Life Experienced

Story Teller

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It’s our entire existence, a magnificent story that only you can experience and only you can tell well. First person. Truth heard or read. Autobiographical and, if written well and told with skill, captivating. We enter in and become one, fascinated with the passion that reflects all life.

We are the story, everyone is. Nothing has changed since creation. Danger and romance. Power and loss. Intrigue and betrayal. Movies and books abound for us and most of them are stories. Technical and how-to instructions can be stories of sorts too. I draw the line at the periodic table books. Analysis is wonderful if you want the study to understand but it is not the genre of human interest stories.

A good story teller can capture you and hold your attention. I re-read books like that, I watch revelatory movies over and over. Music tells stories in several engaging dimensions.

Audiophiles have vinyl records with tube amplifiers and incredible turntables. They have ‘sharp ears’ and need to tickle them without anything getting in the way. Of course, reminders are OK but Duke Ellington on a micro speaker in a cell phone is somewhat inadequate to the task.

Live music, especially worship, is a story and a lot of time requires invisible people to make the story come alive. My self, I have recently become involved with media production and the amount of technical complexity is incredible. The people I am working and learning from all wear black clothing. Invisible in many ways to camera apertures, they move through the worship platform. Their job is to tell the story of God and his glory. The musicians in front of them do their very best to help listeners to enter an area of our lives, an area where we can be overcome with the joy of uniting with the presence of God. Joining with the sea of worshipers through eternity that sing Holy, Holy, Holy…forever. That story.

My personal story is pretty exciting and I have chosen Matt Damon or Tom Cruise perhaps to be the actors in the upcoming movies. Story telling. Look deeper into your life and you will see the handiwork of God through the sorrows and joy. Your stories we all ache to hear and understand. I want to listen to those stories. Even though they are not be as thrilling as you think they should be, they are. I love to hear people’s stories as they come out of the wilderness, leaning on their beloved. The best stories, It’s pretty good. Jack Gator, Scribe

In Retrospect

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

A beautiful October morning that started with windshield scraping and is now showing the glisten of maple leaves in bright sunlight. Drying just for me to gather and spread onto the strawberry plants within our garden.

It is October 16 as I compose this and I decided to sit in the living room sunlight and read a delightful book, A year with C.S. Lewis. It is a gift to me from one of my mentors and good and loved pastor. I read the quotes and entry for today and realized that today is the day that C.S. Lewis’ The lion the witch and the wardrobe was published in 1950.

I was six years old then and had just entered first grade at Loring Grade School about six blocks away from our home in North Minneapolis. My sister, Diana, was in fifth grade and soon to be in Junior high at Patrick Henry School about six blocks away to the east.

A few years have past since then and I have been through the usual life we all experience. Again, in C.S Lewis’ The problem of Pain, there is wisdom that struck me today as encouraging. This book was quoted in my Calendar for today and the assurance of my life unfolded.

“I have seen great beauty of spirit in some who were great sufferers. I have seen men, for the most part, grow better, not worse with advancing years…” 1.

As the sun advanced across the living room floor, I began to see my life once again. Many interesting escapades and many close calls along with poverty, imprisonment and bitter sarcasm resulting from my embracing that pain.

And yet, somewhat recently, I have begun indeed growing better and not filled with fear and hatred of the world and myself included with it. A gentling and calming that surprises my family and other friends. I still keep my wit and humor but it is now tempered with a romance of life that gently pushes the pain aside. I like it and the opportunities to give the little bit of that transforming Grace from our Lord are coming forth. The thrill of action and prayer abounds when the transformation and healing come forth from Him.

There is great hope and Faith growing within me and those are the very gifts of God.

It’s pretty good.. Jack Gator scribe

1. C.S. Lewis The problem of Pain The type writer photo is the one that Jack and Warnie Lewis used

Where did that Guitar go?

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Photo of Schmidt Music building in Downtown Minneapolis

It was supposed to be shipped to Naples, Italy. A complex money deal that went through the mail and that precious Martin D-28 I longed for, was put on a ship or airplane and shipped to me at my APO. It went somewhere else, no one ever found it.

Every time we went into Naples, our home port, I inquired at the local post office and of course, through the Navy postal service for that much wanted Brazilain rosewood, dreadnaught guitar. That one was a D-12-28, which guitar players know is a 12 string instrument, now of high value, In the five figure range.

