End of an Era, ...not quite yet

 

Tomorrow morning I’ll drive our 1999 BMW Z-3 down to Houston where there’s a fellow who wants to purchase it.  He found out that I had one that was in running condition, a good motor and transmission and generally in operating order.  He’s aware that it needs a paint job and interior work; but is looking forward to restoring the vehicle to its once jewel-like state.

A few months ago, when we purchased our new Subaru Outback, the dealership had the opportunity to take the Z-3 as a trade-in; however, the offer they made was incredibly low, bordering on insulting, so we decided to hold onto the car until somebody who was familiar with the vehicle’s potential and value came along.

I feel in love with the BMW Z-3 Coupe the first time I ever saw one as it drove by our house.  I’d seen the convertible version of the Z-3, the one featured in a 007 – James Bond movie; but the convertible didn't grab my attention, at least not the way the coupe version did with its classic lines.  It reminded me of the 1971 Triumph GT-6 we’d owned.  I took a photograph of that vehicle from the 5^th floor of the Houston Police Department’s Men’s Jail where I was working as a young police officer. 

I went to the BMW dealership over off I-45 and FM1960 to learn a little more, mostly to see how much a new one cost.  Geeezzz, that little toy car was going for around $46,000 or more depending on which optional equipment you wanted.  $46,000 for a toy car was definitely way out of my price range; however, what about a used one?  Maybe that would fit our budget; those were around $36,000; not really something we could justify either. 

That said, Lucy was thinking about getting another car.  She liked the way one of the Dodge products looked, a miniature version of Chevy’s Suburban; can’t even remember what it was called now.  It was built on the Neon chassis and sold for about $20,000 as I recall.  We drove one and were not impressed with almost anything about it.

I suggested, just as a possibility mind you, that we could go by the BMW dealership that was only a few miles away and see if she liked the Z-3 that I’d test driven earlier.  I got one of those ‘eye rolls’, the kind where it’s pretty obvious that she’s being set up.  The salesman recognized me from earlier as Lucy got into the driver seat with me becoming the passenger.  He suggested we go for a spin down FM1960 since the traffic there would let her have more fun.

Lucy familiarized herself with the workings of this fancy little butt rocket and we headed over to FM1960.  Lucy was going through the gears like a pro, enjoying the marvelous burst of power with each shifting of the gears.  We’d only gone a short way as the car eased its way over the bridge that crosses the Hardy Toll Road.  She’d gotten into third gear and was accelerating nicely when I reminded her that going 90mph was a little faster than we should be going.  The look on her face said it all as she responded, “Oh my, this car does drive nicely, I hardly noticed we were going that fast.”  That’s my girl, as she toned down the speed a bit closer to the posted speed limit.

We agreed the BMW Z-3 was a nice vehicle; however, even a used one at $36,000 was out of our price range.  Lucy suggested we look for one on eBay; maybe find one closer to our price range.  That began our journey.  It might be more interesting to understand that in that time period, our use of the internet was via dial-up; the idea of having a constant cable connection may not have been available then, at least it wasn’t for us.  We would dial the number for our internet provider, wait, and wait and patiently hope to eventually be connected.  Once connected to eBay we glanced over the offered vehicles that matched BMW Z-3 Coupe. 

We found one that matched the metallic green that looked like a polished gemstone.  It had a moon roof, leather seats along with a cargo mesh barrier and was only a year old.  The couple offering the vehicle were about to start a family and they needed to find a family car, a two-seater butt-rocket was no longer practical for them. 

We didn’t let anyone on eBay know we were interested as we watched the bidding proceed along with the end of the auction approaching.  The last bid took the price up to around $15,000 with only a couple of minutes left before the auction ended.  Having the dial-up connection and knowing how it might get disconnected for any old reason, we placed our bid with a minute and a half to go.  Our bid was for $25,000, the top end limit as to how much we were willing to spend, or about the price of a fully loaded Toyota Camry. 

In that minute and a half there was a bidding frenzy, different individuals raising their bid a thousand dollars here, a thousand more dollars there and so it went as the seconds clicked away. We were relieved to find our bid ended up being $22,000, just three thousand dollars less than our maximum acceptable expenditure.

We figured out how to send a cashier’s check to the seller by working with our credit union. We wanted to protect ourselves just in case; but that was never needed on this transaction.  The couple met us at the airport in Philadelphia; the car temporarily parked directly in front of the passenger terminal where we signed the transfer papers.  The BMW Z-3 Coupe was gorgeous, every bit as beautiful as we’d hoped; maybe even better.

We drove it down to Washington D.C. where we’d planned to be tourists, a mini-vacation while driving the car back to Houston.  That’s the first photograph we took of the car, Lucy as passenger, sitting in the driveway of the hotel we stayed that first night. 

Fast forward to this morning, twenty-four years later and watching the end of an era.  We’d gotten a call from our son letting us know someone was interested in purchasing the BMW Z-3 Coupe. He’d offered a reasonable amount, knowing the car needed a paint job and work on the interior.  I was prepared to drive it down to Houston on Friday, topped off the gas tank, cleaned the windows inside and out and placed the original owner’s manual back inside the car.

I was in the kitchen this morning filling the ice trays and looked out the window when it dawned on me; this was it, the last we’d see of this wonderful toy car that had been with us all these years.  I took the last photograph of it through the window screen that covers the kitchen window.  That, my friends, might have been the end; except I got a call just now from my son.

