writing

What Time is It?

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Time is a major element in our society. Everything is on the clock Per Se. It is a derivative of numbers which is everything we do and handle in our lives. Think about how much that is a focus point.

The Census which I worked, the number of the population. How much in the bank and my wallet. Fuel in the tank. Counting time to go, time left. Speed limit and what is the number over it I can get away with. Taxes owed and returned. Mortgage rates and actuarial tables of all things (such as how many numbers until we ‘pass away’) Numbers are our lives. Consider acreage, clothing sizes and how many miles are left on the car.

At this point I cannot number how many other things I number. How much time do I have left to write this anyway?

I wondered why it was so difficult and boring to read Numbers 26. I live my life by the number. Why is it that the top ‘stripe’ on my keyboard AND the box on the right both have numbers?

Just for entertainment, I will attempt to stop counting today. The created world has enough numbers without clocks that are set. Rotation, orbits and galaxy distances. Is that why we use tens and such to count everything? First things first kids. Ten fingers, ten toes. What does that add up to? Maturity goalpost! I win the casino of life and rolled the right..number.

Is that really our lives? We go hide and listen to the countdown? 10 to zero..liftoff! Houston, we have a go! I have gotten dizzy writing this because there are only so may words I can put in a column and what page will it be on in the next edition of the paper or what page in the upcoming book should I put it on? Is my coffee ready? The timer on the pot went off. Etc. etc. etc.

Lets try it for a few minutes (oops another number) and go way back. As far as we can imagine to a point where there are no numbers to control every moment of our lives. Before beats per minute, before breaths and before length at birth.

All the way back before numbers were so important. How long were Adam and Eve in the garden? When did the numbers began to rule?

“Hey Adam, the apples are ripe finally, want one? Just one bite”

It’s confusing to read this, how much time did it take you? Thanks for taking time to do so. Gotta get to the library, my reference book is due. 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

Three Shades of Purple

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

The death sentence was hovering over all the graduates in the early sixties. The draft. Norm’s classmate, Vern Norton, came home in a box draped with an American flag. I always liked his last name, Norton. It reminds me of a bike I have always wanted, the Norton Commando. It did not seem pleasant to be shipped of to Viet Nam and die in the jungles for a war most of us did not comprehend.

Most of my classmates were still in college or married and had draft deferments. I was 1A and before being drafted, volunteered for the submarine service and was quickly sent off to Camp Nimitz, San Diego. Upon arrival, the laughing Marine DI told me me my draft notice had just been forwarded.

However, some enjoyment ensued as I was recruited into the Blue Jacket’s choir. Singing at graduations and church services for the officers on the base. Three sung notes was enough to either get thumbs up or down to join the choir. The director was a retired Mormon tabernacle choir director and knew music pretty well.

We got to wear dress blues right away and had ‘crows’ sewed on our sleeves so It appeared we were experienced sailors and a little older. Mine was an E6 and the other boots in our basic training were puzzled. I was designated as education petty officer, first class.

Upon graduation I was excited to go on to New London for Sub school and was interviewed with a few more tests. The high school straight A’s in advanced math and a general class amateur radio license at age 12 were the recruiters logical path to the nuclear technician promised. The new interview caught a color vision issue as I could not discern several shades of purple wiring. No tech job for me. No subs. (they are called Boats in the Navy)

A natural move was ‘A’ school as a radio operator and I was immediately put into a teaching position for Morse code and elementary electronics. Weekends off with liberty to visit old friends up the coast was a bonus. I really wanted those dolphins on my uniform though.

Later, serving on the surface Navy in top secret communications, I learned of the accidental sinking of the submarine SkipJack near the Azores. All 99 men lost, the nuclear boat still deep at crush depth. 1965. It might have been me on that boat and I would not be writing these columns nor be the father and husband I am now. The dates are possible, Nukes were new and the Thresher had sunk shortly before.

Saved from my dreams? How and why was I born with a slight color vision problem? It seems there was a plan for my life that has brought me to this place of writing about the one who saved me from an early death.

I am Telling you, the reader, about the plan the creator had for me that does not make sense very often to us. Time and again, I began to see a path that has put me right here. If you examine your life, you can see life changing episodes or decisions that have changed your life as well.

Myself, I was told I would be fired from being published by a newspapers new owner for including Jesus in my columns too many times . I didn’t like that after four years of being published every week (hundreds of columns) It seemed odd to be admonished for being a successful columnist. My readers that I met or knew were encouraged and often entertained by what I write. I assumed the new owner is not a fan of Jesus. I was not allowed to meet with him either. It would have been an interesting conversation.

