It is intellectual snobery to think when one man’s faith is thrown out Christianity itself is discredited. One must first ask, “why did he toss it away?”
One argument, the one I am making, is that true faith does not die as fashions do and faith does not go away when it gets old. I will admit we humans can have illusions of what faith is supposed to look like, even have rationalizations as to what one is supposed to believe. But for these Christianity is typically nothing more than an aesthetic experience; an idealistic view of their god preceived, something like wearing a fresh new hat. Not to belittle people with such wants and experiences, but Christianity can be viewed as valuable to these “believers,” that is, until it becomes convenient to believe otherwise. (This appears to be the case in point with the purity guy recently in the news. And notice how much “fun” the left is having with it!) Do remember, for thirty pieces of silver Judas betrayed Christ, it made no sense then either. Imagine what the New York Times would do with that story!
Still, haven’t we seen this too often? I believe there is a willful blindness for disgarding absolute truth. Elasticity and appearances, for some, are much more appealing and while their emotions certainly can be “religious,” we must also understand the biblical effect of a faith planted on rocky soil and the effect of a scorching sun, or choking thorns.
The bottom line, it has become popular, even cool, to denounce ones faith, embrace Atheism, become a “None,” and conform to a godless world. The pagan world loves it when it happens too! But these reasons, as I see them, are mere excuses; a desire for something fresh, or more likely, a hardened heart seeking something other than worshiping God. To reframe a popular C.S. Lewis quote, it has become much more important for them to believe Christianity is false than for any to reach heaven!
You might have guessed I believe in the gospel of Christ, and it would be more than astonishing for me to disregard my belief in Christ on subjective grounds, or to think my faith was simply a fashionable event that I could abandon like a modern marriage or a dirty old hat. (To illustrate, I still have quite a few dirty old hats).
Megan Rapinoe, I guess she is pretty good at women’s soccer. I also guess she hates Trump and everybody who likes him (I have not followed the story and know little more than this about her). I saw that she, like so many, does not want to go to the White House, that going there “might somehow corrupt her message!” She says if asked, she will go to “have a real substantive conversation with anybody that believes in the same things she believes in.” So, in other words, anybody but the millions of people who supported Trump and Trump himself. She will talk to Pelosi or AOC or Schumer, but not Trump or anybody like him! What does she have to say that is so important? I think she’s being childish, a snob, a cad? I did not watch womens soccer before, but with people like her on the team why should I watch? People like her selfishly damage their sport. ( like Kappernick!) If President Obama invited me, a citizen, to the White House I’d go. If he asked me about his policies or his racist behavior I would tell him what I thought. But I don’t think policy considerations or moral conversation is why she would be invited. It makes perfectly good sense for people to be kind when kindness is offered, maybe her message is excluding reasonable and kind people?
After writing the above, I looked her up on Google! She’s gay! You probably knew that, I did not. This all makes better sense now. She, like many liberals, probably thinks Trump is homophobic and bigoted, and anybody who voted for him is guilty by association. She probably thinks by going to the White House he will somehow rub off on her! God forbid he touch her!
What a blustering cow! I find this insulting, I mean Rapinoe’s threats and aggressive demands! Does she expect to break Trump’s spirit by not going to the White House? Does she think foul language, stern manners, and deep hatred suits her cause? Surely hatred and cruelty are more evil than lust, but I don’t believe even Trump would single out unnatural sins for special reprobation! And soccer to my knowlege is not wholly dominated by social struggle. Rendering the impluse to hate makes for division and the speedy abandonment of friendships. Most of society does not share a fashionable lust for her vice. But it does not mean we all feel a certain nausea towards homosexuality and gay people. (A feeling of sickness with an inclination to vomit can come just as likely from gallbladder disease). The upward path to love extends beyond the hypocrisy of comparing evils; but Trump is far more tolerable than her fawning hatred and her bourgeois vulgarities.
She and I both think people learn much by imitation. But she has forgotten we could all do better by entering a society of courteous people. In fact, she would do better by washing Trumps feet (as Christ did and we all should) than stammering to contradict her many blessings.
I’m seeing more and more articles on the regulation of hate speech. At first glance this sounds great. They say, “Let’s stop threatening speech that advocates violence and stop speech that “attacks a person or a group on the basis of protected attributes such as race, religion, ethnic origin, national origin, sex, disability, sexual orientation, or gender identity.” Who would be against that, right? Just be careful about what you wish for!
I have always advocated for freedom of speech and dignified language, it was engrained in me as a child; I have never been one for swearing and I will not not hate you for being gay nor for saying racist or bigoted words about others. Sure, I’m often offended by jerks who do so (I will call you a jerk, as I expect you would do the same for me for such behavior) I’ll be offended about as much as I am of those who use use foul language, mock others, and blow smoke while I’m eating and I cannot get away. I’ll probably even “say” something about your language or rhetoric, beware!
