A very pleasant late afternoon driving home. Riding in the Gator sedan with Greta in the left hand seat, Jack as co-pilot. A little controlled breeze from the sunroof swirling as it exited a slightly open right rear window. Delightful.

An exquisite meal at Watershed earlier with communion. Chianti, artisan bread with the Baruch, Ashem, Adonai toast at the end. On the deck overlooking the Osceola Creek. The rapids burbling and rushing below. Perfect.

Gator and Greta dressed to the ‘nines’ and being themselves as they enjoyed ‘eating out’ with more class than the nearby burger joint up the hill. A few conversations overheard as a gifted raconteur regaled his table well. Stories loud enough to somewhat enjoy. He was enjoying himself anyway. Don’t we all do that at times? Grace.

Driving home, commenting on the beauty of the homes visible. Two story with carpenters lace and porches, some with widows walks and many flowering bushes and perfect accouterments. A river town built right. There was a lot of traffic but jake braking was forbidden, the noise of the vehicles would just be a small rushing inside. They envision living there but without the other buildings, the maple trees and gardens. It would not be the same. Next window neighbors is the price for being capable to walk downtown for nice things.

As they drove by a Friday night concert in another town on the river, Jack was suddenly transfixed. There were a lot of people on lawn chairs, watching a stage below them. The band was just getting started as they slowly drove by. Heading north of highway 8 to their exquisite farmstead. The opening notes where instantly recognized by Jack as Johnny Cash’s ‘Folsom prison blues’ As the first lines began to fade the transition to old memories and surrealism.

Stuck in a prison vs living in the lap of luxury and just enjoying an old ballad that was never and will never be part of those listeners reality. Home to toast and honey afterwards. Driving a car or truck home without fear and without the air on for a change. “what’s in the fridge honey? Or should we go out?” More pretty swell homes overlooking the river and soon after, a half dozen trucks with boat trailers at the landing. Nice boats on the river. Fishing or just cruising on a swell night. Are you getting the picture?

We are millionaires in the world’s eyes and are worried about our 401k accounts. When our brief lives end, there is the auction with collectibles and coins. Antiques and machinery of all sorts. Not worth as much as when it was purchased, but hey, enough to pass on to the next family collector of wealth. Usually. Gator is not ranting about our wealth, not at all. His family is ‘doing well’ or as the usual greeting: “Hey, how are ya? I”m good” The usual banter when often Jack can’t remember the person’s name. We are good. Back to the concert and the old memories. “Stuck in Folsom prison and time keeps dragging’ on..”

Jack was recently in a men’s Bible study with a couple of dozen men around the tables. There was talk of jail ministries and suddenly, Jack asked the men: “Any of you guys ever done time? Even overnight for a minor infraction or a mistake by the police?” Those guys looked at Jack in an interesting way. The way someone is gazed upon when they are not wearing the right clothing or none at all.

Jack spent only a half a year in a Marine Red Line Brig in Southern Spain. Hard labor. It had it’s moments. We all marched double time to the mess hall and one of the guys had to bring that ubiquitous metal tray with food for the guard on duty. It was covered with a similar tray to keep the food warm. All the guys flipped the trays when running. It was a way to get back for a ‘dance’ in the isolation cell. It was really satisfying when the meal was mashed potatoes with gravy and shortcake. The term ‘Red line brig’ means if one of the ‘re-trainees’ stepped over the red line painted on the entry way floor, the duty guard was free to shoot you with his trusty 1911. No one tested the resolve of the door guard. Actually some of the guards were bored out of their gourd and would chat. It wasn’t too bad, really. Southern Spain gets a little warm in the summer when your shoveling sand or running a swing blade. The sleep deprivation and water to wake you up every hour for three days and nights was over the top too. Just a little welcome courtesy to show you around the place. And of course, put you in your place.

In some ways it made Jack have some empathy for the prisoners he would minister to much later in his life. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

The inspiration, a glimpse of Truth. The flag that Jack served under. Flying free from the fantail of his ship. All hands on deck. The enemy of our country aiming it’s guided missiles at him. Still the flag was there and it flapped off the fantail. Declaring we are the country of the free, home of the brave. A country that doesn’t give up when the odds and the enemies around us say we must quit, we must knuckle under people that don’t want those things, or worse yet, know those things and desire their own power more than the freedom we have.

