Writing From the Hip

It's Amazing, Grace

2011-08-30T06:21:00.005-05:00

Isn’t it amazing how so many of us use the word amazing for so many tidbits of ordinary trivia? Awesome, too.

Have you noticed what a high usage spike those words have taken the past few years? Amazing and Awesome. At least that’s the way I see it. I mean, people use amazing and awesome for all kinds of lazy linguistic flotsam and jetsam. I think the Internet has a lot to do with it.

But really, honest, there are only five things that are Amazing or Awesome. Note: only five.

Jesus was willing to sacrifice himself for you and me. That’s both Amazing and Awesome
The birth of a baby. One minute you can hardly fathom the child. The next minute you love her/him like you’ve known her/him forever. In just a few minutes you can’t remember when that baby wasn’t there. How can that be? It’s Awesome and Amazing, too.
A busy gazillion-ton aircraft carrier can float serenely in the ocean, while a weightless pebble will fall immediately to the bottom of the sea. Incredible!
Freedom is a gift, earned by blood all over the world.
In 1969, men landed on the moon and the Amazin' Mets won the World Series. Choose your favorite.

So stop telling me that you just dropped your amazing kids off at school. Your kids are no more amazing than mine—and believe me: my kids are pretty awesome.
Your amazing husband is about equal to the rest of us, which probably means all husbands are amazing. (How does your husband define you, by the way?)
"Our home fellowship group is amazing!" But it’s never noted in the newspaper; not even in the monthly church magazine.
And have you heard? "The city finally installed an amazing new stop sign down at the corner."
And I like this: "We've already been dating for 26 awesome hours. He's so amazing."
“Our team had an amazing meeting yesterday afternoon.”
“Here’s an amazing new BBQ recipe.”
“We’re letting church out early so you won’t miss our amazing “Saints / Rams / Bills / Cardinals / Cowboys / Jags / Vikings / Raiders…” Again, pick your favorite.

Oh wait: here’s something amazing. #6. Out there on the freeway, they’re updating it. Did you notice? They’re widening it to six lanes (but only one lane is available) and rebuilding new overpasses for the next five miles. Of course, we don’t see! We’re too busy texting on our cell phones—at 60-something miles an hour (tsk).

Flagmen and women stand only inches from whizzing traffic (and exhaust) and endure the wrath and fingers of inconvenienced drivers. Dump trucks and cement trucks load and unload their loads. Backhoes hoe, earthmovers move the earth, graders level things, Bobcats scamper around, cranes lift and lower, engineers wander around with clipboards, steel workers cut, weld and place rebar, laborers sweat for you and me, concrete barriers move around in the dark of night, orange cones—I keep saying I should have invested in orange cones!

Somehow the old overpasses get removed and new ones go up, all smooth and wide. Somehow new lanes get created despite irritated, ornery multi-tasking drivers. Not very many workers get run over by us. Emergency vehicles somehow get through it all on their way to an emergency somewhere else.

And then one magical morning about five years later we wake up and "Look! The freeway’s finished! Finally! It took 'em long enough!" The overpasses are architecturally sound and beautiful. The orange cones disappeared. New white stripes define the new permanent lanes—and we fly down that shiny new freeway texting, eating bagels, drinking coffee and screaming at the kids. How nice.

That’s amazing! But no one says so.

Oh, wait, I left something off our list.

#7. Chocolate with friends.

#8. People and their pets.

#9. Our English language ebbs and flows, eh?

Add something yourself.

Pastor Tom for President

2011-08-12T08:37:00.000-05:00

The following "letter" was posted on my pastor's FB page yesterday. Enjoy.

"Dear Mr. President and members of the House and Senate,

I am a U.S citizen who loves his country, but is embarrassed and concerned about the current and future state of our nation. Let me express my admonitions to you.

To all politicians…

Stop trying to preserve your party and start working to preserve our nation.
Stop bickering and wasting time. Instead, get to work on solutions to our problems. Stop arguing about the consequences that come from your inaction and poor leadership (e.g., S&P’s lowering of our credit rating.) While you’re defending your lack of leadership and poor decisions, our nation is falling deeper into a hole.
Our nation has been through harrowing times in the past. Look at some of the tried-and-true principles we’ve utilized to get through the storms (e.g., the Great Depression, the economic strains of the late 70’s) and learn from them.
Stop bankrupting us by throwing us deeper into the well of entitlements. You rob our working citizens of their livelihood and you cripple and steal the self-esteem from those whom you give paychecks for not working. At least tie the checks to some sort of job.
Answer questions. If you have an opinion, express it. Not everyone will agree. But you weren’t elected to be reelected. You were elected to help lead our nation. Do it. We desperately need leaders. Be one.
Our nation is filled with brilliant economic and business minds not bound to party lines. Please call on them for assistance.
Stop telling us that it’s no big deal. It is a big deal. People are losing their life savings and many will be unable to retire in spite of their best efforts. The public is not privy to the retirement and health plans of Congress. We suffer in bad times. We pay the price for your poor handling of our nation’s business.
Don’t be embarrassed to pray. Our nation was founded with the principle of religious freedom. Why? Because our country historically values the spiritual dynamic of humanity. Don’t stop praying because a handful of people are offended by it.

Mr. President...

Please lead. The United States is not a socialist nation and the majority of Americans have no desire for our country to become one, but socialistic concepts such as Obamacare and the cry to redistribute wealth take us in that direction. America’s capitalism has been the bread and butter of her economic prosperity. If you’re going to lead – and we need you to do so – then lead us as a capitalistic republic. Capitalism is not perfect and there are ways to improve the system, but socialism isn’t one of them. Europe’s economy and standard of living woes scream that socialism is hazardous to a nation’s health.
Stop blaming President Bush for our problems. He was not perfect and neither are you. When you ran for President, I assumed you would own the issues confronting our nation. As long as you blame others for our challenges instead of owning them, you will not seek to fix them. Pointing fingers never solves problems. Stop casting blame and start creating solutions.

My desire is not to speak frankly without offering prayer and support. Our nation longs for substantive leadership from those who are elected to our country’s highest offices. Get to the task of helping our nation recover and preserving what is known as the most powerful and generous nation in the world. Please – I’m entreating all of you – lead.

Dr. Tom Kinnan"

Do Not Try This at Home—Bad Resume Stuff

2011-07-28T11:26:00.004-05:00

My great friend—and great publisher—Monique got up on a soapbox recently and let us have it. She gave us a finger-wagging tongue-lashing about horrible resumes.

And rightly so.

I, too, have had a good look at some pretty unimpressive resumes from folks who should know better. From intelligent people. Educated people. Skilled people. And experienced people.

Listen, if you are a serious job-seeker, then you are a serious resume builder first.

