A LOVE STORY - "Beginnings"

Barbara Ann Kissinger was her name.  I do not remember the first time I met her.  She first appeared in my life as the sister in law of the church's new Music Director.  When she came into my circle of friends I was dating Debbie and I do believe I was in love at that point in my life.  Debbie and I had been together for a year or so though now it feels like we had been together much longer.  Later in life Barbara would tell me that when her friends from school were telling her about the other youth at her new church they would single me and Debbie out and tell her "That's Bill and Debbie ... they're inseparable".  Debbie and I weren't inseparable though.  Just a few months after Barbara was told that as a fact,  Debbie and I had a talk in her parent's basement where I was told that maybe we should just remain friends.  It hurt but I respected Debbie far too much to fight her about her thoughts.  I graciously accepted the fact that we were not to be and walked away alone.  I was never one to be  over run with females that were interested in me so I was able to adjust back into single mode of life fairly quickly and easily.

The common denominator between Barbara and myself was my very good friend Valerie.  Val and I had been friends for years and were pretty close.  It was Valerie who I shared my first kiss with in the boiler room of the church one Wednesday night.  Valerie was two years older than me and we talked about many intimate things.  Among those things was the fact that I had never really kissed girl in a deep and sensual way.   Valerie, being the great friend that she was, offered to help me along in learning the basics of romance, which was greatly appreciated and enjoyed.  

Barbara and Val were two grades ahead of me in school even though they both were just a little more than a year older than me.  This was because the school district had a promotion date of October 1 of each year.  Barbara being born in September of 1955 would graduate in 1973 while I being born in October of 1956 would not graduate until 1975.  I never understood why the district settled on October as the cut off date instead of sometime in the summer months which would have made more sense to me.  However that was the setup and as a result Barbara was one of the youngest in her class while I was one of the oldest in mine.

It was towards the end of the school year in May of 1973 when Barbara, Val and their classmates began to plan for their big graduation night.  All of the girls had a date except for Barbara and so she and Val started the search for a likely candidate.   I am not sure which of the girl's idea it was but one of them recalled that I was recently free from Debbie and that I might be willing to escort Barbara on her big day.  Barbara had shown an interest in me lately but she didn't want to seem to forward and so it was decided that Val would put out feelers to me on whether I might be interested in the idea.  The thing to remember is that Val and I were very close.  You might say she was my best friend at school.  We shared a locker together which was unique since she was a senior and I was a lowly sophomore.

On that particular morning I met Val at the locker as usual.

"You know Barb Kissinger from church?" she asked with that wry smile of hers.

"From church?  Not sure.  Why?"

"You know, Jerry and Nancy's sister.  Short?  Like me.  How would you like to tag along to the senior party after graduation with her .... and me and Robert."  She had a little grin on her face as she reached for her textbook for her class.  "You know Barb.  She sings in the choir.  There!  Right there.  Remember her now?"

I turned and looked to my side and saw a short brunette walking past.  She turned her head slightly and glanced at me.  When our eyes met she dropped her head and increased her pace a little bit.  I recognized her as being the little sister of the music director's wife.  

"Oh yeah.  I remember her."  I then felt like I should add a caveat to my recollection.  "I mean I don't really KNOW her.  Just know who she is.  So I would be, like, her date?"

Val flashed a quick grin at me.

"Date?  I guess you call it that.  Party is at King Louie after graduation.  Sheryl and her boyfriend, me and Robert and you and Barb? Think you can go?  It would be almost an all nighter."

I was not sure how to answer this proposition that came out of the blue.  I couldn't give an answer on the spot unless it was a "no".  I would have to ask mom and dad about this and that wasn't exactly a cool answer to give.

"I dunno Val.  I'll have to see." avoiding the question for the time being.

Val tilted her head.  "Well it's in a couple of weeks.  It'll be fun and Barb is really nice.  Come on you'd like her and just between you and me, she really likes you."

Val turned quickly and waved over her head as she walked away.

"See you at lunch!  Have a fun with your math!" she called out as she left

I did not know what to think.  I had a hard time keeping focused on Mrs. Skaggs algebra class as I tried to form a picture of Barb in my mind.  I did know who she was but had not really paid much attention to her.  I had a lot of things going on at the church and I had been trying to keep my mind off of the situation with Debbie to take notice of a relatively new girl at the church.

That night as I lay in bed trying to get to sleep Val's voice kept running through my mind.  "She really likes you".   She was cute.  She had a nice smile.  She was very short.  Then again, short isn't that big of a deal.  I could look past that.  Being at the senior party would be kind of neat.  I had a few friends in the class of '73 and Val would be there to rescue me if things with south for some reason.  I decided to see what mom thought about it on Saturday.  I figured it couldn't hurt to ask.  It actually could be an exciting.

I approached mom Saturday afternoon before I went to play basketball with Larry and Ronnie at the church parking lot.  All my chores were complete so I figured I should talk to her about it while I was still in her good graces.  I found her a little apprehensive when I explained the details of the approaching night.  Val would be with me.  Yes it would be late into the night but Val would be there.  It would be a highly chaperoned party at a well known venue and Val would be there.  This girl I was taking was Nancy Olthoff's little sister AND Val would be there.  Actually I would REALLY be going with Val and just hanging around with this Barb girl .... whoever she was.  As I watched her look at me as she was thinking my thought was "well, this is going to be a big no".

"Let me talk to your dad about this.  You be home for supper?"  she was standing with her hand on her hip as I grabbed my basketball to head out.

"Unless Ronnie's mom asks me to stay to eat, sure."   I grabbed my keys to head over to Ronnie's.  Talking to dad was for sure a positive for me.  That meant she was leaning towards being okay with it and just telling dad what I had planned.  Sure enough when dad and I got home from work on Monday mom gave me the green flag to go out with the seniors after graduation.

I didn't see Barb much over the next week or so.  I talked to her a little at church as the day approached just to get a feel for her.  She was nice, Val was right about that.  She was cute with a nice smile but she didn't seem to know music very well.  I noticed that when I was talking to Ronnie about a new album that had been released she had not shown any interest or knowledge about it.  This was a little discomforting but not enough for me to back out of the Senior Party coming up.  I could overlook a few important things just to get through that night.  It would not be a problem in my mind.

The day of graduation finally arrived and along with it some devastating news.  The morning of graduation, Val's boyfriend Robert had been arrested and was currently in the county jail.  He had been caught on security cams defacing the building of a rival high school the previous night.  No one knew why he had done this.  Val was crushed.  I found out when Val picked me up to go to the LDS Auditorium where the graduation traditionally took place.  I could tell something was wrong when I got in her little green Ford Pinto.  Her eyes were red as she tearfully told me she would not be going to the after party.  I spent the whole ride across town trying to change her mind and to go.  From my perspective this could bring big trouble to me if Val did not go.   We arrived at the auditorium in Independence and as we parted ways Val said she probably would go.  We agreed on a place to meet after graduation and I entered to mostly empty auditorium  to wait to see the ceremony to be followed by a long night of celebration with the new graduates of the Class of 1973 of Ruskin High School.

The ceremony was a long one as all of them from Ruskin High School were back in those days.  I knew what I was in for as I remembered sitting through my sister's graduation the previous year.  One by one the graduates would be announced as they walked across the stage to receive a book like holder for their diploma but without an actual diploma inside of it.  Those would be mailed to the graduates later.  I sat through the whole thing watching many friends from both school and my church go through the ritual of passing into adulthood like so many before them.  I thought of Val as I sat there listening to the speeches.  Val walked across the stage with her head held high masking the heartache that she was carrying.  I watched as Barb, my companion for the next few hours, walked and graduated.  After about two hours or so (probably longer) I went to meet Val, Barb and the others that would be riding together to King Louie to celebrate the end of their public education careers.

We all rode in separate cars to a shopping center where we left all the cars and to consolidate into one car for the ride over to King Louie West.  Val sat in the back seat with me and Barb silently running things through her mind about everything that had happened in the last 24 hours.  The King Louie facility was over on the Kansas side of town.  I had never been there before and have only returned once or twice since that night.  It was huge.  They had a huge arcade, a billiards room with dozens of pool tables.  There was a hockey size skating rink, dozens of bowling lanes.  In short just about everything you could want if you were going to spend the better part of the night there.

Barb walked by my side as we entered.  She was in a great mood with a big smile on her face.  She informed me that she had never been ice skating but she had played pool.  Her father had a pool table in their basement at home.  She had been bowling before but she thought she would have a difficult time at the pinball machines because of her height and short arms.  After talking a bit the group of us decided to bowl a few frames first.  Only four of us bowled as Val wandered along with the group not saying much and not feeling up to doing anything.  After bowling the group spent a little time on the pool tables splitting up into couples after that.  Val went and sat at the concession drowning her sorrows in Coca-Cola.  Barb and I started walking around observing other graduates and stopping to talk to them once in awhile.  Eventually we found ourselves at the skating rink as we found our conversation stalling.

"Want to skate?" she asked as she stopped walking to stare out at the ice.

"I guess.  You want to?"

"I never have but sure, I'll try it if you stay by me."  she asserted.  Just then one of her classmates came crashing into the wall and fell to a stop flat on her posterior in front of us.

"You sure you want to?" I asked her with a smile.  She gave a slight chuckle and affirmed that since everyone else seemed to be having a rough go of it, why not as long as I stayed close to her.   