We won all battles and we will do so again. These times, once again, will bring the true ruler into view. The only one that knows our hearts, sees our weakness’ and non-the less, loves us and heals us when we talk to him.

There are true lovers of the real power behind all things and these lovers have done, and continue to fight for the inalienable rights all men are endowed with. When told that all men are endowed with those rights,they pray for guidance that tells them how to honor all men and stand strong in their trust. Standing for that honor and knowing how to do so. The right ways to stand, the eternal rights given to stand. The knowledge that their hearts, given freely to their King, are guided and given strength. Enduring pain and suffering at times to do so.

You, reader, know these things. It was taught to us and if we suddenly realized that this teaching was right and true, there is no power on earth, no power of hell that can take that away. There will always be struggle to heal and be healed of hearts broken and at times, body breaking things to discourage us. It is imperative we do not give up nor give in to the weakness’ offered to us by evil and comfort offered. Judgment of our fellow man is just one of the weakness’ shown to make us less than what we are. C.S. Lewis, beloved author, suffered through two world wars and wrote great words that still show those truths to us. To no other man do I owe more for my ability to speak the truth. Sometimes I even listen and brought up short, I get back on that path of real life.

There was a time when Lewis was in a church service and he was critical of all the music he didn’t like and did not inspire him to love. He looked over the aisle and saw an old farmer, hands raised in adoration. A shabby old farmer with dirty boots, perhaps the only shoes he had. The farmer was weeping with joy and with his connection with God. Lewis realized suddenly he was not fit to clean and tie the laces of that man’s boots. Humbling and filled with the truth of his hearts emptiness, Lewis was transformed as Jack is when understanding how timeless and truthful that image is. Lewis too was nicknamed Jack. A good name Gator aspires to.

No one can denigrate the few men that saw these things, wrote these things and acted upon that truth. Our forefathers that open our eyes time and again. The constitution, the bill of rights. Inalienable rights to feel proud for the best things for us, here and now. It’s the good pride that sees beauty and love in others. Humbling pride that produces change in Gators heart. Change that gives great hope and real rest to him and all of us. We need to know the beauty of healing our hearts and minds together. We are broken and we must help one another to be whole. It’s the way of God. He gave us this beautiful way to stand together. No man is an island.

There is no greater thing than to love our God and love our fellow man, our neighbor. Love them even more than we love our own lives. The best love, the kind that never grows dim and gives joy and trust in the good thing. Joy that never fades, and gives us courage to be healed and made whole again. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

It was the early 70’s and Jack was a member of the New Riverside Cafe collective on the West Bank in Mpls.

There was a developer that wanted to flatten the whole 40 acres and build high rise apartments and ‘shops’ where everyone’s homes were. They also raised the rent on everyone’s house (they owned the entire neighborhood). It was an attempt to price all of the neighborhood out, and make everyone get out of the way of development.

A ‘rent strike’ was organized and it got a lot of publicity. Jack was living right on Cedar Avenue in an old brick house upstairs from the free store. There were 7 people in 6 bedrooms down a narrow hallway and the usual bathroom, kitchen and big living room. Most of them were musicians, some famous now and the apartment was just across the alley from the West Bank School of Music. Musicians were so prevalent that there were two venues on Cedar just for them and Jack. The Extempore and the New Riverside Cafe. Jack was playing folk and blues on his D28. He sang ok.

All of Jack’s roommates moved out to a reasonable home in South Mpls and Jack stayed on alone with his girlfriend from Slippery Rock. One of Jack’s friends advised him to quit working at the cafe and start with him at the Burlington Northern and work on a surfacing gang for big money. Jack took the job, got called ‘santa claus’ for his pony tail and long beard and got pretty muscular and fit shoveling gravel all day. He got a letter from the neighborhood developers increasing his rent to two weeks pay. Just to get him out of the building. The back stairway belonged in a bad movie and the rear bedrooms leaked rain water. None of the windows would open. Things like that. The cafe people were not rent striking like the neighborhood was, and Jack was in a bit of a bind. His friends said “don’t pay the rent!” “Go on strike!” and Jack decided to instead take an offer from the developers to move into a pretty nice small house they owned a few blocks away for less rent. Nice place. Now he had enough money to buy lunch for his dinners on the job from Byerlys and by this time he had a car that was only 20 years old.

