Jack was up early and attempting to still his mind and just look at what he could see. It was dark in the living room as it was around 6 am in winter. Looking up to the library windows on the second floor, Jack saw the moon. It was a clear day unfolding and there was good light from that close orbiting flashlight that reflected on the snow.

‘What’s it worth?’ It’s too far away to be any good to anyone and besides, when a man finally walked on it anyone could see it was a dump. No atmosphere, lots of sand and rocks with craters that came from meteorites slamming into a small planet that had no protection from friction of an atmosphere. Great. Nice view of earth anyway. Dangerous trip and extremely expensive as well. NASA was so ecstatic about success of the ‘mission’ and it was a bit dicey getting back as well. Was it worth it? Scientists were pleased and evolutionist thinkers were waiting for fossils and evidence of water. A later trip to Mars was of the same ilk. Prove evidence of life billions of years ago to show the random worthlessness of life itself. Including themselves of course. No astronauts that time, too far. They used robots that NASA controllers fell in love with. Sojourner, Spirit, Opportunity, Curiosty and Perseverance. They eventually ran out of power and died. No two dollar stores there to get spare batteries either. No fossils but some evidence of water. “You need water for life to evolve!” And so the charade went on. It takes approximately 26 minutes to communicate with the robots for commands and then get information. Long phone calls.“We are sorry, due to the high volume of calls…etc. Please leave a number where we can contact you”

The rovers resembled the robot R2D2 somewhat. Very expensive and they are still there. Not working and dusty.

The moon looked good from Jack’s chair but there is enough dust under his desk. It inspired him to focus his mind on a simple word. Worth. What do we have that is actually worthy? Good question and at the time, rather significant. The moon is only handy for tides and that flashlight when it is full. The lonely man in the moon.

No subjects were coming to becoming a ‘worthy’ column and that is why Jack left his desk to just sit in the dark and not think. Just look and listen.

What are we pleased with as having worth? Casual scanning on his computer of on-line auctions reveals life stories. Collections of soda bottles and fancy tables to put them on. Old tools and machinery to fix. Jackets and shoes and all the things we fill our homes with.

Worth a tenth or less of what the previous owners paid (estate auctions for folks no longer able to gaze upon these things) What are they worth now? Bid on them! You may win and then have to go and pick your treasures up 100 miles away. Is it ‘worth it’? Our spouse may have a different opinion. “What on earth is an old wooden turnip twaddler good for?”

As morning went on, Jack’s view of their small farm hove into view and as Jack was now close to 80, perhaps everything he was looking at would be in one of those auctions too. The land is beautiful and the American flag hanging off the porch beam reminds Jack of the flags fluttering from the fantail of warships he served in. That seemed a worthy memory . Thoughts cannot be sold unless written about. Is there anything within view really worthy? The sounds of the family awakening are rising like the dawn and Jack finds that leading to worthiness. His wife and his children. What is it about them that is worthy indeed? Even the dog and cat’s that live with them. They all are worthy and why so? There is love intertwined in the family of life.

Those things cannot be sold. Love cannot be sold, it is priceless and worthy indeed. Most likely as Jack awakens, the whole focus of life itself. Love one another, love your neighbor as you love yourself. Love the creator of all these things seen. The creator of love and a man with fire in His eyes that loves Jack and all people for eternity. This is worth. Jesus is worth it all. He told us this and is always among us to speak life and worthy things to us. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator.

Many discussions and serious ones as well. What indeed is the sticking point of religion that so many people point out as pompous or even offensive? Gator included. Perhaps a reason for not attending any services anywhere?

Incidentally, Jack could not obtain photos of the Sistine chapel or the Vatican with out paying a royalty. Why? Jack was in there when he lived on the street in Rome. The Swiss guard just let him in the Vatican. An urchin seeking Jesus maybe? But it was art with pompous robes, sashes and headgear. The Pope with a good laundry for all that fantastic white clothing. A far cry from the cement scrub tables at Camp Nimitz. Boot camp in San Diego.

Starting with names of church buildings. Jack does not have anything but good to say about the body of Christ. The word ‘church’ was formed and used a few thousand of years ago to be specifically referencing believers in the risen Christ, Lord, Adoni, Messiah. Choose at least one of many descriptions of the word church. It’s the people gathering to honor their King of kings.

Several years ago, when Jack realized what the word church meant, he approached one of the village elders and asked if they could delete two letters to the large billboard on the edge of town that says: “The churches of Frederic welcome you” to, ‘The church of Frederic welcomes you.’ The suggestion was shrugged off as coming from a fool or a fundamentalist with an agenda.