The fellow who wanted to purchase the little BMW Z-3 Coupe had his own car crater on him and he needs to fix that car before he can afford to pay us the agreed upon amount.  So, it looks like it will be a couple of months into 2026 before we part with it.  Not quite the end of an era.

 

The Shop Around the Corner?

 

While blasting through Facebook the other day a friend of mine, Roger Saxton, had posted a photograph of the storefront of a small bookstore. My mind immediately brought up memories of the movie, The Shop Around the Corner, which was later transformed into yet another movie, You’ve Got Mail. 

The original movie, The Shop Around the Corner, the 1940 movie was filmed in black and white and starred Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullavan.  These character’s roles were resurrected in the 1998 movie, You’ve Got Mail, starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.  The movies took different paths to match up the two needful individuals down a more meaningful relationship.

Seeing the image of the bookstore’s welcoming appearance reminded me to appreciate the efforts taken to invite such relationships. 

This morning there was another entry having to do with the use of a bookstore to bring about happiness and the necessity of being a useful part of the community. It came from a 72 year old woman whose husband had died and left her alone to meet the challenges of each day.  She had sufficient funds left to her along with a house that was paid for; but being all alone wasn’t life to her, she needed more.

One afternoon while walking she passed a small bookstore with a sign out front indicating the bookstore was closing down at the end of the month.  She entered the store where a young man was busy, not really enjoying the fact that the store wasn’t making financial ends meet and had a stack of envelopes showing overdue bills.

A conversation was begun between the young store owner and the older woman.  Eventually she convinced the young man that she could, with her accounting skills and business abilities, she could help him turn a profit.  She found that there was a storeroom above the establishment that she could use as her apartment.  All she’d need to do was liquify all her assets, sell her house and start working. 

Her son thought she’d lost her mind, but she explained, or tried to explain, that the past two years alone in her house wasn’t living, it was an empty life at best.  She wouldn’t let her son continue trying to talk her out of a major life changing move.

A couple of months went by, lots of effort and her dream of turning the bookstore into a profitable venture had worked. Customers were returning and life was as she had hoped.

All this was running through my mind as I looked at the picture of the small bookstore, an invitation to enjoy life as found within the covers of each book.  Each page containing the thoughts, dreams and wishes of an individual not much different than yourself.

Poisoning the Well Water

 

The way ideas are presented often predetermines the intended response. Each word chosen, presumably with a modest amount of thought, each word lends itself to an understanding based on a presumption that both the speaker and the listener share the interpretation of words based on common experiences and customs.

(Image of Water Well courtesy of Adobe)

This past week I read an editorial originally published by the New York Times, “Are We Losing Our Democracy?”.  The brief screed included twelve bullet points, each of which began with the term, “An authoritarian…” 

1) An authoritarian stifles dissent and speech

2) An authoritarian persecutes political opponents

3) An authoritarian bypasses the legislature

4) An authoritarian uses the military for domestic control

5) An authoritarian defies the courts

6) An authoritarian declares national emergencies on false pretenses

7) An authoritarian vilifies marginalized groups

8 ) An authoritarian controls information in the news media

9) An authoritarian tries to take over universities

11) An authoritarian creates a cult of personality

11) An authoritarian uses power for personal profit

12) An authoritarian manipulates the law to stay in power

Readers would assume the article was aimed at the current administration, specifically President Donald Trump, why else would such an editorial be published at this time, why not when Obama was President, or Biden?  If the editorial wasn’t biased, then why use the term authoritarian? 

Couldn’t it be expressed that Donald Trump has, by virtue of having been elected President under the rules and laws of our Constitutional Republic, wouldn’t it have been accurate to state the as President Donald Trump has the Authority to carry out the duties associated with that office, those duties which are defined and verified by the highest court in the land?

But if you wanted to poison the well water, paint those duties as Authoritarian, something other than Authorized by law, then instead of accepting the lawful duties of President, cast doubt on each action exactly as the New York Times editorial did.

Taking to task radical District Judges who don’t agree with the President’s actions, judges who have usurped powers far beyond their legal scope, presenting this before the Supreme Court isn’t, “An authoritarian defies the courts”, rather the President is working within the constraints of our Constitutional Republican form of government in order to validate his lawful actions.

You could take each of the twelve bullet points expressed in the New York Times editorial and ask the same question.  Is the word Authoritarian used properly or is this a whiney spoiled child’s expression that he or she didn’t get the result he or she wanted.  It’s much easier to blame that worthless no good Orange haired guy than to admit that he actually has the Authority to carry out the lawful agenda he was voted into office to do.

Then there’s the title offered by the New York Times, “Are We Losing Our Democracy?”.  In the first place, the United States of America isn’t a democracy, it’s a Constitutional Republic.  

From The Daily Signal:

“We have all heard the common talking point from the left that conservatives are destroying democracy. The response to this claim is the same time and time again: “We’re not a democracy; we’re a constitutional republic!” This leads us to ask an important question: Are there any differences between the two, and if so, why do they matter?”

“The answer is simple: There are profound differences between a democracy and a constitutional republic that are crucial to every aspect of American life...”   

The article by The Daily Signal went on to quote from Hamilton, Jefferson and Adams; each having expressed warnings associated with governments based on democracy. My favorite was, “Democracy is like two wolves and a lamb voting on what to eat for lunch, but a republic is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote.”

