In case you are on some remote Island in the South Pacific without electricity, you probably know this is FOOTBALL SEASON. Here in the U.P. the order of life is God, Family, Football and Fishing (Hunting.) We watched with
anxiety and trepidation as our son Jeff sauntered out onto the gridiron for the first time a few weeks ago to practice football with boys, coaches, he had never met. As is typical of Jeffy, he accommodated, he adapted, he made friends and found his way to his favorite position, Wide Reciever. He practiced hard and I bought him his new pair of wide receiver gloves. He caught a few passes in practice and scrimidges. He was noted to be particularly good at catching the short pass and breaking thru the hole to the end zone. He has, as the coaches say, “soft hands”. Thus, we breathed a sigh of relief and went into the daily grind of our new life here---work, pick up football players, make sure they have 14,000 calorie dinners waiting for them when they get home. Life goes on.
Finally, first game day game. All the parents were very anxious because we were going to play, for our FIRST game, the number one team that won the championship last year. Yikes, would my kid get hurt? How bad is the spread in the score going to be? These boys haven’t played together very long, they are a new young team. Tonight, the first play came. We got the ball first, the entire stadium in Cedarville, Michigan was silent---it was amazing, with hundreds of people there, you could hear the quarterbacks every word: #23, 47, hutt, hutt!” Then came the snap, with the 8 minutes of the quarter on the clock. I watched number 82 (my son Jeffy) break right and evade his defensive end and then pull left at a few yards past the line of scrimidge. Robert, our Q-B saw that he was open and punched his usually very accurate pass into Jeffy’s arms. Then, there was a sea of orange and black players chasing my son in green and gold. I thought for sure he was going down---but no, he evaded the first tackle, jumped up, ran back over the scrimidge line and then broke left 20 yards into the end zone---TOUCHDOWN JEFFY BOMBER!!!! His sister looked at the clock---7:46, she said, “wow, that only took 14 seconds”.
Yes the entire event took about 14 seconds. In 14 seconds my son, in a new town, with a new coach and friends, playing a new team, one the FIRST PLAY, in 14 seconds, scored the first touchdown. Do you feel the BEAM??? Are you catching a few rays of the BEAMING FATHER right now???? Can you believe this, my son, new to the town, the team, the school, etc., going out for his FIRST game pass and catching it and getting the first points on the board!!!! WOOWWWOWWWWW!!!!!
Well, it went on and on, he caught more passes, he was awesome. AND, the final score, Engadine 30, Rudyard ZERO!!!! Yes, our defense was awesome too. I never played football, I never did half the things that my beautiful daughters and incredible son have done. Frankly, I’m humbled by them. Patients and friends and family have told me many times that I am smart, talented, a great person. I tell you that is blessing to hear such things---but the fact is, I don’t hold a candle up to my children. They were blessed with the nominal good brains I have, but mostly their mothers. Jeffy also got his grandfather’s athletic prowess---certainly not mine. I can get the kayak in the water---but I have never achieved a touchdown. Tonight my son achieved THE FIRST TOUCH DOWN on the field and with his new friends, the crowd, his family, etc. watching!!! He was very happy. However, he doesn’t know that his greatest touchdown is right here in his father’s heart tonight. He has no idea that with millions of people in the world, and billions of stars in the universe, nothing shines brighter than me right now. I am lit up, glowing in the amazing feats of my children, thier
many great and FIRST TOUCHDOWNS!!!!
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Monday, September 1, 2008
First Salmon
It was an afterthought really, we hadn’t even intended to take the boat out, yet go fishing. it had been a lazy day, Jeffy just playing x-box and me lumbering around the complex. We did play some guitar together---working on new chords and church music as Jeffy is going to start playing guitar for the praise team at church soon. In any case, the Great Lake laid down its wind and it was warm and sunny and I asked Jeffy if he wanted to take a quick boat ride. “Sure”, he said in his usual verbose, teenage boy fashion (actually, sometimes he’ll talk like crazy but when he’s x-boxing it’s one word answers). “We gonna fish Dad?” Oh, “I don’t know I said”, I was just planning on a quick ride, but “ok, we can take the rods”. Thus it was the U.S.S. Minnow was outfitted for the quick boat ride, with fishing gear just in case.