The most irritating language is the inclusive word ‘First’ used before the particular flavor of the gathering one prefers. Never seen ‘Second church of Anything’. Why is this so? If it indeed is the second or third established in the area of the ‘First’, then an alternate word must be voted upon.

Something that sounds holy or such. Using perhaps the gifts of the Spirit in scripture! However several of those gifts remain unused. ‘Patience, Long suffering or Self Control’ to name a few. Not even self control. Can one even imagine the conversation with a prospective board of directors to suggest one of those scriptural names of our behavior to seek among the brethren?

No wonder that the world scoffs at our stiff necked (another scriptural description) society insisting on proper protocol and high language. Then there is the business structure of our gathering places. Hierarchy and a path to the top of the ladder, or at least close by. Most of us are referred to as the laity. The peons, or the initiated strikers to use a navy term of promotion and intent. It’s control, it’s PR, it’s been that way for…well..a long time! “we are Paul’s church or we are Aquilla’s church” was written for us to discourage those sorts of things. Do you think we would survive Gator’s thoughts? Probably not, but they are at the least, amusing.

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

There was a time, not too long ago, the progress meant regress. Tearing down for a clean visage, more practical applications of resources and getting rid of ‘old fashioned’ ways and means. There was an interesting transition of railroading in our area. It was getting common around the country to eliminate railroad transportation and replace it with…nothing.

Our county included that, and removed the old 90 lb tracks, crossings and all the metal fasteners of said lines of practical and efficient transportation and replace the incredible fuel efficient and friction free transport with big diesel semi trailers.

It went over pretty good with the truckers and the populace could have cared less. All the ‘black bananas’ (ties) rich in creosote went somewhere and the steel was turned into appliances such as automobiles and refrigerators.

Little known to the general public, a nationwide bicycle organization took notice. The league of American Wheelmen. (LAW) had a national president living in western Polk country. A level grade for easy riding was dangled in front of them. If only it could be useful then and in the future.

The gently sloped roadbed remained. Train engines and the rails always had one problem, friction again. This time the problem was the grade itself. It has to be as flat as practical to allow the engines to move. Steel wheels and polished steel rails did not transfer incredible power with out spinning the traction wheels. There was a ‘sand dome’ on the engines that could put down a little sand in front of the wheels, increasing traction.

An engine weighs 220 tons and is asked to move 16,000 tons of freight. That is a lot of pulling torque to get moving. A fully loaded semi tractor trailer weighs 21 tons or in another way of looking at it, about 5000 of those would be needed haul one train load of freight.

So ballast was removed without Jack this time at the #2 shovel. Some remained a bit deeper in the remaining soil. Little known to the general public, LAW bicycle organization saw the vision. The road bed would make ideal trails for bicyclists. They hosted a big national rally in River Falls with rides, food and even an entertainer from the Prairie Home Companion. Claudia Schmidt. They made a little profit of $6000 and gave it to Burnett county to show that bicyclists could help defray some of the cost to turn the train roadbed into a bike trail. It was given under the caveat that if needed to restore rail traffic, that amount would help defray costs to restoration. It was also to show the snowmobile groups that bicyclists could work with them for summer use of the trail.

Within the last few years, the cost of diesel fuel has made railroad transport appear practical again. The roadbeds are ready once again to lay those black bananas (ties) on the roadbed and do some upgrades. Heavier rail (135 lb welded ribbon rail) Restoration of switches, signals, and section buildings. Good jobs in the offing too.

Local residents reminisce about boarding the train for day trips to Duluth and ‘the cities’ “those were the days!”

Practical, affordable and doable. Better than a bus route (that does not exist.) No traffic, no cars and just sit down and enjoy reading something about it. Perhaps in this very paper. Can you just about see it? Probably no wicker seats but with snacks and picnic baskets. The kids would love it too. The save the earth from pollution folks would also be pleased. It’s pretty good.

Jack Gator photo of Claudia’s new album used by permission

It indeed has become a nonsensical world. If one believes conspiracy theories, madmen have taken hold of things and places. They are getting pretty good press too. What sells papers and electronic news coupled with advertising triggered by usual paradigms of selective viewers. That in itself is kind of a giveaway sign. Jack has bought odd hats online and suddenly, when he clicks on the local weather, ads began blocking his view hawking hats, odd ones.

It seems logical we can be touched by electronic algorithms running on ones and zeros that make us distinctive targets. “What a coincidence! Just the Kromer hat I was looking for!” Logically taken, any news that we look at is an indication of interest and the feed tickles our mind with more and more.