I suppose our greatest resume blunder is the typo. How easy is it to type “there” for “their,” or “of” for “if?” Proofreading is the solution here. Yes, even by two or three good readers. Read it out loud, too. One misspelled word may end your opportunity for an interview. So check, check, check. And recheck.

Then before sending your resume, really read the advertisement or job description for the position that interests you—and build your resume to fit accordingly. Instructional Design means instructional design; not interior design or industrial design. Unqualified applicants' resumes go straight into the circular file. [Say, “Thank you, Monique.”]

Hiring a service to do your resume? Then your eyes must be doubly alert for all manner of potential disasters—including the correct spelling of your name, your correct address, e-mail address and phone numbers. Hint: don’t pay for a resume until you proofread it first.

Things that fast-track your resume to the shredder are outright gaffes, boo-boos and pompous nonsense. Here are a few examples that you shouldn't try from home. These may tickle your funny bone, but each one detoured someone’s career path. Not yours, I hope.

Cover Letter: "For more details, Google me.”
Cover Letter: "I would love to interview for the position of (insert job title here). If you grant me an interview for (insert job title here), I feel confident you'll see why I'm the right person for the job." [Note: that paragraph was copied from an Internet template and pasted onto the writer’s resume—as is. Do not do this at home!]
Cover Letter: "Upon your humble request, I will forward to your personal attention my letters of reference to be attached hereto and made part thereof."
Objective: “I aim to work with your organization. You will provide me with challenging tasks to perform in an efficient way and then reach the top and achieve the maximum out of the given opportunities enriching my strengths and beating all my weaknesses.”
Professional Development: "Consulted with internal business divisions to determine optimum learning modalities to meet business needs." [Copied from Monique’s FB post.]
Professional Development: "Numerous hardware and software certifications. I could wallpaper my entire bathroom with them, but my wife would kick me out if I did. " [Gong!]
Thank You Note: "Hi, Ray. If I don't get the job, that would be 'Hi Ray' robbery. OK, yes, this is a bad pun, but I couldn't help but think about someone stealing the above salutation. Hmm, I definitely took a risk there, as jokes that bad should probably be punishable by fines." [Gong! Gong! Gong!]
Thank you Note: "Thank you for your consideration. Hope to hear from you shorty! "

When you e-mail a resume, be careful what you put in the Subject line. Only “Resume” or “Applying for job” will get your e-mail tossed faster than you can read this sentence. But don’t be silly, either. I always put “Paul Nichols’ Resume; [Title of Position].” Think about how that stands out in a crowded e-mail inbox. Write your cover letter in the body of the e-mail and attach your resume. And then what? Spell-check before sending. Spell-check again.

Speaking of cover letters, Monique recommends that if you're applying for a position where writing is an important part of the job, make your cover letter a sample of your own best writing. If your style is too wordy or loaded with important-sounding but empty words, the hiring manager will assume that's how you always write. "Next."

She also says, if you're applying for a job where graphic design skills are a must, show off your design skills in your resume. Send a well-formatted resume, in an attractive style, with plenty of white space and perhaps some bullet points. With things like that, the HR staff will move you to the head of the line. Hey, you don't even have to be a graphic designer to do this.

Do Not Do This From Home, either: “Hello? Acme HR Department? I just e-mailed you my resume. Did you get it?”

And now, how about some one-liners for your water cooler chit-chat tomorrow?

"Instrumental in ruining entire operation for a Midwest chain store."
"My intensity and focus are at inordinately high levels, and my ability to complete projects on time is unspeakable."
"Education: Curses in liberal arts, curses in computer science, curses in accounting."
"Personal: Married, 1992 Chevrolet."
"I have an excellent track record, although I am not a horse."
"I am a rabid typist."
"Exposure to German for two years, but many words are not appropriate for business."
"References: None, I’ve left a path of destruction behind me."
"Don’t take the comments of my former employer too seriously, they were unappreciative beggars and slave drivers."
"I procrastinate—especially when the task is unpleasant."
"I am loyal to my employer at all costs. Please feel free to respond to my resume on my office voice-mail."
"Extensive background in accounting. I can also stand on my head!"
"Personal interests: Donating blood. 15 gallons so far."

[Note: Donating 15 gallons of blood over the years is a remarkable achievement and worthy of high praise. In a resume, however, “Regular blood donor” is sufficient.]

Your well-organized, well-formatted resume must not have any of the following.

Personal information ["Engaged. Finally after four divorces I found the one."]
Attempts at humor [See #6 and #7 above.]
Incorrect or omitted words ["Organized a militia of employees to form the committees."] Or ["As you can tell, my says it all."]
Extraneous or inappropriate information and awkward phrasing. [See Monique’s #5 above.]
Exclamation points [Never! Never! Never!]
Excessive use of highlights. [If everything is highlighted, what's important?]

In the end, build these three great strengths into your resume: accuracy, truthfulness and clarity.

Oh, and dress appropriately for your interview.

Ten Reasons Why I Don’t Cuss

2011-07-17T07:42:00.003-05:00

One evening, about the time I was a new teenager, my dad asked me to get something for him. “It’s in my cedar box,” he said, referring to the little box on his chest of drawers. He kept little odds 'n' ends in there that he rarely used. So I went raking it through it, examining a little gizmo here and a whatchamacallit there. Pretty soon I came upon a card with the following:

Ten Reason Why I Don’t Swear

It is my way of honoring God, who said, "You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain, for the LORD will not hold anyone guiltless who takes his name in vain." ~Ex 20:7
It pleases my parents (way back when). “Honor your father and mother—which is the first commandment with a promise—that it may be well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.” ~Eph 6:2 – 3.
I want to be an example in front of my children and grandchildren. “Fathers, don’t provoke your children to anger; but bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.” ~Eph 6:4
It is a mark of maturity.
It shows that I have self-control.
It indicates clarity of mind.
It makes my conversation more pleasant to those around me.
People know that I have more than an ordinary vocabulary.
It is a sign of culture and refinement.

and 10. There’s never any reason for it.

Number 10 has always stuck with me. I think I can count on one hand the times I have cussed since I first saw that list. Thanks, Dad—and oh, what was it you wanted me to get outta that box?

Just between us: it won't be long before I get back to posting less serious stuff. Honest, I swear.

Pray Without Ceasing

2011-07-14T11:07:00.000-05:00

A horrible thing happened here in the Heart of America recently.

A well-known and well-loved pastor of a major area church resigned virtually instantly because he had an affair with a married woman. She held administrative responsibilities in the church and she resigned as well.

This has shaken me deep into my bones. The pastor and the woman are both people with great integrity; people with whom I have done church business; people with whom I have worshipped and praised and prayed; people who I consider friends. They are fine, fine Christian people who were bushwhacked by the devil. I feel like a drunken sailor right now.