We opened her up and Jeffy took control and we zipped around the Naubinway Light and headed out towards Lansing Shoals and then zipped back towards the river mouth. We saw an unusual sight in front of the river, not one but TWO boats trolling for fish. Now, understand, seeing ANY boat at all in MY Bay is unusual, yet to have two at once. We kind of figured then something must be happening in the fishing department. So, he throttled down and out came the rods. I rigged up two Cabela’s gold fishing rods with trolling spoons. One was on a lead core line and the other just spider wire. We were in depths of 12 to 30 feet of water and really didn’t need the dipsy divers. I also put two smaller rods out, one with a hot in tot and one with a Swedish pimple. This way we could pick up a variety of fish, salmon or trout with the spoons and bass or pike with the others. The trolling began with about 2 hours of daylight left with the sun in the western sky, just gorgeous.
I called my friend Dan on the cell phone, but he wasn’t available. I wanted to gloat a bit about being out on the water, it didn’t matter that we hadn’t caught anything. I checked the lines and re-adjusted depths and went back to the cell phone as Jeffer steered a southwest course at 2.6 miles per hour with the very quiet 4 stroke Mercury. I told him to choose the direction, go where it feels best I told him, so he did. Back to the cell phone, I’ll try to reach Ed. Shoot, nobody home, voice mail. So I started to leave a voice mail when the rod next to Jeffer on the starboard side started to SCREAM and jerk. I grabbed the rod and set the hook and Jeffer took over. I had forgotton about the cell phone as in my haste I just threw it into the tray near the throttle. Now, to say I was excited was an understatement as we both watched a very silver fish of at least 15 pounds jump into the air about 100 feet from the boat as Jeffy did all he could to hang on for dear life. I’m screaming at him to keep the rod tip up, keep pressure on and a tight line, but don’t horse him. Ok, that’s fine, let her run when she wants and take out line. I’m doing all this while I am trying to reel in the other 3 lines and lines and lures are getting tangled and there’s a birds nest of line all over the boat and Jeffy isn’t making much headway on the fish. So, I achieved a reasonable amount of order and grabbed the rod and showed him how to pull back and crank down. Always the quick learned and bright boy he is, he figured that out quickly and soon had the fish near the boat after SIX very long, line screaming runs and multiple jumps.
I was so incredibly excited because nobody ever caught a salmon on this boat, a legacy inherited from one of my all time fishing buddies, my father-in-law Lyle. In addition, the new Cabela’s gold reels and trolling rods had never caught fish. Finally, I was with my son, fishing out in front of my house, watching him catch the biggest fish of his life. In addition, this was all entirely a BONUS, we hadn’t even planned to go fishing! He brought the fish near the boat but it took out some more line and I couldn’t net it. One more attempt and soon Jeff’s 31 inch Lake Michigan Salmon was in the boat. Lots of high fives and back slaps later, she was in the live well, completely filling it with head and tail pressing against both ends of it.
Back at the ranch it was a Chinese fire drill. We didn’t have the fish cleaning table out, no lights or water to it, no ice to ice the fish down, etc. Consequently there was a flurry of activity and out came the table, halogen lights, hose, power, electric fillet knives and before you knew it there were beautiful pink, thick, salmon fillets in the refrigerator. I didn’t think much of it when the phone rang and I heard Jeffy talking. “How did you know I caught a fish?” He asked the caller. “Oh, WOW, really?” “Who is that Jeff?” I asked. “It’s Uncle Ed, he said that he checked his voice mail and heard the entire audio of the catch, you had left the cell phone on!!!!” Eddy heard the whole thing, pulling in lines, hearing the rods screaming and the fish netted. He thought at first we were staging it, making it up until he heard the lines screaming. He said that would be pretty hard to recreate that. Oh yes, indeed.
Anyway, I am always overwhelmed, humbled and thankful for the miracles of life that occur in between the aches, pains, tragedies and turmoil of it. This, was total serendipity. We weren’t even going to go, was it coincidence that the fish hit while I was on the cell with Eddy? Was it rather fate that such conditions and variables would merge together into a few glorious moments with my son, both my Dad’s watching from above, and Uncle Ed hearing it all a thousand miles away? Yes, it was meant to be. My son was rather excited and proud and thankful as any thirteen-year old boy could be. However, I think I was even more excited than he, it was like my First Salmon. When you experience such an event with your own son, it’s even better than when you caught your big fish with your Dad. Spending time with my son is always an adventure, you never know what will happen. So much of it is a first, every day a “First Salmon.”