Do you hate gay people? Jews? Christian’s? Blacks? How about Russions or Republicans? How about your neighbor? In the same way that I cannot make any of these believe in Christ, I also cannot stop you from swearing, and making bigoted, hateful comments about others. (In the old days I may have tried by knocking your lights out, but that’s forbidden today, and rightfully so.)
I believe in freedom, the right to express opinions that suck. I reluctantly think that so long as you don’t physically harm others, you should have the freedom to be a jackass and hang out with jackasses, even organize and march as jackasses (KKK and certain Gay Pride Parades qualify) Governments and corporations have never stopped sin or sinners, why they think they can do it these days is silly.
I also believe it is within our own hearts to reject and stick up for those who cannot help themselves. We are to believe what is right, just, and true; we find these things in scripture and in our souls, not in opinion polls.
Currently we live in a liberal nanny state. Have you stopped teaching our children that, “Sticks and stones may break my bones. But names will never hurt me?” Then you might be a liberal controlled by the lady in the house.
We are letting Facebook and Google and a host of corporations determine what is proper and acceptable speech. For instance, Facebook has recently agreed to share data considered as “hate speech” with French courts. YouTube banned a holocaust denier but leaves up thousands of UFO and wacky climate change activist websites that say “aborting children women will help save the planet.” I’d call that advocating violence, not just idealistic words. And this one takes the cake, a knitting website just banned posts supporting the Trump administration. Now the UN is “introducing a new “Action Plan” to combat hate speech.” This hyper idealistic, altruistic, and profit motivated shaming of ones personal beliefs is destroying the social fabric of all judeo christian nations and giving more power to the globalists. This is exactly what Hitler did, he regulated what people were to believe about others and punished them for believing otherwise: This is evil! We, I believe, have slipped and fallen down the slippery slope. The phenomenon is not that hate speech is on the rise. The phenomenon is that we have let others take away our freedom of speech. We are letting others tell us what to believe and how we should speak. Let the crazies speak, if we are loving we will see them for who they are. But I see their goal as to ban us politically and to ban our Christian faith (satan uses people as tools). They have already labled us intolerant, homophobic, and bigoted. Their next step is to ruin the lives of all who believe differently than they do. AI data bases will separate the wheat from the chaff and a permanate “mark” of fate will keep us all in line (they foolishly hope). At some point we may even be hung on crosses, sounds familiar right?
The world’s rules are inconsistent, and constantly changing. The good news is God’s rules never change, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and love your neighbor as yourself.” This is true freedom, in Him we have nothing to fear!
I thank God for you Pat, for you have refreshed my spirit. Your life is exciting, inspirational, and faithful. You are Godly, kind, humble, fun, and full of joy.
I took a chance on hiring you at my outdoor store when you were but 16 years old. For all these years I thought it was because you were so persistant by coming back week after week begging to work for me. You essentially wore me down and I relented! It turned out that God sent you, and you have become more than a great employee and a super kid. In those day you absorbed my every word. All these years later I am suprised you can repeat my words and tell me how much my training meant to you! I had no idea! I just knew you as a great kid, an always willing and responsible employee. It has been twenty years plus since we last spoke face to face. Facebook and phone calls can never replace the timing of this meeting. Today I know you as a man I respect and I honor for your committed faith. You have a persisting spirit, and your desire to do what is right and honor our God in ALL things is staggering. Your honorable commitments over the years past have had consequences which at the time seemed dire, but now they have produced fruits. You are light years ahead of your peers and the follys of this generation. Keep up the good work!
The bible says of Saint Paul’s friends, “for they refreshed my spirit as well as yours. Give recognition to such people. (1 Corinthians 16:18, ESV). This is why I am making this message public. To my friends, you know there are very few special people God puts in our lives. For me, Patrick is one of these people. His worldly accomplishments are notably worthy of praise, but few of these these are of eternal importance; it is just fun to hear of his adventures, and maybe someday I can share them with you.
What I wish for you to hear today is what I learned from our long awaited reunion. I learned again we should all give thanks to God because of the grace given to us God in Christ Jesus, for in every way we are enriched in Him; in Christ we lack nothing. My friend Patrick reminded me of this truth. A once young, immature kid, by the help of God and the faith in his soul, has grown into a man. He is someone special to me because of what God has done through him. Patrick has given his mind, his talents, and his heart to God. God guides his every move. He trusts in Him in all situations, and when you get to know him you’ll understand the “situations” Pat gets himself into!
So, in Christ I boast! We should all be as worthy and humble as my friend Patrick, for in people like him (and in ourselves) we should see Christ. Our friends should see us as faithful and kind, believers in God. They should see the one who has done so much for us that He has changed the way we think and live. This is Christianity! This is freedom in Christ, in so doing we live radically bold and incredibly satisfied lives.
