three hundred seventy
three hundred sixty nine
THE MOMENT EVERYTHING CHANGED
It is Easter morning 2023, Christians around the world are attempting to get their minds around an event that changed everything.
We all share this short moment in time. People die and we never see them again. They are born, hopefully live a long life then they die. Whatever they did may or may not matter. They will be remembered or completely forgotten. They may leave children, wealth, inventions, great literature, music, art and a good reputation, or they may leave destruction, debt and great shame.
The one question that haunts us all, is this all there is? Many try to rationalize, minimize or ignore this age old nagging question but it never completely goes away.
There was a well documented event on this day. A man died and is alive again. Not a spirit but a walking talking eating being. Witnesses who had nothing to gain but everything to lose in this life told us this happened. They faced shame, ridicule, imprisonment, torture and died horrible deaths to bare witness to what they have seen.
The man they knew and loved, at the moment he needed them most, they abandoned him. He was beaten, shamed and brutally killed. He was dead for three days and after three days he is alive again.
Hundreds saw him, touched him, talked with him and ate with him. The things he had been telling them came true. Their eyes were opened and they understood he was the one the profits were talking about.
The good news of Jesus is not only about living a successful life it is more. He says we can do the same thing he did and live beyond this life. So in the grand scheme of things that is a big deal.
This blog post will not change anyones mind about anything. I can't open a heart or mind, I can just tell you about my own hope. I'm 71 years old and am relying on what God promised me. I have long ago moved past any question about his existence. I now rely on the fact that he is faithful to his words.
I accept the reality that I'm going to eventually die. I hope I don't leave too soon or leave too much wreckage. I'm trying to clean up as much of that as I can. I would like to think a few people will miss me and I'll live on in their memories.
As I contemplate leaving this dimension this promise is something I rely on more and more. I'm not certain what it will be like and I don't waste much time wondering I just trust it will be good.
My hope is that everyone takes a sober look at what I have found and finds comfort in this promise too.
There have been dark times when I was exhausted with living and wished for it to stop but even in those moments a small voice told me there was something more. At first I was given the strength to endure life, then embrace it and finally enjoy it, but then I found that I can live my life without fear.
I know this subject gets a reaction. Many don't want to think about death and what might be beyond.
The one thing I have right was consider the possibility that any of this was true. From the moment I found this until now I searched, tested, questioned and doubted my way to believing. I didn't want to waste my life on some weird cult so I continuously beat it up and try to prove it wrong. After doing this for 43 years I have decided it is true.
This life after death thing is a big deal but sadly it often gets as much attention as the rinse and repeat instructions on a shampoo bottle.
I hold onto this promise tighter and tighter every day. My life will not end at physical death it will only be a beginning.
Knock, crack open the door, entertain the possibility, get curious or get angry and try to prove it wrong. Whatever you do, don't turn away. There is an answer to that nagging question.
three hundred sixty eight
AMUSEMENT PARK ADVENTURES
If you were a kid in a small town in Ohio you might see Disneyland on television but because of the distance and cost you had no hope of ever going there. The idea of going on a family vacation to someplace interesting to a fifth grader was nearly impossible. Instead we created our own amusement park with what we had around us.
The city was founded in 1806 so the sewer system was functioning but not modern. We had a large opening to the storm sewer system close to our house. We would venture in through the spider webs past the reach of the light. We were motivated by the power of a dare.
After several hundred more yards we made it to another entrance we knew about. It was located behind a factory that had high fences and security guards. We got there but the entrance had bars covering it.
With wet matches, dead flashlights, wet clothes and shoes we started heading back. The darkness didn't bother me but the occasional waist deep hole filled with the unknown was my problem. Visions of rats, bats, spiders, snakes and leeches filled or thoughts. We went from trying to scare each other to trying to hide our fears.
It took a long time to finally reach the exit. As we approached our toughness and bravery came back but when we finally made it out we could barely hide our relief.
I got home replaced my fathers flashlight dead batteries and all and tried to sneak into the house for a change of clothes. My mother didn't see me but she certainly smelled me.
I had a story but she didn't want to hear it. For some strange reason none of us got in any trouble. Years later I hear my older brother by seven years, talking with his friends reminiscing about their sewer adventure. I felt a secret pride when I heard they didn't get as far as we did.
It wasn't Disneyland and I'm glad we didn't find any Mickey Rats, but it was one amazing adventure and a perfect place for boys to tell turd jokes.
three hundred sixty seven
I WAS A CHILD LABOR FARM WORKER
Every spring when the school year finished we had a long three month summer ahead of us. As the final bell rang it was like being released from prison. No report cards or teachers to worry about and nothing but play and adventure ahead of us.
Our parents didn't arrange play dates or child care. The neighborhood parents kept an eye on all of us. They would give us water, felt free to scold us and at times discipline us. Mostly we were completely unsupervised until dark. We took time outs to sneak a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or whatever we could find unguarded in the kitchen. We only bothered parents if an injury required a dentist or stitches.
One thing we did need was our own money because there was no candy anywhere other then the neighborhood store. We collected pop bottles, raked leaves, pulled weeds and cleaned up trash. A run to the local store became an opportunity to keep the change, or steal what ever we were sent for and keep the money.
I could not steal things because my one attempt to steal candy cured me, well for awhile. On a trip to the A&P with my mother I boosted what I thought was a bar of chocolate. I tried to eat it but it was bitter and disgusting. It was dark cooking chocolate, I was sure God took all of the sweet out because it was stolen.
The local news paper would post ads for strawberry pickers. There were several farmers who had good sized strawberry fields that needed picked. They had their own roadside markets and supplied the area stores. Because strawberries ripen fairly quickly it was necessary to hire part time workers.