We opened her up and Jeffy took control and we zipped around the Naubinway Light and headed out towards Lansing Shoals and then zipped back towards the river mouth. We saw an unusual sight in front of the river, not one but TWO boats trolling for fish. Now, understand, seeing ANY boat at all in MY Bay is unusual, yet to have two at once. We kind of figured then something must be happening in the fishing department. So, he throttled down and out came the rods. I rigged up two Cabela’s gold fishing rods with trolling spoons. One was on a lead core line and the other just spider wire. We were in depths of 12 to 30 feet of water and really didn’t need the dipsy divers. I also put two smaller rods out, one with a hot in tot and one with a Swedish pimple. This way we could pick up a variety of fish, salmon or trout with the spoons and bass or pike with the others. The trolling began with about 2 hours of daylight left with the sun in the western sky, just gorgeous.
I called my friend Dan on the cell phone, but he wasn’t available. I wanted to gloat a bit about being out on the water, it didn’t matter that we hadn’t caught anything. I checked the lines and re-adjusted depths and went back to the cell phone as Jeffer steered a southwest course at 2.6 miles per hour with the very quiet 4 stroke Mercury. I told him to choose the direction, go where it feels best I told him, so he did. Back to the cell phone, I’ll try to reach Ed. Shoot, nobody home, voice mail. So I started to leave a voice mail when the rod next to Jeffer on the starboard side started to SCREAM and jerk. I grabbed the rod and set the hook and Jeffer took over. I had forgotton about the cell phone as in my haste I just threw it into the tray near the throttle. Now, to say I was excited was an understatement as we both watched a very silver fish of at least 15 pounds jump into the air about 100 feet from the boat as Jeffy did all he could to hang on for dear life. I’m screaming at him to keep the rod tip up, keep pressure on and a tight line, but don’t horse him. Ok, that’s fine, let her run when she wants and take out line. I’m doing all this while I am trying to reel in the other 3 lines and lines and lures are getting tangled and there’s a birds nest of line all over the boat and Jeffy isn’t making much headway on the fish. So, I achieved a reasonable amount of order and grabbed the rod and showed him how to pull back and crank down. Always the quick learned and bright boy he is, he figured that out quickly and soon had the fish near the boat after SIX very long, line screaming runs and multiple jumps.
I was so incredibly excited because nobody ever caught a salmon on this boat, a legacy inherited from one of my all time fishing buddies, my father-in-law Lyle. In addition, the new Cabela’s gold reels and trolling rods had never caught fish. Finally, I was with my son, fishing out in front of my house, watching him catch the biggest fish of his life. In addition, this was all entirely a BONUS, we hadn’t even planned to go fishing! He brought the fish near the boat but it took out some more line and I couldn’t net it. One more attempt and soon Jeff’s 31 inch Lake Michigan Salmon was in the boat. Lots of high fives and back slaps later, she was in the live well, completely filling it with head and tail pressing against both ends of it.
Back at the ranch it was a Chinese fire drill. We didn’t have the fish cleaning table out, no lights or water to it, no ice to ice the fish down, etc. Consequently there was a flurry of activity and out came the table, halogen lights, hose, power, electric fillet knives and before you knew it there were beautiful pink, thick, salmon fillets in the refrigerator. I didn’t think much of it when the phone rang and I heard Jeffy talking. “How did you know I caught a fish?” He asked the caller. “Oh, WOW, really?” “Who is that Jeff?” I asked. “It’s Uncle Ed, he said that he checked his voice mail and heard the entire audio of the catch, you had left the cell phone on!!!!” Eddy heard the whole thing, pulling in lines, hearing the rods screaming and the fish netted. He thought at first we were staging it, making it up until he heard the lines screaming. He said that would be pretty hard to recreate that. Oh yes, indeed.