Someone, a friend, once used the word “bad” to describe President Trump. It’s a simple word. It can mean many things but it is used most frequently to mean some form of low quality, unpleasantness, or evil. For my friend, I understand completely her use of the term to describe her hate of the President. If one honestly believes something or someone to be “bad” we cannot help but hate that person or thing. But now let’s do some thinking. Who else is “bad?” Answer the question please, and be honest! Before you try, remember to make such a charge about anyone requires grounds, settled standards, a diagnosis established on a foundation of immovable truth. To do otherwise could involve a critique based on emotion or pejorative epitaths without regard to their accuracy. Remember, the hatred one has for another must be based on something; to call someone or something bad must not be baseless or else it is merely an insult.
Before you answer too quickly let me ask a personal question, one you can more easily answer, “Am I bad?” Ya, Bob Graham, is he a “bad” person? My friend at first thought might say (I trust), “No, Bob’s not a “bad” guy.” Then she might qualify her statement and say, “I don’t agree with him on many issues, but that does not make him “bad,” I mean “bad” like Trump!” Do you see what’s happening here? We often make a moral judgements of good and bad based on the differences between two people thus vilifying the character of one and uplifting the character of another. The function of critism should not be to compare one moral character to another, nor to let society discharge its hatred on one and not the other. The “grounds” upon which a society stands or falls is always fixed; how far we depart from these standards makes one good or bad. (At this point this essay becomes theological as well as a philosophical exercise.) Unfortunately I must say Bob Graham misses the mark. My friend is wrong, I am a “bad” person too! Maybe she is unwilling or just being kind, but if my faults were exposed and compared to God’s, not Donald Trumps or humanity in general, she would find me to be “bad” too. Humbling, isn’t it!
So what is one to do when we encounter a “bad” person (unless you are deluded or missed the point, we are all misfits). So, we must first look at ourselves and realise we are not perfect. And secondly we must not discharge our hatred critically. C.S. Lewis says about critism, it is not right to “discharge our hatred but to expose the grounds for it; not to vilify faults but to diagnose and exhibit them.” This means you don’t need to be silent always, though for some of us that would be a blessing. It means we need to be more specific when we critise. We need to explain, “in what way is he bad?” Lewis also says it is easier to express our hatred with pejorative (contemptuous or disapproving) words without regard to their accuracy “for the power of their hurting.” Easy is not always better and maybe a punchline on Facebook is not the best place for a critique of your fellow man.
You all should know about or have seen the “Baby Trump” ballon the haters fly in London to humiliate our President. This exemplifies the great error of our day. While the baloon may, to some, be an ingenious comic political work. It actually shows us the heart of the said comedians and Trumps distractors. The balloon is obviously meant to annoy Trump and his supporters. Ironically this opposition claims maturity by making Trump appear adolescent; not because they desire to show us Trumps faults, but because they hope deep down the symbol is one that annoys the President and disrespects his supporters. It would be far more mature for them (and my friend), to explain in what ways Trump is so bad? And then ask, how much different is he from themselves? Remember, calling Trump “bad” if rightly applied, compares his character to that of God, not society; society has often gotten righteousness wrong. The best, and the most honorable, course of action would be to charge me or Trump with a particular fault like “liar” or “thief,” “arrogant or dull.” True faults are particular. One is not all bad all the time; nobody is all good. There are faults by which we are all guilty, but at least among friends they are particular faults by which we can be proven guilty! I think this is why we must all stand before the judgment seat of God! Still, it is common and unavoidable to think of ourselves good or bad, we usually do so by the strength of the standards or characteristics we see in others.
For some, popular pejorative terms, within a particular subcultures (like politics), these terms (“contemptuous or disapproving”) become venomous judgements used solely for spite. Remember, it does not take many words these days to reveal ones passions. And when that happens it is not hard for many hearers to discount the words of the one who has an opposing opinion, specially one with a biblical perspective.
Bottom line! Critiques filled with venom and words expressed with a willingness to wound are useless when one is preceived as predisposed to hate (CNN). And finally, I thank God that Christ died for my “badness.” In his eyes He sees me as His wayard son, repentant, forgiven, and loved. Maybe He sees President Trump the same way, not so “bad,” a work in progress? And, of course, my friend, we must condem the actions of some critically, we are all are depraved, some are wicked in deeds, but God forbid that I should look at them as hopelessly “bad” till God judges us all.
We left Brownwood Texas happier than a clam digger on Martha’s Vinyard. Great people hosted us, fed us, took us on safari, and let us fish their “tanks” for huge large mouth bass. We got to see a perfectly planned and executed, small town, war memorial, and we attend a bible study with the locals.
Afterwards, we found our way to Dallas without GPS and had dinner at a modern TexMex restaurant called Mesero’s-Prestonwood where we experienced the best waiter ever and ate dinner with my high school friend David and his wife Susan; meeting each other’s wives for the first time was the goal.