We went to get our skates.  She wore a size 6.  Tiny little skates that looked like they would fit on a fourth grader.  We sat and I laced up my skates while she worked on getting hers on.  I went ahead out onto the ice while she was working on it.   I was pretty athletic growing up with good coordination and quick reflexes.  I was very surprised at how easy ice skating was to me.  The only problem that I encountered was figuring out how to stop.  I found it very much like roller skating.  I took a few laps totally enjoying the new experience and for a short while forgot all about Barb, my date for the night, preparing for her maiden attempt on the ice.  As I came around on another lap I suddenly saw her on the glassy surface.  She was holding onto the side rail for dear life, slowly trying to work her way around the rink.  The next time I came up on her I slammed myself into the wall in front of her.  It was the only way I knew how to stop.  She gave out a little squeal of surprise when I banged into the wall.

"You said you had never done this before" she laughed out.

"I haven't.  I swear.  You want some help?"

"YES!  This is crazy!" she exclaimed with that beautiful smile.  I do think that was the first time I truly noticed how beautiful that smile was.  It was a smile that I would never forget.  I took one of her hands while she used the other one to hold onto the railing and we slowly made our way around the rink a few times.  We would hold hands the rest of the night.  

The party officially ended as far as King Louie and the school were concerned at around 3 in the morning.  We met up with the rest of the group that had ridden over together to head out to finish off the night.  Barb and I sat in the back seat with Val holding hands.  We ended up at Terrace Lake Shopping Center where we had left the other cars.  Someone found a Frisbee in one of the cars and we spent the next hour or so tossing it between us.  It wasn't long before someone noticed the time and suggested we all head home.  It was around four in the morning as we headed to our cars.

"You riding home with Val?" Barb asked in an almost hoping way.

"Yeah I think I should.  She's had a rough night."

Barb understood the situation with Val and agreed.  Just before I go into Val's car Barb came running up to the window.

"Here."  She handed me a small piece of paper.  "My phone number if you want to call.  I had fun.  Thanks"

"I had fun to.  It was a good time.  I'll call you"

And with that the short little girl with the beautiful smile slid into her Chevy and drove off.  It was the first night of what would become a lifetime together.  A lifetime that was cut off to short but also a lifetime that would be filled to capacity with sharing, living and loving.

It was only the beginning.

THE DIFFERENCE IN TEN YEARS

I was sitting in my favorite spot in my living room this morning listening to an album that was released fifty years ago.  Steely Dan's "Can't Buy A Thrill" stared at me as the music wafted through my ears and into my head landing in the memory bank of my mind.  I first saw and heard Steely Dan perform "Do It Again" on "The Midnight Special" one Saturday night.  Donald Fagen had a distinct voice that caught my attention immediately.  It was a good song with good lyrics.  Back in the 1973 pop music was, in my mind, in the middle of the greatest decade of rock music in my lifetime.  The years 1965 to 1975 plus maybe a couple of years added to each side of that timeline took rock, country and jazz music through  a magnificent metamorphosis.  I can look back to the Top 40 of any week during that decade and my mind just whispers to me, "wow....".  As I scanned my memories from 50 years ago I started thinking what I was like 50 years ago.  Looking back 50 years ago even I wouldn't recognize myself.  I was a kid of 16 then with my whole future ahead of me.  I had yet to buy my 1967 Impala.  It was a time of transition for me from Debbie to Barbara with my last few months of freedom on that front being realized.  I had my career picked out but that was about the only thing of consequence I had accomplished.

My mind shifted to the changes my life had gone through in just the last ten years.  I thought about how I am now compared to just ten years ago.  "Just ten years ago".  During the ten years that followed 1973 I had graduated High School, married Barbara and adopted Brett.  I was in a job with a company that would see me through to my retirement.  In 1983, it still felt like I had my whole future ahead of me with a lifetime to go.  Time passes quickly though.  As I look back I can see that now and realize that life is ever changing and it doesn't stop until you take that last breath.  I am much closer to that last breath now than I was in 1973, 1983 or even 2013.

As I look back at myself in 2013 compared to today the changes are dramatic.  Brett had graduated high school 13 years before and had left Barbara and me with an empty nest.  Dutch never got over Brett not being there and go crazy wild every time Brett came walking through the door.  Dutch was only 5 years old at the time and still had his tank of energy at full.  In 2013 I would take Dutch for a weekly walk as I had Rudy before him.  I did not walk Dutch as far and as long on those walks as I had Rudy though.  Rudy had developed problems with his joints at an early age.  I did not want that to happen to Dutch.

Barbara's health was just beginning to slide on that downhill slope.  Her back was just beginning to bend forward as the fusion of her spine began.  She was able to still ride with me to Alabama to visit family but in 2013 we only ventured that direction once a year.  Mom and dad were still living in Kansas City but slowly their health was beginning to decline as well.  In three years they would relocate to Alabama to live closer to my sister.  When they moved was when my hands were full trying to take care of Barbara whose health was on a rapid decline, and dad's health was starting to fail as well.  As a family we decided that Elaine could take better care of mom and dad than I could while I was trying to take care of Barbara.  I think Barbara's last trip to Alabama was in 2014.  She made one more trip, that being to Texas for her nephew Travis' wedding.  As far as I know she never left Kansas City after that.  It was too hard on her back to even make a trip across the state to St. Louis.

We were on the last of the Saturns we would buy, Barbara driving a 2007 while I drove my precious 2006 Ion.  I think I loved that car more than any other car I had owned except maybe the 1979 Malibu that I had purchased brand new.

Barbara had returned to work and was happy with her job.  It would be the last job she held working for R. L. Stein Construction as an office manager.  In three short years, the spring f 2016, Barbara would stop working because of her health issues and begin the process of applying for Social Security Disability.  I was still working at Dit-MCO putting in my 34th year with the company.  I like to think I had attained the status of old-timer among the younger workers that brought a little respect for just staying around so long.

My health was not on the bight side in 2013 though it was much better than Barbara's.  I had two big wake up calls in 2012 and 2013.  In 2012 I had suffered my first heart attack.  It was the first sign to me that maybe I was starting to get old.  In 2013 I had my first colonoscopy where they found and removed several per-cancerous polyps.  This put me on the three year colonoscopy plan which I was thrilled about.  Since that first colonoscopy they have removed per-cancerous  with every procedure.  As you can guess, I am still on three year plan.

Ten years ago I was still fairly active though.  I broke my foot playing basketball with Brett that year and we never finished the game.  I claim the victory though since I was up on him as the time of the fracture.

The house had undergone a slight transformation.  After having carpal tunnel surgery on both my wrists, it was near impossible for me to paint the house.  Putting vinyl siding on the house became our first major improvement on the house other than a couple of new roofs over the years.  It improved the look of the house dramatically.  Barbara and I did not spend a lot of money ten years ago as we saw ourselves nearing our 6th decade of life and started trying to save a little bit for retirement.  Barbara was more concerned about our readiness for retirement than I was or so it seemed to me.  I didn't require a lot of money to keep me happy and I thought I would do very well keeping the standard of living we had then on into retirement. After mom and dad moved south, my trips to Alabama became more frequent and I depended upon Brett and our neighbors to keep an eye on Barbara due to her health.  I did not like leaving her alone with only Dutch to keep an eye on her.

I think it was around 2013 when my natural cynicism rose to a new level concerning events and life in general.  When President Obama was elected in 2008 I held out hope that he would be a good man for the job.  I even made an entry in this blog about my hope for the new administration.  By 2013, that hope had been obliterated.  My cynical side became stronger and I went int a phase of life of not trusting or believing anyone outside my own little family.  In 2013 I saw the world as a huge mess with respect being thrown out the window.  The youngsters of 2013 (under twenties) did not seem to take seriously anything.  They did not have respect for the country or the system that made this country as great as it is.  Ten years later I look back at those kids in 2013 and realize that they were not too different than I was in 1973.  Strange how that works.

Now I look at myself in 2023 compared to that person I just described.  I am calmer now than I was ten years ago.  I don't let my anger out hardly at all.  I tend to let things slide a little bit more.  I feel like I have come to accept the way the world is.  I do not understand a lot of things that go on in the world these days but things do not seem to bother me as drastically as they use to.

I am retired now after receiving a kind reminder from God that I am mortal by way of a second heart attack.  That heart attack the day before Barbara's birthday put me in the same hospital, in the same ICU just down the hall from where Barbara had died.  Those few days gave me plenty of time to think.  I thought about where I was and where my life was going.  I confirmed my thinking that life is indeed far to short.  I came to the conclusion that perhaps I had not lived my life to it's fullest.  Perhaps a little Charles Dickens crept into my thinking that I still had time, just as old Ebeneezer Scrooge had time to change a little.

I find myself in this phase of my life as entering the end game.  I am heading towards 70 now, an age I never could foresee happening.  I began my life with Barbara in the form of a first date 50 years go.  It was not always easy during those years.  There were plenty of rough times mainly because of myself.  We made it though.  During those last years with Barbara we grew closer to each other on a daily basis.

Now the nest is not only empty, my whole life feels empty at times.  The house especially feels so quiet and empty.  Dutch died last November, Brett of course is out making his way through life and Barbara has been taken to her heavenly home.

I find myself trying to learn how to live on my own by myself.  I have had to overcome my anxiety about making phone calls and still have a ways to go on that.  I have to learn how to keep up the house and keep it in order.  I have to learn to keep doctor and dentist appointments.  I have to learn to keep a healthy diet.  I have learned to keep myself busy and out of the house a day or two each week.  I have found a place to volunteer my time to helping others.

I have to learn to deal with the silence and the emptiness that I feel not only in the house, but in my heart. 