Anyway, I am always overwhelmed, humbled and thankful for the miracles of life that occur in between the aches, pains, tragedies and turmoil of it. This, was total serendipity. We weren’t even going to go, was it coincidence that the fish hit while I was on the cell with Eddy? Was it rather fate that such conditions and variables would merge together into a few glorious moments with my son, both my Dad’s watching from above, and Uncle Ed hearing it all a thousand miles away? Yes, it was meant to be. My son was rather excited and proud and thankful as any thirteen-year old boy could be. However, I think I was even more excited than he, it was like my First Salmon. When you experience such an event with your own son, it’s even better than when you caught your big fish with your Dad. Spending time with my son is always an adventure, you never know what will happen. So much of it is a first, every day a “First Salmon.”
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Perfecting BIGOS
I know you have worked for years at something and never felt satisfied with it. Perhaps you are an artist and continually try to create your best watercolor. You need the right paper, saturation, colors, light, the variables are infinite. Perhaps you are like my friend Mike, a world-class fisherman who continually finds a way to be better at it. Or, perhaps you are like my daughter, Lorhel, who always rises to a new and greater level at Viola. Even right now, she’s awesome, if she stopped now, she would be a great player, close to mastery. However, it’s our human nature to strive and achieve mastery. My friend Ed, is a master with so many tools and constructing that I am continually humbled by his skills. My wife, is so good at keeping the faith I am continually humbled by her diligence. Me, well, in my “old age” my goals are changing. I’m not trying to write the number one song anymore. I’m just normally trying to get a line in the water and get thru my work list and take care of my family. However, there is one goal that continually nags me, that is, perfecting BIGOS.
Even many Polish people don’t know what BIGOS is. BIGOS, pronounced BEE-GOOSE, is Polish Hunter’s Stew. A few years ago my father, Eddy and I were supposed to go on the September Salmon Fishing Trip together. However, Dad was hospitalized and then released just before the trip. He was too weak to go. I can still see him sitting there, on the couch, in his white robe, lamenting that he couldn’t go. You could tell he wanted to go soooo badly, but his body wouldn’t get him to the river anymore. I didn’t want to go, with him so sick, but he insisted that I go. Thus, Ed and I dedicated that entire trip in his honor. Despite his illness, he managed to make his last batch of BIGOS. He sent it up with us in two containers. Now Ed, being Irish, hadn’t had all the exposure to Polish Food that all men should have. Anyway, I heated up Dad’s BIGOS while Ed looked on with some trepidation. It only took one bite, and then the “Oh man this is good” comments started. The comments went on and on until not even a milliliter of BIGOS remained. It was one of the most awesome dinners of our lives, we couldn’t get enough of it. Although it was bitter sweet, it helped us have Dad there with us, eating his Polish Hunter’s Stew.
BIGOS has saurkraut, onions, imported mushrooms and a variety of meats in it. The flavors meld together in a symphonic choir performance of mastery. It speaks of cold nights on the farm in Poland, when my ancestors only had some cabbage, some onions, and a few scraps of meat to eat after a 16 hour day tilling the land. Over centuries, however, it developed into a dish fit for royalty. It is earthy, pungent, fermented, rib sticking food. It may seem simple, but just try to prepare a dish developed over hundreds of years from the mindset of a fly-fishing third generation Polack who just had the pleasure of eating it. I never had to MAKE it. Well, Dad passed on and the next fishing trip came and we tried to re-create the BIGOS. In went the kraut, polish sausage, onions, mushrooms and out came a pretty bad sour mess. “This is pretty bad” Eddy said, this is not like your Dad’s BIGOS. “Yeah it is”, I said, “it’s got all the stuff in it”, I recanted. “Well, it may have all the stuff in it but this isn’t your Dad’s BIGOS. There were a few more attempts at it on fishing trips, all falling short until Eddy found a recipe on-line and we talked to some more Polacks about how to do it. It turns out that you have to drain the saurkraut and then brown the kraut in butter to give it that edgy, smoky, buttery twist that really makes the BIGOS. So, over the years, I have strived to fry the kraut to the right level of browness, find the right meats and mushrooms and barley and then bake it in a roasting pan in the oven like Dad did. Tonight, I made yet another batch of BIGOS, taking time to get the imported mushrooms, brown the kraut properly, add three types of meat and VIOLA, out came my best batch of BIGOS ever. It was good, I had a bowl. I thought about a second bowl, and looked out the window and said to myself, “nah, that was good, but it wasn’t nearly AS good. Really, it wasn’t, there’s still something missing. The mushrooms weren’t the right kind, the sausage wasn’t made by Kowalski’s (a true Polish Sausage Maker), the blend wasn’t right. If I could have anything at all I wanted, if I found the Genie’s lamp, if God Himself gave me any wish at all….I can tell you it wouldn’t be money. It wouldn’t be fame, it would be one more day with my DAD. It would be one more day fishing with him and coming back to camp, and showing me once and for all how to make the BIGOS right.
