After several years at sea, expectations were always high with Norm when a seaport was coming into view. A place where a ship could anchor out and liberty sections were announced. Sometimes, I would have to man my duty station so other men in my division could go ‘On the Beach’.

Every seaport has a flavor, remembered by the salty ones. Izmir Turkey was known for pushy vendors trying to buy your pants. Odd to everyone on board. Just for the materiel of the wool it seemed. One could not imagine a Turk wearing a pair of Dress Blues. Malta was odd with many tobacco shops every where. I bought a clay pipe and some pipe tobacco. It made me feel connected with the past. 3 riggers with a man at the tiller haveing a smoke with a gentle breeze coming to port.

Rhodes was only remembered by the absence of the Colossus at the breakwater. There were other images which I have decided at this time to put on the back shelf of memory. Villa France, Palma De Majorca. Home port was the best as that was where I had a small apartment and civilian clothes.

It was Naples, Italy where I began to feel at home in a way. Learning a little Italian and just walking about. My apartment was on the top floor of the Galleria Umberto with good views of the galleria below. In a cross for a city block with the glass dome above me. I met a swell English gal in a coffee shop and she agreed to accompany me on the local train to view Pompei. It was a mistake. The pornographic scenes painted on the crumbling walls were enough to put her off. Fascinating place with all the remants of body imprints where they layed as the Vesuvius errupted and buring the city with volcanic ash. Never saw that young woman again. She saw a young man with a nice Harris tweed jacket at first meeting. Perhaps her impressions changed a bit. The train ride there was most pleasant, the ride back was a bit less so.

Decades later, Norm and his wife Julie went to a seaport that was a bit over a hundred miles away from the home ranch in Wisconsin. Duluth.

Big ships coming and going and the big air horns blasting the letter G (dah dit dah dah) with thrilling low bass notes as they hove into view to signal the lift bridge and say hello. I like that sound. Akin to the big bass notes at the largest pipe organ in the world, run by air. They are similar to the EMI magnets which I have also enjoyed, which astonishes most everyone. “You liked that? The thruming and the tight space too which reminded me of the submarines I briefly was assigned to from Basic training. Tight quarters, in the suface Navy too. More stories I have written about.

At the local seaport it was the same thing I experienced decades ago at sea, but with a complete satisfaction this time. Myself and Julie were broke when we left this seaport but very pleased at the experience. Breakfast with linen and several courses of souffle and perfectly baked rolls and new forks after every course. Ocean front views from the sumptuous room and a steam bath in the bathroom. Unbelievable waterfront gardens and gracious servants and hosts. Expensive. Worth it as you can surmise.

A short walk to the port itself with more things to buy and shops eagerly extending welcomes at their Doors. Glassblowing, exotic ice cream concoctions, carriage rides and fountains akin to Trevi in Rome. A violin shop in a large building with expensive instruments and a very erudite and friendly proprietor. Excellent wares and again, money given with satisfaction by us. A very nice instrument built with Spalded wood that Julie was eager to play.

The best part was when I began to connect and experience God’s presence among the throngs that were present when a ship bigger than my Navy ones was leaving port. Close up at the seawalls at the canal as the ship slowly steamed by. Watching the churning aft as it headed out to sea.This time the hatches secure with the loaded iron ore. Sea gulls circling for the anticipated food preparation aftermath. Of course, there is spilled popcorn for them near the breakwater too.

It was pleasant with the crowds, the best part was that I recognized people that were in love. Something about them would prompt me to boldly approach these strangers and state: “You love Jesus, don’t you!” One hundred percent response that day. A small sign, even a cross seen or the glimpse of a lingering smile. The upturned cheek line perhaps. Mostly a prompt from the Holy Spirit to tell them. Several older women remarked; “How did you know?!” “It shows” I would respond. There was audible delight as they would turn to a companion excitedly and begin smiling as they talked.