Please be reminded that when you pray, pray for your pastor, his wife, his family, his ministry and his church. Even if you don’t like the pastor, even if you wish he’d leave—even if you gossip about him all the time—pray for your pastor. If you have a priest who is not married, pray for your priest, his ministry and his parish.

1 Thess 5:15 – 18: “Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you."

James 4:7 “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”

Caylee Anthony is alive after all

2011-07-07T10:28:00.002-05:00

Well, 99.9% of the hoop-la is over regarding the Casey Anthony murder trial in Florida. Now it’s just a circus by unemployed nitwits out in front of a generic courthouse. Is there anyone inside writing down those clowns’ grievances, promising to “look into them?” No. Go home, people, and create something that will stimulate our economy and benefit our society--or perhaps just fix supper.

I’m proud that I’m an American. I’m impressed that our interesting judicial system works the way it does. Are you going to point a finger at me and accuse me? Prove it. Prove what you’re accusing. And I'll take the opportunity to defend myself against everything you say and to present contrary proof that your accusation is unfounded.

I heard a radio talk-show host argue on TV last night that what our country needs is professional jurors. What? Are we going nuts? Professional jurors? Are you serious? The host of the show ignored him and changed the subject. Don't you know, that what immediately follows a pro jury is corruption of the lowest order. The mafia and the East Coast unions would have that in their back pockets in…oh, about a week. Soon thereafter we’d see “super jurors” with their own agents. And teams of jurors floating from one high-profile case to another, signing up with the highest bidder. In bright, colorful uniforms, no less. (They could just use bowling shirts, I suppose.) Now, an alternative is to pay jurors from a pool of homeless and unemployed folks. Like the people who donate blood every chance they get. But then will they show up for jury duty? What? Are we going nuts? Well, those are not juries of my peers, are they?

Juries of my peers give up a paying salary for about $2 a day (payable after all is said and done) and they commit to an honest evaluation of what they hear and see in the courtroom. In the courtroom! In the courtroom only, folks.

Then regarding Caylee Anthony, the round-faced cherub who is forever imbedded in our minds and Facebook posts. The Lord is the judge.* Jesus Himself has declared that the Kingdom of heaven is made up of children like her.** Children! As in the O.J. Simpson situations, Casey’s mom will probably someday face something that will either convict her completely or acquit her completely. The person(s) responsible for Caylee’s death will one day pay. “Be sure your sins will find you out.”*** That person(s) may one day plead, plead, plead to have a millstone tied around his/her neck and beg to be thrown into the sea.**** That would be mercy.

Right now, as earthly, unfinished and unsatisfying as this remark is, it’s the only thing that is partially comforting and completely true. The child Caylee Anthony is next to Jesus. She's a significant child in the Kingdom of Heaven.

*Romans 2:16

**Matt 18: 2 - 4

***Num 32:23;

****Luke 17:2;

If My Camera was a Pencil...

2011-06-15T07:17:00.003-05:00

I'm telling you: there isn't an artist on earth who can draw a lily like this! Isn't this the orangest flower you've ever seen? It's an Asian Lily; this is it's second year. It's getting oranger and oranger as the days go by. I refuse to touch it. It's just too pretty. My First Wife and I just stand, stare and stun ourselves.

You can click the photos to embiggen. Then you can really see the depth and beauty of Orange.

This lower photo is of Orange's Pink Protector. This is it's fourth year. We love it, too, and are astounded at the number of blossoms it produced. More than 30.

Irresponsible Journalism & The Rapture?

2011-05-22T16:41:00.002-05:00

I suppose all this snaky talk about the Rapture is over now, but I want to get in a cheap comment, too.

I don’t understand why everyone was so concerned. I stare wide-eyed at those who are pleased that they “survived” the Rapture. I’m befuddled by those who don’t know the difference between the Rapture and “the end of the world.” And I turn my back on the news outlets (think TV) who helped promote the recent wild “prediction(s).” How can anyone trust news organizations that didn’t lift a finger of research on this subject; of media that grope Facebook and Twitter for information? Immaturity never had it so good.

Let’s see if we can get level-headed about this.

First, Lemme tell you that there is a big difference between the Rapture and “the end of the world.” The Bible does not use the word Rapture. Rapture is a comforting late-1800s idea that was developed to help allay Christians’ fears of struggling through the hell-on-earth at the hands of the anti-Christ. The Bible calls that time “the tribulation period.” It will last seven years. As for the Rapture, most Christians believe that Jesus will Shout! and Gabriel’s Trumpet will sound to call all Christians (only) to meet Jesus in the sky and “…to be with Him forever.”

But when? At the beginning of the seven year period? In the middle of it when all hell literally breaks loose on earth? At the end of it when not too many living Christians remain after the tribulation period?

Or is there a Rapture at all?

Second, at the end of those seven years, Jesus will return, bringing an army of saints to the Valley of Armageddon. (Yes, Virginia, there are horses in heaven.) There, almost in an instant, He’ll crush completely the enemies of Israel and will set up headquarters to deliver 1,000 years of world-wide peace. This—is the Second Coming of Christ! That—is more spectacular than a Rapture event! And Jesus will be the King of the World the whole time! (Well, He already is but not currently seated on this special planet.) Can you imagine even one year of peace? But he promises a thousand years!

Beginning with year 1,001 comes a short “season” when the devil is allowed to run amuck on earth again. Maybe this is the Rapture year. Ever think of that? Amazingly, there will be folks who refused to accept Jesus as their personal savior, even during 1,000 years of His visible righteous and perfect leadership. Those folks will run amuck again creating unexplainable havoc once more. Then comes the “end of the world” as we know it. It will be burned completely and thoroughly. (We’ve got to get rid of all that plastic, drugs, and pavement, you know. A new “green” environment once again?)

Finally, the Rapture (if there is one) is NOT the end of the world. Christ's coming will occur unannounced—like a thief in the night. The Rapture is only for Christians, and a thousand-plus years of earthliness are yet to follow. So if you’re not a Christian don’t worry; no Biblical harm will come to you. Fortunately, you can explain to your kids and grandkids why you’re still here—if they're still here.

All this to say that just reading in the Bible about “end times” is where the irresponsible networks and journalists need to begin their research. The Bible is factual. The Bible is truth. It’s all right there. Look it up.

Spine Poetry

2011-05-19T11:18:00.002-05:00

I was in the Library the other day and noticed a good-sized display of “Spine Poetry.”

“What’s all that?” I asked.

“Well, we ask folks to pick out some book titles that will tell a little story.” the Librarian told me. “They stack them up and the titles on the spines make a poem. Kinda like Haiku, but free verse. All kinds of people; all ages. It’s very interesting, isn’t it?”