The packages with the distinctive mark on them flow out of Jack’s favorite UPS drivers hands. Buy, buy. Stimulus investments in personal prosperity so that a country that we buy them from can own the national debt, put it into a derivative and sell it back. A Huan Ponzi scam that will topple like an overbuilt mile high tower of Babel. It will make an interesting sound. The growling stomachs.

Then there are the meaningless riots rolling around our wounded country. The rioters think they are massing for freedom and human dignity. That’s why it is nonsensical. Self righteous youth throwing bottles of fire, named after a Russian. Molotov, a communist that executed hundreds for ‘freedom.’

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun the frumious Bandersnatch!”A. Nonsense indeed. So much of it about a huge mistake that caused the death of a wanted criminal with a felony strewn life. You know what I mean. Protests can work, but the smashed windows and blackened walls of the neighborhood bodega brings the victory to a bad smell that lingers in the media. The spin in the papers also lingers.

“Another woman driver gets machine gunned from her seat and they’ll send a joker with a brownie and you’ll see it on TV” B. Sells advertising again. Get those swoop shoes and you can run from those batons! Or better yet, next time just break the windows and grab them, make certain to be a good shopper and get the right size! No returns or guarantees.

Then the geriatric crowd (Jack’s former commune comrades) is stunned into seeing the Jabberwock come flapping in, just like Suess’ birthday bird escaping censure for outing sneeches with stars on thars. Getting the picture yet? Nothing makes sense. Senator Lorax was sounding the alarm and now he is outed for telling the truth. We rewrite history and make certain that our past is now considered toxic. What can we do? Perhaps stand resolute for truth and beauty and not give scorn for foolishness.

There is power in the name of Jesus, ask Him. ‘How should we then live?’C.is the question for our day. How indeed. Be still and read the thin pages of His love letters over and over and find out how. Go the way of the world and be another hopeless, isolated and confused person. Press in, pray and find the peace that passes all understanding. Guiding us through the valley of the shadow of death. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

A: Lewis Carroll B. Frank Zappa C. Francis Schaeffer

In the beginning (Jack’s favorite three words) Jack was enthralled with fiddle contests, playing in country swing bands and always admired excellent fiddlers. After all, in his middle twenties he lived in the neighborhood of ’40 acres of musicians’ He wrote a column on those times. It is available at the web site. Http://www Gatorsgracenotes.com It was published a few years ago in the Intercounty Leader.

There was such a panoply of musicians that Jack had the privilege to hang out and play with. Peter Ostrushko. Brian Wicklund, Craig Ruble, Pop Wagner, Mary Dushane to name a few! Mary wound up on the Prairie Home Companion. She played at Jack’s wedding along with Bill Hinkley, Kevin Mcmullin and Jack. We surrounded Julie in her gorgeous wedding gown and played Helsa Dem Hardemma, a Swedish waltz. What a heritage of being surrounded with music for years.

When Jack was living up north in Wisconsin, he began competing and judging in fiddle contests. When asked by the newspaper to come up with a photo, the only thing Jack could find was a drawing of a young alligator playing a fiddle. He was leaning back on his tail in the cartoon. The nickname of Mr. Gator stuck. Jack even had license plates proclaiming ‘MR GATOR’ Such fun silliness.

Much later a fellow writer (Jesse Selin) drew the Gator picture and then we had to come up with a first name. A masculine one with punch. Jack’s favorite author, C.S.Lewis was nicknamed Jack, and it fit.

Jack’s real name is Norman Eric Peterson. Sort of Scandinavian. Images of sandbakkels, fattigman, lefese an of course, barrels of lye filled with lutefisk come to mind. The cookies are hard to spell and hardly anyone knows about them. Local church basement cooks, however, know these things. These images are first to come to mind and don’t seem masculine (except for the lutefisk ocean crossing ordeal) Not that Norm is ashamed of Norway and Sweden’s images, there just isn’t that instant familiar image of Norm in most of us. Friendly and as a child, a bit rough and tumble. So, the name stuck and you, dear reader, are too. It also helps for the third person writing and as Jack says; “The names are changed to protect the guilty.”

So there you have it. Jack did indeed have a rough and tumble life with prison escapes, FBI encounters, Top Secret rank, Luftwaffe pilots, Russian surface missiles and facing down danger with it all. The name fits. (He does not own a battle axe.) He is Just a slightly dense Norwegian that is ready to sail to the new land. And risk his life to do so. Adventure seems to be a trait of Norwegians and Swedes. They like to work hard too.