I quit before I was fired, I was allowed to write a peaceful good by column. That newspapers editor said that he envied my faith. We are still friends. So many things happen in our lives that become path openings to more revealed beauty of the Lord. You know them when you look for them. The good and the bad times, the sorrow and rejoicing. He is with you, He is for you.

Hallelujah! It’s pretty good, Jack Gator

Kindling

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

They move through the earth, walking among the hungry ones that can be seen as glowing, waiting for their fires to grow. The burning one is seeking those that are looking to grow, they are just waiting to be on fire and then loop and twist with a solar flare that touches the flames of all creation. All of it.

It is the honor to supply small pieces of kindling to be gently placed upon those coals that have been waiting for a bit of fuel to bring into flame, the passion that smolders within them. A small amount of the spirit is enough to bring the banked coals into heat that can be seen. Then warmth begins to radiate out and is the glory of the risen King. “Light of the world, you came down into darkness. Opened my eyes and let me see.”

It is a treasured gift to give that desired amount of spirit, to be a carrier, akin to a small donkey of older times that has the pieces of kindling to lay upon the beginning fires. To gently walk among them in the night and encourage them to radiate Christ’s light in the darkness of the world.

There is joy within the servant that brings that small amount of encouragement. To bring a handful of truthful fuel that whispers the beauty of Spirit. To tell them that it is good and right to embrace God and speak to him of our hunger to burn with love.

The larger and larger flames begin to grow until the fires radiate love. Laughter and smiles among us all grow and blaze. We are drawn to the place we know that this can occur once more. The hunger is satisfied with tears of joy. This is the reason we are together. “Don’t do what you know to be wrong and love God and your neighbor with this love and you’ll be all right” A.

That donkey carrier, moves along with it’s kindling. Quietly looking for those that the small bundles of fuel will transform fires of life into a galaxie’s swirling arms shouting joy.

It’s pretty good. Jack

A. Mother Teresa Song lyric from Micheal W. Smith

Study or Lecture?

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A usual intriguing invitation to attend a study of one of our favorite books. With a relaxed and anticipatory attitude the date is set and marked on the erasable calendar. It’s a big one that is pined to the wall every month with new dates and exciting and often obligatorily appointments.

The day arrives and a drive ensues to the study site along with an appropriate container of coffee. These paper containers can be had and filled at many convenient locations. Settling down at a table, the leather ‘coach’ briefcase is set (in plain view for class distinction) and a notebook and ‘The’ book set beside it. Pen extracted and extended. Ready for scholarship as there are duplicate scholars around the large collection of tables nearby.

The usual chatter and greetings are somewhat abated by the leader of the study. There are several students that feel their conversations must go on for a short while longer while the leader waits patiently at his seat. Perhaps a loud cough or even a whistle is needed to quiet the room. One of those really loud ones that I wish I could do. The one with your thumb and forefinger type. Those who were still socially chattering act as though a glass fell and are silent. Good. It worked.

This is indeed a scholarly study with one of the scholars reading a half dozen or so sentences of the focused page(s) of the book. The leader asks the group for a summary of the last meeting and comments are givenand the new passage is dug into. More polite comments and references to other books and sources of the material are noted and quoted. The main dish has been served and the coffee begins to flow, pens and pencils scritch and scratch and the delightful sound of thin, almost parchment pages turned fills the room. Images of paneled rooms, lined with tall shelves of books are felt.

A lecture can be enjoyable. A good one is exciting, an average one is endured and a poor one can result in yawns and glances at timepieces. These lectures are often called sermons. The exciting ones are a delight. The room comes alive, the ones in the room listening lean a little forward and that rustle of thin pages begins in earnest. At times the journals and pens start their work, Images, words and scholarship for further study with others or alone near a good table lamp.

So, a good lecture or sermon can be dicey as to we attention deficit disordered ones. The best ones are as an excellent drive in the countryside which reveals beauty seen for the first time on the same roads driven as before but never seen. A flare of a sunbeam sparkling millions of rain drops frozen till they melt a minute later. You know how it goes. Surprise! It’s an owl that just flew across the road or a cloud rumbling and flashing overhead.

Music concerts or worship sets can do that too. Words and notes together make a good study and revelation of emotion that accompanies them. Standing, driving, sitting quietly or even jumping around. It doesn’t matter much when experiencing sudden beauty.

Conversations engaged with truth spoken and heard can engender the feeling of being in the presence of the wisdom of the ages. Old books opening and fluttering around you that you have wanted to read for decades are revealed with a single sentence.