I am very blessed to be the son of a master fisherman, a father beyond comparison. He cooked for me, changed my diapers at a time when men just didn’t do that. He cheered me on at little league games and introduced me to the awesome majesty of Northern Michigan and stream fishing. He delighted me in tasting a dish that took me back generations in time, to my Polish roots. He took me places I can never go again, because he is gone. Neverthless, he left me with a great legacy, to continually strive for the best. I know I can never be half the man, but it’s good to taste a little bit of that tonight, ever-knowing it’s only a second best.
Even many Polish people don’t know what BIGOS is. BIGOS, pronounced BEE-GOOSE, is Polish Hunter’s Stew. A few years ago my father, Eddy and I were supposed to go on the September Salmon Fishing Trip together. However, Dad was hospitalized and then released just before the trip. He was too weak to go. I can still see him sitting there, on the couch, in his white robe, lamenting that he couldn’t go. You could tell he wanted to go soooo badly, but his body wouldn’t get him to the river anymore. I didn’t want to go, with him so sick, but he insisted that I go. Thus, Ed and I dedicated that entire trip in his honor. Despite his illness, he managed to make his last batch of BIGOS. He sent it up with us in two containers. Now Ed, being Irish, hadn’t had all the exposure to Polish Food that all men should have. Anyway, I heated up Dad’s BIGOS while Ed looked on with some trepidation. It only took one bite, and then the “Oh man this is good” comments started. The comments went on and on until not even a milliliter of BIGOS remained. It was one of the most awesome dinners of our lives, we couldn’t get enough of it. Although it was bitter sweet, it helped us have Dad there with us, eating his Polish Hunter’s Stew.
BIGOS has saurkraut, onions, imported mushrooms and a variety of meats in it. The flavors meld together in a symphonic choir performance of mastery. It speaks of cold nights on the farm in Poland, when my ancestors only had some cabbage, some onions, and a few scraps of meat to eat after a 16 hour day tilling the land. Over centuries, however, it developed into a dish fit for royalty. It is earthy, pungent, fermented, rib sticking food. It may seem simple, but just try to prepare a dish developed over hundreds of years from the mindset of a fly-fishing third generation Polack who just had the pleasure of eating it. I never had to MAKE it. Well, Dad passed on and the next fishing trip came and we tried to re-create the BIGOS. In went the kraut, polish sausage, onions, mushrooms and out came a pretty bad sour mess. “This is pretty bad” Eddy said, this is not like your Dad’s BIGOS. “Yeah it is”, I said, “it’s got all the stuff in it”, I recanted. “Well, it may have all the stuff in it but this isn’t your Dad’s BIGOS. There were a few more attempts at it on fishing trips, all falling short until Eddy found a recipe on-line and we talked to some more Polacks about how to do it. It turns out that you have to drain the saurkraut and then brown the kraut in butter to give it that edgy, smoky, buttery twist that really makes the BIGOS. So, over the years, I have strived to fry the kraut to the right level of browness, find the right meats and mushrooms and barley and then bake it in a roasting pan in the oven like Dad did. Tonight, I made yet another batch of BIGOS, taking time to get the imported mushrooms, brown the kraut properly, add three types of meat and VIOLA, out came my best batch of BIGOS ever. It was good, I had a bowl. I thought about a second bowl, and looked out the window and said to myself, “nah, that was good, but it wasn’t nearly AS good. Really, it wasn’t, there’s still something missing. The mushrooms weren’t the right kind, the sausage wasn’t made by Kowalski’s (a true Polish Sausage Maker), the blend wasn’t right. If I could have anything at all I wanted, if I found the Genie’s lamp, if God Himself gave me any wish at all….I can tell you it wouldn’t be money. It wouldn’t be fame, it would be one more day with my DAD. It would be one more day fishing with him and coming back to camp, and showing me once and for all how to make the BIGOS right.
