavior and then had enough sense to go out to my spot in the middle of our garden and speak to our Lord about this pattern of frustration. Gently He reminded me to put into my life the things that I quote from Scripture to others. It was humbling and began a healing in me. The next morning I began reading a recent book that was a gift and found the perfect instructions to follow. Lectio Devina. [Practice what you read and preach].

Old words from Latin that are relevant right here, right now. There are many of us that believe wisdom is for us to speak and write about and be hot shot scholars that know many things about scripture.

Behaviors, attitudes and good things our Lord tells us about every day. Love your neighbors, be generous, be kind and always listen to that still, small voice in our spirit. I have to die to my own excuses, perceived righteous behaviors and judgment of others. The hardest one for me seems to be my judgment of myself that is the wrong way to go about changing my behavior.

Sound familiar? Take this to heart as I have revealed a weakness of my own. Let this truth go deep and stir up our minds and all our behavior. Understanding that all of us need to realize that faith means more than belief. I can understand how to use tools, but the one tool I am still learning to use better is the spirit of our Lord.

There is no condemnation in Christ Jesus. He is the judge of all things, but he does not condemn. After all, the thief on the cross simply said, “remember me when you come into your Kingdom” Jesus knew what the man said. I look ahead to meeting that man as well. He was at his last breath but knew the Lord and forgiveness for his life and sins.

How it applies to me? I have more time before my last breath. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

With thanks to Matt Meher composer, for his singing truth and beauty recordings while I write

Flannel Graph Jesus

We are made in his image. We breath in every breath Twenty five Sextillion molecules which get fed into sixty thousand miles of veins, arteries and capillaries. And the 1+1+1 = 1 made it all within us. As far as we can see into the universe. It is now seen as at least 93 billion light Years long or wide, whatever you want to try and imagine as impossible to comprehend.

God spoke it to existence by the way. How big or small is the Lord of creation?

I read a lot and some things stick a bit longer in me such as I have mentioned, meditating on simple things such as “who are you Lord and who am I praying to?” 1. I have also read about a church that Frederic Buechner searched for. He visited them all nearby. Lutheran, Methodist, Catholic, Presbyterian, New age, Old age and all the rest. He finally settled on one called Smokey Mary’s.

It was a large cathedral type with constant incense burning and smelled like Christmas. At the stage or platform as it is called, were the leaders and priests/clergy dressed in elaborate ways that seemed as the Micado was in production. There was chanting in Latin or perhaps Russian. It seems to me Frederic was seeking Holiness, mystery and something incomprehensible to him. It worked and the mystery was there. I would like to visit there too. “Never loose a Holy curiosity” 2.

No flannel graph Bibles to be seen. Otherworldly approaches to everything of religion and faith in an incomprehensible worship of the God of creation. A good start. There was no preaching with words that we have grown used to and even doze a bit thinking about Sunday dinner. Sin, Transfiguration, repentance and such. We just breeze by listening sometimes and once again, try to imagine what God meant when he stated we were made in their image.

I wear flannel shirts sometimes. I could be stuck to a graph in two dimensional purgatory for all I know. I heard His voice once, saved my life but I did not see Him or a burning bush either. I know I have been blessed beyond my comprehension many times and the only answer to that is my purpose is to tell everyone I can about the love of God.

What does He look like we all wonder. I stood and stared at the ceiling of the Sistine chapel and the finger of God reaching towards Adam. It worked as an image for a while. The best that Michelangelo could come up with. Anthropomorphic, to keep us all a little calmer when thinking of a million galaxies and it’s creation. By one word. A planet in the unfashionable spiral arm of the Milky Way. Orbiting a yellow dwarf star at 161,000 miles per hour. Every second our star burns 4 million tons of matter into fusion energy (E=MC2) Oh yes, we spin at 1,000 mph. What a creation. Just for us, perfect except for the north and south poles. Hard to live there.

1. Frederic Beuchner Also with many thanks to Henri Nouwen, Mark Batterson, and Tycho Brahe

2. Albert Einstein

It’s pretty good. Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

Chief Cornerstone Communication

It was early afternoon, it was below zero and I was headed down to the wood shed with the empty wheelbarrow for yet another load of ‘all nighters’ if I could find some among the rank.