“Thomas Jefferson is our second Founder to see profound issues with democracy. Jefferson said, “The republican is the only form of government which is not eternally at open or secret war with the rights of mankind.”

Jefferson recognized the secret war that occurs under a democracy, a war for power and control. The secret war is fought in many political systems. There is a reason Plato said, “Dictatorship naturally arises out of democracy.”

As a matter of interest, it is commonly taught and accepted by scholarly individual that here in America we have a Democratic Republican form of government.  Rather than argue the finer points which serve no purpose, it’s much easier to simply say, “You’re right” and let them feel better about having won their point.

Sounded like Katherine Hepburn

 

How’s that for an interesting title, Sounded like Katherine Hepburn?  I’ll get around to explaining in a bit, but first a little lead up to that preposterous title. This past week I was under the weather, enough to stay home from church last Sunday and then again remain home on Wednesday evening, still not feeling well.  I’d come down with some kind of “bug”, no reason to get particular; sinus drip so bad that going to sleep wasn’t possible for any length of time since I had to clear my throat to keep my lungs clear. 

I took a Z-Pack and some Ivermectin to clear it up and that worked fairly well.  One challenge was that weeks ago I’d promised to cover a Temple Shift for a friend so he could go out of town on family business.  That meant I’d be pulling a double shift, my regular shift from 11:00am until 2:00pm followed by his regular shift from 2:00pm until 6:00pm.  I felt well enough to work at the Temple; but was concerned that my energy levels might be taxed with the extra hours.

Turns out I was right.

I won’t go into too much detail; however, while completing an Endowment Session I noticed my right hand began shaking uncontrollably.  It might have been a bit disconcerting for the sister with whom I was working with; but I don’t think my grip on her hand was too severe and the tremors passed without causing too much concern.

Later in the afternoon while performing ordinances in the Initiatory area it got even more interesting. At first, I noticed my voice changed; sounding as if I’d become much older with a rattling in between spoken words.  As this progressed it became almost comical, recalling how Katherine Hepburn’s voice crackled as her near perfect diction devolved while portraying her character in the movie, Rooster Cogburn. 

I mention this because, as a Temple Ordinance Worker, I make an effort to enunciate each word of these sacred ordinances in such a way as to let the patron hearing these words take in their full importance.  While Temple patrons are acting vicariously for someone who has passed through the veil of mortality; the individual for whom they are acting for, we believe, are attentively hearing these blessings and promises for the first and only time.

So, this past Friday as irregularities with my voice began to become increasingly advanced, as if by age or affliction, I had to wonder what was going on with my health.  I felt my right hand begin to tremble while I continued with the ordinance, a mild yet decidedly rhythmic motion that I couldn’t stop until withdrawing it from atop the patron’s head.  This, along with the alteration of my voice, was more than a little alarming.  I noticed my breathing became more shallow, unable to complete longer sentences without pausing, each word lost perfect modulation and was replaced with highs and lows creating syllables never included in those words.

I finished the shift, grateful to have survived the embarrassing loss of voice control, chalking this up as part of growing older.  When I got home and had a chance to look up Katherine Hepburn’s interesting voice issues, that’s when I found there’s a medical term for what I’d experienced.

Here’s what the Harvard Medical School published:

“Essential tremor is less well known than Parkinson's disease, but it's far more common.

For many, the late actress Katherine Hepburn provided an indelible public image of essential tremor. Her quavering voice and trembling hands unmistakably betrayed the disorder.

Essential tremor affects about 5% of people over age 50. The intensity of the shaking from essential tremor can be mild to very significant. Also the tremor can vary in location, being most prominent in the hands, head or voice.” (emphasis added)

For some reason this information put my mind at ease.  I hadn’t imagined the odd experience, and I was correct in having compared what my ears were hearing with how Katherine Hepburn’s voice sounded later in her career. 

 

 

We had another adventure

Whenever things don’t go exactly as expected or planned, my friend Pat Gaume says, “They had an adventure”.  It could be said that this past week, from Monday through Saturday, has been an adventure.  Monday was, bring the dead Oak Tree down with the chainsaw. Tuesday was chop up the bulk of that downed tree into chunks that will fit into our woodburning stove. Wednesday was the day the water feed hose broke off from the back of the washing machine, clean up that mess and replace the water feed lines. Thursday while finishing off the ice cream that we’d placed in the freezer, we noticed the ice cream was very soft instead of rock hard like it normally would be. 

Around three in the morning I was awakened by a prompting, “Go check to see if the freezer is working”, my brain wouldn’t let me sleep as it went over the earlier observation regarding the softened carton of ice cream.  There was no whirring noise coming from the freezer and upon opening the door there were drops of water falling from the inside of the freezer.  The freezer had died and the next question, how much of the content would be ruined?

That started our Friday adventure.  The Houston Temple was closed for maintenance, so we had the day off.  Instead, we’d be driving down to Huntsville to do our regular grocery shopping and, since our freezer had died, we’d be looking to purchase a replacement freezer. None of the places we looked had a replacement freezer in stock that matched or even came close to the size we wanted; however, one of them mentioned that their sister store in Bryan/College Station had one that could be delivered the following Tuesday.

If we waited until next Tuesday, anything that hadn’t already been ruined inside the broken freezer would certainly be ruined by then.  Lucy and I decided that the best solution would be to drive back home, put the groceries away and then hook the trailer up to my old pickup truck, drive to Bryan/College Station and purchase the freezer so we could take it home and start the process of changing out a dead freezer’s content into the new one.

