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

I thought I wanted a career, turns out I just wanted paychecks.

Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

I just discovered the purpose of shinbones: They’re devices for finding furniture in a dark room.

I’m never sure what to do with my eyes when I’m at the dentist. Do I close them? Do I stare at his face? Do I look at the ceiling? What’s the proper etiquette here?

I have all the money I’ll ever need – if I die by 4:00 p.m. Today.

Google Maps really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

You can go anywhere you want if you look serious and carry a clipboard.

To err is human. To arr is pirate.

I feel like getting something done today, so I’m just going to sit here until that feeling passes…

Tip of the week: When going through airport customs and the TSA agent asks, “Do you have any firearms with you?” do not reply, “What do you need?”

I just read a list titled “100 Things to Do Before You Die.” I’m pretty surprised “Yell for help” wasn’t one of them.

I when a fly or small bug lands on your computer screen, has your first reaction ever been to try and scare it with the cursor?

People think I’m too patronizing (that means I treat them as if they’re stupid).

“Dammit I’m mad” is spelled the same way backwards. Think about it

.Wife just told me that her birthday is tomorrow. Wow, like maybe more of a heads-up next time.

Son: “Dad, there’s a monster in my room, can I sleep in here?” Dad: Look, it’s you he’s after, why make it my problem too.

2020: We aren’t allowed to go out in public. 2022: We can’t afford to go out in public.

Thanks to fellow Blogger Mitch Teemley for the research and laughter!

It was Jack’s first duty station. Sent overseas to Italy and the only destination was the mysterious, Comservron 6. It was exciting and only the third plane ride for Jack. First one was a DC3 out to Michigan to set up a curtain display. Second one was boot camp in San Diego and now international!

Naples, Italy sounded official and perhaps some sort of embassy duty! A few weeks leave to remember where home was and it was off to the airport to fly overseas. Jack was just barely 21 and away he went. Jack was just getting used to Camp Nimitz in San Diego. Teaching Morse code to other Sailors in A school It was rather pleasant after boot camp actually. Jack had a sister in Laguna too. She had a red Corvette and let Jack drive it now and then to Las Angelis.

Instead of some villa with radios and communication for an embassy, Jack found the duty station was aboard an old WWII fleet oiler. His first duty on board was back in the mess decks, peeling potatoes as finally the ship left port and steamed off to the east Mediterranean sea. The ship anchored out (she always did because no one trusted a ship filled with millions of gallons of fuels. Oil, gasoline, JP4 and kerosene. None of this bunch had ever exploded but you can’t be too careful with floating bombs.

The landing craft was launched and Jack actually set foot on yet another foreign country, first one was Tijuana after boot camp. Now Turkey. Exotic and quite a bit like movies that feature bazaars with people jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Exciting to Jack and still so foreign. The street vendors closed in on Jack and began offering to buy his dress blue pants. Jack thought about Dr. Suez and the story of the green pants with nobody in them. Jack got back to fleet landing and was glad to get aboard. So much for Izmir. Jack’s pants still had somebody in them and he quickly changed into his utilities.

Being home ported in Naples, Jack was entitled to have a room in town. What a surprise when Jack heard this! There was an advisory contact to obtain a room or apartment and Jack chose this room on the seventh floor of a galleria. There was a balcony leading to the room and at the middle of it where the elevator came up, a view of the building unfolded. Stupendous falls short. It was about eight stories down to the interior which was laid out in a cross. At Jacks floor, the glass dome covering the galleria was right above him. As the development in Jack’s home town began to take off, the concept of an interior shopping ‘mall’ which began in Europe, was very attractive. Jack could see the shoppers way down there and he could see right to the north of the Galleria to the Napoli Opera house.

Jack set out to get some ‘civvies’ and chose wool Harris tweeds and the accouterments that went with that style of perhaps an English professor on holiday. Jack met a British art student at a local cafe’, and over small demitasses of espresso, Jack invited her to take a train to Pompeii. A delightful excursion until they arrived and the ruined city was very pornographic in it’s statuary and frescoes. That was the end of that and she left for London and Jack went back to the Galleria. The elevators all ran on 10 lire coins and once Jack came up to his floor, he realized the gate to his room was closed for the night. Jack tried not to look down as he climbed the railing and swung around the gate. Oh well, the room was a refrigerator in construction. Marble floors that would not warm anything. Jack had a little sunflower propane heater and it kept his bedside table a bit warm.

Foolishly leaving the beauty of Galleria Umberto for a seedy apartment rented by his new friend Chuck. Was a dip into the seedy side of Naples. The elevator up to Tonino’s apartment also ran on 10 Lire coins and if you hit the call button just as it was getting the bottom and climbed in the open door, it would go down a few feet and go up to your floor. It was that kind of alleyway apartment area. Trouble was brewing for Jack with the local pharmacy at the end of the alley that legally sold methadrine over the counter. Chuck called them ‘pep pills’ for the mid-watch. This adventure, Escape and Capture I and II was in the Leader last year. (Drop me an email and I can forward them to you) Gatorjack75@gmail.com It’s all pretty good. Jack Gator

Fairly recently, Jack started doing Zoom meetings for a committee he is a member of. A local outfit it is but still, easier to chat with neighbors within a radius of 10 miles or so.

There is a mute function at the top of Jack’s screen that shows his face on the screen. Clicking it silences any vocals or noise from Jack’s workspace. Clattering pencils, coffee cup clanging, all silent for the other participants. Of course, the camera showing everyone in a smaller space on the screen is difficult for Jack. No matter where the camera is located, Jack seems to be looking up or sideways. The other folks don’t seem to have that problem. Jack will have to ask why.