Suddenly, I felt His presence again. Unexpected, not a result of praying or listening or reading particularly. I felt just for a moment something was going to happen to me, perhaps unpleasant and God was about ready to soften the event with a bit of a heads up. I thought it was the end. I began silently singing cornerstone where I am firm with no scheme of man could pluck me from His hand. I was shaky but ready Lord. Very clearly Jesus asked: “Who is condemning you?”

He just began talking to me and showing clearly that the anger and fear were totally my own doing. Simply put that I did not have to condemn myself for failures with relationships. With All the family. All of them along with close friends

Listen, ask questions and above all, don’t retreat into yourself feeling once again everyone, is pointing their finger at you” They love you, I love you, I love how you write about me. Reveal your heart as I am teaching you to do so in your writing. Now it is time to open that door you have been longing to have swing open. Let them in so you can really see them the way I do!” 1.

I am worthy! they are worthy! The only one who can do any condemnation is me! Why do I do that?

An old habit, decision, who knows. My life has been filled with decisions made to myself from the world and in doing so, the glass door that leads into my heart has the sign ‘Closed’ visible from out side. Protection that I thought was needed! Open heart indeed! Many betrayals is the worst feeling of all. “How can I make this right?” this is the way to begin. Ask a good, heartfelt question.

Betrayed or the betrayer. To be dealt with in a similar fashion. Pursuing rectitude in all directions. The really hard stuff we know is our lot in the world. Always lurking around corners for all of us. The sudden intake of breath and the surprise heartbeat increase. Realization of a boatload of bad decisions and coming to a conclusion that there is no end to it and nothing that can be done about it.

Beyond depressing. Your last meal of love already finished and all that needs doing is a little washing up. Stack the cups of anger and defeat so they can be used once more. Open the cupboard of your heart once again that is stacked with these cups of wrath.

“Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen” 2. The blues from the one who knew these things.

Upon finishing up the wood stacking on the porch, I came inside and Julie handed me a short post on Valentines day with a beautiful healing message on healing the fear of rejection. It had come into her computer in-box when I was out, doing the wood and being spoken to and comforted by the Lord. I was ready for that. Perhaps the first time in my life. Eager to learn, eager to heal and be healed. It’s pretty good.

Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

1. Chief Cornerstone 2. Louis Armstrong

A Life with the beauty of Friendship

It was always there. A loss, not even known for what it was. An emptiness that fell upon every thing that I experienced through my life. Empty of love and lost it when I was a child. I weep now when I realize what I felt that time when the emptiness took hold of me. I always thought it was abandonment. A memory that diffused relationship with everyone.

I tried to cope with that memory, not even aware I was doing that. Clever words spoken and written. There were many times when that empty feeling would diminish and it was always the same thing. Smiles and words that promise embracing mutual friendship. I needed to forgive the people that it seemed I was abandoned by. My family did not know me nor did I know them. Relatives that should have known those things too. Inherited behavior, perhaps cultural.

Music was soothing then and a smile inside at a moments of beauty got me hooked into that beauty. Songs and orchestral creations still work well. I remember some of those songs. that I played. the phrases of praise momentarily fill the emptiness. ”I loved what you did” or sometimes just a few notes spoken of. It always makes the emptiness fade. I still crave approval and contact. Applause was nice but fleeting, Playing Ashokan Farewell on the violin perfectly, without an accompanist on guitar for example. Fulfilling for a moment. List, Chopin and Beethoven are soothing time and again. A perfect den of pleasure, even listening while driving alone.

It was a coldness in my very core that drove me to play well, and now, to write well. A romantic spirit. Those moments are when the emptiness would back off. Approval and love of just me. I did not know why those times of contact and praise satisfy. It seems selfish to enjoy a secret pleasure in being alone.

Isn’t it like that for everyone? Seeking smiles and laughter from people and amazingly, an interest in us that might be a friend! There are few friends that I can contact anytime for their care and seeing me and they for what we are. An empty man, perhaps like they are. Leaning on one another like an unmovable roof truss. Solid wood. With knot holes and defects but Oak. A trust able to withstand bad storms.