Jack never went back to the collective people except to buy a bicycle and a chain saw from Durable Goods, run by one of the Cafe people. Jack followed his best friend (read motorcycle pilgrimage) and bought the little farm where he and his family still live. Jack went back to visit the West Bank and the house the developers rented to him was gone, as was a lot of the houses of his old friends. The old friends said hello and usually just walked away without conversation. Jack was a Quisling, or in English, a traitor. No matter how Jack felt it had to be done to move, he was persona non grata. He spent money as mentioned and contracted for an F style mandolin. Jack put all the money down and the mandolin was never finished.

Jack was very nervous and felt very alone up north of highway 8 on this 30 acre homestead. The VA loan helped him afford it and when he moved in, he went into the barn before going into his ‘new’ home (log foundation, a bit aged) Jack played a little fiddle in that barn and finally opened the front door and smelled an ancient oil stoves lovely odor and it took his cat a few days to get out of the moving van. It was April 1st by the way. It seemed foolish too.

It was a start, away from the rent strike and the neighborhood people that he let down. He had a good job, a car and a small farm all to himself. He still feels that friendship loss, and even to this day when he visits the Facebook page of the Riverside Cafe, he is not responded to or ‘liked’ for his posts. Still a turncoat of sorts and sometimes it weighs on him.

None of his old friends that he downed a pitcher of beer with at the 400 bar and made grilled cheese sandwiches for, have been in contact with Jack. It isn’t the thing we are supposed to do either way. Jesus tells us to forgive and love and Jack is trying to keep his promise to do so. It’s hard though, isn’t it? Jack has never heard life was going to be a breeze and filled with good things all the time. No other way to live, but it hurts to be seen as what Jack did, rather that what he has become. It’s pretty good. Jack

The adults that can advise us on the tough questions I mentioned last time (part I) are ofttimes, a bit hard to find. There are many prognosticators that insist their opinions on life’s big questions are correct and it is not a good idea to be there when they say so. Gator has been in that arrogant position and it has not worked out well. I did not take my own advice because I knew I was right. Point taken. Mistake.

It’s the big questions that generate heat. The small questions about automotive brands and reliability are not hard to turn into gentle laughter and disagreement. The big questions about truth and evidence of it are liable to turn into a stone wall of pat answers and foolish catch phrases. On both sides. We who strongly believe our opinions of life’s purpose are true. Our opinions are based on facts and those who disagree with those facts are immature, foolish and ignorant, right? People like us that feel that way are even more foolish than we believe others to be. There is a moral standard we must not ignore. It’s not a law per-se, but goes much deeper. It is a standard perhaps referred to as ‘given a reasonable doubt’ or perhaps the example of summit talks. You can never convince anyone of anything by anger or name calling. It takes dialogue. I’m not talking about violence or armed combat. I’m talking about listening.

Opinions are like software, it takes time to write out the program and push the ‘save’ button. It’s there on your hard drive then,and re-writing that opinion isn’t easy or even desired. It’s truth felt (a lot of times it IS truth) but the discussion must be done honorably not with sputtering and bluster. Doesn’t work with me, so I know it won’t work for you. Another opinion. I have a lot of them.

I have a friend that is firmly convinced that the earth is flat, the moon landings were studio fakes, the end of our circular earth is guarded by the NSA. You get the idea (unless you believe such things) When we read about something, such as New Zealand, we know it’s there because reputable people show us maps, exploring stories and so forth. We believe that New Zealand is real. I told my friend about my experiences at sea with radar and first seeing antennas and masts before the ship hove into view. Micro waves do not curve. He wasn’t convinced. I was a liar or was seeing an illusion. Truth was not the operative in the conversation. Neither of us could ‘win’ We let it go. It won’t bother me unless he comes to me with another version of truth that isn’t. He’s not my first choice as a navigator at sea.