I am dull and don’t pay attention many times to treasures all around me. These few sentences will perhaps open your iris’ and minds as well as mine. Beauty abounds and the wisdom of the ages will be whispered into my heart if I look for it. A child of a wise man said six words that have helped me pay attention to the wonderful world that surrounds me. Studies and lectures indeed. Focus. The young child said: “Talk to me with your eyes” The eyes of our spirit. Our maker of all things that have been made, turns His face upon us and talks to us with His eyes. Open my eyes Lord and I will talk to you too. Watch and pray. Then silently listen It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Jury Rigged

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

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’

The first signs of things to Come

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Signs of otherness. Different ways of looking at the world. Wondering about the people involved in these things. Speculative questions, because history of things of the past can only be derived from writing of eyewitnesses (the best type) or records from the time and place. The more corroborating evidence,the more assured history can be derived. Autobiographies are the best. They have to be believed of course. Fiction does not read as history does. Historical accounts usually have odd things and twists of life that authenticate them.

A few examples: I had the earliest General Class Amateur radio license when I was in grade school. The examiner at the downtown courthouse said that. That examiner didn’t specify whether it was just in the state or the nation. Thirteen words a minute Morse code and the ability to sketch a power supply and an oscillator circuit. Things like that. Laws and rules of radio frequencies and basic electronics/electrical knowledge to round it off.

I remembers too asking my 3rd grade teacher when the class would be studying soil and earth crust stratification. She laughed and said “later for that” Odd, I thought. I really wanted to know those things. ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself and the class’ was also said. Don’t stand out was the message. It won’t go well.

I wondered why his classmates talked about leaves in trees and stars and other things far away. I was very nearsighted and finally was examined and got my first set of glasses. ‘Four Eyes!’ Bullies, finally finding an in road to beating me up. My ‘favorite’ was a Croatian boy. Face washing in the snow was one of the highlights of winter. All that young boy wanted was to have a friend. I was perfect, an outcast and very different. Third grade children do not talk about ionization of the atmosphere and radio signals blocked from the sunspots. I turned out pretty good and I really know now what I have been prepared for. All that curiosity I was gifted with, all those other gifts. These things were designed to help me write about another man. A man that I don’t need a radio to communicate with, a man I can hear in my mind and spirit. Clearly.

That man lived a long time ago, and did such astonishing things that are written down in a very reliable history book. Quite a few books actually. That young man, not a child, but a young man of no reputation, did things that no one has ever done since. He was at a social event, a wedding with his Mother, and the guy who was throwing the party ran out of refreshments. A social blunder of the first sort, especially at so important an event. The revelers had drunk all the wine and it was getting embarrassing for that host.

The young man’s mother, she knew his father very well. She pointed out the problem then, and her son told her it was “not His time”. An odd thing to say of his life from then on. Never the less, Mom told the waiters to do whatever her Son told them to do. As recorded, after a short time, her Son told the waiters to fill up all the empty jugs with water. A lot of wine jugs and a lot of water. One of the guests drew a flagon of the fluid from one of the jugs and pronounced it the best wine of the celebration. “Most hosts save the cheap box wine for the end! This wine is exquisite, the best I have ever tasted!” Water to wine, bypass the vineyard and all that messing about with stomping grapes and aging. This was the very beginning of the young man’s tale. Just a peek behind the curtain of eternity. So, Discerning historical events isn’t too hard to do. No one would make up a story like that.

The things that I write about are similar. No one can make up stories like that. If you know where and how to look, you know. Other historians, distant in the past, or right now on this page, want to tell truth. It is so fascinating and astonishing to discover a world outside of ourselves that tells us who we are. Tells us what we are and why we are here.

Of course, the young man was Jesus and his Mother was Mary. His Father I leave to you to discover. It’s a great family tradition. Don’t get confused, Just talk to Jesus. He’s pretty good. Jack Gator

The Straw man Argument

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It’s good timing and it’s also a perfect time to expose the illogical rumors, rumors of rumors and downright lies that can circulate around the drain. Spinning around and around until they are hopefully, flushed down where they need to go. Let me clarify that: Just because these lies are being flushed does not make them good fertilizer for growth. They still smell bad.

There are many ways to lie, but the most effective way is to think you are speaking the truth. To believe the lie so well that you would pass most lie detectors. It’s the lie of non logical thought.

I have recently been studying logic and philosophy and this straw thing is huge in our society. Let’s start with an easy example. One starts with what is called a ‘premise’ An uncontested piece of information we can describe as a truth. Our first premise then will be: “Water is wet” Second premise “Everyone needs water” Both true statements. The intersecting straw man that tries to join these would be: “ Everybody likes to get wet” We do it a lot, most without thinking.