I am very blessed to be the son of a master fisherman, a father beyond comparison. He cooked for me, changed my diapers at a time when men just didn’t do that. He cheered me on at little league games and introduced me to the awesome majesty of Northern Michigan and stream fishing. He delighted me in tasting a dish that took me back generations in time, to my Polish roots. He took me places I can never go again, because he is gone. Neverthless, he left me with a great legacy, to continually strive for the best. I know I can never be half the man, but it’s good to taste a little bit of that tonight, ever-knowing it’s only a second best.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Life and Death.
I see now that for me, moving here or not was a matter of life and death. Today, I had to say goodbye to a patient who died of heart failure. Unfortunately, I barely new her. I only met her a few days ago when she was very sick, in the end stages, the last breaths of her life. In Findlay, I was experiencing the lasts breath of my life in many ways, at least my career life. I was tired, I was too busy, I was ready to go home. I was very much like this dying patient, as she was ready to go “home”. She was tired, she had given it her all, but had nothing left to give. There was no reserve. We tried all the usual things, and were as aggressive as we should be. But alas, her heart was too weak and despite the best of modern medicine, we couldn’t resurrect her heart.
I see the parallel of her life and mine right now. I came to the emergency room of Northern Michigan, in the final breaths of my life if you will. I was getting fat, and sad and lazy, and needed a doctor. I am no longer “fat”, and back into clothes I haven’t worn in years. My spiritual “doctor” is a new Church and friends, and the Great Lake in front of my door, the rivers, the streams, the sun coming up over the cedar forest on my way to work. It is the patients who see me in the local coffee shop, restaurant and gas station and give me a pat on the back and say “how you doin’ Doc?” Each day I wake I cannot wait to look out the window and see what the Lake is doing. Is it calm? Are the great white caps putting on a show? Is it warm? Cool? Are there deer drinking from the stream next to my house? I love the first cup of coffee in the morning again. Instead of an essential medicine to get me out the door----the coffee is just an adjunct, a way to get me going to a place I want to be. I love getting to my job, and maybe making a bit of difference again.
Unlike my patient who passed on today, I at least have a few more hours. You know, like my brother Ed told me the other day, “it’s a BONUS”, he said, and I paraphrase. What he meant is that he said each day and moment is a bonus now. Think of how many of our friends have passed on in thier prime. Many of them heroes for our nation, many from disease, all too many before the age of 50. Thus, I realize I have been given a great gift. I am really “living the dream” as my friends said. At first, I thought they meant that because I am so near to many lakes and trout streams. However, now I know what it really means. I am where I want to be. Hah, I’ve NEVER been able to say that, I AM WHERE I WANT TO BE. Sure, I could use a lot more money. I could be the perfect father and husband and have perfect children. BUT, that’s not going to happen. Certainly, I have the perfect wife, but beyond that on this Earth, the only perfect thing is where I wake up in the morning. When I look out I see the great expanse of one of the World’s Greatest and Biggest Fresh Water Lakes. This is my front door. The breeze, my deodarant, the dew, my bath, where the sky and the water meet, my psychiatrist. I am, the luckiest man on Earth.
I see the parallel of her life and mine right now. I came to the emergency room of Northern Michigan, in the final breaths of my life if you will. I was getting fat, and sad and lazy, and needed a doctor. I am no longer “fat”, and back into clothes I haven’t worn in years. My spiritual “doctor” is a new Church and friends, and the Great Lake in front of my door, the rivers, the streams, the sun coming up over the cedar forest on my way to work. It is the patients who see me in the local coffee shop, restaurant and gas station and give me a pat on the back and say “how you doin’ Doc?” Each day I wake I cannot wait to look out the window and see what the Lake is doing. Is it calm? Are the great white caps putting on a show? Is it warm? Cool? Are there deer drinking from the stream next to my house? I love the first cup of coffee in the morning again. Instead of an essential medicine to get me out the door----the coffee is just an adjunct, a way to get me going to a place I want to be. I love getting to my job, and maybe making a bit of difference again.