There is another truth that I hold onto because I have seen it and heard it. It is the presence, and in one case, the voice of the living God. I know He is real and I know He cares for me, saved my life with His voice. Could I convince you that it is true? Maybe. In some cases, words fall short on a story, only the gentle passion for truth along with gentleness and patience will carry the message. Truth has another dimension. Telling the truth is akin to gardening. Seeds are planted. If the planting is true and the seed just and true, the fruit of the truth will blossom within. Cultivation with patience helps. In some cases the large chisel drag or plow is overwhelming to the seed and the soil. A good gardener listens and gives encouragement to both sower and sown. Spoken and written truth follows the same path.

It is not a coincidence that the ‘in the beginning’ story starts with a garden. Our seeds were sown there. A lot of weeds showed up around a tree and we have had to pull weeds ever since. Gardening and fruit To be an adult takes time and care and a lot of help. I am getting better at being an adult. I am learning how to listen and speak less. Perhaps I will be listened to when I tell the truth as it has impacted my life. An evangelist does not have to shout, Just tell the truth as best as they can.

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

There is a man that Jack trusts. More than any other man Jack has ever met. I’ll tell you about him in a little bit. There is another man, Jack talks to him less often, but the trust bond is there as well. This other man tells the truth to people. How many of us have a job like that? Tough job, really. Lot’s of training involved, study, college and ‘ample’ on the job training as well. The part that may confuse you is that the this man’s desire is to tell stories about the other man! Oh yes, truth is absolutely a job requirement for both men as well. Character, discernible, is a gateway into seeing these things. Usually, the eyes are the first indicator to character. You may do this without even knowing that you do so. Eyes that look into you as you look into them.

Gator has spent a lot of his life looking away, fearful of what he might see or be seen. You also know this without it being something you think about when you meet an old friend or are introduced to someone. When the eyes, portals into the mind are not giving information, Gator usually forgets their name as soon as it is said. This may also due to short term memory function a bit lacking. There are tests for this, usually avoided if possible. Who would want a total stranger telling them they were old ten years ago. “get used to it”

The second man has a lot to say to Gator and often, in a room filled with other reptiles, Gator will notice an unease in some as what this man has to say is a bit disconcerting and perhaps even confusing to those of us not used to communicating deeply. Questions are raised, sometimes boldly seeking some other fine point of the this man’s spoken words. Good questions, even encouraged and Gator has questions but usually holds them back because he is aware of an awkwardness of focus to others.

Gator would rather be silent and let the talk by the second man sink in a bit deeper without a distraction of speaking aloud. There was a man that did this speaking better than anyone since. He is long gone from us unfortunately. His name is Jonathon Edwards. A standard to which most speakers of truth aim for. There was one ‘speech’ that Mr. Edwards delivered that was so powerful and so convicting that a room full of ordinary listeners fell on their faces. There really was no other response that could be made when hearing the most important and life changing truth for everyone within hearing. A long time has gone by since that original speech but it remains powerful, convicting and stunning still.

The bold and inescapable truth taught was how bad we really are, especially if we think we are OK and are pretty nice. Compared with ‘those people’ we are in the ‘swell’ zone if there is a measuring device that could do that. Actually, there is a ‘swell’ or ‘free of faults’ measurement and on the other side of the gauge: ‘Bad and Wicked’ There is a thumb on the scale however and surprisingly, it’s our thumb. I leave it to you reader to decide which measurement the scale defaults to. Every time.

The revelation of who is first man is now at hand. He has many names that are used by many people to address Him. Somehow all those names are powerful nouns and are recognized easily by people that have met Him. Some of them are: Yaweh, Lion of Judah, First and Last, Beautiful, Shiloh, King of Kings, Everlasting, I AM, Chief Cornerstone, Teacher, Dayspring, Son of Man, Prophet, Alpha and Omega, Bread of Life, Savior, Light of the world, The Word, Branch, Good Shepard, Jesus. Those are just a few of his names.

As an illustration of what the first man does for those of us who look to Him for help, Gator will use the story of Al Quie and Chuck Colson. Many of us remember Watergate and Mr. Colson was convicted of conspiracy. Minnesota Governor Quie, quoting an obscure law, offered to serve the remainder of Mr. Colson’s sentence. Chuck did not take him up on it. The offer was real. Look it up.