It took a lifetime for me to realize that special every age, event, and experience is a blessing, and every relationship matters. At 62 years of age high school seems, for the most part, like a blur. There we mountains to climb and jungles to explore, and girls, and fears of girls to conquer, but I survived high school and remember it with fondness.
When you get older, like the age of dirt, it doesnt matter if you had dozens of friends or if you were class president, a home coming queen, or a superstar jock. All that matters is that you remember theit faces and have a faint devotion to maintaining and connecting fresh to the people of your past.
We planned in advance a stop in Dallas on our retirement tour. And my friend David kindly arranged this present together of high school friends who live in Dallas. I had just seen two of these last October for the first time in fourty five years and that night I met again two more of the same vintage. If the sole purpose of our gathering was to laugh and reminisce, mission acomplished. But I also got the warm and fuzzies just seeing and greeting faces embeded deep in this old man’s memory. This happens every time old friends get together, I highly recommend it.
There was Jack and his lovely wife Margaret, who I looked forward to meeting. Then there were John and Marla, Jeff, David, and Jackie, my wife, and myself. I’ll remember the hugs and the first sightings of familar, but weathered, faces. I’ll remember the waiter dropping bread pudding on Jack, although I did not see this happen I just heard dishes crashing and I saw Jack’s, still smiling, but shocked face. I’ll remember David for his big smile, the kindness he showed by arranging all the details, picking us up and showing us culture shocking Dallas. I’ll remember the bright and the almost angelic, happy, and loving face of Marla, John’s bride. I knew John the best of these from high school, but I’ll remember John that night because we are kindred brothers, the kind that stand by when we need anything. And Jeff, what a pleasure to see him. All pressed and handsome like the Lockheed S-3 anti-submarine warfare aircraft Jeff flew for the Navy for almost 30 years. A real gentleman he is and I’d like to here more about his life.
The truth be told I was not “best friends” with any of these guys in high school. A couple I even felt were competitors or antagonistic and sometimes hurtful; we were high schooler’s, that stuff happens. But today I’m so happy that we could meet up again and I’m hopeful that in the busyness of life we can find more opportunities to explore the events and depths of our souls.
We are presently staying with great friends and one was onr of Jackie’s co-workers of days past. Glenna and Ron, are fun to be around and we are very relaxed staying with them. We will likely be here another couple days, and then our journey will resume.
We also say Kary, the funniest Georgia Buldog fan of sll time! She also is the daughter of our good friends in Polebridge. It would not be right to be in Dallas without seeing Kary.
Well, that’s it! Besides my having to fix an exhust leak in the van and determining that I have a smal intake manifold leak affecting mileage and performance, all is well.
I know this post was not very exciting, but I’m sure there are more events and exciting places to visit ahead.
Thinking back…. We left the white sands of Fort Pickens and camped at Davis Bayou in Ocean Springs Mississippi where we had our fill of the best and cheepest crawfish. We paid something like $3.95 per pound and further along we saw it for more than $8.95 per pound. The campground where we stayed was very nice and the town of Ocean Springs a hidden gem. It was cute, clean, and enjoyable. . Just remember we only stayed there one night!
From Davis Bayou we drove to New Orleans. It was as we expected, crowded and interesting because there are few places like it. Many “joints” of all kinds filled the streets and the air. There are literally hundreds of places to eat, listen to musicians, and see colorful people. Despite the craziness, it is one place we should all see once, this was our second visit so only the requisite drive through was necessary.
By evening we made it to Lafayette. The KOA on a lake was our home for two nights. It was nice, just a bit noisey as it was located next to US Highway 10, the main east west corridor. Before we pulled in to our campsite we stopped at Don’s Specialty Meats where “the Boudins and Cracklins are the best.” Do you know what Boudin and Cracklins are? I didn’t! They are food of course, a Cajun speciality. It is basically a peculiar class of sausage. It comes in many varieties and there seems to be a competition happening along the highway to try to convince travelers who is the best sausage maker; who’s Boudin Balls, is the better of the best. Oh ya, cracklin’s are basically chopped pork meat left on the skin of a pig. They are deep fried with a tasty, spice batter. You can see how easy it would be for one maker to say, “Stop here, our Cajun Boudin and Cracklins are the Best!” The truth be told, one is not so much better than the other, I suppose they are just different. By the way both Boudin and Cracklin’s are very good. We also picked up some stuffed chicken (stuffed with crabmeat) at the recomendation of a local fellow I met in the parking lot taking pictures of our van, the van sent from God! It surely has introduced an abundance of opportunities to meet people and find gems along the road.