It was easy this time, the place was full of believers. They were Just experiencing the joy of spring and a lot of freedom. Faces exposed now and seen with joy. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe

The missionary, out in ‘the field’, we have all heard the term and some of us have been one. There are so many ‘fields’ in the world. Gator has an image of this field as wading through a jungle or trudging about a very different terrain in Africa. It seems everyone that has been asked, suggested to about this field, thinks of deepest, darkest Africa. Complete with Indiana Jones types and indigenous people that can kill you in many various ways if you make a social faux pax. The favorite one seems to usually be a blowgun dart or a bent tree branch with spikes. An occasional deep pit with the same spikes from the local spikes and thorns section of the local Fleet of Feet store.

But, there is another mission field, and it does not usually require a stand by ticket. Of course, flying on the frayed cuff involves sleeping in various airport terminals in various positions. Pulling chairs together or dreaming of a quarter activated storage locker that slides out about six feet. Those dreams can come unexpectedly while sagging between those chairs. There are also predators in the terminals which could sweet talk a Chicago cop into taking a limo ride to a fanciful and benevolent location with soft pillows and a mint on said pillow. The world needs missionaries in many locales, not just in far away places. Right in one’s own neighborhood actually.

The Gator family created a mission in their area of the world that gave families a bounty of food for ten bucks.

There are professional food gleaners that acquire food from distributors. Food that is out of date or about to be out of date. Some foods too that just don’t move as fast as thought. Pickled eels, fresh Beetle juice (two stars for that one), Dried mushroom flour, things like that. Gator has a ‘best by date’ that indicates he is prime for sale as well. About ten years ago. The food in reality is good fruit, veggies, breads and often meats as well.

The best part of the ‘Feed The Meek’ mission was the two Gators (Mrs and Mr) that held a meeting before the food was set out on tables. In another room with chairs, filled with people with shopping bags, carts and cardboard boxes. Eager at times to hear what these intriguing reptiles had to say, they listened. There was nothing else they could do. Sort of a standby terminal for flying into the next room and getting your ten bucks worth of good stuff.

So, the Gators talked to the room about how the food was obtained and why the volunteers showed up to help. Even carrying out the bounty to trunks and back seats parked nearby. Skycaps from a different sky locale.

Mr and Mrs Gator earnestly talked about the King who was nearby and had talked them into starting the mission and how the roomful of people could talk to this King themselves. He even touched some of them who had various physical and social ills with the ability to convey a feeling of worthiness. Often these people would be astonishingly healed of these ills. Returning recipients of the bounty had good stories to tell and it enhanced the expectation of extraordinary results. It also brought the King into sharp focus and reality. Truth.

A mission field right in the same country the Gators lived in! Only ten clicks away from their modest ranch and it felt good and right. They even got some of that good food too. So, you see, the mission field can be across the planet or in your own neighborhood. The key is to be available when the King lets you know of an opening that requires some one just like you. A special person that is perfect for the job. You. Completely unique, one of a kind and the mission can involve hundreds, thousands of people or just one. You. It seems the King is not interested in numbers of served or servants. His standards are just and true, just for you. He loves it when the ones he whispers to or writes love letters to, answer Him with an eager ‘Yes!’ Listen for His voice. He speaks softly and at times speaks right into your soul, unmistakable, and exciting. You can say no of course but the task is suited for you and the rewards are simply the Beloved Kings to give. Jesus is the King. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

It was sort of unexpected. The usual surprise when the phone call came. The funeral is up north where he lived.

The smiling in-law and survivor of war and crime was being ‘put to rest’ next week and “could you come?”His pain is gone, but the ‘rest’ part seems a bit pretentious to Gator. As though death was a train station you just sacked out in, waiting for the eternity express to rumble in. Sort of like the one in the movie ‘Matrix’ for those of you that have wondered about that place. What’s on the ticket you have in your hand? They always say Judgment seat next stop. The ticket also says ‘payment pending’ Better get on the train and get a good seat. Might be a slight delay at the Judgment station. The conductor says there is a bit of a crowd there. He also says ‘today’ with a slight smile. If you know what is coming, it gives you a bit of a sharp uncertainty, everyone does it they say.