Did I mention that my truck doesn’t get very good gas milage?  It gets even worse gas milage when pulling the trailer, averaging between 8 to 10 miles per gallon.  We started from home with almost a full tank of gasoline.  My truck’s AC is on its last leg too and pulling the trailer stressed out the radiator to where the red warning light came on when we were only fifteen miles out from home.  I turned off the AC, slowed down to 65 -70 mph, rolled the windows down and that solved the over heating issue.  We’re tough Texans and can put up with 95 degrees, letting the wind blow through the truck’s cab.

We arrived at the location where the freezer had been marked ‘sold’ and ready for pick up and we had 30 minutes to spare before they closed.  They loaded the freezer onto the back of our trailer, and I was glad to have brought some of those cheap tie-down straps, the kind they put on half price at Tractor Supply just to get rid of them.  They made sure the freezer was secure and off we went, doubling back the way we came and keeping our speed around 60 to 65mph, another blessing since we were in rush hour traffic and everyone else on the freeway was maxed out at 65mph. 

We decided that, instead of going back home via Madisonville and Interstate 45 to Centerville, a safer route would be to turn off at North Zulch and head north on highway 39.  I kept watching the gas gauge as it plummeted closer towards an area known as, “You’re Walking”.  I figured we’d fill up in Centerville just to be on the safe side.  That wasn’t to be either. 

When we were just outside of Normangee the truck’s motor gave us a slight hesitation, as if we were out of gas, along with the yellow warning light on the fuel gauge letting us know it was time for gas.  Normally that warning light meant the truck could go another 30 miles or that there were 2 gallons left in the tank; but pulling the trailer and only getting 8-10 miles per gallon meant we needed to find a gas station right away.

There might be a real gas station in Normangee, somewhere.  We drove into what looked like a real gas station; but it was closed, might have been closed for a very long time.  We then figured there might be one close to the Brookshire Brothers grocery store.  There was a single gas pump at the local convenience store, and we almost didn’t see it except there was a Post Office vehicle using it to fill up.

I put twenty dollars’ worth in the tank at $2.89 per gallon, or a little over 6 gallons. That permitted us to begin breathing again as we continued toward Centerville where we could fill the tank at our Shell Station for $2.53 per gallon.  We topped off, having combined for a tad over 18 gallons of gas in my truck’s 18-gallon capacity tank. 

I like the line from the alien commander in Galaxy Quest, “On!”, as he gestures with his arm.  We headed home as the sun was fading low onto the horizon.  We’d made it home.

I don’t drive with a trailer all that often; but upon backing up so that the trailer would square up with the steps leading to the kitchen, let’s just say I put the 3-point shot right through the middle of the uprights, those are the posts on either side of the steps leaving me an inch and a half gap to drop into.  Am I good or what? A near perfect positioning so that the ramp of the trailer would drop down onto the middle steps and permit a mostly easy off loading of the freezer onto the porch, and I didn’t even touch the uprights on either side.

That would have been true had there not been a slight gap on one side where the two-wheeler dolly decided it was time to let the freezer tilt and slide onto the top two steps at the edge of the porch.  For an old guy I did okay getting out from under the freezer; no major dings on me or the freezer.  We got the freezer back upright and plugged it in on the outside porch so that it could start getting cold inside.

This morning we brought the new freezer into the kitchen and then we began offloading a remarkable amount of still frozen meats and other frozen items from the broken freezer. Yes, there were some items that needed to be tossed; but most of those were from freezer burn or from having been kept long after their expiration date.  All in all, we had to say how blessed we’d been, not complaining at all for having experienced this adventure.  The old broken freezer was difficult to pull out from the laundry room since it barely fit through the doorway opening.  It’s now sitting on the porch awaiting its turn to be hauled off to the dump.  The new freezer is nearly full and whirring quietly in the space previously taken by the broken freezer.  We cleaned the floor where the old freezer had been with Lysol so it will be good for another 8 years.

Time to sit back and wonder what our next adventure might be. See you at church on Sunday, we’ll be the folks thanking our Father in Heaven for the tender mercies provided to us this past week.

  

Come in here, right now!

 Getting up in the morning can be exciting. Take for example this morning when I heard an unknown racket coming from the kitchen area of the house.

“Come in here, right now!  I heard something explode and water is going everywhere?”

You might call that a motivational talk; but that would be an understatement.  I reached the kitchen area, more precisely, the washroom where we keep the washing machine and dryer. I don’t know about any explosion; however, there was a stream of water shooting out from behind the washing machine.  I located the shut off valves and solved that part of the problem.

I then located the source of the escaping water, the cold-water feed line to the washing machine had broken off where it attached to the washing machine.  A few old bath towels sopped up the water on the floor and I pulled the washing machine away from the wall to get a better idea of what I was up against as far as repairs.  It looked simple enough; purchase a replacement water feed line, better yet, purchase all three water feed lines.  Our dryer has a steam added function so there’s a cold-water feed that might as well be replaced at the same time.  I noticed the dryer vent hose was a bit mangled, might as well replace that too. 

Have you ever wondered where all the lint and dust goes, the stuff that falls off the side of the dryer after you scoop off the lint screen?  It attaches to the wall next to the dryer and along the floor molding at the base of that wall.  Then when the dryer and washing machine are pulled away from the wall there’s a thick film of dirt and lint attached to the floor, mixed with the water that escaped moments earlier.  Yes, we were having fun.