Unlike my patient who passed on today, I at least have a few more hours. You know, like my brother Ed told me the other day, “it’s a BONUS”, he said, and I paraphrase. What he meant is that he said each day and moment is a bonus now. Think of how many of our friends have passed on in thier prime. Many of them heroes for our nation, many from disease, all too many before the age of 50. Thus, I realize I have been given a great gift. I am really “living the dream” as my friends said. At first, I thought they meant that because I am so near to many lakes and trout streams. However, now I know what it really means. I am where I want to be. Hah, I’ve NEVER been able to say that, I AM WHERE I WANT TO BE. Sure, I could use a lot more money. I could be the perfect father and husband and have perfect children. BUT, that’s not going to happen. Certainly, I have the perfect wife, but beyond that on this Earth, the only perfect thing is where I wake up in the morning. When I look out I see the great expanse of one of the World’s Greatest and Biggest Fresh Water Lakes. This is my front door. The breeze, my deodarant, the dew, my bath, where the sky and the water meet, my psychiatrist. I am, the luckiest man on Earth.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Is “Freaky” the WORD?
One of the finest human beings I ever met just sent me an e-mail about meeting somebody who knows me. Now, the “freaky” thing is, this friend moved to a state very far away from Michigan and Ohio not much sooner than I moved to Northern Michigan. Maybe you haven’t realized it, but I am rather remotely far from anywhere you have ever been. However, despite that, my friend met his son’s girlfriend’s grandmother who knows me from HERE!!!. I should say this state is as far away from Michigan as Oklahoma, maybe more, but I don’t have a map in front of me. The point is, we are all connected when we love, respect, know and share our love of God with one another. I am feeling so overwhelmed with “irony” about this right now, I am speechless. Anyway, let’s go deeper….
I recently had the privilege and honor of playing music together with my family for a dear friend’s wedding. I can’t tell you what a joy it was to be playing guitar along with Sarah playing Harp, Lorhel playing Viola, and Jomay playing piano. This wasn’t easy music, this was classical stuff, and it carried beautifully on the wind. The gathering was mesmerized I am told at the reception, I know I was, it was perhaps my best musical moment of my life. One school teacher in her 60’s said it was the finest wedding music she has ever heard. I wasn’t at all surprised, I think it was, really. I thought, later, that 100 years ago, families gathered after the work day, the harvest, etc. and read the Bible together, or a book, or brought out the instruments and played together. Before internet and t.v., this was how we connected, this is how we spent our few leisurely moments together. We enjoyed one another, depended, needed, loved and respected one another. Today, a family that stays together like this, unfortunately, is a little “freaky”.
The bride that we played for is like a daughter to us, she has been on multiple vacations with us, house sat for us, and has been our children’s baby-sitter for a decade. Unfortunately, the bride’s mother could not be with us, as cancer took her life this year after a very long battle. Nevertheless, Karla was with us, her spirit was everywhere. It was apparent from the first moment as the pastor told a story about her and the Bride choosing a wedding dress together earlier in the year. Then, the unity candle wouldn’t lite---bad wick, the matches couldn’t get it. However, they were able to use the candle from the alter that they lit for Karla that burned brightly, to finally get it going. They were struck by the fact that Karla again saved the day, and realized that she was there with them, That is not the end of the story….
After the recessional, as folks slowly filtered out the front door, my son and I went into the hallway toward the back door to pick up the instrument cases so we could pack up. As we stood in the hallway, the very heavy steel and glass door back entrance opened up spontaneously. There was a rush of wind past us as the air from the Church found it’s way to the outside world. After about 30 seconds, the door then closed before our eyes, on it’s own. We both stood there speechless, until Jeffy said: “that was Karla.” Now, I am a scientist and would definitely find an earthly answer for this phenomenon should it exist. However, I know for a fact that door was closed solid because I was the last one in to use it. My first thought wasn’t of Karla, I was just looking at it from the practical point of view, trying to ascertain how this could be. Then I started thinking about what Jeffy said, and realized that it certainly was a spirit, an angel at least, and yes, maybe even Karla. My first thought was this is “freaky”, but then, it isn’t the first time I have experienced the supernatural. It was an even more beautiful moment that joined with the best music my family and I have ever played together. Hence, I knew God’s hand was upon it all, I knew he was there, certainly, Karla was there too.