Words and history combined with a lot of trauma. Jack likes to write to entertain, intrigue and show those narrow escapes. All of it happened due to shape a man able to witness the saving grace of Jesus. It’s pretty good, Jack Gator

How often is the Christian church no more than a self-centered community only faintly concerned that God’s will be done in the life of the world, only faintly interested in justice and mercy for this earth’s exploited messes, but passionately devoted to our own protection and advancement as a community and, if we are piously inclined, to assuring that after a comfortable passage through this life we can look forward to a guaranteed place in the foam-rubber-padded seats of heaven.

…Lesslie Newbigin

Christ was crucified because he would have nothing to do with the crowd (even though he addressed himself to all). He did not want to form a party, an interest group, or a mass movement, but wanted to be what he was, the truth, which is related to the single individual. Therefore everyone who will genuinely serve the truth is by that very fact a martyr. To win a crowd is no art; for that only untruth is needed, nonsense, and a little knowledge of human passions. But no witness to the truth dares to get involved with the crowd.

… Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855)

We cover our deep ignorance with words, but we are ashamed to wonder, we are afraid to whisper “mystery.”

… A. W. Tozer (1897-1963), The Knowledge of the Holy, Harper & Row, 1975 p 26

Do not talk much; neither long at a time. Few can converse profitably above an hour. ‘Keep at the utmost distance from pious chitchat, from religious gossiping. John Westley

Above all, praying means to be accepting toward God who is always new, always different. For God is a deeply moved God whose heart is greater than mine. The open acceptance of prayer in the face of an ever-new God makes me free. In prayer, I am constantly on the way, on pilgrimage.

…Henri J. M. Nouwen (1932-1996), With Open Hands, Ave Maria Press, 1981 p 69

Religion is divisive.” Yes, it is. But God is not. Religion is divisive when it becomes fanaticism, an insistence that we know all the answers, and that anybody whose answers are slightly different from ours must be wrong. Madeline D Engle

C.S. Lewis “I found that I had a prejudice against the French.” Warnie Lewis “How would that be?” Well, if I knew why, it wouldn’t be a prejudice, would it?”

C.S. Lewis: “I wouldn’t be the first ass that Christ has used and most probably not the last”“In a world of self-promoting academics, coining buzzwords and aligning themselves on the side of the angels of the moment, George Stigler epitomized a rare integrity as well as a rare intellect. He jumped on no bandwagons, beat no drums for causes, created no personal cult. He did the work of a scholar and a teacher—both superbly—and found that sufficient. If you wanted to learn, and above all if you wanted to learn how to think—how to avoid the vague words, fuzzy thoughts, or maudlin sentiments that cloud over reality—then Stigler was your man.”

Economist Thomas Sowell on Nobel prize winning George Stigler

Calling Jean-Paul Sartre: “Hello, is he free?” ‘he’s spent the last 60 years trying to work that one out’ Monty Pythons Flying Circus

“Explaining Metaphysics to the nation. I wish he would explain his explanation” Lord Byron in ‘Don Juan’

“The King James version or the authorized version as it was known. All subsequent translations seem to me to the verbal felicity of bureaucratic circulars” Theodore Dalrymple

“ Like a mornings cold spring, clinging to winter’s chill” J.R.R. Tolkien ‘the two towers’ Lord of the Rings.

These are some of the brilliant writings that I, Jack Gator, cling to and paraphrase in some weaker way to express myself. As my long gone mentor, another Jack, said: He owed a great debt to George MacDonald for his inspiration and his Muse. Not to plagiarize them, but to express their wisdom somehow with my own sentences and images. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

There is a common malady that a great majority of us suffer from. Not fear although that can easily be a part of this condition. The lack of contact with others or the inability to actually help someone who suffers from loneliness. This malady is so common that the temptation to minister to another person who also suffers from it is a desire. Unfortunately, the easiest and worst approach is commonality.

“Oh, you too! I am so lonely at times as well. I usually draw out an exciting new novel by Reptile Ron and relax with a warm quilt and a cup of decaf. Might work for you too!” Just substitute an exciting and personal story for your lonely feelings, it was recommended by Readers Disgust!

We all have scars of loneliness. A quote from Henri J.M. Nouwen says a controversial thing about these scars. “The Christian way of life does not take away our loneliness; it protects and cherishes it as a precious gift” a. Nothing will be able to take it away. Vacations to exotic locales, incredible soirees, fame and fortune cannot fill that wound. The ministry to the wounded is done by a wounded person.