Fresh Ohio strawberries are awesome. Most strawberries are shipped in from who knows where. Fresh vine ripened strawberries grown in rich cow manure fertilized soil are the best.
three hundred sixty six
OLD HIPPIES
I graduated from High School in 1969 during the hippie movement. The main goal of most hippies was music, mind expanding drugs, free love, flower power and rebelling against "the man". In the 60's and 70's I bought into the peace and love, sampled the drugs but I completely struck out on the free love, not that I wasn't trying. I did immerse myself in all of the amazing music especially Motown. I did question the war, questioned authority, believed in the absolute freedom of speech and completely bought into loving everyone.
The politically minded hippies who were nicknamed "Yippies" constantly quoted Karl Marx, Chairman Mao and Che Guevara. The SDS, Weathermen and Winter Soldiers were active on the Kent State campus and Mother Jones Magazine was handed out everywhere. I was taking a couple classes at the Salem branch so I had a student ID to get on campus.When I was young I grew a resentment toward wealthy people and assumed they were all crooks, but then I had the pleasure of spending time with Orland Denny. Orland, an extremely wealthy business and land owner, who may have been one of the wealthiest men in the state. He owned 49% of dozens of large and small local businesses. He invested in the ability of average hard working people with good ideas and a solid plan. He silently advised them financially but never micromanaged their business. He invested in land an property but mostly he invested in people.
He was a kind and generous man but always out of the public eye. He had anonymously put hundreds or more young men and women through college and trade school. Ten years after he passed away his long time secretary went public about his generosity. Knowing Orland he would not be happy with this disclosure.
I talked with him dozens of times. He was always smiling, always had time to talk and was usually dressed in newly pressed Dickie work clothes and necktie. His work truck was a one owner dark blue 1952 Dodge step side pickup. His everyday driver was a dark blue four door Chrysler K-car, standard shift, no rugs, no radio, no air conditioning, black wall tires and caps because he was a devoted Mennonite. His house was a modest two story brick home on his small family farm.
His pride and joy was a restored 1940 John Deer tractor. He used it to cut his large lawn. As you drove by his house you could see him pulling a team of reel mowers behind that underpowered antique tractor. Cover alls, a well worn straw hat and his usual big smile.
He waved at every car that passed by. When his kids were still living at home the whole family would smile and wave. Before I ever got to meet Orland I knew him as the guy who smiles and waves at everyone. I can't imagine how many bad days he changed with that simple gesture, he always made me smile and wave back. I think people took a detour to drive past his house just to get a wave. I know I did more than once.
I eventually got the chance to know him. One day at lunch in the local diner he explained capitalism, free markets and free enterprise to me in a way I could understand. He was our local Milton Friedman. He completely changed my attitude toward wealthy people. Instead of resenting and judging wealthy people I learned to admire the character of people who could build wealth and keep it in perspective.
I addressed my prejudice for people with wealth and started looking at the person. Today we are bombarded with endless negative stories about the greedy rich. Ironically we hear these stories from rich people. Sure we have dishonest and greedy rich people but we also have dishonest and greedy poor people. Simply being poor doesn't make you virtuous. We need more Orland Dennys in our world. I believe there are more then we know about, they just do it out of the spotlight.
I had a selective service card in my wallet but I never thought about demonstrating against the war. Like most of my friends we were confused about it so we were just trying to understand it. It seemed to most of us we were fighting in the wrong country with one hand tied behind our back.
The demonstrations were self centered because it really had nothing to do with the actual war, it was all about the draft. Many of the demonstrations were focused on the soldiers which was not fair to those who made a different choice. I was disgusted by the treatment of our veterans and the hypocrisy so that was a large part of why I abandoned the hippie movement.
We were young, idealistic and a bit naive as to how the world works. The worst of us were arrogant and incapable of learning, bad traits for anyone.
In the early 70's I had hair long enough for a ponytail, for about a week. I grew it to piss off my father but it wasn't as fun as I thought, he didn't really care. I went back to my usual buzz cut because I hate taking care of long hair. I thought long hair was all about the freedom to wear our hair the way we wanted but I soon learned it was just a different required uniform.
My friends didn't trust me because of my short hair, they called me a sell out and a "narc". That was the last straw, I have kept my hair the way I like it ever since. I have now shaved my head for the past 31 years because I love the way bald feels. Bald has gone in and out of fashion a half dozen times but I just keep on shaving because I like it.
I also started wearing the clothes I liked and tried my best to avoid the ever evolving latest fashion fad. Sure I still listen to the music I grew up with because it was the best music ever. I did the regular job thing for around 60 years and have tried my best in spite of my limited education to be a well informed citizen.
One thing that has never changed is deep inside I'm still that 60's idealistic rebel. I believe in freedom and liberty but I know it has never been free. My father and brother fought for this freedom I admire their bravery. Fighting to stop oppression is a noble cause but unfortunately the vast majority of our leaders are far from the bullets, they can't relate to or value the sacrifice of the average soldier. They make lofty speeches but they get distracted by pride, power and poll numbers.
America is more then a place or country, it is an idea. Hippies embraced the freedom but shirked the individual responsibility. Questioning authority is a good thing but rebelling just to rebel is foolish. The hippies grew older and many are now in positions of power. A few are still selling the same Marxist crap and the unbridled freedom foolishness.
They now have no problem twisting the law and abusing power. As someone who grew up through the fake outrage about this behavior it is hard to listen to any of them speak. Nothing will change until the so called enlightened free thinkers grow up or pass on.
They say everything eventually turns into high school, I think they are right. Youth will always rebel, the boys during the hippie movement grew their hair long as a statement, today they have just added heels and makeup.
Most hippies made their point and then moved on, I think todays youth will too.