Interesting? That ain’t the word for it! It was great fun reading so many creative “folk” poems. I wanted to play, so I came home and this is what I concocted from our own book shelves.

The Life You’ve Always Wanted
Writing to Learn
Writing from Personal Experience
Writing Places
The Elements of Style
On Writing Well

You wanna play? Rules are simple: top spine is the title, five lines or less to follow. Try it. This is a great exercise in finding out who I am and what I like. Try different themes. Have fun.

You can do something like this, too (I suppose).

The Joy of Cooking

Eat This, Not That

Fasting

Eat This and Live

The Ultimate Guide to the Daniel Fast

Our Best Recipes

Stay tuned...more to come...?

Eat More Chocolate--It's a Vegetable

2011-05-16T10:57:00.000-05:00

An elderly man lay dying in his bed, apparently just moments from leaving this world. But suddenly, he smelled his favorite chocolate chip cookies. He painfully made his way out of his bedroom and shuffled to the kitchen. There he learned he wasn't dreaming. There were plates and plates of those delicious cookies. When he reached out for one, he was smacked by a spatula.

"Stay out of those!" snarled his wife, "They're for the funeral."

Avon Calling

2011-05-04T13:41:00.006-05:00

My First Wife and I recently listened to a motivational speaker who sells Avon products. She might be a stand-up comedienne, cuz she sure was a hoot. We have repeated this story of hers several times already.

Ms. Speaker told us that she decided to sell Avon. Too late she learned that her little town of 9,000 folks was saturated with Avon representatives. So, she had to figure out ways to make herself known and gather as many customers as possible. Well, sure. She even put a lighted sign on the roof of her car, just like the pizza delivery folks.

She named several other gimmicks, then suddenly said, “…and I even ran for State Representative a few times. See, that way, every time I was on TV I got to say that I was an Avon Lady in my district. It worked. I got more and more new customers.

“Well, I can’t do that anymore, because the last time I ran—I almost won.”

Wedding of the Century?

2011-04-29T08:59:00.002-05:00

My Lovely Bride got up real early today and watched some of the Royal Wedding of the Century featuring Prince William and Kate Middleton (in Britain). I was a lot smarter. I stayed asleep and waited for everything to pop up on the Internet. I gotta say that he was a handsome groom; she was a beautiful bride. It looked like a real nice wedding.

Now suppose—just suppose—that Prince William and Princess Kate (of Britain) are in the world’s spotlights for the next—oh, say five years. Suppose they entertain us at least once a week by walking from a limousine to a hotel door. Or vice versa.

And then suppose—just suppose, remember—the two of them announce that Princess Kate will soon have a royal child, heir/heiress to the throne (of Britain).

Remember, that’s about five years from now.

And then suppose—seriously, just suppose—that somewhere around 30 years later that that child gets married, too. That should put us about 2046 or so. And suppose that that child’s wedding (etc.) is as elegant and beautiful and fanciful as the one just performed (in Britain).

Questions then: Can that wedding be called the wedding of the century, too? Why or Why not? Or suppose an American President hosts a grand and magnificent wedding for his/her child in the White House about the same time. Yikes? And suppose that that American President is one of my grandchildren? Yee-haw!

I’m just supposing. I’m dreaming big for the big event. God bless America.

One Day More...

2011-03-06T23:45:00.002-06:00

There are some evenings that will linger in our minds and lives till the day we die. Little League Championships, graduations, weddings, births. Those sorts of things are only natural, but once in awhile an evening sneaks up on you and lifts you up from the most unlikely places.

Like TV.

Sunday night, My First Wife and I got caught up in four hours of mighty fine television.

First, we ran across a new show called “Secret Millionaire.” Danny Johnson (Dannie?) was the star of this edition. She’s a self-made millionaire who went back to her roots (homelessness) and shared some of her $$$ with “helping/sharing” services in Knoxville TN. It was touching, uplifting, inspirational and refreshing TV.

Right behind that was “Undercover Boss.” The mayor of Cincinnati, Ohio donned a wig and facial hair to visit his city workers undetected. He’s a man who appears to have a heart. It was a heart-warming show this week.

And then—surprise! “Les Misèrables!” We love “Les Misèrables!” We found it on PBS. It was the 25th Anniversary edition and was it ever great! Did you get to see it? There are things that echo in your mind all through the years. The music of Les Miz is one of those things for me. I could listen to it day after day after day.

I have a feeling that this evening will rank among the most enjoyable we ever spent at home together. Do you think...One Day More?

Another February Baby

2011-02-25T08:57:00.000-06:00

This is our first GREAT-grandchild, Isabelle Rae. Isn't she a beauty! And doesn't she have a beautiful name. She was born Wednesday afternoon in Statesboro GA.

Isabelle is the 7th family member born in February, including one who was born on Valentine's Day. However, she has added a lot of class and beauty to the month, because she is the first cute little girl. We needed her!

Three Roses

2011-02-17T07:29:00.005-06:00

Three Roses

by Paul Nichols

For Gladys there were too many groceries to choose from. Exactly two weeks ago Lester had that heart attack and suffered for three hours. In that time he was awake only long enough to whisper, “I’ll never leave you alone, Hon.” But before the afternoon was gone, he was gone, too. Gladys was alone. After thirty-five years their marriage ended without warning.

Now on this Tuesday morning—her first shopping trip since the funeral—Gladys wandered alone through the grocery aisles wondering how much milk to get. “A quart, I guess. I’ll get a quart.” Then she had to decide about bread. A long loaf or short? “I can’t eat this much celery.” How many cans of soup? Is this too much? Enough? “I don’t like beets like Les does…did, but maybe I’d better keep a can on hand...”

The rows of boxes and the shelves of cans blurred together. The tall end-caps of chips and cereal hovered over her. “Where’s the rice?” She begged. “Where’s the rice?” And then she began to cry. “Oh dear Jesus, please help me.” The tears raced down her lonely cheeks.

Whenever Lester shopped with Gladys, he always stepped away. “I’m going to look for some coffee,” he’d say. Or “Don’t we need to get a birthday card? I’ll go get it.” Or some silly excuse. The last time, he took off saying, "We don't have any cookies for the grandbabies." And he always came back to Gladys with three yellow roses. Always. And right there in the grocery store Lester leaned down and kissed her cheek. Today in the confusing grocery aisle, Gladys felt an urge to turn and look for him, but quickly gripped her shopping cart and asked about the rice again.

“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you okay?” A soft voice. “Ma’am?”

Gladys muscled up what strength she had to say, “I think so.” She opened her purse for a tissue. "Yes, I’m fine."