Quite a bit of time passed after that before the Al Quie center was built at Lino Lakes prison. It was for the prisoners there to study Jesus and hear sermons from dedicated men that wished to serve. Gator was part of this ministry and was always told to give the sermon on the wrath of God. It was hard for Gator and he suspected the ministry leader was giving Gator an honor to select him for the task. Think about teaching a room full of prisoners about wrath and judgment. A challenge for certain. Gator has finally found out about God and His wrath. We deserve it but the first man has taken it upon Himself. All of it, for all of us. Impossible we say, but it’s historical truth.

There are many incredible stories about this first Man. No one is like this, no one will ever be like this again. Now I am flat out preaching and it feels good to do what my friend does for me. “There is something going on and you don’t know what it is, do you Mr. Jones?” Bob Dylan

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

When you love somebody, it is no longer yourself who is the center of your own universe.

It is the one you love who is. You forget yourself. You deny yourself. You give of yourself, so that by all the rules of arithmetical logic there should be less of yourself than there was to start with. Only by a curious paradox there is more. You feel that at last you really are yourself.

The experience of salvation involves the same paradox. Jesus put it like this: “He who loses his life for my sake will find it” You give up your old self-seeking self for somebody you love and thereby become yourself at last. You must die with Christ so that you can rise with him. It is what baptism is all about. Frederick Buechner,

A thing that seems strange to the world but was the beginning of Christianity itself. There is a lot of that word, that impression that is integrated into life in our world here in the United States. There are church’s that are named as such. Some faith streams have new born children baptized to ensure they are ‘good to go’ You can think about that and make your own conclusion. Gator has concluded that issue himself. Judgment, Gator is good at that too.

So, another ‘in the beginnings’ story which intrigues everyone. A story that is lightly touched in the world and not really taken to heart in many ways. Not a simple story either. A phenomenon seemingly caused by a man that dressed as though he lived quite a ways ‘north of highway 8 ‘ and had a reputation of eating June bug sandwiches for lunch. An odd fellow that had people enthralled a few thousand years ago. People walked out to see him as he stood in a river. He was very adamant in shouting at them about coming into the river with him. There was also a bit of a decision one had to make before joining this man in the river. Repentance. Not a word used lightly these days and what did it mean to them anyway? Back in those times people were very wicked and did things to one another that were not very nice. Not much has changed since then either. It is a burden for Gator himself to think upon things he has done, thought about doing and things he once thought were pretty good to do.

Back to the story. This man in the river would then ‘help’ the people that were convicted they were a mess go under the river water and ostensibly, help them up. This was called baptism then and is still called that now.

This man called John saw his cousin coming to him to be dunked and cleansed and was astonished. His cousin was at that time a man of no reputation but John knew him well. John also knew his cousin was the creator of all things! The living God, Jesus. John, felt a bit overwhelmed it is written, and said that his cousin should be baptizing him. Nonetheless, he did baptize Jesus and the voice of his cousins father came out loudly proclaiming a father’s great pleasure. (That was God by the way) It got even better for all of us afterwards as well. There was a month and a half of fasting and being tempted for this man Jesus. The things we are tempted with only on a scale of eternity. Ultimate power over the world kind of stuff that we think would make all things right if we had it. We can only imagine the appeal of these things to have, with one caveat, sharing with the tempter this power.

Jesus told the tempter to leave in no uncertain terms and Jesus went on to be seen as King of all things, for eternity. For us.

Baptism. Jack was baptized a while back and the man of God that did that for him looked into the water at Gator’s face. When asked what he saw, he replied “I saw a dead man” Things got better afterwards. Still tempted but now aware of it. Not made right instantly. Quite a ‘bit longer than 40 days’ but a Gator being rebuilt in the spirit. Now knowing a bit about repentance and his weakness, there is great hope and trust emerging in him.

It’s pretty good, Jack Gator

Perhaps it was too easy to fall for the money. An outside source came hove into view and the world became new before this traitor started his work. His new companion fled to another town till the dust settled and his plan was completed. Or not. Serious outcomes and it did not end well. Selling out for power and money is never a good idea and eventually, comes to a bad end.