I drove to the local hardware store, purchased 3 water feed lines and a new dryer vent hose. The fellow had assumed I meant 2 water feed lines until I told him about the fancy dryer with steam function built in.  It’s all fixed now and the first load of wash to go in…drum roll please…all those sopping wet bath towels. 

It works, chalk this up to being grateful that water supply line didn’t break off while we were away; that would have been a really bad day.

Changing Seasons

 

This past week we noticed our Barn Swallows were gone, presumably for their trip south along a pathway which takes them to their alternate climate compatible home in Central or South America.  According to a chart found on the internet, Barn Swallows from various regions in North America have a predetermined route which they follow beginning in June and July.  They’ll return to our area beginning as early as January; but it seems our Barn Swallows come back much later, perhaps in March.

According to the flight paths shown on the chart, Barn Swallows leaving southern Texas must fly across the Gulf to reach winter quarters.  I can’t imagine the energy required to remain in the air all that distance; how do these small creatures make it all that way? Are they guided and supported by that same Spirit which guides and supports mortal beings through this life?  Just wondering…

We’ll miss observing their acrobatic flights, darting about as they pluck mosquitoes out of thin air while we sit on the porch taking in the evening performances.  Their nests will remain protected from the weather until they return next spring; our assuming the same Barn Swallows know which spot on this spinning planet is their home each time they return.

It’s been that kind of week, a roller coaster of emotions watching the natural order of things.

One of our friends passed away Monday after a prolonged battle with health issues.   Her spirit returned home on the other side of mortality after such a short season of knowing her.  I’m certain she was guided home by the same Spirit that helps Barn Swallows as they cross over such a great expanse. Scripture assures us that she will be welcomed home to a place that has been prepared for her along with those awaiting her return.

…Along with those awaiting her return. Maybe our time spent in mortality, living here with our trials and tribulations, experiences and memories, becoming more complete as our journey continues, isn’t this similar to the chance we have to observe Barn Swallows for the short time they are with us?  Just wondering…

Yesterday we got a call from our daughter letting us know one of her cats had reached the time when life was too painful for her kitty.  She knew her responsibility for loving that kitty included the dreaded trip to the veterinarian where an injection would permit life to end peacefully. All the emotions that accompany having to say goodbye take us down this path, a path which we start down the moment we permit these critters to enter our hearts, becoming members of our family.

Emotions run full circle as we say hello one day, while at the same time, acknowledging that seasons change, surely the day will come, and we will say goodbye.  Here’s the interesting part; as we say goodbye here in mortality and feel the loss, that loss is only temporary. We are eternal beings, and this was part of the experience along our journey, the Great Plan of Happiness.

 

 

Five-Years or Five-Miles Whichever Comes First

When dealing with old beaters, something I’m all too familiar with, there’s a catch phrase that’s applied to warranty work done on such a vehicle, “Five-Years or Five-Miles, whichever comes first”.  After having said that everyone laughs and hopes for the best knowing it was a joke.

That changed today when we took my 2003 Dodge Dakota into the local mechanic’s shop to figure out why the driver’s side window wouldn’t go up and down.  I’d gone to pick up our mail, pushed the button to let the window down and reached into our rural mailbox.  It was about to rain so I pushed the button to roll the window back up; nothing happened. 

This wasn’t the first time I’d had issues with the electric window function, so I slapped the door panel a couple of times to jiggle the connection as this had worked in the past, still nothing.  I opened and closed the door a couple of times, a bit harder and with enthusiasm, nothing.  Since it was about to rain, I got back home and took a handy-dandy kitchen trash bag, along with some tape, and did what I could to block the opening to keep the rain out.  It was the weekend so there was no sense trying to take the truck down to the local mechanic’s shop until after the weekend.

That brings us to this afternoon.  I got a call from the local mechanic’s counter representative saying the truck was ready to be picked up; but that they couldn’t find anything wrong with the window.  “The window works fine, Sir.  He took the door apart, checked all the connections, made it go up and down all day long without any problems. That will be Fifty-Two Dollars, Sir.”

I had Lucy drive me back to the mechanic’s shop where I made sure to test the window; it worked the way it’s supposed to work.  Lucy wrote them a check, and I joked that this repair came with the standard, “Five-Years or Five-Mile warranty, whichever comes first?”  There was a lighthearted laugh from all of us, knowing my truck was over twenty years old.

Lucy mentioned that it would be nice to go into Centerville and get a Blizzard at the Dairy Queen.  That sounded good so I agreed to follow her in the truck.  Looking at the time, it being close to dinner, I suggested we get burgers, and maybe a Blizzard afterwards. We enjoyed a quick meal, and it was time to head home.

Lucy walked over to my truck, “I want to see if it still works”, laughing while at the same time remembering we had just paid Fifty-Two Dollars to have the mechanic tell us there was nothing wrong with it.  I turned on the key, pressed the button and the window went down, pressed it again and the window came up; but only halfway and no more, then nothing.

We were only about a mile from the mechanic’s shop, so it was a no-brainer to drive back and show them the window wasn’t exactly working.  It was a few minutes after five o’clock and they were in the process of locking the place up when we drove in.  I saw the owner inside the shop and smiled while asking, “Is that Five-Mile or Five-Year warranty still good?”