“Can I help you?” She was a pretty woman, maybe forty. “Here,” the young woman said, and offered Gladys a tissue.

“I…I need rice,” Gladys said.

“Uh, did you need it for an adult or for a baby, ‘cause we’re in baby food right now.”

Gladys shook.

“Come on,” the young woman said. “I know where it is. My name’s Janice.”

Then with a box of rice in her cart, Gladys smiled a little and said, “Thank you. I’m sure I’m fine now. Thank you so much.”

"Well, you have a nice day, ma'am." Janice moved away to find her own groceries.

Gladys followed Janice to the meat and watched her dig out six packages of steak. “My husband loves his steak,” she said, and dropped them into her cart. But suddenly, she put them back where she found them. “I just can’t get them right now, though. Not at these prices.”

“Buy the steak,” Gladys told her, surprised at the strength in her voice. “Buy those steaks if he likes them.”

“Oh, no, I’d better not. They’re just getting too expensive.”

“I lost my husband just two weeks ago. You buy your husband those steaks. Sing when you cook them. Enjoy the moment you serve them. Cherish your meal time together.”

Janice stared at Gladys. Without taking her eyes off Gladys, she gently returned the steak packages to her cart. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you for helping me,” Gladys said and smiled.

“Well, I still have some more things to get,” Janice said. She turned away quickly and vanished among the shelves. Gladys breathed a deep, new breath and chose a steak of her own. She shuffled away toward another aisle. It was an easier task now.

When she approached the check-out stand, Janice was waiting. “Hi again. May I give you these?” She offered a long, light package to Gladys.

Gladys peeled back the green tissue to find three long-stem yellow roses. Delicately, she touched her fingertips to them. Tears rushed back, but with a little smile she said, “Oh, thank you.” She pulled the flowers to her breast and closed her eyes. She remembered Lester's last promise: "I'll never leave you alone, Hon.”

“Ma’am, you were such an angel to me today." Janice had a beautiful smile and strong, clear brown eyes. "I really needed to hear what you told me. I wanted you to have these. Really. Thank you.”

Gladys offered a warm hug. “Thank you, honey,” she said. “I was lonely. Thank you for helping me. You were my angel. God bless you." Once more she touched her flowers. "I love yellow roses. How did you know?”

Janice smiled and shrugged; then right there in the grocery store leaned forward and kissed Gladys's cheek.

©Paul Nichols, 2008–2011

Let’s Talk About Something Disgusting

2011-02-08T16:30:00.002-06:00

Look at me. Do I look “holier-than-thou” to you? Do I look like I just walked out of a confessional? Am I pompous? Do I strut (much)? Look closely. I’m serious.

The recent Super Bowl commercials went way over the top…I mean, way under decency this year. Did you notice, kids? Did your kids notice? How was it in the fellowship room of your church?

Go Daddy dot com has the prettiest race car driver in history to speak for the company. She doesn’t have to get nekkid to sell stuff. Stop it! That’s ridiculous. Did you call your kids in to watch that commercial?

PepsiMax went deep to promote violence among women. The lady in the commercial smashed her man's head into a plate of something, then jammed a bar of soap in his mouth and finally threw a drink can him. She did what? Whew…she missed and bonked another woman. What if it had been the other way around? What if that man had bonked the woman? Where is NOW when you need them?

Then there was a jerk staring across the table at his date: "I wanna sleep with her!" Repeat, repeat, repeat! Did your teenage kids and their friends get all blushy-cheeked over that one? Did Mom and Dad? Did anyone turn the volume down in your church fellowship room?

What high school sophomores wrote the Doritos ads? Just exactly what were they sniffing? Mark Stevens, who wrote Your Marketing Sucks suggested the ads were written by sick people on “heavy doses of ‘medicine’.” I agree.

Doritos? Pepsi? Hmmm. Is there a connection here? Maybe so, maybe so.

Oh, and was that Kardashian lady talking sex right in front of your wife and kids? Your husband and kids? I’ll bet nobody noticed. Thank you, Skechers. Your shoes will always be the best I never have.

Sealy Mattress Company sprung to a new all-time low. Couple after couple (under the sheets) seemed so happy to be sighing together on a Sealy mattress. Hey, what is this? Did your kids get to see this one? And Sealy promises to support whatever we do on their product. Why didn’t they also show mom and dad reading to their children? Or just tucking them in? Why couldn’t they show someone kneeling in bedtime prayers. And did you notice any discrimination? There were no elderly couples sighing together. No children were jumping up and down laughing their heads off. No puppies jumping up on the bed, either.

I don't mean to be “holier-than-thou,” but where has the church gone? Sold itself? For what? A culture that is defined by the Super Bowl of all things?

Abominable. Nasty. Uncouth. Tasteless. Disgusting. Vulgar. Raunchy. Garish. Awful.

Not Family Friendly.

On a lighter note: the little Darth Vader who faced off with a Volkswagen was a really good commercial. I think I’ll go get me one. And I want a Darth Vader costume, too.

Is There Boogie-Woogie in Heaven?

2011-02-05T08:59:00.005-06:00

I’m serious.

One of the most pleasurable and fun activities in the history of earth is the Boogie-Woogie.

The Boogie-Woogie makes you smile. You can Boogie-Woogie at home. You can Boogie-Woogie at the prom. You can Boogie-Woogie in the White House. You can Boogie-Woogie on stage. You can Boogie-Woogie in the street. You can Boogie-Woogie in the movies. You can Boogie-Woogie at the movies, too. You can Boogie-Woogie at the big dance. You can Boogie-Woogie with old Aunt Berti and Old Aunt Berti’s grown-up children. You can Boogie-Woogie in tux and gown, cap and gown or in your pajamas. You can Boogie-Woogie with the preacher’s kids and Boogie-Woogie with all your school teachers. You can Boogie-Woogie in Miami—and San Francisco and London and Mexico City and Sydney and Berlin and Hong Kong and every place in between.

And a lot of people have.

The Boogie-Woogie gets you into the swing of things. Have you ever Boogie-Woogied at a wedding reception? Have you ever Boogie-Woogied at the lodge? Have you ever Boogie-Woogied in a night club? Have you ever Boogie-Woogied in the city park? Have you ever Boogie-Woogied at a street dance? Have you ever Boogie-Woogied on Cinco De Mayo? Have you ever Boogie-Woogied in competition.

Well, a lot of people have.

The Boogie-Woogie is good healthy exercise. Cowboys Boogie-Woogie with their boots on. Drummers get up and Boogie-Woogie to the beat of different drummers. Plumbers Boogie-Woogie with their pants on the ground. Tight Ends Boogie-Woogie in the end zone. Pharmacists Boogie-Woogie with drugs. Pianists and Technical Writers Boogie-Woogie at the keyboard. DJs Boogie-Woogie all night long. Lawyers Boogie-Woogie—for a fee.