Another interesting tidbit that we learned in Lafayette was that people actually live at these “campgrounds,” for years. One lady two sites away from ours has lived on that lake, in the KOA, for 27 years, yep, 27 years! I guess she retired, bought a huge travel trailer pulled in the KOA and has been there ever since. Another family there retired young, but one of their family members got sick so after selling their house and buying a 33 fot Airstream they needed to return home to help out. He now works 3 days a week at the KOA which pays his site fee, and he lives on a lake! Just so you know, he said the monthly fee for staying there is under $400/mo. But he does pay for electricity. (No taxes, gets free water, sewage, garbage, laundry facilities, a swimming pool and the camp store sells ice cream sandwiches for .75 cents! Such a deal!) Think about that! Even the poorest of slobs can buy a big, used, camper and with only social security (and an EBT card if they are really poor) and live a quite comfortable retirement. Sure it’s not on the mansioned lined lake of their dreams or not on that twenty acres of heavenly ranch land, but it’s certainly an option for many, and we are meeting all kinds of people doing this. If you see a couple in their early sixties with a brand new turbo diesel Silverado dually and pulling a brand new Winnebago camper, they might have just sold their house and are searching for 70 degrees and sunny!
After Lafayette we took as many back roads as possible to Galveston, finally crossing over by ferry from the “High Island” into Galveston. The drive was long but nice.
We are learning that bird watching is a favorite hobby of retirees. We are not quite there yet, but I think they enjoy it very much and the “community” is large. As they travel about they plan meetups and long stays with each other enjoying their days and nights together.
Galveston was interesting because the streets are so wide and historic. Downtown was struggling a bit and the retail stores like everywhere were pitiful. The shops were full of trinkets and tee shirts, nothing anyone surely needs. The food scene from what we could tell was interesting, and a few higly recommended places we found in the most unusual locations. You’ll have to find them out for yourself, that’s part of the fun right?
The beachs on Galveston are just “ok.” East Beach had free parking and was almost uninhabited, we liked that! And it was also dog friendly! I said, “just ok” because the sand is brown, and at this time, there seemed to be a fair amount of garbage remnants mixed into the sand: Kinda yucky!
The campground we stayed at, Galveston Island State Park, was very nice and only $26. We stayed on the bay side which was marshy and had beautiful sunsets. We also visited the lower section of the island where we could drive out on to the beach. I liked that a lot, the van liked it too.
We left Galveston after two nights soggy and happy. Soggy because each morning the moisture in the air soaked us. Everything felt wet all the time (One vote for air conditioning). Happy because we were moving again and seeing new things.
It did not take long to get deep into east Texas. We did our best to avoid Houston, not because we know what’s there, I guess we just wanted to avoid traffic. “Turn left, turn right, into one small town then the next we went. The landscapes were green and lush.
An hour and an half or so into our drive to San Antonio I spotted a run down shack with faint signage that said breakfast, lunch and dinner. I passed it by but something said, “turn around.” I hit the brakes, flipped a U’ey” and pulled into a wonderfully unique dive. We like dives.
We entered cautiously! Cautiously because the place was very run down and there was brown paper covering the glass door. All was good once we opened the door. Inside there were two cowboy’s eating, a waitress, and a black man cooking. We nodded to the gentlemen and the waitress asked if we were going to eat. That was not a strange question although it apeated so at the time. I quickly figured out this place was not frequented by travelers. It was the local’s restaurant and surviving by a shoestring. Still, on the walls were photos of fallen soldiers from past wars, a picture of John Wayne and a sketch of Humphrey Bogart and several photos of older regulars sitting at the main table in the middle of the very same restaurant years earlier. Elsewhere within there were other sorts of needed supplies and a cooler of drinks. The ceilings were low and the place had not seen paint since the early 1960’s.
The men proceeded with their conversation and the waitress was well known and fully engaged.
We ordered and ate our food as we listened to their conversation. There were only a few tables, mayber enough for 15 customers. The men were conservatives for sure. Their conversation included disparaging statements of democrat leaders critisms of “idiotic news personalities,” and music to my ears. These were unashamed and ordinarily sane men, men who seemed born in another era. They were totally unsympathetic critics of the current Democrat leadership in congress, and the totally biased liberal media.
After a few minutes another regular entered the building, joined the two others and the fun of listening to these old guys was hilarious; they paid no attention to us, we apparently didn’t matter, it was their space. Finally, I chimed in, encouraging them, and we had a few good laughs.
We all left at the same time and they had fun seeing and taking pictures of our van. They wished us safe travels and one asked if there were more people like us in Montana! We replied, “Not many, sadly we are being invaded by the left coast.” They felt sympathetic, and said the same was happening in San Antonio and Austin. With big grins we all departed.
We eat at all sorts of eating establishments. Most have a young, secular, vibe. You know, the healthy, uniquely fun and “different” food presentations. The gastronomic creations at this place were uniquely old fashioned, in their own way refreshing!