I was overcome with this angst, self pity really this afternoon. A Sunday where the message hit home. You know the quote that was sung by the Byrds. There is a time for grieving and time for joy in Ecclesiastes wisdom.

Many of them are Gone now from the inevitable event we all must experience. They died. How inconvenient of them to do so. I still love them dearly and I know they still do. Friendship and love is eternal. I lean on Jesus often when desperate.

Most of those friends were the kind we all need. A phone call or even showing up without calling, just showing up. Not even a hint of inconvenience from the open door. You were in the neighborhood? That’s over a hundred mile trip! Tell me what’s going on! “I felt that you need encouragement and a good hug so I dropped by”

The day of the wall phone is gone. Now we have Facebook and posts telling us what’s right with us. All neat and clean without any tears or embraces of understanding. Isaac Asimov’s robots now have cell phones and good internet. We edit conversations akin to open book exams.

The last two years of isolation and fear have reduced our civilization to rubble. No smiles seen from many. The old game of keep away. The deadly bat flu made it fearful to come near and we were so much poorer, even crippled by it. We all lost, the stats and graphs and zoom meetings were just party favors for the worthless messages of untimely death. It’s always untimely for everyone. covid left but it left damaged people. Masks are now in our favorite aisles when we shop. No one smiles as with masking, smiles are not visible.

I an not alone in my quest now. The world needs good friends and we must learn again how to do it. Smiles. Waving from the mailbox at lake people seen in season. I have noticed that a slight smile and a nod are beginning to make a difference. Laughter rings out as bells from the steeple.

Come. Gather together and be thankful for blessings and deliverance from evil. Look upon the world as a small child’s smile at an adoring adult. It opens our hearts as we look upon our world. Not through rose colored glasses but with clear vision. We take off the disguise of indifference and reveal ourselves and see them.

This is who we were created to be. I’m not afraid of you. It’s civilization 101. I have been hiding for most of my life and I have began to offer myself to my best friend who is nearby. Close as my heart beats in synchrony with His. Asleep while I am dreaming, He tells me stories of romance and adventure.

The creator of us all, different and beautiful. Loved and embraced as we listen and the world becomes pleasant and we enter into the joy of the Lord. Well done good and faithful. Well done.

It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator Photo taken from our east porch

With thanks to Frederic Buechner and Henri Nouwen

Working in the Cold

Up here in the north, working outside without gloves, can be unpleasant. Not often, but it also can lead to frostbite. A handful of times, I had to work on cars and trucks outside our shop in the winter because the shop was already full of work. Emergency operations. Misfires, leaks and such leading to inability to get to work or school. Not much fun to replace sensors or wiring when it is below zero.

After the work was done, blowing on my cupped hands helped a little while I got back into the warm shop. I began thinking about why I got angry about such things. Why my spirit was feeling low. I was cold in my mind and not very kind in thought, even about myself. I recently have been training my immediate language responses to distressing situations. Using Latin and Greek.

Styx and Hades for example. Chronos. And others. I am making some progress. You know the drill. Easy to resort to old habits that are unpleasant to hear. Get away from me Athena and Eros.

Having something going immediately into me that would calm my mind and spirit. Calm, almost humorous come forth. Pleasing and disabling anger completely. A wind warming my spirit, blowing through. Pleasantly and completely felt. The new song and breath of God, as He cups me in His hands that I welcome with relief and joy. It worked! I did not curse you Lord, I dismissed the anger by just using the useless names of shelf gods that do not care if they are praised or cursed. Just words of humor really.

I am not saying anger is humorous but relief from it quickly is. Memory can be very useful and assisted by the third person of the Holy Trinity, is downright pleasant. I always wondered why Jesus prayed to the Father. Jesus the begotten Son who was with God and is God (at the start of time as John, the one Jesus Loved wrote). Who is God and who do I pray to when I pray? 1.