I guess the biggest change from 2013 to 2023 is that in 2013 I felt a purpose.  I was working.  I was taking care of loved ones.  I was being productive. In 2023 I am still productive.  I am still active.  I do feel that in 2023 I am being myself more than I ever had in the past.  I use to spend what seemed like every hour of everyday I was trying to do the right thing, to please somebody to do what was expected of me instead of what I wanted.  I feel like the vast majority of my life was not about me but what others expected of me.  There hasn't been a lot of "Bill" in my life.  I am trying to change that.  Still though there are times that when I do take a step in that direction, I suffer consequences from people who still have those expectations and there is nothing I can do or say to change those attitudes. Even now as I contemplate whether to publish this put it out for the world to read, I have a hesitancy because of some of those factors from long ago. 

But in 2023 I also realize I am aging and as time ticks away ever so quickly I age even faster.  There are times when I feel so alone in a house that in the past I had craved to be alone in once in awhile. 

I feel like I am existing from day to day to day knowing that one day that last breath with finally come.

This writing did not take the course I was thinking it would.  I strayed a little I think.  I do think I painted a picture, albeit a sloppy picture, of how I have changed from who I was in 2013 to who I am today.  I am a work in progress still.  

I keep moving forward.

ANSWERING A QUESTION FROM BARBARA

The following are taken from real e-mails between Barbara and myself back in 2012 :

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 From Barbara Clark, March 15, 2012  10:06:40 AM

 Okay, I looked it up in all four gospels.  Only Luke (Luke 24:4) mentions two angels in shining garments.

Why would the others say one?

Barb

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Reply from Bill Clark, March 15, 2012 11:06:44 AM

well... first off the books were written YEARS after the fact.  They think John was the oldest written followed by Luke.  Even then though, they estimate John was written about 60 years or so after the fact.  Remember that game where you sit in a circle and whisper something in the person's next to you ear?  by the time you get around the circle, the whole message had changed.

Then there is the little known, or at least little publicized issue that John had with Luke.  These two did not get along at all.  John was always writing how he was Jesus' favorite.  Luke always thought that while he was trying to write down the truth, it was always "me me me" with John.  Luke knew that Peter was the favorite but John just kept on going on about how Jesus trusted him more than the others and all of that.  As a matter of fact at the crucifixion scene, you see John saying that "his fav was by his mother's side".  Luke knew perfectly well that John wasn't there.  Luke couldn't prove it of course, because he was off hiding like all the others.  Luke knew that John was off in hiding somewhere as well, but he was hiding by himself so no one could prove or disprove whether he was with Mary or not..

John started writing before Luke did.  John did not want anyone to know that he was writing the story and placing himself in the middle of absolutely everything.  Luke had a suspicion that John was writing things down and so he decided to write his own version, the correct version of what had happened.  He hired a ten year old kid to go get a copy of what John had so far.  The problem was that by the time Luke had hired the kid, John had already published and his book started to appear in storefronts throughout the Holy Land.  When the kid brought Luke a copy of John's book, Luke lost it.  John had beaten him to the punch.

This was when Luke learned of John's tremendous ego and how he had written the story to be more a "Jesus and John with their Friends" book instead of a "Jesus Story".  Luke was furious.  He knew that the book was out there and people were reading, and believing that John was this great disciple a level above the other eleven.  Luke bore down and started to write what he saw as the truth.

Unfortunately, Luke lost focus every once in a while and strayed off into a mode of proving John wrong on little things before getting back on track and writing the story the way he remembered it.  When Luke got to the resurrection scene he noticed John had said that there was only one Angel at the scene.  From the way John wrote it, the angel was either Micheal or Gabriel.  Luke, while not knowing for sure which angel it was had assumed it was Andy Messersmith, who would later become an outstanding pitcher for the Angels when they returned to play ball in the American League in 1969.  I digress, sorry.  Just a nice little side tidbit there.

When Luke read about John's account of just one angel, he decided that this would be a good place for a little of that embellishment that he had used earlier in his book to kind of stick a thorn in John's side.  He made the decision that there would have at least been two angels at such a remarkable and miraculous event.  And so he wrote the two angel part just to one up John.  He put the angels outside the tomb, kind of guarding it while John had the angle sitting inside the tomb as if he was taking the place of Jesus.  Luke that that was a little presumptuous for an angel to take the place of Jesus.

And so that is why Luke wrote of two angels while the others, Mathew and Mark, more or less just assumed John knew what he was talking about and followed his lead.  After all John had written his book before Luke so surely his memory was clearer than Luke's.

Luke fell into a small depression because it didn't seem any one was taking his book as seriously as Johns. Then an idea popped in his head.  None of the guys were writing a book about what happened AFTER the event and ascension.  He immediately took up his pen and started writing about events after Jesus had left.  He knew that this book would be a good one and possibly end up in the top five of books about life before and after Jesus.  "The Acts of the Apostles" did indeed become a best seller and because of it's title, none of the other Apostles argued with anything in the book, because The Acts had set a pretty high bar for them to live up to.

And that is why Luke wrote of two angels instead of one.

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Reply from Barbara Clark, March 15, 2012  1:15:42 PM

WOW!!!!  AREN'T YOU THE WEALTH OF INFORMATION..  THANKS... 

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Reply from Bill Clark, March 15, 2012 1:25:41 PM

 AND I AIN'T BEEN TO SEMINARY OR NOTHING LIKE THAT ...

REMEMBERING DUTCH

 I have had three dogs during my life.  All of them came to me after being married.  I have written about Milhous quite a bit, Rudy several times, and Dutch just a couple of times.  All three were named after Presidents of these United States.  Milhous named for President Nixon, Rudy for President Ford and Dutch was named for President Reagan.

Milhous was the protector.  Rudy was the athlete.  Dutch I think could best be described as the companion and caregiver.  Dutch took to his role very well.

By the time we got Dutch in 2007 Barbara had learned how to train a dog very well.  It took her no time at all to house train Dutch.  She was able to teach him little tricks younger than the other two had learned.  For those who spent a bit of time with the three of them, it would be obvious that both Milhous and Dutch were very bright while Rudy kind of lacked the self discipline to apply his intelligence. (Kind of like their individual namesakes now that I think about it).

Dutch was the most laid backed of the three.  Mailmen never bothered Dutch that much.  Friends entering the house for the first time would get maybe one bark from him then suffer the constant attention seeking that he craved so badly.  He was the kisser of the three.  He would lick your hand for as long as you could tolerate it.  He also expected to be petted more as well. That was about the only thing that he required forcefully.

He had one toy.  Actually we got him plenty of toys but only one toy was his go to.  It is a softball sized orange rubber ball that seemed to be close to his proximity at all times.  His choice of play with the ball was to walk up to you and dare you to try to take it away from him.  After you managed that feat your job was to throw it.  In the house it was down the hallway.  Outside it was across the yard.  He would always bring the ball back to you straight away and demand that it be thrown again.  When he was younger he would play this game of fetch for hours.  As he got older and tired easier, when he would bring the ball back he would walk right past you to the back door waiting to be let back in.  He would kind of look up at you as he walked by as if to say "Well, I think you have had enough for today.  Let's go in."

I don't have a lot of funny stories to relate about Dutch like I do the other two dogs.  Dutch had his little quirks and did an unexpected thing once in while but nothing that stands out in my mind.  He was a very laid back dog.  He pretended to be tough while working his way to get petted.  Our joke around the house was that if someone broke into the house while we were gone, Dutch would lay on the couch and watch letting them take anything but the couch and his ball.  It wouldn't bother him a bit.

The one thing that I did that bothered Dutch a lot was when I would talk, telling a story to whoever was over.  I tend to express myself with my hands, using them to emphasize what I am saying.  To Dutch this was playtime for him.  When my hands started moving around in gestures he would come over and jump up trying to grab my hands gently with his mouth and batting at them with his paws.  He made it very difficult for me to talk at times.  This was one of his things that always brought a smile to my face.  At Christmas he would help all of us unwrap our presents trying to get in and rip the paper with his mouth and paws.  He was so gentle, even when playing.  He never hurt anybody. 

What made Dutch so special to me, and I assume to Barb and Brett as well, was his companionship. He could always somehow know when I was getting ready to go somewhere.  I kept his leash on a hook next to the front door.  When he got the feeling I was heading out, he would walk over to his leash and just touch it with his nose, turn and look at me and nose the leash again.  If it was a short quick trip his eyes would make me take him along for the ride.  He absolutely loved riding in the car.  He would sit in the passenger seat next to me and look intensely out of the windshield.  When we got home I did not need to hold the leash to keep him from taking off.  I would simply open the car door and he would jump out and casually walk up to the front door.

Dutch served as my alarm clock until well after I retired.  I got up at 5:30 in the morning every work day and he latched onto that fact.  He knew when it was time for me to get up and moving and would come into the room and start licking my hand or sticking his nose in my face until I woke up everyday including weekends.

Dutch proved his place in the family unlike the others had.  When Barbara's body began to break down, Dutch became her constant companion.  As her health continued to deteriorate, I moved into the spare room because any movement I made while sleeping would shoot pain up through her back.  During this time Dutch sensing Barb's health stayed with her, sleeping on the floor next to her every night until 5:30 in the morning when he would walk over to wake me up.  As her health continued to decline she began sleeping on the couch in the living room.  It was closer to the floor than the bed and a lot closer to the bathroom.  Once she moved to the couch, she slept there every night for the rest of her life.  Dutch did the same.  He took up sleeping on the floor next to the couch hoping Barb's hand would fall and land on him while she slept.  

Dutch became Barbara's close companion.  He always followed her around the house and parked himself next to her whether she was sitting in her chair or laying on the couch.  He gave Barb companionship and comfort during those last few years.  He was probably the best thing for her mental health during that time.