I really wanted it as I was just beginning to learn guitar and had obtained an Italian Echo model which was OK, but I knew from my limited knowledge and observing vinyl record album covers, that Martin instruments predominated the guitars I saw. I wanted what they played, I wanted to play their songs and I really didn’t know what I wanted but I wanted something beautiful and perfect.

It never came. No one had any idea what became of it. The Echo was quickly sold when I went AWOL in Naples. Along with most of my fancy brooks brothers clothing and Rolex watch. My landlord sold them all as I need the money to escape from a man that had bad intentions for me. He too, was a sailor and I gave him up to the CID as the drug dealer on board ship. Those idiot agents put us both in general population in a marine brig up the hill.

A long story ensued, Escape and Capture (on this web site) After being discharged a year later in Newport beach, I returned to my home town and Schmidt Music store in Minneapolis. I inquired about my Martin 12 string Guitar and they also had no idea where it went. They offered to replace it and pointed to the guitars hanging on the wall. There was no 12 stringed ones but there was a six string D28 and it was the same price, $400 (that was 1967) with case. I took it as they had record of my payment. I Still have it. Brazilian Rosewood back and sides. Worth five figures or so now.

It’s been around the block (Motorcycle diary I) {also found in this web page}I have carried it all over the country. I have played it in a lot of clubs and later as a worship leader in a lot of church’s. I Don’t play it much now, usual excuses. It’s been repaired a few times for free due to me being the original owner.

I own and sometimes play other various precious wood instruments. A French Viola made by C.F. Minel from the late 1800’s, A Gibson A model mandolin made in the 20’s during the Lloyd Loahr era. A violin built by my dentist, Oliver Olaffson, when I was a child. That violin is so loud that most of the bands I played it with that all I heard in my left ear was my playing. (In ear monitors had not been invented when I was doing country western music)

Precious musical instruments that I do not get to take with me when it is my time to cross the bar, [old sailing term for coming to port]

I have begun to realize that property, possessions and riches mean nothing compared to my love of Christ and His love for me and His promises of joy and fulfillment in my life. Wanting something beautiful and perfect is the wish of everyone. That perfection above all things is only found by Crossing the bar indeed. The Cross is the gate to our home port. The bar is removed for us and it isn’t a sand bar. The old sailors knew things like that. It’s pretty good, Jack Gator. Scribe

Neither Despair Nor Optimism

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Upon reading the title of this column, it can be confusing. The description of despair is more or less easy to understand. When confronted with the world we are now in, it seems rather hopeless and we lament there is really nothing we can do about it.

Optimism counters that hopeless feeling that there is a relief on the horizon. Believing perhaps in a coming regime change there will be change that is beneficial to us. The banner of someone that promises what we long for, whatever our personal belief is in a better world. For us.

The despair of course knowing that this will not happen and that things will not go as we expect. Optimism takes a hold and we feel that if we just sit tight, everything will work out OK.

Much akin to Pollyanna thoughts. Don’t worry, be happy as a popular song we have heard.

Nothing to be done, or it will be alright in the end. I find it an odd conundrum as both attitudes are in conflict with the faith I embrace. Most certainly, my life and the life of my family is pretty good as my scribe, the gator always says. It is. We have a lovely place to live and many good friends and the ability to move about and enjoy the fruits of our labor. Literally as the garden and labor provides food and repair of things that do break down.

We know, all the way back to the Diache and the Westminister confession, that there is a real solution and a way to deal with our world. A fallen world and one with joy and sorrow. Oppression and helpfulness. A world that has been promised by our Creator that is not our home but a place of formation and life. Not prosperity nor futility experienced with either optimism nor despair but with the answer for everything. Hope.

Hope indeed that can be expressed by us with belief that there is indeed a home for us that will be fulfilling and joyful. All life ends in death and yet the promise we sing in our faith filled rooms with our brothers and sisters is the one answer. Faith.

Through the ages before us, our shinning light has been the incarnation of faith itself. The impossible visit by the Creator of everything that was and will be. He told us centuries ago that our world would indeed be filled with both sorrow and joy. He experienced both things when, hard to believe, impossible for some, He walked among us and taught again and again those things. Do not despair and wallow in fear, do not sit tight and think it will all work out.

Walk as I walk He said, follow me to true life and become children of God. This is the answer to all things. Hope which is Grace which leads to Faith, the very gift of God. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator scribe.

with thanks to Carl R. Truman ‘Strange new world‘

Vägmärken

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

‘Markings’ This was the title of a book of notes. It was written by a very noted man from Sweden. Diplomat, ambassador, acquaintance of Presidents, kings and prime ministers. At his unfortunate early demise, he was Secretary General of the United Nations.