So with this imagery in mind, Gator softly walked into the church building and took a pew seat towards the front. The front row had the soldiers sons and their wives. It was a different ceremony, a different faith stream but with the same feeling. Gator did not know the drill, so he just read and reread a passage in his NKJ Bible.

At the end of communion, the Priest requested the eulogy to be given. The sons looked at each other and then turned and looked at us. I took my Bible and ascended to the pulpit. I read, almost from memory the few lines of scripture I had read over and over. I finished the short reading and then began to honor the fallen Korean war vet.

I could see the VFW guys in full dress and the colonel and the bagpiper nearby.

I thought about the time when we asked dad to turn down the TV for our young sons sitting with us. He replied in no uncertain terms that we were in his house and would do what he pleased. A little rough language tossed in for emphasis. Then afterwards we all went the Post and played pool. Young Gator made a pretty good bank shot and Dad-in-law offered a fireball shot of whiskey to him. Young Gator was about 14. These images were set aside as Gator eulogized about the fallen soldier as a man of bravery and honor. A Chosin reservoir survivor in the Korean war, followed by decades of police business in Milwaukee. It felt right to bring those things to light.

We followed the casket behind the Piper and experienced the seven men shoot blanks three times. I thanked the Colonel and then went in for the lunch. The Priest was walking next to me and I said: “Father, thank you for speaking of our savior” He turned to me and said: “Yes! It’s all about Jesus!” Gator will never forget that.

There was a proposal by his sons to give the VFW a budget of a thousand dollars for that days bar tab. We said OK but did not attend the after funeral gathering there. Soon afterwards it came time to go back up north and figure out what to do with the estate. Mrs. Gator’s brother handled the record keeping and we all spoke up for what we wanted. The sons wanted the vehicles and Gator wanted the man’s sidearm, an Ithaca 1911 .45. The Grip handles were well worn and there was some cleaning to do. It appeared to have been used somewhat.

Other things were attended to and it was pretty equitable between the six of us.

The house was cleaned and Gator got some Pendleton shirts and some slippers. The freezers were emptied and there was quite a bit of steaks and roasts to be salvaged. Gator also spoke up for the powerful garden tractor that was top of the line. Stuff like that, most of us know what it is like.

We have all been through this and Gator thinks what it will be like when his unneeded precious instruments and other stuff is given to the family and friends. None of it will pay that ticket we all get when we get on that train for the Judgment station. We will tremble and yet look forward to our friend that has spoken to us many times in different ways. There are some tickets that cannot be paid and then there are the rest that will say ‘paid in full’ The next stop is eternal joy but the unpaid tickets will have to go on for the Perdition station. ‘End of the line!’ Lets talk about that ticket payment sometime, it’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Who indeed would be more capable of preaching the ‘good news’ to anyone than Gator himself? Just about every rule that the Lord Himself gave Gator has been broken and dashed to pieces. Even the murder rule which Gator sought to break as he slithered around his old neighborhood. Gator’s thoughts broke Gator’s soul.

Looking for the man that deserved killing. Anger and retribution raged within him and the old German pistol, tucked in his backside was to be the tool. Fully loaded with 9mm hollow points. Cocked and locked. The offender was never seen, but Gator’s gang leader told him the job had been accomplished in a different way. A way of terror only as a prolonged, inevitable execution can be. Gator was glad. He raped my woman.

Now today, we watch and read of looting, destruction and again of guns and death. “If only they were given the opportunity to succeed” No, they are just doing what we would do if we lived there. “ Those people need a good education and healthy surroundings” How is that working for world leaders and wall street? We would be seated on thrones of wealth if opportunity was given. Corrupted, Just a little bit so no one will notice or care.

Same humans, just change broken windows and free stuff for derivatives and broken mortgages. More profit again.