We then drove on and visited my brother in San Antonio and had a very nice time. The Alamo was beautiful and interesting. So was the Riverwalk.
From Antonio we headed to see some friends west of Austin. They had guests staying with them but invited us anyway, “The more the merrier,” they said. We arrived just before dinner and unbeknownst to us our friends had planned a fantastic jambalaya dinner with fresh conversation. Steve, a British chap and his wife Donna are super fun. They too are retired, love to camp and travel. We saw them a few years back in Montana at their campsite near Glacier Park. (Steve, I love your regular guy aptitude, you’re an inspiration, and Donna you’re fun to be around, thank you for having us and please come visit us again!)
Finally, we’re in Waco. We are camping at Lake Waco. Earlier in the day we joined hoards of people to visit Magnolia Market Silos area downtown. It’s all part of the empire the TV couple have made for themselves.
Honestly, I never go to these places. We avoid them like the plague. But this time it was a pleasure to support them by visiting. Almost immediately it was strongly impressed on us that the quality and faith of the people visiting Magnolia was different. It felt like we were at church with likeminded friends. The feeling was was sort of strange. We confirmed our suspicions on our way out when we met another couple gawking at our van (see it’s a conversation magnet). We all agreed the reason we came was to share in the joy Chip and Joanna have given to their fans. And it is especially true and apparent that their faith is formost in all they do. They believe in doing things well and they glorify God in how they live. They are not showboats. They live in a 1,700 sq foot house. And the contribution they have made in jobs and the development of Waco is large and obvious. The kids and the people working at Magnolia likewise had an unusual joy. I know where it comes from, the world may not see it, but for those of us who know the disposition of true faith, we understand. I highly recommend a visit. It’s a superior, well run operation. The quality of the products are excellent and reasonsble; and the management is outstanding. Nothing is like it!
So, that’s it. Your up to date. Today we are going to try and eat at Magnolia Table, then head to Brownwood Texas to see more friends. More eating, more laughing, and fishing!
I’ve see seen a lot of road and lots of stuff on our retirment tour; almost six thousand miles and many, many dozens of cities and sites. Surely, so far, we have chosen our favorite sites, parks, campgrounds, restaurant’s and roads. But we have also had fun and emotional experiences along the way.
I must tell you about this one event, not that you need to know, but more that I may remember. I must tell you how much I love poor people. I know this could sound upish, philosophical, religious or even arrogantly superior, but just hear me out!
The scriptures say “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” The lesson is not, “blessed are the poor!” I try not to get these concepts mixed up! To be clear, to be dirt poor is not a blessing, it’s more like a state of being and if you agree I think you’re spot on. But also remember the scriptures say, it is extremely hard for the rich person, in his or her state of being, to enter heaven! Since I’m presently in Louisiana, and historically it’s a bit French here, please remember the bourgeoisie, those with perceived materialistic values who typically have the same conventional attitudes as most Americans. You and I may actually be included along with the rich, comparativly speaking. In fact, in a worldly sense, most of us middle class and rich folks alike think we are badly designed by circumstance. We think we deserve more! Some of us think only the poor, who live in poverty, cannot help themselves. I think it is us who cannot help ourselves and it is God who allows so many of us to live priviledged although to be unsatisfied lives. So we must ask, who among us is truly blessed?
This is where our Metro van joins the story. That crazy odd, old, delivery van created for noble purposes has brought us in contact with all kinds and classes of people. Now let me say again, I love the poor, but this time I’ll add, the “poor in spirit,” (please note it is usually the poor who have the “spirit” part). Yes, it is ironic fun to have people in million dollar RV’s wander over to our campsite to tell us how cool our van is. And it is nice to relate with people on familiar grounds or interests. However, for Jackie and I, it is immensely more gratifying to have the poorest of the poor run up to us with the most satisfying grin and tell us how much they like our van and share a bit of their lives. Toothless and dressed in the sloppiest rags the poor are. And we have met the most joy filled of these folks ever; and all because we have a silly looking old van. Can you understand this? It is actually humbling! What have we done to reach out to such people as these? It’s not that we have not tried. We just don’t live where they live. We only see the ones with cardboard signs at Home Depot begging for money or in tent village’s in big cities, places we would rightfuly avoid. It’s our opinion that most of these are not happy. I’m not trying to belittle their situations or make a political statement. We simply don’t, intentionally, drive to ghetto’s or bad sections in cities: come on, I live in Montana!
Along the way on this journey it was rather important to stop in the “bad sections” of towns. When we need gas or need to eat we often end up in minority and/or poor states, counties and neighborhoods. Our van has provided us with cover and an open door to meet and converse with all sorts, but I must say the happiest smiles and the biggest grins have come in these places, and from the most joyous of souls, the poor in spirit!