When I came home the evening of the day that she had passed I truly believe Dutch knew that things had changed.  I sat in my chair trying to figure out what needed to be done.  Who to contact, where to go, and open up that file that contained her funeral requests.  As I sat in my chair absorbing all that had happened Dutch was laying on the floor at my feet.  Every once in a while he would sit up and look at me and I would pat his head and then he would lay down again.  That night when I went to bed, Dutch laid down next to the couch and slept there until 5:30 the next morning.  I let him sleep there.  It had been his sleep place for close to four years.  It was where he felt he was supposed to be.

Dutch continued to sleep through the night next to the couch for about six months.  Maybe he was hoping that she would return, I do not know.  He was starting to get old about that time as well and was slowing down quite a bit.  His rear joints were stiffening up on him.  He was not able to run very well when he went outside.  He was suddenly all by himself all day long while I was at work.  I think Barbara's death effected him as much as anyone.  After about six months I woke up early one morning and Dutch had slipped into my room during the night.  He slowly switched from sleeping next to the couch to sleeping next to my bed.

After that we began to get very close.  I felt closer to him than I had any other dog.  He started following me again.  We spent evenings together.  We talked to each other as I thought things out.  Well, I would talk and he would look at me knowingly to let me know I was on the right track.  He had become my companion.  My close companion.  It became clear to me that he was there for me and he brought me much of that loving comfort that he had given Barb for all those years.

Dutch continued to age.  Big dogs like Dutch usually have a lifespan of between 10 and 12 years, a little longer if lucky.  Over the past year it had become painfully clear to me that Dutch was not going to last much longer.  He began to sleep more and more.  His mobility was extremely slow and it took him great effort to lay down or to stand up.

It was when he started having problems breathing that I began to think about his quality of life.  He was not eating much, not drinking much and breathing was difficult.  It finally became apparent to me that his quality of life was not good and so I called Dr. Lyle.

Dr. Lyle had been our vet for both Rudy and Dutch.  He loved them both.  When I took Dutch into his office that day, he knew it was not going to be easy for me.  He had a good relationship with Barbara and was saddened when she passed.  He helped me make sure I was taking care of Dutch the best I could since Barbara had died.  He knew that Dutch was my only companion at home and he knew what a big loss this was going to be for me.

His diagnoses on Dutch was some kind of syndrome that large dogs often developed.  His trachea was slowly becoming paralyzed and was effecting the the way his esophagus was performing.  This was the cause of not being able to drink or eat and, of course, his breathing problem.  Dr. Lyle agreed that his quality of life was very poor and that we were doing the right thing.  I do  believe he was just as sad as I was.

Brett had come with me that day.  Brett and Dutch were best buds throughout Dutch's life.  It effected Brett every bit as much as it effected me. We both knew things would never be the same without Dutch.  We sat with Dutch as the injection took effect and took Dutch.  Both of us gave him a pat on the head and we left.

The house is totally empty now except for me.  It took me awhile to get use to Dutch not being there.  I would be sitting and look around noticing Dutch wasn't there and would find myself starting to get up to let him from the outside only to realize he wasn't outside.  He simply wasn't.

Dutch was special.  He took care of the family as much as the family took care of him.  He never caused us any trouble.  He was the best behaved dog there was.

Dutch was indeed special.  He is missed.

THE GOSPEL

 I have always been somewhat of an introvert throughout my life, especially around people I do not know very well and in social situations.  When I was young I followed the close friends that I had in these situations in interacting with people and was able to pull it off pretty well.  These few friends were easily able to act in a very normal way in groups of people and I just followed their lead in conversations and such until I felt comfortable with what I was facing in a particular moment.  My elementary school school friends, Doug, Mark and Phil allowed me to walk across these social land mines as I progressed.   During my High school years it was Ronnie, Scott and Larry as well as Debbie that filled this requirement that I had in society.  All of these friends may not have realized I was using them as a shield during these moments but I was.  They were good at being social while I was not.

After I met Barbara, she took over that role.  Barbara was as extremely outgoing as I was extremely shy, unsure of myself and very hesitant about putting myself out there for the world to see.   My whole life has been one of hiding the real me to anyone that I did not know very well, protecting myself from being judged by the world concerning my social awkwardness.  Barbara made new friends and her friends became mine.  Barbara participated in social events while I tagged along for the ride.

After Barbara died I found myself left on my own.  My social interactions were restricted to family members, both immediate and extended.  I was fairly good interacting with people that were mine and Barbara's friends, well mainly Barbara's friends that were mine my default, but even in those situations I feel like I was holding back, slipping into that shell that I hid in as a child and young adult.  I became detached from a lot of those people without Barbara to be a social buffer for me.  I simply did not, and still don't know how to interact smoothly in a social confrontation.

After Barbara passed I reconnected with an old friend of mine.  Lisa had lost her husband a few years before I lost Barbara.  We have been hanging out together and are pretty close friends.  Lisa and I are both a little gun shy when it comes to people one or the other of us do not know.  She has become a big help in my tiptoeing through those awkward situations with her friends and I helping her in situations with mine.  We compliment each other fairly well.

Lisa and I cannot be with each other all of the time though because of events going on in her life and things going on in mine so each of us still have a lot of times where we find ourselves on our own to deal with these situations. I think she is making progress while I am still stumbling through each day.

I started noticing a change in my personality over the last several months to a year concerning how I interact with people.  As most of you know I do have a severe anxiety problem that I have been working on for several years.  Now I am trying to deal with it on my own.  The change in this part of my personality is something like this.  Someone starts to talk to me and I respond.  I respond but with a little bit of anxiety thrown into the mix.  I seem to start off ok I think, but soon I notice my voice and actions becoming more animated, I start talking faster and when asked a question at this point my answer turns into this long roundabout way, throwing in facts that are not related taking a long time to say very little in a voice where I cannot control the volume, the speed or make any sense at all.  After one of these encounters I find myself back in the house thinking about what I had said and how I responded and to be totally honest, I feel embarrassed.  I feel ridiculous like I made a total fool of myself.  I end up beating myself up over it telling myself "stupid stupid stupid".

I feel like it hit a new high point of embarrassment lately.  I have decided to return to a church that has been a very important part of my life in First Baptist Grandview.  Barbara and I had left the church in the mid to late nineties because we both felt the church, and the inner politics that come with it, were heading in a complete opposite direction than where we felt a church should be headed.  Let me interject an aside here:  We were wrong to do so.  It showed we had given up on the church and instead of fighting to make changes and corrections, we ran away.  There are members of the church still there that had faith and stayed and pretty much got the church back on track,  I truly admire these people from my past.  It could not have been easy but they did it and now I am going back to a much stabler church than the one I left so many years ago.

Okay you say.  What does all of this have to do with The Gospel?  I feel like I have not given my Christian testimony on this blog which is bad considering how long the blog has existed.  My social awkwardness and my anxiety as of late has brought me to the realization of the changes going on in my mind in how I deal with talking and explaining and people looking at me like I am an out of control idiot.  I feel like I am seen as obnoxious to these people who I am meeting at the church as they try to get to know me.  So here it is.

Dr. Mike Nelson came to Grandview quite a while after Barbara and I had left.  He came to the church when it was at a critical point as far as Grandview saw the church and I believe the church had been damaged.  Not because of the immediate predecessor to Dr. Nelson, but because of the actions of some of the members.  What I have seen in that church is a healing process that has taken several years.  Dr. Nelson has put into place things that the church had lost.  He has led a tweaking of the church constitution, which is badly needed and in reality, a bit more Biblical than the one written so very long ago.  The church is growing under his pastoral leadership.

One of the things that has changed is the way in which the church takes in new members.  Back in the old days, when I became a professed Christian and church member at the ripe old age of ten or so, all a person had to do was go forward during the invitation hymn and profess their faith and belief and ask to be a member of the church.  The pastor would ask the church, more or less, "So, what do you think?  Do we accept them as a new member?" and the church would say "Sure!!" and that was that.  A new Christian and a new member of the church.  It was this approach that led to the situation that made Me and Barbara decide to leave First Grandview.

Dr. Nelson has put into place a format for membership that I feel every church should have.  The prospective member starts to attend the church and begins to be a part of it, just like the old days, but then the changes come.  Dr. Nelson has established a "New Members Class" or seminar in which you meet with other potential members in a class and Dr. Nelson leads a discussion with the group into what the church believes, how it stands on individual faith, belief and character.  After completing the class Dr. Nelson has a meeting with you individually.  He asks a lot of questions concerning your faith, the path that your life has taken over the years, and your over all testimony as to how you came to be a Christian.  During this time it also gives him a good understanding of who you are and allows him to get to know you on a personal level.  If there comes up questions in his mind as to whether there may be a problem, he takes it to other leaders in the church to discuss.  If there is a problem, you are made aware of what it might be so you can work on that part of your life.  If there are no red flags, then he presents you to the church for membership, the church knowing you have been fully vetted.  I see this as cutting off a lot of future problems that could arise down the road, as it did way back in the 90's.

This is where my anxiety kicks in. I started attending services.  Then I started attending Sunday School classes.  My new social personality slipped in and I talked, well like I described earlier.  Then I decided that I was being led back to this church so I signed up for New members class.  Oh my, I felt like my anxiety kicked into second gear when I would try to talk.  I would end up going home trying to figure out how to control my anxiety while in these situations.