‘If I ran things’ (Dr. Suess) I would give them/us money and free colleges. Just like us, ‘those people’ would leverage it into something a little more useful. A little profit over the expected. Maybe a lot of good connections to leverage law to my advantage (we call it lobbying) “Don’t lecture me! It’s perfectly legal!”

We are ‘those people’ We use excuses just like them and everyone does. I deserve better, it’s my right! They hate me. Why? Because ‘those people’ remind us of what we are inside. Broken and in denial of it.

After all we argue, look at the lions and the coyotes. They are just like us, Darwinian? Evolved into possessing the fang and claw to survive. There is a subtle but severe difference, we know that destroying life that is just like us is wrong. There is a built in knowledge that there is a right and wrong. We ‘kill’ each other with our knowledge of not being mere flesh and blood. Capable of higher things and mercy and love. “I’m no Hitler” we say. That’s good, One was quite enough. The majority of my neighbors would say so too. Unless I lived ‘over there’ in WWII and thought Adolph had the right idea. “Tell a lie once and it is seen so. Do it hundreds of times and it becomes truth”1.

As Gator realizes again after studying from Socrates to C.S. Lewis, all the twists and turns of philosophy turn us to observing our minds in different ways. ‘this is the right way to look at reality’ Good logic and often leading to discovery of good things. Not necessarily to the solution of finally seeing this reality of life as our brokenness, in desperate need of a solution. Somehow to do so much more than ‘forgiving ourselves’ once more for breaking a law that goes way beyond theft and our own judgment of others for being bad people.

Bad just like us. Sinful is a good term to use. We are all guilty and in need of a solution, to be whole and what we have been created for. Not red of fang and claw but worthy of loving only like one man ever did.

Ask that man and he will make you fresh and new if you really mean it. Jesus can do this for you.

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

1. Joseph Goebbels

It was a child’s romance. A romance perhaps brought into full bloom by trauma and the need to escape it somehow. Fresh from the military that tortured him, Jack’s path beckoned him strongly to dissolve himself in marriage. A sudden formal engagement and the promise of the life he had never known seemed right.

The only job Jack had was performing songs learned from warm and scratchy vinyl recordings. Joan Baez, Peter, Paul & Mary, Carolyn Hester. The job at the YMCA for youth was better right away than the red line brig in Spain and got Jack the attention he craved.

The romance began with a girl from the YMCA gig. Jack was living in the basement with his mother and her Swedish 3^rd husband. Relegated to the room with a washing machine that supplied needed noise for Jack and his girl friend. This living arrangement was to be endured till the marriage anticipated, but the engagement ended as quickly as it had begun. She kept the ring and never came back. Jack’s beloved disappeared. Jack frantically swam through all the places she should be, and finally, a good friend told him: she had run off with an actor from the famous Guthrie Theater. She was gone.

Stunned again by sudden betrayal, Jack went deep into the rabbit hole and gave up the promised good life and got involved with another vet who hooked him up with some heroin smugglers in California. Money, a mansion in the hills of Berkeley and using his Military skill set, Jack became a member of the air force of drug smugglers. Mexico to the California desert. Heroin gave Jack relief from all the pain of his life. The poppy blooming in Jack’s core became the path to victory. No back pain, no mental anguish, no fears. Just nirvana and complete oblivion.

Deep into addiction, a voice entered Jack’s room in the mansion. Five simple words: “Life or death, choose now” The stupefied Gator chose life and was instantaneously delivered from the death path. No withdrawal. Of course, the swell new job was over and the usual reaction was another betrayal and a narrow escape. Jack left the flying close to the ocean trade, still alive and another life came upon him. A drug free city government gang that drove cabs. He was Hippy restaurant singer and then steel track work brought the money. The city gang was left for the railroad gang, but Something was awry and had to be done for freedom from the inside pain upon him again. Never trust your heart to another. That was entrenched into Jack’s very being, trauma of the past.