You can Boogie-Woogie on a piano. You can Boogie-Woogie on a harmonica. You can Boogie-Woogie on a yakkety sax. You can even Boogie-Woogie on your blog.

The Boogie-Woogie is inspirational. Fat people Boogie-Woogie. Skinny people Boogie-Woogie. Not so pretty people Boogie-Woogie. Beautiful people Boogie-Woogie. Rich people Boogie-Woogie with poor people. White folks Boogie-Woogie with black folks. Educated people Boogie-Woogie with 8th graders. Politicians Boogie-Woogie with strange bedfellows. The Yankees Boogie-Woogie with black socks and White Sox. Big brothers Boogie-Woogie with their little sisters (gasp!).

How 'bout you? Where do you Boogie-Woogie? When do you Boogie-Woogie? Who do you Boogie-Woogie with? Wanna Boogie-Woogie one more time?

Everybody's doing it. My First Wife and I were doing the Boogie-Woogie at 6:30 this morning, but you can do the Boogie-Woogie anytime you want. The clip below is what we were watching. We hope you enjoy it as much as we do—over and over again.

I sure hope they let us Boogie-Woogie when we all get there, cuz this all sounds like a little bit of heaven to me. Wanna join us?

Free Stuff—Just Come and Get it

2011-02-01T08:18:00.003-06:00

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Craigslist, it’s that people buy and sell ugly stuff.”—our niece Renee.

My First Wife and I got into a laughing match the other day. We were looking at the free items posted on Craigslist. Well, it was so much fun, I had to pass some of this important rubble on to you. But from now on, you’ll have to do your own search. Trust me: it's fun.

I chose cities randomly—no order, no reason. My comments are in brackets. NOTE: the stuff listed is probably not available anymore. Except the horse manure.

Kansas City—

Free box of food
Man’s coat [It’s only a jacket.]
Regal rat food
Broken up concrete
Empty baby food jars [100s of them.]
Railroad ties
Free white dog bowl [Don’t call during her son’s concert]
Firewood free if you cut down the tree [That's what it says!]

Portland OR—

Free dog food for unemployed owner [Bring proof of unemployment.]
Free concrete pieces
Broken red bricks
Free chlorine bleach
Free pharmacy discount
Free haircut

LA CA—

Free dirt
Crocking Gun [I love this: there’s a picture of a caulking gun.]
Free 26 [It’s a TV.]

NYC—

Big collection of climbing magazines
Free Rabbit supplies
Free womens haircuts
Free white Persian cat ***PLEASE HELP***
Free weird old dresser
Free rabbit

Tucson—

Horse Manure. [Posted several continuous days.]
Free stand thing. [Oh, the possibilities—especially without a picture.]
Torn Jeans.
Love Seat – covered with dog hair. [Lucky us: no cat hair balls.]

Denver—

17 plastic yogurt containers/lids–32 oz.
Leaves to a table [No table, though.]
Free Berber carpet remnants – clean, unused [They’re in the alley.]

Miami—

Free Palm Trees.
Free manure.
Set of crutches.
Free Fresh Bread from Cuban Bakery. [Check this out, Ily.]
Guinea pigs / dog to good home.

Dallas/Ft. Worth—

Sacked up leaves for composite. [Your homework: write the word “compost” 100 times!]
Box of jars.
Free wine bottles.
Free bees. [It also says, “Don’t leave a mess when you take them.”]

And now—on to "People of Walmart."

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Craigslist, it’s that people buy and sell ugly stuff.”—our niece Renee.

Still Snowbound

2011-01-15T07:36:00.003-06:00

Here are four photos I took within 20 seconds this morning about 10:30. I would have taken a few more but it was cold out there, hunny. This is one of my favorite places to walk--So-Ko-Par Trails Park in Kansas. I can walk more than three miles on the trails in this big family park. But not right now, though. The lake is frozen solid (it's about 150 yards long) and the trails are under six inches of snow. But there is hope: see the shadows? Created by sunlight.

The little red sign says, "Unsafe Ice. Keep Off." And that "2"-shaped item in the first three photos is a metal sculpture. I think it represents a playful Loch Ness Monster. Little kids climb on it and it's a popular place for photos.

You can click each photo to enlargify. Then click your Back button to return.

Just for fun, here's a photo of the same area that I took early last spring. A hint of things to come.

Snowbound

2011-01-10T20:20:00.001-06:00

We got hit pretty good with snow and ice here in the the Heart of America yesterday and today. Apparently more on the way, too. But I guess we should count our blessings. I just got off the phone with my good friend in North Dakota.

He said that since early this morning the snow has been nearly two feet deep and it's still coming down. The temperature is 14 below zero and the north wind is very strong, gusting up to 38 mph.

His wife has done nothing but stare through the kitchen window all day. He told me that if it gets any worse, he may have to let her come inside with his hunting dog.

A World-Record Hiatus

2011-01-02T15:57:00.002-06:00

My First Wife and I have been busy since my last post. I’m glad I left behind a blog post that featured Jesus, cuz I can tell you: He is faithful. I appreciate that so many of My Faithful Readers have come back and kept coming back to check on us. We’re here; we’re good.

You know me, I’m a list maker. So let me give you a list of things that kept us busy the past three months.

Home
Church activities
Family and Friends
That pesky job
Bad mattresses (more than one)
Bad marriage (not ours)
Crying cuz I couldn’t figure out what to say in my prayers
The season to be jolly
About 7,500 freeway miles
Sixteen- to eighteen-hour days and nights.
Tears
Heavy lifting
Illness and sickness
Several broken hearts
Police reports (Not recommended)
Divorce (Not us)
No walking since the first of August. Yikes!!!

On the plus side of busy-ness there was (think grace and grateful)

The election and the election victories
A fabulous writers’ conference (three days!).
Thanksgiving
New friends
The season to be jolly
Unexpected gifts
Church activities
A couple of pretty full moons
One spectacular sunrise from horizon to horizon
Other church’s cool Care Groups
Family, Friends (and Facebook)
Eating out more than we ever did before
Giving and receiving help
Blogging friends; Friendly bloggers
A 943-page technical manual written, approved and published! (See “That Pesky Job.”)
A blown out tire--just after I left the freeway--in the daytime
American auto insurance (see above)
Edy’s Peppermint Ice Cream :)

And here’s the kicker

God is faithful. I think we tested Him a couple of times, and sure enough, He was faithful. His promises are true. As exhausted as we were the past 90 days, He lifted us up every day to take care of things. We still have some resting to do, but we’re ready to tackle 2011. I plan to blog more and to walk much more oftener. Stay tuned.