Then came my individual talk with Dr. Nelson.  I felt like it was a disaster.  I talked about myself and how I had been raised in the church.  I talked about my family, my parents and my siblings and how active we were in the church.  I talked about how at 10 years old I understood what it meant to be a Christian and had been baptized.  Then cam the married years.  I told him about Barbara and all of her children's choirs she had created over the years in the churches we had attended.  I told him about how I helped Barbara by playing the piano for her kids, how that had turned into playing piano for an adult special needs class and eventually playing for the Children's Church service every week.  I spoke of my years as a deacon at the church.  My introduction to church politics and how that had been a HUGE eye opener for me as far as the church was concerned and how that eventually led me and Barb to leave First Grandview for another church.

At the end of our talk, he observed that I had mentioned the Gospel several times and wanted to know what I meant by the Gospel.  What did I think the Gospel was.  I gave a short quick answer that, in my mind, does not suffice in describing the Gospel.  I told Dr. Nelson that earlier in my life I would probably quote John 3:16 to describe the Gospel but since that time I had discovered 1st Corinthians 15.  We discussed that chapter of the Bible and then the talk was over.

Since that day I have given it a lot of thought.  What exactly IS the Gospel in my belief.  Here is my answer:

The Gospel is the Bible taken as a whole, both Old and New Testaments,  I believe that when you study The Book you can find not only God, but Jesus the Son throughout the entirety of it, again both Old and New Testaments.  The Gospel is The Word Of God, written by men who were told what to write by God.  Many people say inspired by God and I think that works as well.  It is a book that explains to us that God is The trinity, The Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit. It is a book on how to live life, a godly life.  It is a book on what God expects of us and a book of God's incredible love for each and every one of us.  It is a book that explains how each and everyone of us are flawed because of the fall of man in Eden and that we can never live up to God's standard.  It is a book that tells how God sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to the earth to teach us and much more.  Jesus was born to a virgin, conceived to be pure and without sin by God.  Jesus was the ultimate Sacrifice to God by God to atone for our imperfections, or sins.  It is a book that gives us hope and assurance that Christ acts as our intermediary between us and God so that our sins are forgiven.  It is a book that tells how Jesus, after being Sacrificed was taken back into Heaven through the Ascension to sit on the right hand of God.   It is a book that tells of God then sending the Holy Spirit to fill our lives and helps us on our journey towards what God wants us to be.  It is a book that saves us from eternal damnation to an eternal life in the Presence of God.  It is a book that tells us that the only way to be forgiven and saved is to believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and came to earth, was sacrificed and rose from the dead to make it possible for God to forgive us of our oh so imperfect lives.

We fall short on a daily basis in God's eyes.  Many times a day.  None of us are perfect.  It is impossible.  We are human.  God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit are the Trinity, Three in One.

The Gospel is the entire Bible.  Every word of it given to us by God for us. It is a Book that should be taken seriously and studied and to learn from.  To gain knowledge and wisdom.  I do not believe any man can understand the Bible totally.  There is so very much in it. 

That might sound a bit ... disorganized of an explanation, but that is how my mind works these days.

So, to me that is what The Gospel is.  It is what I believe and what I hold dear.

BACK TO MY HOME CHURCH

 I was raised in a Southern Baptist home.  No doubt my readers are split between "Oh my..." and "Of course you were" and everything in between. It is a fact though and the church had a large influence on the person that I am today.

While I was taken to church from birth, the first church I remember attending was Ruskin Heights Baptist Church in the southern part of Kansas City, Missouri.  The church started as a Mission Annex planted and supported by Swope Park Baptist Church.  Initially it was a little 2 room wooden structure set up on, I am guessing, about 1/2 acre of land or so.  When my memory of the church comes to light they had built a three story brick building with a sanctuary not quite as big as the original Annex.  The original little Annex was still in use and had an addition built on it to double it's size.  When the brick building was built, they used the annex for Sunday School classes, Boy Scouts, and eventually a building for the Youth group in the church. The annex sat a ways away from the main church building with a little sidewalk connecting the two buildings.

It was in this church where I met some of the most influential people in my early life.  My first pastor in my memory was Dr. Loren S. Goings.  This man was so special to me.  It was under his ministry that I accepted Christ and became a Christian.  I was very young, somewhere in the range of 8 to 10 years old.  He came to the house to talk to my parents and me to be sure I understood what it meant to take this step.  Dr. Goings baptized me there.

I learned a lot in that church from the leadership and the people who led me.  My family was at the church whenever the doors were open.  I think I truly began to grow in my understanding as I entered my teenage years.  Under the tutelage of Harry Owen, Ray Jones, Dudley Barker, Diane Reynolds, Noel and Alice Shepard, and Bill and Mary Ann McConnico I grew in what I understood as right or wrong and what was expected of me as a Christian and a member of the church. 

I served on the Youth Council a couple of years and was head of the Youth Council my senior year.  The majority of my friends attended the church with me.  Now I am not saying I was an angel during my time there, far from it.  I caused a lot of trouble and headaches for the adults of the church.  I remember one Wednesday night coming into the church for services after playing some basketball in the parking lot, I came through the sanctuary casually dribbling my basketball.  I was dutifully informed that to do that was disrespectful and I should never do that.  It was reported to my parents and I never dribbled a basketball in the sanctuary again.  Little lessons like that were taught me on what seemed a weekly basis from the adults at the church.

Dr. Goings eventually retired and Dr. J.L. Wilson became my pastor.  He was a great man as well and had a great impact on my life.  I dated his daughter Debbie for awhile which was a good learning experience as well.  I learned a lot from that time with Debbie and her family and it turned out to be an important step in getting me ready for my future.

While I was there another couple joined the staff of the church.  Jerry Olthoff became our minister of music there and he brought his wife Nancy with him.  Soon after that Nancy's little sister Barbara began attending the church.  Eventually Barbara and I would start dating and be married by Dr. Wilson in that church in 1975.

Barbara and I continued to attend Ruskin Heights after we were married.  During a short period of time though things changed.  My uncle, Dr.Melvin Hill, became pastor at First Baptist Church of Grandview.  Shortly after that, Dr. Wilson left Ruskin Heights to continue his ministry elsewhere.  I hated to see Dr. Wilson leave but as it turned out, it opened a new phase in my life.  Barbara and I were not sure about who would be brought in to replace Dr. Wilson but we knew what kind of a man and pastor Dr. Hill was at Grandview.  Barbara wanted to start attending there to see if it was a good fit, but I had serious reservations about having my uncle as my pastor.  We invited Dr. Hill to the house to discuss my concerns and he more than set my mind at ease.  We began attending Grandview and eventually joined the church family there.  We left Ruskin Heights without any complaints or misgivings about that church.  We simply felt comfortable with Dr. Hill as a pastor and we felt quite at home with the people at Grandview.

Our time at First Baptist Grandview began what I consider my coming into adulthood as a Christian and a member of the church.  It was just a few years after we joined that Dr. Hill left for another position in the SBC.  The pastor that replaced my uncle also had a doctorate and was a good pastor.  He preached the gospel.  All seemed well.

Barbara and I began to get more involved in the church as adults.  Barbara started her children's choir,  we taught second graders Sunday School, and we began to make new friendships with the people there.  A new set of influences from people began to help me continue as a grew more involved.  Barbara became the leader of the Baptist Young Women's Union, something my grandmother Hill would have been proud of.  As we began to be better known we found ourselves on committees in the church from time to time.  I was part of a group of men to plan out Baptist Men's Day at the church one year and I suggested a special speaker to give the message that Sunday.  That year, on Baptist Men's Day on Sunday morning, I nervously stood in front of the church and introduced that man who had baptized me so many years before, Dr. Loren S. Goings as our speaker for the day.  It was a special moment for me.

Then the day came that would bring my maturity in the church to another level.  I was approached about becoming a deacon in the church.  I felt honored.  I felt humbled.  I was not sure if I was prepared for this step.  I took awhile. I prayed a lot.  I thought a lot.  I talked to Barbara about it.  I took it very seriously.  I had watched my father carry out his duties as a deacon.  I attended a few deacon meetings with him on youth weeks in years past.  My father was my example of what a leader in the church should be.  He was a good example.  I came to the conclusion that I was ready for this.  That I was being led to this.  That I could contribute in this role in the church.  I accepted to be vetted, tested accepted and if I made it through those steps, be ordained.  I did not take it lightly.

This would be a situation I had never seen before or since.  For some reason there were not enough men in the church that were either nominated, or accepted the nomination to fill the positions required.  When the vote for deacon that year was completed, there would be ten new deacons to be ordained in one service.  I was astounded.  This church could not get enough men to step into this role that ten new men would be required to be ordained.  That is almost half the deacon board would be freshly ordained with no previous experience.  Looking back on it now, I feel like I should have stepped aside along with a few more of the ten.  The church could go with a smaller deacon board if need be.  New deacons need to learn, to be led into this role of leadership in the church.  I didn't step aside though.  It did not cross my mind at the time.  So one Sunday, the ten of us were questioned, voted on and in the evening service that night, ordained as deacons to the church.

It got more disturbing a little later.  Once the new deacon board was installed, a new Chairman of the Deacons had to be installed.  Somehow how I was on that little committee to nominate a new chairman.  I sat down with three older deacons who I had a lot respect for and we began discussing who would be a good choice.  Names were offered up, calls were named, and declines for the position were given.  It got to the point where the three older deacons with me in this quest offered each other the position and all declined.  Then they looked at me.  Would I consider?  I did not hesitate.  I did not feel qualified.  I had just been ordained.  This was an important leadership role in the church and should be taken by a well placed deacon with experience.  Then they decided to try asking some of the new deacons if they would.  One of them accepted, and the entire deacon board voted in this newly ordained deacon as chairman.  I should have been able to read what this meant at the time.

And so I began my first true leadership role in the church.  I took it seriously as all the deacons did.  I did what was required and at times did more.  I feel I have a clear mind that I did my best.  But problems were beginning to become clear to me.