Through a city friend, Jack found his fiancé locked in a mental ward downtown and bluffed his way in posing as a youth pastor to see her. She was heavily drugged and overweight, groggy but she came into focus for a short time and asked Jack “why are you here?” ‘Because I love you!’ came quicker than thought and it was over. The hurt, the rejection, the betrayal. Better than the heroin that never lasted and blinded Jack to the fact that his miracle of deliverance was love, not doubt. This was Jesus seeing and telling Jack what Jack really was. Then the light grew slowly but surely. Plans afoot to take Jack to places he could not imagine. Places of trust. Real fulfillment. Real music with love.

‘Never betray the sword, never betray beauty, and never betray a friend’. It’s a good way to see the life we live as men and warriors of the Word. Freedom from fear and self hatred is a special gift that can only come from our Lord and Savior. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

It was early in the morning when Jack saw the delightful smell drifting in from the kitchen. A haze,

It was Stijn, his son, cooking bacon for the family breakfast. Delightful, visible and delicious.

A combination of several senses at once.

Another combination is lightning. The stroke, which grasps our sight as suddenly it appears and

continues for a very brief time afterwards as dark lines as we blink it away. Then comes the sound.

Calculating in our mind the speed of sound @ 1125 ft/s we come up with a mile every 4.7 seconds.

It’s fun to see how close the strike is by the timing of the thunder. So, we have sound and sight in

combination. If the lightning is close, there is a smell of the ozone as well. The fertility of the earth

is enhanced by the generation of Nitrogen. A natural fertilizer and the ozone protects us from the

harmful radiation from sunlight! Quite a few senses involved. Sight, smell, hearing and the

engagement of our mind in calculation and awe.

Along with the lightning, comes the wind and the rain. So now we combine sight, smell and sound

in a different way with seeing the rain, hearing it spatter on our head or the rap on a roof. Then

comes the smell of freshness. Does anyone have few words for the smell of the rain? It’s the smell

that aromatic companies try to duplicate for those horrid car ‘fresheners’ or scented soaps and dryer

sheets. That isle in the big box store that gives us the challenge of holding our breath until we wheel

past with the wobble-wheel cart, looking for toilet paper (Same breath holding reaction to the kitty

litter aisle)

There is, of course, the smell of an old bound hard-cover book while reading it. We could talk about

the delight of those two, but that’s another sense we have. Awe. It’s a natural emotional response to

the senses combined. It’s a sense of presence of the Numinous Creator God. You may call Him a

different name in your awe, Jack calls him Yahweh or Lord or God, the best one for him is Jesus.

Another sense often occurs with that Awe, shivering or a tingling of suddenly being aware of the

supernatural that is always with you but now, sometimes visible (It HAS happened to the Gator,

but is very rare.) After all, no one is supposed to see the face of God lest he die. In the words of

Pogo..”Death, I can live without it”.

It’s not the face of God Jack has seen, it’s the result of His presence he has seen. Jack knows He has

permitted him to see things and hear things, along with that presence that is unbelievable when Jack

talks about them. That’s OK if someone scoffs at these things, Jack knows, He was there.

As Jack has said before, he was there and he is not claiming any thing else. Just a gift we get if we

would know it is so. Jack Gator looks forward to this gift from Him with a smile of expectancy. Jack

never knows when it will occur, but it does and gives him more than he can try to describe in the

description of senses. You probably have had this happen to you, the reader, but perhaps have

thought of it as incredible luck or coincidence unexplained. It’s Joy, that’s for certain.

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

There was a time when a rural township with a large amount of land was threatened by one of their neighbors in a most unusual way. It was at first a subtle threat, an undercurrent of incredible dimensions.

The threat came, very surprisingly from the township’s own of landed gentility, a solid and respected farmer with a century of landed property. There seemed to be nothing behind the threat except a thirst for money. Incredulously, the people began doing the only thing they knew how to do. They prayed, they read the scriptures and met in their homes and church’s to see what the Lord was saying to everyone. Some folks began pointing fingers with gossip about that farmer in spite of the Lords gentle but firm commandment not to do so.