To further describe what I have seen with my own eyes take this one fellow we met in Gulfport Mississippi. We needed gas, and just before we reached the coast (where all the nice million dollar houses are), we pulled into a gas station. Within seconds a lady appeared to the rear of my van as I was about to put my credit card into the pump. She said, “Excuse me sir, I’m not homeless, but could you spare me some money to get home, I’m out of gas?” I noticed she only had two front teeth, the rest had rotted out. She appeared to be my age, but I would guess she was probably much younger. She said, “I’ll give you this neckless, I don’t want to just take your money.” She repeated, “You know I’m not a homeless person, my husband is across the street at the auto parts store in our car. I just need enough money to make it back home to Ocean Springs.” I looked at her with what must have been curious eyes, I’d not heard this one before. I gave her five dollars and in a few seconds she was gone. I didn’t think much more about it, scammed or not, it was only five bucks. I then proceeded to put my credit card into the pump. It wouldn’t take. The pump displayed in bold type that I had to pre-pay inside (note when this happens, you are probally not in a great neighborhood). I was starting to think the neighborhood could need some love. I went inside and talked with the cashier. She was cold, uncaring, and miserably unfriendly. She said I could pre pay my gas and if I overpaid the prepay the balance the difference would be credited to my card. I bought it! But later we checked our bank statement and found out it did not work that way. Luckily, I only overpaid by six bucks.
Now the relative story. Just as I finished pumping my premium gas, a short black man appeared next to me. I was now in my van seat, door open. “Man! What kind of vehicle is dat?” he asked. This is the guy with the big smile, the grin from ear to ear. He went on and we had a great conversation about our van. It didn’t last too long and he didn’t have an agenda, he was simply joy filled and was an interesting character. He responded like he had just seen a famous vehicle from his favorite childhood movie. I wanted to know this guy! He had that “poor in spirit” thing going on.
After our conversation and as we pulled away our new acquaintance got back to merrily searching for and collecting aluminum cans from the garbage bins. It was at that moment, just as we pulled away from the pump that my eyes teared up, and I said to Jackie, “I love poor people.”
In a strange sort of way the poor in spirit have rich lives. Every day is an adventure. They live, they laugh, they hunger and thirst. Most have a joy indescribable, and when you meet them they somehow make you happy and sad at the very same moment.
From that gas station, it was not more than a few blocks to the “scenic Old Spanish Trail Hwy on the gulf coast where all the huge mansions lined street and they went on and on for miles and miles. We could not see the poor, dirty, neighborhoods just a few blocks deep behind these fantastic, beautiful homes; but I knew that was were there true happiness, even real holiness often resides.
My prayer this easter sunday is for the Lord to help me to better understand and experience this kind of joy. Help me to lay aside bitterness and not judge unfairly the circumstances of others. Yes, I am grateful for my blessings, but help me become more like the man at the gas station, the one who stood out from the rest, the man poor in spirt and full of joy!
We are not sure where we are heading next, it will probably be somewhere near Galveston. Then on to San Antonio, Austin, Waco, then Dallas. After that, Steve and Sandy, Brownwood. See you soon!
It has been a quite busy trip and it has also been difficult to find time to write. Tonight is the exception. There is a line of strong thunderstorms heading our way and lightning is flashing all around us. It’s only 9:30 pm at present, and we retired early, it was a long day and it is sprinkling.
Before I go on, I must return to our drive from Gainsville and the “forgotten coast” before I forget. Not that where we came from is forgetful, it is because we have been doing so much we can hardly remember one day after the next.
Did I mention traveling from Gainsville to Mexico beach along Hwy’s 27 and 98 was totally enjoyable? No, we did not see much, I mean touristy things, we just saw beautiful landscapes, forests, clear water springs, and nice beaches. Suprisingly the ride and the roads were some of the nicest and least traveled I have ever driven. This was a special blessing because I like to drive the van between 50 and 55 mph; it didn’t hurt that the temperature was in the mid seventies and sunny. I would recommend this drive over the larger highways any day, any century!
I can now vouch for slow driving seniors! We seniors have fewer deadlines and driving slow is more pleasurable, unless of course you’re driving a new Dodge demon or an old Corvette convertible.
Sadly, the joy we endured gladly soon turned to shock, then concern. About an hour and a half out of Gainsville we entered the “Emerald Coast” (leaving the “Forgotten Coast”). We entered Mexico Beach, FL. Mexico Beach is located 25 miles southeast of Panama City and was ground zero for hurricane Michael in October of 2018. The devestation is/was horrendous. I know in a few years it will look beautiful again, but if we consider the people who lost so much it is humbling. I put together a collage of photo’s to show you ghe destruction, I hope you will watch the YouTube video. It says more than I have energy to describe. Bascically, from Mexico Beach to Panama Beach the devastation will be evident for many many years to come. We could pray for the people who we under insured and lost everything, for the rest it is a dream lost, money spent, and a community forgotten. It is actually a sobering 45 minute drive.