The local people were powerless because of paper documents and agreements were written with the ability to fight the invasion disabled. Written out from other politicians with pocketbooks enhanced by associates and directors of power. No one initially knew what to do. An outcry became loud and many signs started appearing in front of homes deriding this plan.

War came, it was inevitable. Statesmen and politicians wangled and maneuvered in their own interests. Quite a few of them actually. They were wrong to do so. The people knew and did everything they could to contest the takeover. The fourth estate did not want to take sides, after all, freedom is all about open dialogue. True for the most part. The betrayal by the Quisling was over the top and even the ‘Hard leads’ in the paper began to strongly favor the people. Oppression began to the opposition. Name calling and ‘straw man’ arguments were put forth.

There were many periodicals written about this taking place elsewhere. They spoke truth, clear truth. Of course the freedom of expression began to take a rather nasty tone and adjectives usually reserved for reprehensible criminals started flying about from both sides. It began to get ugly, somewhat distasteful.

Hidden underground groups began to strategically gather information and also began a straight forward campaign to make things right. Their freedom of living was threatened by the Quisling who should have been tried and jailed. High friends with deep pockets prevented that. For a while. It got expensive for everyone.

The lines were drawn and the battle began in earnest. Power with reward vs individual rights and freedom from oppression. It’s an old and repeated struggle throughout history. Control of the land and control of the law to make it possible has always been a hinge point of history.

The Quisling in this story was Vidkun Quisling. A military man. An officer that embraced the Nazi regime and sold out the Norwegian country. I can imagine your thoughts, dear reader, as you envisioned other men in the similar position in our day and age. In our neighborhood, in our government. Men and women with money and power supporting a vision of more of the same.

Quisling. Winston Churchill, H.G. Wells and George Orwell used the term in their writing. Vidkun’s last name was immortalized in history. Traitor, betrayer of position of authority. Remind you of anyone in particular?

Jack Gator

Forty years after opening it the shop is booming, and Jack’s oldest honorary son took the helm. He is also an amateur radio operator that has machining skills and is as brilliant as the best men. Also, he was a bit difficult for Jack because Jack is also ‘difficult’. A lot of grace, some great counsel and the shop, now twice the size it was and heated with waste oil. Many upgrades to the tools and infra structure were done. Upgrades to both the inner men too.

Jack and his family are doing pretty well. And the blessings and amazing changes continue to happen. The youngest son has built a wood shop where his skills are very evident. The usual upgrades that come with time.

At the beginning of Jack’s life on the old farm, it was early and Jack was just getting ready to drive to his job at the rail yard. The day before was rough and he could feel some pain already. When Jack sat down, he fell to the floor in agony and could not get up. His back had ‘gone out’ He was trapped on the floor and the nearest phone was a new one up on a shelf by the bed. Jack crawled back in the living room and wondered what to do. After a time, he began to read the newspapers by the wood stove. This went on for a few days. His thirst began to be an issue. The cat water in the kitchen helped for a short time.

Only reading the Sunday comics would take his mind of the images of a bad end. His favorite comic was Zippy the Pinhead. Jack had a great idea. Taking his clothing out of the bottom drawers, Jack made a ramp to roll up to the bed and grab the phone. Help came and a time in hospital got Jack on his feet. L4 and L5 seemed to be in poor condition. His nerves to his feet never recovered to this day. At least the hospital bill was paid and his new foreman got his comeuppance for the way he abused Jack with impossible work. Jack has had to deal with thoughts about that man.

It was logical, Jack had to get a new job or create one. After the railroad injury, there was no going back to the job of shovels, sledgehammers and spike mauls. There was a little bit of workers comp, but it wasn’t going to last long and the mortgage was looming every 1^st of the month. Food was OK and the power was still on. Phone was iffy but still had a dial tone. The locals knew what had happened to Gator, and there was grace in this rural area. Even from supposedly hard nosed utility companies. One of Gator’s new friends climbed the power poles for a living and he knew what had happened. People stopped by to see if there was something they could do for Jack. Meals, friendships solidified and new friends even brought Zippy comics to show they knew the story. Jack was amenable to a roommate of a local fellow. That smiley, pleasant man now lives a few miles away with his wife.