I was led to visit that farmer and that usually wasn’t done as he was busy managing and being an appointed chairman of the large township. It was a lonely and somewhat frightening experience for me. That chairman was known to be a man of explosive temper. Still, I was accepted as I knew his father as a close neighbor from a half century ago and a conversation began. It was made clear I respected him and that character assassination and gossip was not on my agenda. It was my plea for honor to prevail.

Much talk of earlier times took place and even a bit of laughter about that man’s humorous and friendly father. But after a misunderstanding between them upon a second meeting, a phone call with bad language and cursing my faith came forth. Surprised, still persisted.

I brought a tonic of elderberry juice prepared by my wife. On my first visit I saw a persistent cough. I never got the empty jar back. On my fourth visit, I brought raspberries . this gift was dismissed as he told me he had them in his garden. ” Give them to my son” who was standing nearby at the machine shed. Now, legal battles between that that chairman and the people began to get unpleasant and expensive.

Billboards, lawn signs and legal briefs of all sorts. We have an attorney who lives here and donates his time.

The courts move slowly as most courts do and there seemed no way to go back to the pleasant life of all who live here. There are many lakes and cottage owners that use them in the summer. At a town hall meeting the ex chairman shouted ” The lake is dying!” It was over the top of arrogance from a man that was assumed a steward of the land. His home and hundreds of acres of land are not located near any of the lakes. He must have a really efficacious hvac system on his shopping list.

The battle between him and our neighbors continues even though it seems hopeless. Our legal battle for his opening the gate and selling 40 acres to the hog farm developers removed his chairman’s position and resentment continues to grow.

Whatever the courts decide and the underhanded and stiff necked way the former chairman acted and talked are going to be remembered like a forest fire . That memory will linger long afterwards. The family name is now tarnished. In no uncertain terms I told him there were three options available. Keep pressing in and succeed and your family name will be despised. Keep pressing in and loose the battle and the same result will occur. Third choice. Publicly announce that his plan was not good and he would most likely be voted back in as township chairman. He did an excellent job before.

There are celebratory events now over the near miss but the he is now in a jail of his own. It could have been much better for him. Wealth is seductive and destructive and that man is despised by his neighbors but his sons are viewed with suspicion as to what may come next.

Another farmer also is a political figure is another county south of ours, and also closed his fields for snowmobile traffic He was angry that the bad publicity would thwart t his plan to do the same thing in his township. A child’s behavior indeed. Another family name that is tainted.

The original plan is now being challenged by all enjoined people and the plan itself is being brought to light as even more insidious as first appearances were. Pollution of a well used and known river in the watershed threatened.

The foreign country, China, is well funded and connected to the state legislators that seduced my neighbor is working their way to still possess and exploit beautiful country side. It has already gained foothold in neighboring states.

The whole countryside is being destroyed by the high powers and it seems there are not many ways to stop this disaster. Parts of Iowa are in a no breathe zone and western Minnesota people cannot have outdoor picnics, dry laundry or even keep their windows open. Hog manure from huge factories have already ruined the air and water down south from North Carolina.

It’s a need for pork for China and the butchered carcasses are shipped in refrigerated containers to them. 25 thousand hogs on 40 acres with 8 million waste pools is normal for these ‘farms’ It is a foreign invasion of sorts and the ‘profits’ of the exploitation are motivated by Chinas need for the resources of our county. The state legislators are bought by well funded lobbyists with campaign funds.

“Get big or get out” creates a farmers dreams of fortune and dazzling profits. It’s seemingly unstoppable but there is one far above everything and everyone that owns everything anyone can see. He owns the the cattle on all hills and He owns the hills too. By the way, He owns the planets and stars. After all, the Lord made everything that has been made.

Petitions have been given in various ways to the Lord and it is known that He Hears and responds to each and every one. The response is up to Him and the people to then listen. The world once again awaits awesome revelation and direction. At one time, the God was asked which beautiful name would be given to the people to call upon Him. He answered, “I am”.

Jack Gator