Things That Jesus Told Us TO DO

2010-10-09T10:03:00.001-05:00

I’m always making lists, as all two of my faithful readers have probably discovered. So I was real happy to get this list by someone else. It was put together by our church’s brand new Youth Pastor, Aaron. He’s a keeper.

To get acquainted with us last Sunday he preached while our Senior Pastor was out of town. Here’s the terrific list he used for sermon notes. He called it “Going Back to the Basics.”

From the Gospel of Matthew, here’s list of all the things that Jesus told us TO DO.

Worship the Lord and serve him only. Mt 4:10
Repent. Mt 4:17
Follow me. Mt 4:19
Shine your light before me and do good deeds. Mt 5:16
Your righteousness must surpass the Pharisees Mt 5:20
Settle matters quickly. Mt 5:25
Give to those who ask, and don’t turn away from those who want to borrow from you. Mt 5:42.
Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. Mt 5:44
Give to the needy. Mt 6:2
Pray. Mt 6:5
Forgive people who sin against you. Mt. 6:14 & 18:35
Fast from food once in awhile. Mt 6:16
Treat people the way you’d like to be treated. Mt 7:12
Enter through the narrow gate. Mt 7:13
Do God’s will. Mt 7:21
Acknowledge Jesus before men. Mt 10:32
Honor your father and mother. Mt 15:4 & 19:19
Be humble. Mt 18:4
Confront the person you have a conflict with. Mt 18:15
Love your neighbor as yourself. Mt 19:19 & 22:39
Serve everyone. Mt 20:26-28 & 23:11
Love God with all your heart, soul and mind. Mt 22:37
Feed, clothes, visit and invite in the poor and needy. Mt 25:35
Make disciples and baptize them. Mt 28:19

And so I got to thinking that if I review and practice this list every day (back to the basics), I won’t have to worry about that other list of “Thou-Shall-Nots” (wag finger; wag finger). It seems like an easier way to live a Christian life.

Whatcha think? And whatcha think of our new Youth Pastor?

The Chinese Restaurant Where Pastor Hilderman Played His Last Gig

2010-09-26T09:48:00.003-05:00

“The future is as bright as the promises of God.”—Pastor Bob Hilderman.

Pastor Hilderman was our pastor for a brief two years in ‘68 and ‘69 in Tucson, Arizona. Now, it’s not uncommon for Baptist ministers to flit from one church to another after just a few years of ministry. I don’t know; I guess they all have dreams of driving big congregations. So it was not really a big deal when he announced that he was leaving our little church. He took his family to the Navajo Indian Reservation in Northern Arizona where he became a missionary, a radio announcer and the pastor of the community Christian church there.

Pastor Hilderman’s voice was deep and rich; musical and charming. Who could ask for a better radio announcer? His little station, KHAC, in Window Rock broadcast out about 75 miles. The programs were all Christian-based and many were presented in the Navajo language. How he loved that station! He also preached in the little church and played hymns on his saxophone. And, of course, he did all the things that preachers do in the community. He had a lot of fans and friends, and he introduced many of them to Jesus.

His name is Bob, by the way. And back in 1950 BC (before church), he used to be wild and wacky. He played his saxophone in whatever bar or tavern would give him a gig. Smoked Camel cigarettes, too—as fast as he could, as often as he could. Then one day Jesus called his name. “Huh?” he answered. He saw the light and followed Jesus. Before long he was the wonderful and wacky Pastor Hilderman. Had three kids by the time we met him and his wife JoAnn—and more friends than a lottery winner.

He’s gonna shoot me for telling this story, but it’s worth it. When he was a Bible Seminary student, he worked his way through school at Safeway. He didn’t get paid much, not even as much as a good weekend saxophone gig. He couldn’t afford his Camel cigarettes then, so he stole them from the store. Then went home to his Bible studies. Well, one day while he was nervously fidgeting, trying to find a moment to steal another pack of smokes, his heart thundered at him: “It’s either Christ or a Camel!” He chose Christ.

When the Hilderman family left Tucson, we were all left empty. But an amazing thing happened. Without fail we contacted each other every single month for 38 years. We used the mail, the phone and a few vacations. One time he drove 500 miles to officiate at our son’s wedding. Ours was a long-distance friendship that only Jesus could build. Even from far away, Pastor Hilderman was my pastor. He was my mentor and my friend. On the back of every envelop he mailed us he wrote, “The Future is as Bright as the Promises of God!”

I know there were times that I disappointed him one way or another, but he rarely let on that I did. I know there were a lot of times that he spent a lot of time in prayer for me and my family. He was on his knees on our behalf during some dark and stormy nights of ours. I am convinced that my life would have turned out unpretty had it not been for the prayers of my pastor, my mentor, my friend.

I also know that we shared a lot of laughs and jokes and hi-jinks.

Wouldn’t you know it? One day something went wrong with his back. Something really bad. For nearly 20 years, he struggled from sunrise to sunset. His pain was frequent. And intense. Beds. Hospitals. Morphine. Shunts.

But he never complained. Can you believe that? He never complained. He went about his business as a loving, helpful, cheerful ambassador for Jesus. I remember the day when he said, “I guess I’m going to have to give up my sax. It’s getting harder to breathe.” And then his throat and his beautiful, magical voice crumbled. He sounded an awful lot like a bad transmission.

Another day came when he knew that his days were numbered. But he never complained. “Come quickly, Lord Jesus” was his daily prayer. His eyes were always on Jesus who called him so many years ago. His affairs were in order by then; his ministry almost complete. His wife—strong, strong JoAnn—became the keeper of his gate. There in his last residence, the hospital in Albuquerque, Pastor Hilderman—his Bible always in his arms—was a minister, an encourager and a comfort to the staff around him. He wanted to go; but he wanted to stay. How they loved that man. Neither Pastor Hilderman nor JoAnn waivered in their love or faith during those last long days and nights.

“I’m ready to go home,” he kept saying. JoAnn understood. We all knew that Jesus would call him one more time. And soon. Call him to heaven. “Come quickly, Lord Jesus,” he prayed.

It happened a couple of years ago. My wife and I were eating at a Chinese restaurant; a buffet. During dinner, I suddenly noticed that the piped-in music was playing Christian hymns.

Hymns in a Chinese restaurant? That’s something that doesn’t happen. Not in this country.

“Hey, Honey,” I said to My Wife. “Listen to that music!” We cocked our ears to the speaker. “Am I hearing things?” Sure enough, it was Christian hymns in a Chinese restaurant. Hymns on a saxophone, too. On a saxophone!

We listened hard. They were some of Pastor Hilderman’s favorites. “I wonder if this is the Lord’s way of letting us know that Pastor Hilderman has passed away,” I suggested. We could only smile. Was Pastor Hilderman finally free from all that pain and playing his sax again? Having a jam session in heaven with Jesus—and us in a Chinese restaurant?