Dag Hammarskjöld from Stockholm Sweden. He was an avid mountain climber, very good at it and he would leave trail markers at certain ascent areas to remind him and other climbers. Usually a pile of rocks. Alike the rocks piled by the Jordan by Joshua. A mark and memory.

The rocks that Dag left not only guided him on descent, but also guided and reassured climbers on their way. ‘This way is doable, this is the right way, I remember for you, the correct route.

He was a man of deep faith and in this book was excellent advice for all of us. For us to unite in one life (via activa via comtemplativa) Calling and Vocation. He was bridging the chasm between the world of devotion and the world of work.

That book has astonishing knowledge to me. Recently I wrote a column titled Vocation. It’s in the archives, I used the Latin word Vocare to denote our job that results from the calling the Lord whispers over and over to us. When I listened to Him, I realized He was calling me to use words of devotion wherever I found my work.

For instance, someone that is called to protect and serve having a vocation of a policeman. His contemplative life joined with his ‘job’ I have never met an officer that did not have the base of him based on anything else. We have met some that didn’t and one can see the difference and the frustration. Same for us, all of us. “Why did I leave that repair job that paid well and find my self playing worship music for half the pay?” Things like that.

Yet, it was relaxing, being with a worship team and the presence of the Lord massaging my spirit. It was hard to rehearse and be in the ‘practice room’. The manual labor helped my changing strings and lugging that case around (or cases)

The obedience to our calling is the most important decision we make. The vocation falls in place. You will know where you are being led, it’s watching and listening to Him who knows all things about you and has made you just for the place you are being led to.

“The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one’s real life—the life God is sending one day by day; What one calls one’s ‘real life’ is a phantom of one’s own imagination. 1.

Wisdom from beloved writers and men of faith. It’s always pretty good. Jack Gator

1. C. S. Lewis
They Stand Together. The letters of C.S. Lewis to to Arthur Greeves

A time to Live and a Time to Die

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There is one word we use more than any other in our speech. It is related to everything we do as well. The Latin word is Tempus. Time

Think about it if you have the time. What time is it anyway? Did you set the timer?

No time like the present. Time is money. It was just his time. Time’s a wasting. About time!

Try it some time and see how long you last before using the word. I was lap swimming the other day and usually start by counting the laps and then at the far end of the pool, there is a big clock on the wall. I can see how much time I have left before I have to get out. There is another clock in the locker room to make certain I leave before ‘times up’ and the lifeguard ducks her head in the entry door asking if there is anyone there. I got out on time today. She has a rigid time schedule too.

Driving home it seemed I was not at the right speed for the cars and trucks behind me. The biggest dial in front of me points out how much time would elapse with the formula for velocity coupled with time (MPH). I am always being passed at all times, it seems that most drivers are out of time and concerned they will not get to where they need to be at the correct time. Deer collisions, accidents while not passing at the right time, or driving by a squad at one of those times are secondary concerns.

I volunteer as an assistant director at a big church and over my comm I announce the next shots that need to be taken for the video to be dynamic and follow the time signature. It helps the director to put the shots in the video mix. It takes more time to explain than when it occurs. Seconds to the next take. It’s critical to the timing to tell the operators where they should be and giving them about two measures or so before the shot is ‘taken’ by the the director. Like a video ballet, and if the timing is right, seamless and pleasing to people in the audience. Setting up the shots along with who is playing at the right time. I particularly like the shots of the keyboard and hands just when that slower part happens. Excellent music is, of course, timeless. While the band is playing, there are very large screens that show the ‘ballet’on each side of the ballet. It really helps ‘tell the story’ No one sees us and they shouldn’t even be aware of us. (see men in black productions)

Speaking of music, there is a song on an album done by Pink Floyd that is still one of the top songs searched on the internet. The Album is ‘Dark side of the Moon’ and the title of the famous song is, of course, Time. It’s in F#minor. I myself like the rototoms in the rhythm with the clock sounds

In medieval times, the town clock would ring often at 8am, noon and 6pm to remind the townsfolk it was time to pray. Good idea to pray, I did while I was doing my swim today and realized how locked in I was by my time, the time, all time and began to relax and not worry about what the clock said. It’s hard to do but it seemed to start making a difference in me. I was talking to our Lord just before I sat on the edge of the pool and He said these things to me. Read all about Him from the first words of scripture: ‘In the beginning’ that’s when He invented time. There is eternity, and time is just for us to measure the seasons and our heartbeats. How old are you? Isn’t it time to eat? Stop watching your watches and perhaps you will see what I am saying to you. ” Can we talk?” I’ll make the time. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Acronyms and Uniforms

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It starts out simple enough. Mama and Papa. Our first acronyms of our world. Mamma E Papa in Italian (of course if you live in southern Italy you drop the last vowel. Mamm E Pap.