Recently, Jack remembered a similar chat format that he had with some friends in the big city in the late fifties. Most of the guys in the chat were friends of similar age except for Brother Dave in South Minneapolis.

Since home computers and cell phones were decades away, the multi chat ‘room’ was done over Amateur radio. Jack was in eighth grade as were most of the participants and all of them held General class licenses. This allowed them to use audio transmissions and more ‘bands’ of short wave to do so.

The chatting was done on the Ten Meter band which was much wider in bandwidth than the popular citizen’s band radio. That slot in radio bands was much higher around two meters and was disdained by Jack and his friends. No training or knowledge of circuitry, antenna construction and Morse code was required for that citizen’s Band. Elitist Ham juveniles. Citizen’s band is still used by OTR drivers as a useful tool, but the range and power is very limited.

So, there we were, a group of nerdy young amateur radio operators and we came up with a plan for a ‘network’ or net to join us all at the same time. We decided on a frequency at the edge of the ten meter band and called our little group the ‘Fish Net’

We would log on when we should have been in bed on school nights and talk about school and ‘social’ events that it seemed we were on the outside of: football team stuff, flirtatious gossip and the ‘In’ crowd. You may have been in on that or if not, you know the isolation of not being approached to join one. No doubt, we radiated (pun) our superior minds and scientific abilities that made us total outcasts. Jack went on to a custom loud chopped Harley in the early 60’s and confirmed his rebellion. Another column. (Jack sold his ham gear to buy chrome plating and engine parts.)

So, late at night, Jack and his friends would establish contact. One at a time we would announce our monitoring the exact frequency we would meet on. Jack rigged up a string to his foot switch which would switch from listening to broadcasting. Switching antenna for receiver to transmitter and standby to both parts of his ‘rig’ The string went up the ceiling and down to his bed.

Jack took his microphone to his bed, laid down and would pull on the string to make the switch. It worked and a few times, Jack would fall asleep at the switch. It was fun and almost impossible to convey to school mates. Several times, a ham operator from another part of the country would log in and chat a bit too. A bit of another difference between Citizens Band Radio or CB. That can not be done with 5 watts of power. We had a hundred watts or more and ionosphere radio wave ‘skip’ now and then.

It was fun and connecting as we all went to different schools. Early Zoom, about fifty years or so. Pioneers in communication as it were. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

It’s natural. It’s necessary. There is danger that must be realized at times and to be avoided. Of course, the downside is we tend to believe that the danger extends to those around us of our ‘tribe’. Jack knows this is one of his obvious problems, is it yours too? Not physical danger but religious danger. We all have religion in us. After all, the philosophers on Mar’s hill centuries ago were religious too, as we all are. Every one of us. Paul of Tarsus was not successful in convincing these men of the truth of Christ. Why? Because they are just like us. Comfy in their own religion and not open to anything else. Well presented and truthful by Paul, but judged as wrong.

Jack has had a lot of experiences that can and have been judged by others. Is it your experience too? It isn’t too hard to see the response of incredulity and rejection immediately. A slight lift of the eyebrows or a small pulse in a carotid artery. Closure of the mouth slightly and an upturn of the head. The most obvious response is a crossing of the arms in front. Subtle, there are other ‘tells’ of emotion. You can see them if you get good at it. Oddly enough, they show when you lie too.

There are many subjects in conversation that trigger judgment, Jack finds the most reactions are those referring to conversations shared about communications from God, Lord of lords. Personal events of beauty and love. Especially if there isn’t any understood point, or worse yet, a prejudgment of himself as deceived or worse. As in Jack’s life, a judgment of doctrine or scandal in another church body or chain of faith. It leads to a loss, always. Jack has mentioned some mentors that have assisted him in his faith growth. Miracles of healing and visions while with old friends or where they were at the time.

The gossip usually goes on within and it is a ‘hot button’ often resulting in a total rejection of music written and sung. Music using scripture as a base as well! It is disappointing to Jack as he knows how he is being delivered from this what is called ‘discernment’. Jack has been a musical performer with folk music and country blues for a great portion of his life. A lot of songs that are not too useful in a faith gathering but this does not necessarily condemn everything Jack has done or will do. . Jack’s mentors of worship however, are shrugged off as soon as he mentions them or even exposes a sticker on his instrument cases. ‘Oh them’ Heretics, deceived people

Beautiful songs that bring tears to Jack and when Jack mentions them in groups or personal conversation some extraordinary things, miracles really that he has experienced; they are quickly ignored and put in the judgment bucket as the result of brainwashing or hypnotic occurrences. Jack has done this too and he is the lessor.

Think of how John’s Revelation was and is received. It’s similar in many ways. It is the way our life is supposed to be at times. Stunning to us and extraordinary to others. Why are we like this? Jack guesses it is his arrogance and belief that he is the judge of all things. After all, beasts with many eyes, a Man with eyes of fire and a burning sea of glass with infinite musicians playing and singing. Some folks even reject musical instruments.

Try and open up without the feeling of being dragged away on a sledge of sludge. Listen and look at something else, something that can have a lot of beauty and truth in it. Ask Jesus how he looks at these things, the song of songs which is dismissed as a fleshly song. Solomon was out of his mind and hallucinating perhaps? Actually, it’s pretty good. “I am lovesick, tell me if you find Him”. Jack Gator