Soon after this event Pastor Ben came up to Jeffy and I and started to talk, we told him about the “freaky” event. Although he is more used to the supernatural than I, it was clear from his face that with all the events of the evening, the unity candle event, feeling the Spirit present, that it was yet another piece of evidence that God is present in our lives always--that miracles are still happening and possible. There was a look of wonder on his face as he said that the word is not “freaky”, but possible, true, and “Godly” is the word.
Isn’t life great to know that this isn’t all of life? There is another world that awaits us. A better world filled with the best possible music, a world without disease such as cancer and pain, and suffering. By our standards, that’s a little “freaky”, but by heavenly standards, it’s just another day!
I recently had the privilege and honor of playing music together with my family for a dear friend’s wedding. I can’t tell you what a joy it was to be playing guitar along with Sarah playing Harp, Lorhel playing Viola, and Jomay playing piano. This wasn’t easy music, this was classical stuff, and it carried beautifully on the wind. The gathering was mesmerized I am told at the reception, I know I was, it was perhaps my best musical moment of my life. One school teacher in her 60’s said it was the finest wedding music she has ever heard. I wasn’t at all surprised, I think it was, really. I thought, later, that 100 years ago, families gathered after the work day, the harvest, etc. and read the Bible together, or a book, or brought out the instruments and played together. Before internet and t.v., this was how we connected, this is how we spent our few leisurely moments together. We enjoyed one another, depended, needed, loved and respected one another. Today, a family that stays together like this, unfortunately, is a little “freaky”.
The bride that we played for is like a daughter to us, she has been on multiple vacations with us, house sat for us, and has been our children’s baby-sitter for a decade. Unfortunately, the bride’s mother could not be with us, as cancer took her life this year after a very long battle. Nevertheless, Karla was with us, her spirit was everywhere. It was apparent from the first moment as the pastor told a story about her and the Bride choosing a wedding dress together earlier in the year. Then, the unity candle wouldn’t lite---bad wick, the matches couldn’t get it. However, they were able to use the candle from the alter that they lit for Karla that burned brightly, to finally get it going. They were struck by the fact that Karla again saved the day, and realized that she was there with them, That is not the end of the story….
After the recessional, as folks slowly filtered out the front door, my son and I went into the hallway toward the back door to pick up the instrument cases so we could pack up. As we stood in the hallway, the very heavy steel and glass door back entrance opened up spontaneously. There was a rush of wind past us as the air from the Church found it’s way to the outside world. After about 30 seconds, the door then closed before our eyes, on it’s own. We both stood there speechless, until Jeffy said: “that was Karla.” Now, I am a scientist and would definitely find an earthly answer for this phenomenon should it exist. However, I know for a fact that door was closed solid because I was the last one in to use it. My first thought wasn’t of Karla, I was just looking at it from the practical point of view, trying to ascertain how this could be. Then I started thinking about what Jeffy said, and realized that it certainly was a spirit, an angel at least, and yes, maybe even Karla. My first thought was this is “freaky”, but then, it isn’t the first time I have experienced the supernatural. It was an even more beautiful moment that joined with the best music my family and I have ever played together. Hence, I knew God’s hand was upon it all, I knew he was there, certainly, Karla was there too.
Soon after this event Pastor Ben came up to Jeffy and I and started to talk, we told him about the “freaky” event. Although he is more used to the supernatural than I, it was clear from his face that with all the events of the evening, the unity candle event, feeling the Spirit present, that it was yet another piece of evidence that God is present in our lives always--that miracles are still happening and possible. There was a look of wonder on his face as he said that the word is not “freaky”, but possible, true, and “Godly” is the word.
Isn’t life great to know that this isn’t all of life? There is another world that awaits us. A better world filled with the best possible music, a world without disease such as cancer and pain, and suffering. By our standards, that’s a little “freaky”, but by heavenly standards, it’s just another day!
Thursday, August 7, 2008
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