It’s easier to communicate in ‘shorthand’ it saves time and everyone knows it anyway.

We all use them and sometimes, it distinguishes us as belonging. For example: ER for emergency room, scrubs for clothes therein. DX or WX for radio lingo which translates to Distance and Weather. If you use those you are either a radio guy or an officer of the law.

Uniforms usually pocket protectors or turn outs and vests.

Lately, I have been accepted into an invisible society that wears all black and uses some neat acronyms. Bogo, Shader, Switcher and ME’s. There are a LOT of them in every subset of our world. I like ‘worlds’ describing command structures. They either confuse and you respond with “Hmm or that sounds interesting” instead of another acronym that shows they are also a member. AD or lyrics would work. At least there is no secret handshake.

I became aware of different societies at an early age when I became an amateur radio operator, or ‘Ham’ we communicated with Q signals showing we belonged and because it made long sentences into an acronym. Police have the same thing going for them. I can always tell if someone has a background in communication when they use A as in Alpha, B as in Bravo and so forth. Q is Quebec by the way.

Hams had uniforms too. Quick draw slide rules and pocket protectors were De Rigueur. Flannel shirts were optional. All the jocks had special words too. Not worth the ink to repeat.

We all do it, we all belong to a segment of society that has special words and language. Deacon, Bishop and repentance along with special clothing at times. Nothing wrong with those things either. All this is how we deal with the world and try to understand it. It’s tribal. If you believe in evolution, the concept of a trousered ape. Authur C. Clarke comes to mind with the movie featuring a thrown bone by a ‘caveman’ turning into a space station.

We use everything to make distinction between us. I belong. We do so wish to belong don’t we? Family is sweet and feels reassuring. There is certainly a family that we can join together and there are no uniforms and very few acronyms involved. The one uniform that seems to be recognized is a light in the eyes and a demeanor that draws you. There is desire to share lives and the excitement of encouraging one another. Jesus and His spirit and belonging to Him. You don’t even have to dress the same. Just draw a fish in the sand and you are bonded. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Old Fashioned Or Antiques?

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There they sit until the next auction. Plates, cups, bowls and saucers. Mahogany furniture and kitchen utensils. Machinery and huge steam powered…things..Barn ventilator caps and do dads and gimcracks and folderall. Gewgaws, and the best one of all, Tchoktchke. The last one comes from Yiddish Tshatshke (or an absolete Polish word, Czaczko.)

You can find them in really nice corner cabinets with glass doors, on top of upright pianos or just scattered about the house, seemingly at random. Placed with a discerning eye or propriety and in need of occasional dusting. Dust the Hummel’s at your own risk

Everyone has their faves and lists for the spouse to browse local second or third hand stores. Why do we do this? Perhaps we are hanging onto an older time, perceived as more a genteel one.

Excepting the black buggies of the Amish, stagecoaches are in that category but cannot be displayed, unless you own a herd of horses and a nice driveway or fence line to park it so it is visible. Old ‘collectible’ vehicles are a bit bulky but store on the property..somewhere.

“That’s an old Edsel! It’s worth a lot of money!” Does it run? “Well.., no but I’m workin’ on it.” The Montana vehicle parking lot sort of thing.

We collect stuff, we built a 20 foot shed and lean to just to store some of it. It was full less than a few months later. Big stuff and shelves for parts for the big stuff. You know the list. That old lawn tractor that just needs a new engine and few tires. The old walk behind snow thrower that needs a carburetor and a little paint. Nostalgic and useful stuff. Sort of.

What else that is old and worth saving? My favorite one that is still used, is the long wrap around bookshelves you can see from the living room, up on the balcony walk around. 3D wallpaper. Books from many centuries ago and great illustrated children’s books. Dr. Suess’ Birthday Bird type of stuff. The best antiques of them all as it is OK and right to handle them. Flip through an old Aristotle or a McDonald and find a page that randomly jumps out at you and then it goes downstairs to be added to the random stack by the big rocking chair.