I will put a few sarcastic comments in now but they also apply to him, the not thinking statement. You make a straw man argument out of that as well. Try it on someone and see if they get the illogical. “ Most people read about a lot of things” “Reading is a good thing” “ Not reading is a bad thing” A little more subtle. That’s the way it sneaks in.

A common but false etymology is that it refers to men who stood outside courthouses with a straw in their shoe to signal their willingness to be a false witness. The Online Etymology Dictionary states that the term “man of straw” can be traced back to 1620 as “an easily refuted imaginary opponent in an argument.”

These days the straw men are lining our roads with signs. They tell each other tales of struggle and hatred perceived in their minds. It sounds logical until you draw three interlocking circles. You draw one circle with a true precept naming it. Same thing for the second precept. These are two things that are known truths. Then you interlock a third circle encompassing one and two. Call it what you want to come forth as you think your logic is correct. We do it a lot, more than we remember.

So…here is the straw man that is tumbling our area like a berserk raccoon trapped in a washing machine.

Precept 1. Farmers own a lot of land which they use to support their families.

Precept 2. Huge factories of animal production want to use this land to build factories upon.

Conclusion: Neighbors who don’t want the factories hate farmers. Another Straw Man argument.

Precept 1.I have lived in this area a long time and so has my family. We own a lot of land

Precept 2.You have lived in this area for a short time and do not have a lot of land.

Conclusion: I am more important than you because of my wealth.

We do these things without even thinking about them. We think we know truth. These things can be seen and heard and avoided if you listen. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe

Featured

Falling in Love

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

This column appeared in the Paper around March of 2020. I snipped out the column and did not snip out the date. Often, I will look at a column with a fresh revelation about it’s subject and do a little bit of rewriting. Just a little. This one reflects a thought I had on December 7th as I was playing my viola with my family worship team in a city named after an Indian Chief, an hour south of the our ranch. Osceola. It seemed appropriate to share, after all the first motorcycle I owned was an Indian Chief. It’s pretty good.

FALLING IN LOVE Rewritten on December 8th, 2020, Edited on October 14th 2025

There is an emptiness in everyone that longs to be filled. That longing is in all of us, all. You can choose to ignore it at a fairly young age or put it aside for a season of decades. But, it’s still there and must be satisfied. It isn’t wishful thinking or a romance of sorts. It’s closest description is holding your breath for as long as you live. That emptiness is just as painful and destructive as not breathing. It’s akin to a hole inside of you that never is filled by you.

When in the womb, we have the answer for that longing. The connection with that emptiness is fulfilled by the presence of the lover surrounding you. That is, until you leave that warm swimming pool inside. An immediate cry comes forth. You cried, we all do as soon as we take that first breath. Disconnect, absence of the surrounding oneness, the lover of your soul and the supplier of all you need. Food, air and communication. It was offered with tenderness and awe of your life.

That longing now again needs to be filled. The food and comfort are given now in our vulnerable existence and that works. It’s not as intimate as it was, but now we can cry out if we are lonely or hungry or hurt. The child knows much more than we realize and there is one time in history that two unborn children knew they were near one another and moved as best they could in the womb towards each other. I’ll tell you in a bit if you don’t know who they were.

So a child grows into adulthood, and finds the world their mollusk that is never quite good enough to fill that eternal longing for that security and romance. The one we all long for. There is only one thing that can satisfy. Not money or power. Not sex or children. None of those things can. There is love from people or pets that seems to satisfy but they have an unpleasant habit at times of dying or betraying us. Realizing that the emptiness wasn’t really filled after all, the search begins anew. Spoiler alert: There is one thing that fills without a doubt and it lasts forever. It is the Lord Himself! Yes, I know. Another preacher. But this preacher knows the truth from experience.

We were created for this romance from the beginning of time. “In the beginning..” That’s when time started and throughout mankind’s existence the longing for the Lord has never ceased. When Mary and Elizabeth (her cousin) met in their pregnancy, Jesus in Mary and John in Elizabeth leaped for joy within the womb. John knew it was his Lord and Jesus knew it was His beloved.

As is our basic training for eternity here, we sort of know what love is and you don’t read a book about your future spouse to know them. You talk to them, look upon them and know them throughout the hunger for that longing. It’s almost enough but the real romance requires reading the love letters and talking a lot with the lover of your innermost being. We were created in His image. What does that mean? Making a decision to love someone is the image. We must choose to love anyone, and He chose to love us. We are identical in that way. We must choose. No one, not even God can make us love. He will not cross the threshold of our heart unless we ask Him. Ask Him about everything. He will fill that longing and love you as you decide to love Him. He always loves us, we must choose to love him. Let the romance begin. It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson /aka Jack Gator