The ‘crack’ or visible wound in us is akin to the Grand Canyon. It seems ‘out of place’ and somewhat threatening and dangerous. There is incredible beauty in it as well. A rock climber can overcome fear and descend, roped in and perhaps discovering a precious jewel encased in the hard rock..’

The loneliness Jesus endured up to his seemingly impossible sacrifice is palpable. His best and dearest disciples were asked to stay with Him while He struggled with the biggest and most horrid event of His life. Up in the Mount of Olives was the sweating of blood and the trusted and loved ones were fast asleep. Abandoned and alone. Willing to obey, but knowing the abandonment to come would be the most horrific event in the universe.

It all comes down to the cross, doesn’t it. An old legend in the Jewish Talmud shows us the ministry to come. Rabbi Yoshua asks Elijah when will the Messiah come? Elijah replied, “Go and ask Him yourself” The incredible question of where the Messiah was is answered “sitting at the gates of the city” The Rabbi is told the Messiah is sitting among the poor, covered with wounds. The people unbind all their wounds and then bind them up again. The Messiah unbinds one of His wounds and binds it again. He realizes He will be needed and feels He must be ready with no delay.

His wounds, akin to precious jewels found in the destruction of His canyon, enable the poor in spirit to be healed as He shows us the wounds, unbound “Touch my nail pierced hands, put yours in my wounded side, Give me all your love because I’ve given you all of mine” b. The ultimate loneliness He endured gives him the ability to touch every lonely and wounded heart and bind it together with the wraps of total love.

It’s who we are, we fall asleep in our comfy chairs just when the ministering one tells us to awaken and become a New Life. Abandon the false gods of comfort and a life with peace of mind with no troubles and a life style that promises to be care free. Touch His nail pierced hands, maybe for the first time and feel the embrace that will take that wound of loneliness. Forever. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

a. Henri Nouwen ‘the wounded healer’ b. Jon Thurlow ‘I just want to know you better’

Always lurking in the controlling mind. A real solution for ‘those people’ that just don’t get it. A safe way to send them back to reality and make a small profit on the deal. As our world gets a fourth of the truth from the sanctioned loud voices, we find ourselves either listening on our secret wireless sets, or reading the rants and being admonished by family members. “Why do you keep reading that stuff if it makes you so upset?” Of course, along with the news sites comes the inevitable ads for cruises in the Archipelago islands and the like.

The collapse comes steadily with the usual shortages and complaints. Why is heating oil unavailable again? I just got back from the bakers and they’re out of flour. Can you get it running? I’d love to fix it but the parts are back ordered. It seems again like all the toilet paper can be found at the Roswell Mall Wart stores.

Then we hear and see cars and trucks that need some work, prowling the roads. Then run down abandoned houses will be occupied with people that don’t mow the grass. I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore Toyota.

Our money is getting worthless and fuel is well over fifteen bucks. Large gardens abound in the country and generators and transfer switches are flying off the shelves. Ammunition is a subject of quiet conversations. It’s only a matter of time until the gentle words come forth: “Hello! We’re from Madison and we’re here to help. How many people live here? We need to keep track of supplies, are you doing OK? Your safety relies on us. We are setting up some shelters now that the weather is getting colder. The protesters have taken out the power grid and we know getting heat in this weather is critical. When you come to the shelter area nearby, we will make sure everyone is safe and warm. Basic food will be supplied. The fences and guards are for your security. Able bodied people will be asked to help with camp duties, cutting firewood and such.”

We will be told that it will be like camping out with our families and neighbors. Even common rooms for socializing will be there. (It is assumed that games such as ‘Go Fish’ and ‘ Monopoly’ will be available). It will be a vacation! Forwarded mail will not be an issue as the Post Office will have other duties assigned to them.

These measures are presented as temporary until the government gets things back in order. Moving into the shelters will at first be offered and when the national guard arrives, interstate travel will be regulated. Travel papers will be necessary,everywhere. The Consolidation of area resources will be accomplished and there will be work that needs to be done. Camp gardens, maintenance of equipment, and clothing repairs and distribution of supplies from the area. After all, “Work Sets You Free.” If we all work together we will survive. For a while. The recalcitrant will simply be let out the gates to fend on their own. To salvage and hide. And die alone.

It isn’t too hard to visualize the transition, it has already begun. When the social security checks that come into our bank accounts cannot buy gas and food. When government subsidy payments are only for ‘those’ people. When the internet news is always filtered for sanctioned good news. Cameras everywhere keeping law and order. It will be too late to stop the rock of Sisyphus from rolling over us. End game. State is our ‘savior!’ Our only savior is Jesus! He’s pretty good. Jack Gator