Lately, the stack has been centered around middle ages literature. Most recently one about St. Ignatious of Loyola (early 16th century). The somewhat forgotten wisdom sears truth into me and Julie about this founder of the Jesuits. Lectio Divina, Interacting with God, Oratio, talk to Him, and my favorite, Contemplato, sit in His presence. Timeless and recently, perfectly timed for these times. With our ceaseless scurry to satisfy the emptiness in us with all the stuff we gather, or, think we must gather, to help us be satisfied and joyful. I need to be reminded that essential wisdom is found in another old book that helps me to contemplato our Creator and His plans to love me and never let me go. Ever. I seem to be the collectible for Him. Made by Him before I was even conceived, before the written history of the universe He knew me and helped form me into the man I am. Created to glorify Him and tell other people about Him and His Love. It’s pretty good. (The other old book is the Bible, its good to have several versions.) Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

Jury Rigged

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Another word that means different things but is spelled the same is called a homonym. The rigged jury is familiar to most of us. Money or clever selections can rig a jury.

The other rigged is used also as Jerry Rigged which is an old nautical term. A quick fix with material on hand, usually cheaper and somewhat functional. Actuating controls for engines is common. Why replace a broken choke cable and dash knob with an expensive part when mechanics wire wrapped around a small bolt will do! A few classy variations like a rubber grommet in the dash or some spiral wire wrap helps the illusion of good repair. It works.

There is another, less used speaking of our lives that uses this term of patchwork or worse.

There is a traumatic event recent or past that lingers in our spirit. I have several of those and usually it is me that the event happened to. So, I just Jerry rig the memory with small platitudes that make it more tolerable. Making excuses for those things then push them back to a place not quite so dark. ‘Gramps was always crabby and that’s why he said that or did that’ Very forgiving and a good way to turn the darkness into someone else’s. Still, the sting remains.

Realizing that everything that has happened is why I am the way I am and that is the grace of God operating in my life.

“ As long as we stay resentful about things we wish had not happened, about relationships that we wished had turned out differently, mistakes we wish we had not made, part of our heart remains isolated, incapable of bearing fruit in the new life ahead of us. It is a way we hold part of us apart from God” A.

We jury rig our lives with fantasies, self condemnation and internal rage at our life. Embrace God’s vision and grace for our life and see what has been given to us. We grow when we see the way we have grown and indeed, become wounded healers for those we meet.

A. Henri Nouwen ‘Turn my mourning into dancing’

Interruption

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

How many interruptions occurred today? I just get started on writing some really inspiring column and my phone bleeps. Perhaps Julie stops by my desk in mid word or thought and asks simple question or mentions a task that I forgot or was important to her?

It happens every day to all of us. I have seen drivers behind me get furious when I interrupt the velocity they were driving or even slow down so they can pass me safely. We are a busy people and focused on the tasks of our lives. Driven to accomplish what we have set before us by ourselves. Pushing that shopping cart at warp speed to get to those sale items or just some orange juice. Fuming at a cart parked right in front of the shelf we need to examine.

A very wise older priest said: “ I complained for too long that my work was constantly being interrupted, until I discovered the my interruptions were my work” A.

Resentment that my life was not going the ‘perfect’ way I had planned hours or minutes before. I have learned that instead of the irritation I can turn these things into concentration or even conversation. The shopper or the clerk ‘facing’ a shelf for example. I stop, park my cart out of the way, pretend I am looking elsewhere and glancing at the workers name tag, then address them and ask how things are going. Pretty busy today eh. Or perhaps say: “excuse me, could you direct me to the place where I can find organic beef broth? An interruption for them but not rushed. Quiet and gentle. It works and I learn a little bit about grace and even can ask them as they answer how it’s going today in the store. I learn and once in a while can listen to a slight problem they have, just listen and acknowledge the common lives we lead. Humanity 101.

At home or with friends that stop by (interrupting my precious time at work) I find with listening that what they need done in speaking or asking is an opportunity to give the love and attention I am asked to do. Gently spoken by my best friend and gentle guide, Jesus. He is never interrupted. He teaches me how to live my life and quickly quiets my anxiety with His voice.

The rush and bustle I absorb from the times I live in stops, and helps me realize indeed, this is my work for today. To affirm love and concern to another. To let them know they are important to me and perhaps dismiss apologies from them. “sorry for interrupting you” with a simple “Oh, that’s OK, I was in no rush” something gentle and affirming them that they are more important to me than my agenda. I listen and learn and even affirm. I like it. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator.

A. Henri Nouwen “Spiritual Formation”