He hadn’t been the one who’d worked on my truck; but he was familiar with the issue as he summoned a young mechanic to check it out.  I handed him the key, and the window worked perfectly for him; but only once.  It stopped halfway up and he couldn’t get it to move either way for a while.  He then was able to make the window go nearly to the top, enough to where I wasn’t concerned about the possibility of rain getting the seats soaked.  

We left the truck with them, and, for some reason, I don’t feel as dumb as I did earlier in the afternoon.  There really was something wrong.  Thank goodness for the Five-Mile or Five-Year, whichever comes first warranties; and we still have Three Miles left on that warranty.

 

A Little Wisdom from the Grave

 

My daughter gave me a book containing many of the, “Great American Speeches”, which I use as a reference book. I can read the transcript of Patrick Henry’s, “Give Me Liberty” speech in its entirety or George Washington’s Inaugural address. Today I was reading Washington’s Farewell Address to the nation. It struck me as particularly important that his thoughts be taken up in discussion as we approach yet another July 4th celebration of our independence.

After having made it clear that he would retire from public office he began with his concerns, much as a loving father would express to his children who are leaving his immediate care.

“Here, perhaps I ought to stop. But a solicitude for your welfare which cannot end but with my life, and the apprehension of danger, natural to that solicitude, urge me, on an occasion like the present, to offer to your solemn contemplation, and to recommend to your frequent review, some sentiments which are the result of much reflection, of no inconsiderable observation, and which appear to me all-important to the permanency of your felicity as a people. These will be offered to you with the more freedom, as you can only see in them the disinterested warnings of a parting friend, who can possibly have no personal motive to bias his counsel. Nor can I forget, as an encouragement to it, your indulgent reception of my sentiments on a former and not dissimilar occasion.”

Washington then presented the foundation of his solicitude:

“The unity of Government, which constitutes you one people, is also now dear to you. It is justly so; for it is a main pillar in the edifice of your real independence, the support of your tranquility at home, your peace abroad; of your safety; of your prosperity; of that very Liberty, which you so highly prize. But as it is easy to foresee, that, from different causes and from different quarters, much pains will be taken, many artifices employed, to weaken in your minds the conviction of this truth; as this is the point in your political fortress against which the batteries of internal and external enemies will be most constantly and actively (though often covertly and insidiously) directed, it is of infinite moment, that you should properly estimate the immense value of your national Union to your collective and individual happiness; that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and immovable attachment to it; accustoming yourselves to think and speak of it as of the Palladium of your political safety and prosperity; watching for its preservation with jealous anxiety; discountenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion, that it can in any event be abandoned; and indignantly frowning upon the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our country from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred ties which now link together the various parts.”

A simple observation, George Washington expected those reading or hearing his words to be educated to a higher standard than much of our citizenry today.

This portion only will I draw from to make my point for the day. It was clear to Washington that “The unity of Government, which constitutes you one people, is also now dear to you. It is justly so; for it is a main pillar in the edifice of your real independence…” That being his foregone conclusion as to how the foundation of our nation must be set he went on to explain the means whereby such a foundation could be eroded and destroyed by, “every attempt to alienate any portion of our country from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred ties which now link together the various parts.”

Let’s fast forward to the present day political scene. What kind of American intentionally attempts to undermine the righteous collective efforts of his country? Who is it that would turn class envy into such a division of countrymen as to entice its citizens to walk down a road where one man’s lawfully obtained property could ever be esteemed as “ripe for picking” and redistributed to one who has not earned it? What manner of men divides the public by the color of their skin as a means to cause contention and divert the energies necessary to building a country and instead provide a barrier of hatred to fester and reduce any chance of conciliatory growth?

Are these not the same concerns that Washington had on his mind when he provided us with his wisdom, that wisdom coming to us via the grave?

I would invite you to read the entire transcript of Washington’s Farewell Address as we approach Independence Day, our decision, while made many years ago, hopefully enough of us continue to stand firmly together in an excellent cause to truly be free. Let us listen with our ears open, our hearts and minds contemplating the intent of those who would divide us and to bring our nation into derision.

At the risk of causing some to faint, George Washington’s citizenry were staunch believers in the gospel of Jesus Christ and that His Divine intervention made possible the birth of our great nation.  May we likewise show gratitude to our Creator for extending His guiding hand in the preservation of this nation. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

What Did You Name Your Vehicle?

 

We recently purchased a new Subaru Outback, our first time owning or driving an SUV type of vehicle.  Upon posting a photograph of it parked in our driveway next to our older car and much older truck, a friend of ours on Facebook asked, “What did you name your car”? 

I’d forgotten all about giving cars a name as if they were family members like a dog or cat.  My folks used to name their cars; perhaps to avoid shouting other derogatory insults when those beaters didn’t perform properly; pure speculation on my part.  Mom and dad drove several beaters while I was young, cars that the junk yard wouldn’t accept until fully ripe.

Things began to improve when a French automaker started selling cars in America.  They were known as Renault, pronounced Wren-Ault back then.  In today’s lingo for the more worldly that same French auto manufacturer advertises with a more European sound, Ray-Know.  I don’t think much of either; but my folks bought into having a new car. 

Their first Wren-Ault was a putrid green thing that had trouble keeping water in the radiator.  Mom’s solution was to keep a sixpack of old Coke bottles filled with tap water.  When the moment presented itself, she’d pull off to the side of the road, grab a Coke bottle of water and pour it into the appropriate container under the hood.  Lots of folks believed that car ran on Coke and would pass a lie detector test, their having seen it with their own eyes. That car’s name was Francois. If you’re from Texas, that’s pronounced Fran-Swah.  In French it means the car is overheating and needs more water.