I began to notice during my first term as a deacon but it solidified during my second term.  Our pastor was a good pastor.  He was not a good leader though.  Members of the church were becoming disillusioned with things going on in the church.  Two staff members were fired during my time as a deacon.  One without any cause that I could see and the other with suspicious situations. 

I began to see the politics that are played out in the church.  I am not sure if it is normal for a church but I would like to think not.  The politics playing out at Grandview were becoming a serious problem.  Some members of the church were feeling disrespected, and rightly so. When there were situations that required discussion and discernment, if you did not agree with what was expected, you might be treated as less than a member.  Personally, I feel like it is the job of the pastor to lead through these situations and the pastor at the time was not a leader.

I began to speak out in meetings saying what I thought was right.  I was on the losing end most of the time but I tried to do what I felt was right.  It was getting frustrating.  Then the frustration became disillusionment, and from there helplessness and disappointment.    Before long Barbara and I were discussing whether we could stay at this church or not.

Then it happened. A situation arose where a person had joined the church the old fashioned way.  They come forward, ask to join, the preacher says all in favor, everyone raises their hand and the person is a member.  There was a problem though.  It is complicated and I won't go into detail here.  The church had decided that maybe they were a little hasty in allowing this person in as a member and so the rumors started and gossiping began and on and on .....

It came down to a Wednesday business meeting to vote on whether to revoke their membership or not.  It went way beyond that.  I have seen people in the church be ugly to each other before, I have seen arguments in the church, but on this night, it was way beyond what a christian discipline should be.  A certain, very vocal group of the church membership became, in my opinion, very unchristian like.  It reminded me of a scene of a village mob fixing to go up to Dr. Frankenstein's castle to burn it to the grown. and that is not an exaggeration. They were set to put people at the doors to keep this person from entering the church.  They would bar the doors before letting the person attend service.  It got uglier and uglier.  I got more irritated and disgusted the longer it went.

Finally I grabbed Barbara by the hand and we walked out.  We talked that night about the situation at the church.  It was totally out of control with no leadership that I could see.  We talked and we decided.  Our decision was based on one very important thing to us.  We agreed that nobody, absolutely nobody should be blocked from entering a church.  I don't care if you agree with their life style, their philosophy, or whatever.  We do not know what kind of situations people may be dealing with that they could use help with.  There is no reason why anybody should ever be disallowed in the church.  To me it is not right.  My mind has never wavered on that.  Bottom line is that we are all sinners, and the church is there for us sinners.  It is not for us to make a judgement on the sins of others as others should not make a judgement on mine.  It is between me and God.  The church is a body of humans who are flawed and who can help each other navigate through this world by trying to learn and follow God's word as much as possible.  The doors to a house of God is open to all.  Period.  When we left First Baptist Grandview, I made the decision that I would not serve in a leadership role of any kind in a church again.  To me it simply was not worth it.

We would not step foot in that church again except for one more time.  Years later one of Barbara's choir kids, Isaac, was getting married in the church and we went to the wedding.  Isaac was more important to the both of us than what happened years ago.  Other than that, I never darkened it's doors.

After  we left Grandview, we started going to a little church also in Grandview that one of Barbara's choir kids was the pastor of.  Keith Gibson is a good man. A good pastor.  It is a good church.  Barbara started a children's choir again and we attended regular.  The church moved a little further south  to Belton and we followed it there.  It was during this time that Barbara's health began to slip badly.  We continued to go to Keith's church until Barbara simply could not go.  It was difficult for her to get out and it was impossible for her to sit in a pew for any length of time at all.  During the time between Barbara not being able to go up until her death, Keith's church had moved even further south to Peculiar, Missouri.  I went a few times but to be honest, it was not only a long ways to go, but I didn't feel much like getting out at all after Barbara died.  Going to work was tough enough for me.

A year or so after we lost Barbara, I reacquainted myself  with an old friend who has also been widowed.  We decided to find a church together as a support for each other.  My oh my we looked for a church.  I had no idea how many churches are out there that are not a church in a biblical sense at all.  We finally found a church that was fairly good.  The plus to this church was it was only a block or so away from a Crackerbarrel Restaurant.  So breakfast followed by church.  It seemed like a good deal.

The longer I went there the more uncomfortable I felt.  It seemed to be closely tied to  Calvary Bible College in Belton and the "sermons" felt more like a classroom lecture.  The Gospel was not regularly preached.  The Salvation message was seldom preached.  It was a good group of people, but if someone came off the street looking for that "something" they would not find it there.  I began to get more and more disillusioned.

I decided possibly another church change was needed.  I tried a church in Grandview but try as I may, it just didn't feel like a good fit for me.  There were just things that they did do and things that they did not do that just made me feel like I was meant to be elsewhere.

It was at this time, just a few weeks ago that First Baptist Church of Grandview started creeping into my mind.  It had been a long time ago since that ugly business meeting.  There had been a few pastors since that time.  Most of the people that had offended my sensibilities so much were either no longer with us or had moved on to other churches.  I looked up the church on their website and started reading it.  They have a younger pastor but not REAL young, I mean he is old enough to have a doctorate and has been there for several years.  I listened to some of his sermons online.It seemed like it was the church I had left all those years ago.

So, I went one Sunday morning.  I was pleased to find a couple of our old friends there and we talked.  The pastor is a good man who preaches the Gospel as I was raised on.  Trish and Scott took me up to meet the pastor after the service and I felt very good about him.

Last week I went to a Sunday School class he was teaching and noticed how well he interacted with his parishioners.  I listened to him speak and teach the Bible and it is sound doctrine as I understand it to be.

I feel like First Baptist Grandview was my home church once upon a time.

I haven't made up my mind completely yet, but I think it might be my home church once again.  I feel good about it.  It is a comfortable fit. 

 

BARBARA ANN CLARK - THE FUNERAL

 Today marks four years since Barbara's funeral.  I have written three previous pieces about Barbara and her life but have neglected to write about her funeral service.  I think it deserves at least a small writing.

In 1981 a gentleman arrived at our house and knocked on the door.  He was from Floral Hills Funeral Home and Cemetery.  He was calling on us to talk about pre-funeral planning.  I figure the reason why we invited him in to talk to us was that we had experience with the funeral home.  Barbara's mother was buried there and my Uncle Melvin was buried there as well.  He explained that the cemetery was opening up a new section of the cemetery with a new way of parsing out the plots.  It sounded strange at the time.  Instead of Barb and me buying two plots, this new system would allow us to purchase just one.  This is the strange sounding part.  The two of us would be buried together in the single plot, one of us over the other.  The result of this new area was that while it would cost more than a single traditional plot it would be far less expensive than buying two separate plots for the two of us.  After talking with him the both of us thought it made sense and so we let him talk further into the idea of pre-funeral planning.  He talked about everything that we could set up in 1981 so that when the time came when one of us passed away everything would be paid for and available.  He left us some brochures as we asked him to let us talk it over and set an appointment for him to return to talk to us in a few days.

We did discuss planning for the future in this area of life.  We were, after all, planning for our future in almost every other area of life.  We were putting money into a 401K retirement account every paycheck.  We had purchased our house from Mr. and Mrs. Allard.  He was a teacher and coach of my sister and he coached me in football and baseball.  She had given me piano lessons for several years.  We had just finished paying the first actual new car that we had bought.  I had purchased life insurance on myself in addition to the life insurance the company offered to protect Barbara and our future child.  We also had started the process of adopting a child.  The things that this man was laying out for us seemed like the logical thing to do. We decided to follow through on the pre-funeral plan and spent the next few hours going through brochures with him.  We picked out our caskets.  We selected the marker that would be placed on our plot.  We selected and paid for the cards that would be given to those attending our funeral.  Everything was paid for except for the renting of the chapel and the opening of the grave when the time came.  Barbara thought that we may want a funeral in a church instead of at the funeral home so we left that off.  Otherwise, everything was taken care of.  Barbara was 26 and I was 25 when we bought everything that would be needed for a funeral.  In about 15 years it would all be paid for and not a worry for whatever the future held.

Now we move forward to July of 2018.  Barbara was facing a surgery that was extremely risky.  Neither of us knew what the outcome would be going into that surgery.  During the month or so before the surgery Barbara began getting things in place.  She only discussed with me what changes would need to be done to the house and our schedules when she came home from the hospital after the surgery.  We made changes in the bathroom.  She had already been forced to store her clothes on a lower plane than she use to be able to have.  The kitchen had also changed since she started getting worse.  Cabinets we not used much.  The kitchen table became her cabinets.  To me it was a disorganized mess, but to her it was what she needed and she pretty much knew where to find things.  

The night before the surgery right before I went to bed, she called me over to her chair. I sat in my chair next to her and she turned her computer towards me.

"I have something on the computer I want you know about," she said very seriously. 

 She pointed to an icon on the computer.  Underneath the icon was a single word. "If".

She tapped the computer screen with her fingernail.

"This file is for you just in case."  As she said this her eyes never left me.  She wanted to be sure I understood.

"In case of..??" I asked, with an idea of what the "in case" was.

"You'll know.  I don't want you to open it until it is time to, ok?"  She was still staring at me so seriously.  I knew exactly what she was referring to now.  "If" things did not go the way we were expecting them to. "If" she did not come home.  I promised her I would not be opening that file.  Her eyes got a little wet and she patted my hand as I gave her a kiss goodnight.

As we left the house on the morning of the 16th of July, neither of us were thinking, or at least talking about anything other than the outcome being that she would come home. As she went into surgery and we talked for the last time, kissed for the last time and expressed our love for each other the last time, the knowledge of the "If" file left my mind.  