Now, you may already know, we are currently in a gorgeous place and leaving tomorrow. I posted photo’s on facebook of Fort Pickens and the Gulf Islands National Seashore. It’s a narrow sliver of white, like sugar, sand beach across from Pensacola Fl. The water is pristine emerald and deep blue in color, and at tbis time of year the beaches are empty; if you like this sort of thing, we do! Fort Pickens is also here. It was built and finished by slaves around 1834 and was manned up to WWII. The architecture is very interesting and it is most famous for housing the Apache Geronimo after his capture, ithink, in the lat 1800’s. Interestingly, the local authorities at the time thought the famous Indian would help tourism, so they advertised his captivity and sold tickets to see him at the fort (lol), capitalism before political correctness.
Well, I’ll not bore you to death, if I do I’ll have no furure audience. Besides, I’m itching to write something philosophical or faith based, maybe next time. This “write a 500 word essay on what I did on my spring retirement vacation” is getting old.
We will be hunkered down in Orlando, at my mom’s house, for a couple more days and we are happy for this brief respite after all our adventures. We need this time to refresh, do laundry, clean the van, get reorganised, and fix the power steering. Yep, the power steering bracket broke again! It happened back in St. Augustine. This time vibration caused the power steering reservoir to break. I removed the belt and with much difficulty the reservoir. The fun part was getting hot power steering fluid spilled all over my chest in an Advanced Auto Parts parking lot. I inquired at several auto parts stores but none had my part in stock. I finally found one in Jacksonville, about an hour away so I disconnected the belt and drove there without power steering. I got the part but the bracket was now the issue, again. I decided driving without power steering was doable as it would be sufficiently difficult to find a welder at 6 p.m.; besides my mom’s house was only two more stops away. So we drove to and visited my cousin in Jacksonville, then our Aunt and Uncle in Vero, FL, and finally made it to Orlando on Monday 4.09.19.
If you are wondering, driving without power steering was not too hard on the highway, but in town having to make tight turns was memorably difficult. So was kissing a frog!
Anyway… Yesterday we were pleased to find Jody, a great guy, at Alpha Welding Services just a few miles from my mothers house. He kindly found time to fix and beef up the bracket. Kindly, is an understated adverb in this case. Jody is a certified aerospace welder, there are very few of these guys around; can you imagine the quality of his work? I did not know this, but the main job of an aerospace welder is not so much to weld, there are lots of goid welders. Certification is more about following government and FAA paperwork requirements. Procedures must be followed and documented for every areospace job; not so much for mine! It was facinating to chat with Jody. We had much in common and we are about the same age. Later I met his lovely wife too.
This is where the title of the blog post comes in. Jody and his lovely wife are not yet “out to pasture.” They have dreams of traveling more and maybe even doing as we are doing, traveling and camping. We invited them to see Glacier National Park and stay with us whenever they too decide to repurpose their existance.
I have decided “out to pasture” best describes this new phase of our lives, specifically this trip. This country is very large. It’s fenced in, maybe not by walls, but by laws and regulations. We are like old cows exploring the fence line of a huge ranch in Texas or Montana. We’ve no place we really want to go; not one place over another anyway. We are just looking for good food, friendships, and the company of familiar faces. I suppose cows out to pasture want the same things!
We have no timeline for when we will return home, just directions by which way we will wander.
Mom’s house has been a good watering hole with shelter and good food to boot. Yesterday I did most of mom’s honey do list. Today, I finished re installing the pump and bracket, changed the oil, cleaned the van and re-organised the stuff. Jackie and Mom did laundry, shopped for food, and cooked us a nice homemade meal, and i was thankful (see video).
Stay tuned, Saturday might bring us some fun. There are a couple car shows near us. I’m trying to decide which one I want to enter. One is a pure classic car show with judges and prize money. The other is at Old Town in Kissimmee FL. The advertisement reads, “Every Saturday. Old Town is home to one America’s longest running weekly car show and cruise, the Saturday Nite Car Cruise. Every Saturday, we invite show-quality 1987 and older hot rods, street rods, and antiques to join us along Trophy Row and around the property showing off these classic beauties.” It’s a pretty big event attended by a thousand or more Disney tourists. My old van is not show quality, but it is a classic car of interest and qualifies to join the parade. So, do I want to go to a classic car show and visit with other enthusiasts or be a crowd pleaser and cruise the streets of Old Town? Keep tuned, I’ll let you know!
Sunday night we are going to the Amway Center to see Two Cello’s. We don’t get many top quaslity events or concerts in Montana, so this should be fun!
We will seek other pastures head toward Gainsville to visit more good friends on Monday. After that we will be driving scenic Hwy 98 to Destin Fl and onward to the remote white sand beach of Fort Pickens Campground near Pensacola.