So, what’s this got to do with our new Outback SUV? 

Lucy and I were driving around, discovering how all the fancy electronic gizmos worked; and to be sure, this SUV is loaded with fancy gizmos.  If you’re casually driving down the road and happen to drift over the lane divider stripe there’s a yellow warning light that come on at the base of the windshield to alert you that you are either drifting or that you forgot to put on the turn signal indicators.

Mom would have said something like, “Hey, Pay Attention”, or maybe “Stay in your lane”, or perhaps she would have reminded me, “Use your blinker, you’re not sharing State Secrets”.

If you happen to be using Cruise Control and casually advance toward a vehicle that’s going slightly slower, a green light comes on at the base of the windshield while at the same time your SUV gently slows down so that you don’t accidentally tailgate the other vehicle.

(Image courtesy of Subaru)

Mom probably never used Cruise Control; but were she to be in our new Outback, she would caution against becoming too comfortable behind the wheel, that safe drivers wouldn’t consider turning that responsibility over to a mechanical machine.  “Slow down, no need in becoming an Organ Donor today.”

The last item I’ll share at this time, understanding that there are so many other fancy gizmos that could be listed; but the last one for today would be the Blind Spot Indicator located in the side view mirrors on either side of the Outback.  These Blind Spot Indicators light up anytime a vehicle is next to your vehicle or your presumed Blind Spot. 

Mom would have reminded me that driving is a serious responsibility, that it’s up to me to know where all the other vehicles are in relation to my own vehicle prior to making any lane change.

With all this information coming to our attention, Lucy and I looked at each other and agreed, our new Outlook SUV’s name must be…Mom.

Honoring My Father

 

The movie, Big Fish, caught my attention while looking for a DVD to watch.  We’ve watched this one several times, so I’ll skip to the part that relates to my thoughts today.

Near the end of the movie, where the son arrived at the hospital, finding his father was near death after he’d suffered a serious stroke.  The young man volunteered to sit by his bed all night and gave his mother a chance to go home.

If you’re familiar with the movie; his father woke up momentarily and sat up wild eyed saying something that sounds like, “the river”.   His son reached as if to hit the Call Nurse button but instead waited to find out his father’s request. 

“Tell me how it ends”.  The young man wasn’t prepared with a response because his father never told him what he’d seen in the old witch’s eye so many years earlier, a prophecy of how he was going to die.

The son, being familiar with the many fantastic yarns his father had shared, began to carefully create the vision his father never told him about, pausing as details sprang to mind in such a way as to fit with other stories his father conjured up throughout his life; all having to do with the river.

According to his son’s interpretation his father was no longer constrained by oxygen tubes, able to move about and pointed to a wheelchair and stressed the need to escape from the hospital in order to return to the river…

 

Interestingly, I found tears streaming down my cheeks, an uncontrollable transference of emotions as thoughts of my own father came crashing down on my consciousness.  

One of the earliest memories of my father is linked with a trip to Jones Beach out on Long Island, New York.  We’d gone to the huge Olympic pool and dad was standing in the water making sure I didn’t drown; but the memory had to do with how much hair covered his chest and back, more like a friendly bear than a human to my young eyes.

Dad’s physical strength and mental awareness were cause for concern as Alzheimer’s robbed the best of him.  When mom died dad was in the hospital and they were reluctant to tell him that his wife of 67 years had passed away, leaving that task to me when I arrived a couple of days later.  Dad was really upset, thinking she was avoiding him when she didn’t show up with his newspaper each morning. 

Dealing with these feelings, the movie progressed; but I was already lost in my own thoughts.

I can’t turn the clock back. My father passed away about eight years ago, complications from old age and a used-up body.

For a few moments I can visit an earlier time, like when I first saw him playing ball with other young fathers on a field of dreams, a battered old First Baseman’s ball glove on his hand.  From then on I wanted a First Baseman’s glove, to be just like dad.

One chilly winter day, my father attempted to get me off to meet the school bus and noticed I had no jacket.  He grabbed a brown jacket belonging to my brother; but my jacket was blue, certainly dad should have known my jacket was blue, so I refused to wear the brown one.  Getting chased around the house was going to make me miss the bus so I ran out the door before dad could catch me; I wasn’t wearing that brown jacket and he couldn’t make me.

Many years later I recall sitting down for lunch at Sharpstown Mall with dad and some of his friends from work to tell him I’d joined the Houston Police Department; now that was a day to remember.  Dad wanted me to be an accountant; he’d paid for the first two years of college and was totally blindsided by my decision.  It was the first, perhaps the only time dad was unable to speak a word.

These thoughts and a thousand more rushed through my mind as the movie played on. The young man carried his father, placing him in the magically restored factory new Charger’s passenger seat for a crazy drive to the river as everyone waved goodbye, the river where it all started, the river where it all must end.

So, this is how it is and as it should be…

Not too long before my father died, as his mind wandered into dementia more and more, I grew concerned that my father hadn’t shared his last wishes with me.  He’d mentioned that he wanted to be cremated but hadn’t indicated where he wanted his ashes to be spread.

That’s an awkward topic to bring up. I asked him straight out and watched his reaction, his shoulders rising in unison to match his eyebrows indicating he hadn’t really considered the thought.