As the week progressed and the reality of what the outcome of this week was going to be I remembered the "If" file.  I would come home to take care of Dutch and rest a little before heading back to the hospital.  During those few hours at the house I would open her computer and stare at that icon with "If" underneath it.  I did not open it though,  It wasn't time to open it yet. I would return to the hospital still holding out hope that I would not need to open it although as the week progressed it became painfully clear that I would be opening that file.

July 22, 2018.  In the morning the the nurses were checking Barbara constantly.  The ICU doctor came in more than usual checking on her.  I stepped out in the room for a second just to think and was approached by the hospital chaplain.  She talked to me a bit although I can't remember what was said.  She was basically holding out a hand to me if I needed it.  That was the day that Barbara's vitals all crashed at once and I left the room while they tried to stabilize her.  That was the moment I realized I would be opening the "If" file.

July 23, 2018. The doctor came into Barbara's room and put her hand on my shoulder.  We talked about the situation.  All that could be done had been done.  They began to take her off of life support as I gave her one last kiss.

My mind was racing as I walked out of the ICU for the last time.  I was blessed to have my sister Karen there with me, my cousin Ellen and other cousins.  Barbara was gone.  I sought out Ellen and asked her to call Floral Hills and have them start getting the paperwork for Barbara's funeral arrangements moving, which she did.  While I was phoning Barbara's sister and telling her what had happened, Ellen was getting things moving.  She came back and told me the funeral home had the files and were beginning to get things together.  It was arranged that I would go to the funeral home ... you know I can't remember if it was the next day or the day after that.  

Anyway, I got home in the afternoon of the day that Barbara passed.  My neighbors were sitting out on the front deck of the house next door waiting for news.  I talked to them and that little group remembered times with Barb with me. It was something I needed.

It was that evening when I was alone that I reluctantly turned on Barbara's computer.  I stared at the "If" icon for a few minutes before opening it.  I won't go into detail about what she had written but it was an amazing file.  She started by telling me to carry on.  She was ok now.  She told me she knew I would think I could not do it, but I had to, if anything for Brett.  She said that mine and Brett's suits were in a dry cleaning bag in the hall closet along with our white shirts.  She had Lori take them to be dry cleaned. 

She asked if I would ask Keith to do her funeral.  Keith was Keith Gibson.  He had been in Barbara's first children's choir and had grown up to be a minister.  We had started attending his church several years before and he had become the man we knew as our pastor.  She listed the music she wanted played.  One of the songs, not surprisingly, was a song I had never heard of.  Barb was much more up to date on music than I was.  When it came to music for me, it had might as well been 1974.  She also said she did not want a lot of flowers because I wouldn't know how to take care of them.  Instead, she wanted people to make donations to the Missouri Baptist Children's Home, where we had adopted Brett from.

She had everything planned out "If".  

Karen went with me and Brett to the funeral home to meet with the funeral director and make the final arrangements.  I did not have to pick out a casket.  I did not have to do much of anything.  All that hard stuff was already done and paid for.  The funeral director asked me about flowers and I told her about the children's home, but I would like a spray for the casket but I had my own florist that I was going to use.  I told her I would be using Kamp's for the spray.  She looked surprised and told me that was the the funeral homes florist.  She asked me why Kamp's and I told her about my grandfather and our family history with Mr. Kamp. So the spray for her casket came from Kamp's and that was good.

I was also instructed by the funeral director to bring some clothes for Barbara the next day.  I had no idea what to do when it came to that.  On the drive home I tried to think about outfits that Barbara liked, but how would I find them?  Would I be able to put an outfit together?  When I got home I walked back to Barb's room to start trying to put something together for her.  I walked into that room and there, laying on the bed, was an outfit laid out.  I cried at that point.  She had thought of absolutely everything.

The funeral was set for the next Saturday July 28, 2018.  Keith came over to talk to me and Brett about Barb.  He pretty well knew a lot about Barb but it was good to talk to him about her anyway.  He told me he was honored to speak at Barbara's service.  This was the first inkling of the impact that Barbara had made on people's lives.

So now the funeral, which is what this was supposed to be all about.  It was sad but good.  We had rented the big chapel at Floral Hills.  I knew Barbara had a lot of friends, classmates from high school , people she had attended church with, I just had a feeling a lot of people loved my wife and would be there.  That feeling proved out on that Saturday.

I am not a good people person.  That was Barb's job in our relationship.  she dealt with people while I just followed.  That Saturday though I had to stand there with my son and sister in law as people came to pay there respects to Barb and to offer their condolences to my little family.  It was not easy.  There were people who I knew their names but had never met.  There were people I had known through the years with Barb.  There were a lot of people.  The showing of love that people had for Barbara was ... I guess overwhelming.

They played the songs that Barb had wanted and Keith talked.  Keith talked about Barbara and how he had come to know her as an adult.  He talked of her smile and her laugh.  He talked of her impact on his family, on his children.  He talked about Barb's love for sweatshirts that had funny sayings on them that referred directly to herself.  He spoke of her impact on so many peoples lives.  He finished by telling the story of Barb's faith and how anyone could have the faith and assurance that Barb had.  He spoke the Salvation message, which I was very pleased with.  Barbara would have expected him to do no less than that.

The plot that Barb and I have is not far from the chapel at Floral Hills.  We had decided to forego using a hearse to take Barbara to the site.  Our nephews and a couple of cousins acted as pall bearers and walked next to Barbara's casket as we walked out of the chapel, across the drive and down to the grave site.  Me and Brett followed them and all of the people who had come to pay their respect for Barbara followed us.  It was special.  I think Barbara would have loved it.

At the gravesite, Keith read scripture and talked more about what death is, what it means, and what comes out through death with having faith in God and the resurrection that gives that assurance.  It was a wonderful service and I can not ever thank Keith enough for his words on that day.

After the funeral family and friends went over to my cousin Ellen's house for a dinner that would allow all of us to remember Barbara.  To laugh about things she had done, to remember her and to express how blessed we all were to have had her in our lives.

I was exhausted when I arrived home that evening.  I sat up all night thinking about our life together over those 42 years.  I thought of good times, bad times, fun times and rough times.  We had been through a lot.  For some reason she thought I was worth working hard to stay together.  I honestly do not understand that.  

In the days following the funeral, I began to adjust to my new life.  Barbara's wish for making donations to the Children's home was followed as I sent checks totaling over $500 to the organization that had given her our son.

Dit-MCO had given me as much time as I needed after Barb's death and I took that time to accept my sister Elaine's invitation to spend some quiet time in Alabama while I made mental adjustments.  Eventually I returned to Missouri and went back to work.  I began to work on starting a life without her.  For the first time in my entire life, I was living alone.

Thank you to all of you who attended and for all the prayers given during that time.  Thanks to a special set of people who gave me support during that time.  My sister Elaine and brother Bob.  My sister Karen.  Cousins Ellen, Susie, Pete, Eric, Jerry and a special friend Phil Vinyard who was there at hours early in the morning to check on me and Barbara and for being there early that last morning of Barb's life when I was feeling so helpless and alone.

Barbara showed tremendous strength and courage to prepare for whichever way the surgery went.  I will always admire her and be thankful to her for that. 

I am continuing to move forward in life without Barbara.  I still love her.  I miss her.  I always will.  But I know that Barbara would not want me to sit and fade away from life.  She said so in the "If" file.

ENTRY NUMBER 500

 I finally arrive at the 500th time I have published an entry here in this silly thing called a blog.  I have been thinking about this entry for awhile now.  I want it to be different from the other 499 entries.  I have no idea how this entry will look like.  There is a good possibility that some of what is written here will have been covered somewhere in the previous entries.  Let's see how it goes.

The first entry I published in this blog took place on October 6, 2010.  Doesn't seem that long ago but it has been about eleven and a half years running.  I have not published consistently.  I wrote when I felt like writing, not to meet a schedule.  

Entry number 001 was titled "GOLDEN YEARS".  It had nothing to do with the David Bowie song but may have been inspired by it.  I may have been listening to Bowie as I started writing it.  In short, it had to do with getting old.  My premise was we are always aging until the moment we die.  Those golden years don't happen until we reach our ultimate age, right before we die.  The golden years we all try to get to only last a split second between life and death.  Sounds silly now, but I think perhaps I was trying to come off as a deep thinker and philosopher than just being who I really am.

A few statistics on this tome of mindless thoughts from a "boy" in Missouri:

At the time I am writing, this blog has been looked at, if not read, 86,600 times.  That is an average of 173.5 times for each of the 499 entries.

It has been read in over 18 countries.  Only 55% of the views have been from the United States.  Countries that are represented in the viewing audience include Russia, France, Germany, Ukraine, Sweden, Canada, United Arab Emirates, United Kingdom, Poland, Japan, India, China, Netherlands Brazil, Romania, Latvia and Czechia.

The most read entry, and this really surprised me, was the relating of a story that my grandfather use to tell me about an Indian in the Ozarks named Falling Rock.  Other popular entries include ones about my fear of tornadoes, about two young ladies named Rachel and Alesia and, of course, about Barbara.

These statistics are far larger than I ever expected to attain.  It is still a small blog in the world of the internet but it is out there.  Not all of the 499 previous entries were original writings.  In the early days I did quote Mr. Carlin and some of my favorite songs as well as a quote or two from President Nixon.  The clear majority of entries though are original.

I have written about people in my life.  I have written about events that I experienced as I went down this path.  I have also written my thoughts on things that were going on around me.