Good thoughts from an Abbot of Genesee to meditate on. How do I pray and how do they answer me? The holy spirit is the voice and guide in me. Welcome Him in and you get all three of them on an eternal party line. Meditate on that if you and I will and the advice from that wise Monk that tells me if I get confused about this, “just read Newsweek to relax”

It works. Just listen or read the latest news about riots, dissent and violence and then get back to chatting with the Lord (what do I mean when I say ‘Lord’?) and get that breath and wind that calms and warms our heart and spirit. Amazed once again by His gift of joy. “May He turn His face towards you and give you peace”. Shalom Shalom.

Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

  1. Henri Knouwen

Forty Years of Touring

A musical career that started around 1962 when I hung around with a four piece right out of high school. The Fables. We lived right down the block from The Trash Men and it seemed like a good path to follow. I just played bongos at that time even though keys were my strength. The Trash Men’s big hit was ‘The bird is the word’

In basic training, San Diego, I joined the Blue jackets Choir and marched and sang with them all through basic. I then taught radio at the A school in San Diego. Sort of musical with morse code. One has to have a certain ‘swing’ and it is called ‘ A good fist’.

Next I was fresh out of the service and played at the Minneapolis YMCA for a youth gathering a few times a week. That time with my brand new Martin D-28 doing folk music. Peter Paul and Mary, Bob Dylan, Joan Baez songs. Got engaged for a brief time too! I was disengaged abruptly due to the Guthrie Theater. Another story.

Soon afterwards I met a 12 string guitar player and toured to the west coast and back. We were calling ourselves “Actual Mexicans” and I wound up living in my truck out in the bay area and playing on the street. Mostly in front of my favorite Safeway grocery store.

Back in Minneapolis I did a few folk gigs on the West Bank at the Riverside Cafe and then toured with Hinkley and Larsen and Mike Cass through the upper Midwest and up the east coast to NY state. We played obscure tunes, some of them a bit risque. Bob Frank, Fraser and DeBolt, and homemade ones. Mostly blues and folk style.

In the famous jams with Peter Ostrushko, Stephan Grapelli and the Grateful Dead. I was offered a guitar job by Jerry Garcia. He liked my odd rhythm chops. The bay area summer of love bands are all dead, heroin. I declined his surprising and tempting offer. Read Motorcycle Pilgrimage 4 and 5 for more details

Off to live in Wisconsin on 30 acres and began playing with a country Western band, Dandelion Wine. Singing classics and playing guitar and fiddle. Bars, clubs, dances and weddings. It was 1976 when I moved to Trade Lake.

Years afterwards with that little farm and a delightful family I toured with Duck for the Oyster, a square dance band for years and even played in my own wedding with Bill Hinkley, Kevin McMullin, and Mary Dushane with our four fiddles for the wedding march. Fantastic wedding in Lewis, Wisconsin, at Seven Pines lodge where Julie and I worked serving meals and acting in mystery dinners. Similar to Colonel Mustard in the parlor with the candlestick sort of mysteries. Guests loved it.

I was on our families worship team, Well Spring and we went and played on the National Mall, sang at Times Square church, Madison, Milwaukee, Superior, and local church events as well as in our own created house of prayer in Frederic for four years every Thursday night.

There was a terrific guitar player, Jeff Warren, I played with at a local church, New life, for several years. Fiddle, Viola and Mandolin with him. And that was about it. I play a little at home and try to keep my ears and fingers working and adding our Cabinet grand to worship in our living room. That’s it for now as I am aging a bit after Otto Uno times around the sun.

I sing along with songs from my PC right next the piano and am satisfied with 40 years of touring. I now work for Eagle Brook Church in Video production and it is satisfying. Often I wonder why I do not get asked to play with some of the groups that I still come in contact with, impromptu gigs as well as posted ones in local coffee houses and the small town newspaper nearby. Protection from my Father. There is no room for old folk musicians that thrived on Bologna sandwiches, beer and applause. Good.

I believe it is the Lord and his Holy paint caravan showing me once again, A fool on the road to redemption (title of my upcoming book)1stprinting 1stbook for sale for $25,000 printing costs and editing costs

As usual, It’s pretty good. Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

Photo of Bill and Judy with thanks to The Prairie Home Companion

Photo below of Bruce Berglund, founder of Actual Mexicans band and my best friend