Those are some of the reasons why moving to the area was attractive, and scary. The VA loan was the first big loan that Jack had ever had. His new friendships made it work. Wood heat, gardening instructions and help for Jack, a converted swampy. Jack bought a bicycle to exercise his injuries. On a trip to the big cities old neighborhood, Jack got hit by a car in a crosswalk. Spun him off the bike. Rehab setback for a bit. Somehow that neighborhood had lost a bit of glitter for Jack. It seemed Too busy and now the constant roar of traffic was heard. Nothing had changed but Jack. Back home with the old blue 1941 Ford that Jack had put a new engine in with a friend and a chain hoist on a tree. The usual activity for a Jack Pine Savage. That’s how the locals refer to enthusiastic young people. (Jack pines are real trees and there are a lot of them 15 miles north of Jack’s place.)

Living in an old farmhouse was ‘challenging’ Another new friend installed a masonry chimney and Jack got a chain saw for the firewood. His back was healing and it was time to work on rural survival. Splitting mauls, an old Ford pickup and firewood permits up North in the state forest. Plus the dry stuff on the 30 acre farm.

Wood heat was better than the fuel oil heater but the cat water still froze to the kitchen floor when it was a bit cold. The old well in the barn and it’s pump jack did pretty good as long as it was protected from cold. It did not freeze like the cat water did. Hay bales around the foundation worked a bit and the cat took care of the mice. The workers comp and a small settlement from the railroad were running out. Jack got hooked up with a local country western band. Playing fiddle in a four piece band in most of the bars within 40 miles. Some of the gigs phone notes from the band leader are still visible on the kitchen cupboard uprights. Jack was in a hurry and scratchpads had not been invented yet. (The Bakelite phone was on the wall next to the cupboards.)

A new job was needed, a career. Gator decided to open a foreign car repair shop, right in his garage. Jack was told more than once; “You’ll never make it!” foreign cars in this part of rural America was a non-starter. Perhaps an old VW bug or transporter was part and parcel of the local transportation. It seemed a nitch to exploit and Jack opened shop. The old garage with sliding wood doors, and no heat, and pathetic electric power were a few obstacles to deal with. The local tool truck guy gave a proposition to Jack. “Rebuild the engine on my Nissan 280Z and I’ll give you the tools you need to do it.” It was a beginning of sorts and the word got out of Jack’s confidence and skill. After all, Jack is an amateur radio license holder and electricity and wiring diagrams are not too intimidating. Slowly things began to come together for this independent Gator and updates for everything began. Setbacks and Updates seem to be relatives.

Decades afterward, Jack met his wife on a bicycle as Jack still rode for fitness. She heard about him out in Washington state at a bar! The bartender was an old friend of Jack’s. She tossed the bartenders note when she got back to the area and a local pastor that Jack rode with, met Greta on her bicycle when he was out riding. Seems like bicycles had a part and parcel in their lives. Jack called Greta after the pastor told him about her. He told Jack she was a good rider and rather attractive with a good smile. He also said she only lived a few miles away at a church camp she managed. Jack picked up the old black wall phone and called, her number was easy to find. She answered the phone with an astonished, “It’s that guy!” They arranged to meet riding towards one another and they met at the driveway of the bartender’s Grand parents. Just another ‘coincidence’ in their lives. As the saying goes, it was Kismet. They like to refer to the marriage broker as Jesus stepping in with undeniable direction. It was years later that Jack realized his role in that fulfillment, for a life that brought joy. Jack and Greta began chasing after this incredible man that created all things that were created. Jack’s new job is working for this man when asked to do so. Jack and Greta both talk to Jesus a lot. They sing and play to him too, more joy!

The parking lot has doubled in size as has the repair shop. Beauty abounds around them and it is so beautiful, the Gators realize that prosperity has landed upon them. The opportunity to work, for all of them. Gardens overflowing with good veggies along with machinery inherited to maintain it all. They are not so much gifted in Gold and Silver. Just those aging colors of their hair and Jack’s beard.

Three boys, and they doubled the size of the house too. ‘I don’t deserve this’ Jack says and knows. Jesus tells him that is correct but there is another ledger that says it’s OK . Forgiveness for Jack and Greta’s ‘checkered’ past is a big part of responding to the call of life with Jesus. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

(to be continued)