I wrote about the summer of 2018.  It was the hardest six month period in my entire life.  It was a time when I lost Barbara, my father, a long time neighbor and good friend, his daughter, and an uncle.  The years immediately before 2018 had their fill of loss as well.  In 2016 I lost my eldest sister and in 2017 I lost a long time friend that I met when I started working at Dit-MCO.  After 2018 I have lost two uncles and four aunts as well as a four coworkers at Dit-MCO who I adored.  One of the most striking posts on Facebook over this past year was put there by my Uncle Jim.  He is the youngest of 5 siblings and after losing his brother (my dad) in 2018, his sister (my Aunt Norva) in 2019 and then finally losing two sisters within the last year (my Aunt Fay and my Aunt Velma) he put up a picture of himself with his brother and three sisters and a one sentence emotion.  "Now all my siblings are in Heaven."  He had lost his family in the space of only a few short years.  I love my Uncle Jim and I know that his faith helps to carry him onward through his life.

I have spent my life observing and listening while occasionally making my maturing thoughts known out loud.  I like to think I was open minded about other ideas and I think I was.  I learned this from my grandfather.  It is okay to be wrong.  It is okay to change your mind.  This is called maturing, growing ... learning.  It is also okay to affirm your thinking and to believe you are correct and not agree with with what others may think.  To be able to stand for what you believe in is very important as part of our growth and maturity.  The important thing is to agree or disagree while being respectful to those who you are speaking with.  There does not seem to be much respect being shown in the world these days.  Disgust and hate have replaced the idea of respect.  What has replaced the importance of respect is the silencing of ideas, not only by individuals but also by corporate entities.  Sorry, I got off track for a bit.  What I was going to say is that these writings that are taken from my observations and some things I have heard and experienced are to show what I have learned from them through my 65 years on this planet.  Not all of it is pretty, but all of it is human.  None of us are perfect.  None of us are totally right in our thinking. What we all are though is human.  As we go about our day to day lives and interactions, I believe this is an important thing to remember.

"I don't think I'm racist."  I spoke these words to my grandfather on an afternoon visit after work one summer day.  His response was short and to the point, "Everyone's a racist .... everyone."  As he said these words he did not exhibit any of his ordinary mannerisms that he commonly used when making a point.  There was no leaning forward at me.  He didn't point his pipe and stub finger at me.  There wasn't a small "hr-mph".  He did not even look at me when making the statement.  He just looked straight ahead speaking steady and matter of factly.  There was no follow up, just silence as we both seemed to let his words sink in.  I have only seen him respond to me in this manner one other time.  It was a personal time when we were alone in the dining room of the old house.  This manner of responding was rare for the old man and reserved for situations that seemed to be very important and personal to him.  The conversation did not go much further than that on that afternoon.  He changed the topic shortly thereafter, his point being voiced and made.

I thought about that short conversation several time over the course of my life.  I still think of that afternoon even today, especially with society being in the state that it is in.  This is my theory on what my grandfather's thinking was.  Knowing my grandfather and his stories of life along with little hints that I observed of him over the remaining years of his life, I think it is pretty close to what he was telling me.  "Everyone is racist.... everyone."  My grandfather lived a life that he thought was proper.  No, he was not perfect.  He had plenty of flaws but when his flaws came out, as flaws always do, he did his best to make it right.  Grandpa wouldn't give this explanation in these words, they are my own, but I think the general idea is there.  The human species is a tribal species.  This is not unusual in nature, many are tribal, some more than others.  The thing about the human species is that although we are tribal that vast majority of humans try to not let that tribalism rule our behavior.  Even men like my grandfather, who are seen by those he encountered as being fair and treating everyone the same, deep down have this tribal sense of belonging.

"I don't think I'm racist."  One day in gym class at Ruskin High School we were playing volleyball.  It was a time when the Ruskin community was becoming more diverse as we were seeing the number of black kids increase every year.  Personally, this did not bother me.  I didn't see it bother any of my classmates that I could tell.  To be honest, it seemed to bother the parents more then us kids.  I had already reached my six foot frame when I was a junior, so I was fairly tall.  During this game that day I had the opportunity to lay down a wicked spike on my opponent across the net from me.  "Yeah boy!!" I exclaimed with a fist pump.  Then I looked my classmate who I had just spiked the ball on.  "Boy, huh.."  The black face looking at me looked both angry and hurt.  I did not say those words intending to hurt.  It was part of my vocabulary.  I did not even realize that he was of a different race.  The words just came out and it hurt and angered him.  I did not respond.  I kept silent.  I should have apologized.  The incident did not progress into anything but to this day I can see his face, I can hear my words.  I should have been more careful, more aware and more sensitive.  I understand that now.  Since that day I have taken care in my words as much as I can.  I keep that moment in my memory as a reminder to do so.

So this is what I got from my grandfather on that day.  We all think others are different.  We all think we are pretty good people and "our" people are pretty good people for the most part.  Every race has great people.  A lot of great people.  Every race also has very wicked people. Not as many as good people but still the wicked ones are out there.  Each one of us understand people of our own race better then we understand people of other races and, of course, each race considers it the better.  All of us have to train our minds to take on an outlook of keeping that behavior under control or better yet, completely hidden and not even thought about.  That tribal instinct should not even be known to ourselves.  Its should be so small in our minds that we don't realize it is there.  Still we have that basic tribalism that stays with us.  It stays with all of us.  "Everyone".  Some are better at this than others.  My grandfather was a master at it.  I am not so good at hiding it as he was.  We all need to try though because in order for this country, this world to survive, we have to.  As for me, I continue to work at it.  I try to see people by what I observe how they live and what they say.  I have a long ways to go.

It took me over three years since we lost Barbara, but I have manage to take another step in moving forward in life.  I won't try to trick you, moving forward has been a very difficult thing to do.  This spring with help from Brett, I began to make this house look more like "Bill" instead of "Bill and Barb".  I got my mind ready to let go of a lot of Barbara in the house.  Mainly her clothes, books and, to be quite frank, junk that she liked to have around.  By this I mean that stuff that didn't bring on strong memories of Barb or our life together, but just stuff that she liked to keep.  The house looks different now.  There is still a lot of Barb there, but I tried to transform into a house that reflects me.  Made it more comfortable for me.  I am happy with the result.  Her wedding dress still hangs in the closet and the shoes she wore on November 21, 1975.  Her chair that she sat in during the last years of her life sits with the crocheted throw that the nurses laid over her after she died.  It was difficult for me to do and I know I should have taken this step a couple of years ago.  It is healthy for me emotionally as well as physically I guess.  I still love her.  I always will.  At the same time I need to keep moving forward in life as difficult as that may be.  I'm getting there with the help of a few special friends, one in particular.  Thank you Lisa for your advice and help.

Barbara's Chair

All of my regular readers know of my love of music, literature and baseball.  What I haven't touched on very much, if at all, is my love for movies.  To start with I have a lot of favorite male actors but there is one female actress that rises above all others.  Sandra Bullock.  It has become kind of a running joke among my family and friends but I do like her.  She is very good in my mind.  Comedies, dramas, sci-fi, she can do anything.  By my calculations she has been cheated out of some 25 Oscars ... just my opinion. 

Seriously, movies have had a big influence on me by the messages they try to get across.   Not all movies are made for a message, most are for pure entertainment value but there are a few that have a statement to make.  I don't agree with all the messages put out there but I think it is a good thing if a movie makes you think after you have seen it.  

I think instead of getting onto all of the messages, I am going to list some of my favorite moves that reach for more than simple entertainment value.  These are not in any particular order as to how I favor them, just a little insight into my thinking.  Let you get to know me a little better.

    "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest"  "Fargo"  "Dr. Strangelove"  "Being There"  "Catch 22"  "Grand Torino"  "Miller's Crossing"  "Network"  "Patton"  "Wall Street"  "Girl Interrupted"  "28 Days"  "Lincoln"  "The Man With The Golden Arm"  "All The President's Men"  "The Sunset Limited"  "To Kill A Mockingbird"  "The Mouse That Roared"  "Lilies Of The Field"  "Shawshank Redemption"  "Waking Up"  "Cat On A Hot Tin Roof"  "Guess Who's Coming To Dinner"  "Dog Day Afternoon"  "Forrest Gump"  "Up"  "Conspiracy"  "The Blind Side"  "Philadelphia"  "A Time To Kill"  and many more if I took time to really think about it.  These movies, though, come immediately to my mind so they are more than likely to be the ones I go to.

Over these 500 entries, I have tried to address things that I have learned during my 65 years.  I told them in song lyrics, the modern day philosophers as I refer to the songwriters as.  There is another subset of philosophers and I have quoted them a lot as well.  Lenny Bruce, George Carlin, Bill Hicks, Richard Pryor told their philosophies by making observations of life and relaying these observations honestly but with exaggerations to show how ridiculous some human behaviors are.  If you listen to them, they will make you laugh, but if you listen to the sub logic under the exaggerations, you find the truth they are trying to bring out.

I also told of my observations through stories that, for the most part, are true and are a part of my life.  Some involved teachers and others came from a few interactions with authority.  A lot of the lessons I learned came from those who I looked up to with upmost respect. Family members and those outside the family.  Teachers and clergy.  Neighbors and classmates.  I have been extremely lucky in life and the people who have been a part of my life.

Observing and listening are perhaps two of the most important tools we have as we proceed through life.  Care must be taken though because observing or listening to the wrong ideas and actions can do more damage than good.  I was lucky and I made some mistakes.  I have made some big mistakes in life.

Hopefully, this blog of stories and ideas, good things and not so good things, can make even a small impact on anyone who stumbles across this collection of entries long after I am gone.

Thanks for reading my dear friends.  A lot has been left untold, but I plan on working at getting those things told in the future.