“How about Lucy and I sneak your ashes out to Northgate Golf Course in the middle of the night and scatter your ashes there?” My dad’s eyes showed signs of excitement as he became part of an event we could get in trouble over. “Now, you realize…” I paused and then continued, “…we’ll have to scatter you in the rough since you hardly ever landed on the fairway.”  Dad actually smiled and enjoyed my making fun of his golfing abilities.

“I have a better idea.  We could scatter your ashes on the river in that same spot we placed mom’s ashes.”  Dad may have been aware of the special location on the river mom had picked, a secluded place among the Mangroves in a recess tucked away from the main portion of the river.

Dad took a deep breath, picturing in his mind the exact location.  I watched a few tears trickle down his cheek.  Yes, that would be a better place, there, on the river.

So, this is how it is and as it should be…

And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse.   Malachi 4:6  

In the name of our Savior, Jesus Christ.  Amen

 

The Power was Out on Memorial Day

 

We had some more thunderstorms bust on through knocking the power out, not just once, but twice in a twenty-four-hour period.  The first time was in the morning around eight o’clock on Memorial Day.  Lucy had started the crock pot getting her Cowboy Beans ready for the church social that was to begin around one o’clock.  Without a blink or a worry, we got out the emergency solar powered generator/battery unit, hooked the crock pot up and cooked the Cowboy Beans all morning using the power supply in that battery unit.

We’d looked at the KPRC weather radar forecast and could only hope that the line of thunderstorms would pass and permit the social to happen.  On that we were truly blessed as the sun came out and everyone had a great time.  When we got home around four in the afternoon the power had come back on; but for some reason the main air conditioning unit wasn’t working.

That evening, with our emergency window AC unit keeping the living room nice and cool, we were watching a movie on Amazon Prime about time travel, not a great movie; but I’m a sucker for that kind of movie.  Around ten o’clock, only half an hour or so into the movie, the next line of thunderstorms pushed over us and the power went out again. 

We have battery operated emergency candles scattered all over the house and so it was no big deal.  Lightning and thunder made the puppies nervous, so Shadow jumped into our bed while Max shook and trembled, hiding in our bathroom.  The power was out all night, and we started Tuesday off with the idea of cranking up the outside generator. 

I hooked up some extension cords that ran from the porch and into the kitchen area. Used a splitter so the refrigerator could be plugged in and ran a second line to the freezer unit.  I also took a small fan out onto the porch to keep the exhaust away from the house and the generator, making sure not to let the carbon monoxide accumulate. 

While this all worked as it should, I took the time to place the solar panels for the other generator out and recharge that storage unit.  We try to be prepared for emergencies, learning a little more each time we get caught short.  While the power was out, I ran another extension cord from the generator over to the window air conditioner unit, the emergency AC unit we use when the main AC unit for the house goes out.

While the refrigerator was pulled out from its regular place in the kitchen, I mopped that portion of tile floor.  When I went to scoop up some dirt that was in the corners, using only my index finger, that’s when I found a small piece of glass mixed in with the dirt; probably from a glass that fell long ago but a small piece disappeared under the refrigerator.  That sliced the tip of my finger, and I dripped blood all over the freshly mopped area of tile floor.  This was becoming a Hollywood movie script as I went to the bathroom to clean the cut, put triple antibiotic ointment on it and cover my finger with a small band aid. 

When the power to the house returned thirteen hours later, it was time to put all the emergency power stuff back where it belongs.  The extension cords were unhooked and the refrigerator and freezer plugged back into the wall outlets.  I pushed the generator back to its storage location on the porch. I then went to hook up the trickle charge unit to the generator’s battery.  I felt a stinging on my right hand and, at first thought it might be electrical in nature; but quickly realized that I was being attacked by several Yellow Jackets. 

I’d shot long-distance wasp spray at a nest on the porch earlier in the morning and assumed it had wiped them out; I was mistaken.  Apparently, several wasps had been off and away in the morning; but upon returning were upset to find their nest had been sprayed.

When I got close to their nest, not thinking of looking for any wasps, they took their anger out on my thumb and wrist.  They got me about seven or eight times before I could pull my hand back and exit the area. I returned to the bathroom, applied Bactine pain spray on my thumb and wrist, which now were bright red and swollen.  Later Lucy put some essential oils on the area, and took a Benadryl intended to reduce the swelling.  I slept for half the afternoon as a result.

We left a text message for our AC repair company to see about fitting us into their schedule, knowing that this company had invested several hours of time attempting to get our heat pump system to work.  The heat pump system was still under warranty, and they replaced almost every part of the system, some parts were replaced twice; but the heat pump system never did work the way it was supposed to.  The AC company are people of integrity and never charged us, not a penny even after they spent considerable time working on it. 

Today, Wednesday, we got a call from the AC serviceman telling us he was on his way and would see what’s going on with our unit.  I didn’t recognize him so I explained some of the history of our AC/Heat pump unit as best I could since I really have little understanding of what all didn’t work. 

The AC repairman was in the attic for a long time working on things while he was on the phone talking to someone at his office trying to figure things out.  He eventually got the unit to push cold air through the vents; but explained that it was a temporary fix for a problem that required replacing some electronic control panels in the main unit.

All the parts are still under warranty; but it sure makes us wonder about our decision to have an AC/Heat pump unit installed when we built our house in the country.  So, how’d your Memorial Day go?