As soon as we got home, we called JoAnn. “I’m so sorry,” she said. She sounded strong, like she was breathing new air. “I haven’t had a chance to call you yet. I just got back from the hospital. The Lord took Bob just a few hours ago. He just went to sleep. There’s a lot of people here right now.”

“We knew,” we told her cheerfully.

“Oh? How?” she asked. We explained what we heard in the Chinese Restaurant. “He missed his saxophone,” she said. “I guess he’s playing it again.”

We never cried. My pastor, my mentor, my friend was pain free and enjoying his new bright future.

And we think it was a delightfully wacky way for Jesus to tell us that Pastor Hilderman was finally at home with Him.

Favorite Aromas

2010-09-14T11:57:00.003-05:00

I had an interesting experience this morning; a cause for pause.

Went into the hardware store for something. On the way home with my purchase, I still detected the distinct smell of that store. Ever notice that hardware stores all have the same pleasant aroma? Well, I paused…

It dawned on me that there are a number of aromas, smells, odors that I really like. I tried to think of as many as possible for the list below. They are in no particular order, or “favorite.”

Bacon frying. (I think this is everybody’s favorite.)
Leather, hanging in a tack store.
Inside an abandoned barn. I don’t care how dusty, it still smells so wholesome and earthy.
Fried chicken.
Baking bread, cakes, cinnamon rolls, etc.
Latex paint immediately after I open the can.
Brewing coffee.
Merlot.
Inside a tortilla factory.
A Christmas tree lot.
New Car Interiors.
Fresh sawn lumber; the expensiver, the better.
Most Italian food.
The ocean, from about 1/4 a mile away.
Hardware stores.
Dirt, after a desert rain…

There are more, I’m sure.

So. What are five (5) of your favorite aromas? Some can be the same as mine. It's okay.

American Girl—What a Concept!

2010-09-06T09:10:00.001-05:00

A new American Girl Doll store opened in The Big City Saturday. What a day! What a store!

If you’re not familiar with American Girl dolls, you’re missing a wonderful treat. It’s even more wonderful if you’re a pre-teen girl, like our granddaughters Mari and Darby who have American Girl dolls of their own. Parents and grandparents alike can go broke keeping up with them, too (compare to the cost of a college education). But it’s worth it. At least we don’t have to change their diapers. By the way, if you have only boys, you can smirk while you read this—Jennie.

Just one of many American Girl dolls. Ain't she cute? I don't know her name.
I got this picture from the American Girl web site.

We took Mari and her mom to the Grand Opening of the new local store. At least 3,500 girls and their parents/grandparents were there. Nearly every girl there brought her doll, too. Everyone had to wait in line, wait in line, wait in line and wait in line. Only about 200 people at a time were let into the store. Inside was a beautiful store setup—dolls everywhere. Boxes and boxes of dolls and their needs. Racks of clothes for both the dolls and their little owners. Shelves and displays of pretty dolls and their accessories. There was a bank of 12 cash registers(!) and we got to wait in another long line just to pay and get out.

And just one of the lines waiting to get into American Girl doll store. See any boys?

This picture was taken about two hours after the store opened! The lines stayed this way till after six p.m.

I want to recommend American Girl to all two of my readers. American Girl is not just a doll manufacturer. It’s an enterprise—a wholesome enterprise, at that. They sell several dolls, from babies to “Tweens,” some of which already have names. Each doll has a full line of personal accessories like carriages, clothing, hair and makeup junk, jewelry, pets and glasses. The doll and her pre-teen girl can even dress alike in matching clothes and pajamas. I’m telling you, times have changed—and in this case it’s a good change. Story books accompany most of the dolls and many of them have historical information that rival the girls’ school textbooks. American Girl is some grand idea.

That's Mari down in the LH corner. She has her doll, Wan-Wan, which is a little Asian cutie-patootie. Can you tell that they're wearing matching clothes? Mari was so proud to stand in front of that banner.

Mari and Granddaddy. I promise you: the line DID NOT start there.

Mari and her mommy. They're almost there; it says so, right there on that sign.

Finally! About to enter American Girl. She was so proud and excited. I wonder what her heart rate was.

It was a long day. This picture was taken about 4:15 p.m. After about an hour inside the store, she still had a smile on her face. She was pleased, satisfied, still thrilled and pre-exhausted.

Psst. Don't tell Mari, but see that red shopping bag on the LH side of the photo? Mari got far more than what she's holding. She has a birthday in just a few more days. And then Christmas...

Please note: the most impressive thing I saw all day was the conduct of the girls. Almost to the girl, regardless of her age and despite the hours-long lines, I saw patience, courtesy, respect, obedience, quiet (well, almost) and cooperation. No attitudes; no crying. They were excited, too, of course, and made friends easily with other little girls. These were good and well-behaved young ladies and I was proud of every one of them.

A tip of the hat to American Girl, too. In most of the lines, there were little girl-oriented crafts and activities to help pass the time. Overall, AG put on a grand Grand Opening this weekend here in The Big City. I’ve always loved kids and this day was a great one for them. My faith in the future of silly girls—and dolls—has been restored.

The Lovely Heart of America

2010-08-26T17:12:00.001-05:00

It’s been quite a while since I walked more than a mile or so. Walked over five miles today and it sure felt good. The weather was perfect here in the Heart of America and the trail was easy. I accidentally snapped a few photos. Thought you’d enjoy.

These horses were eating breakfast. They are part of a tourist attraction. Later in the day, they and two others will pull a stagecoach for the tourists that come to this historic old farmstead. It’s a neat place.

This goes into my Fence Folder.

This bull, in the same pasture as the horses, was hurrying off to greener pastures.

I was gonna stop for lunch, but I didn’t have one.

My trail went behind a couple of attractive neighborhoods. I liked this little pond; wanted to stay, but…

This cool setup is going into my Benches Folder.

And this old fence/gate will also go into my Fence Folder.

My next walk is scheduled for mid-September. It's either seven or nine miles one way. Wanna come along? We'll walk along a fast creek and then get involved with the Kansas River. We'll be back in town in time for dinner.

A Plate and a Book

2010-08-21T09:36:00.000-05:00

See, I really do live in the Heart of America. Here’s a picture of the new license plate on my pickup. It blatantly advertises my delightful book, Just Seven Blocks from the Mexican Border. I also put this photo on my Facebook page.

And do you realize that in just two weeks (Sept 5), I’ll celebrate the first anniversary of the book’s publication. Time flies, doesn’t it? I owe most of my great success to Monique Donahue at Inheritance Press for helping me see this all come to pass. Wanna publish your own delightful memoirs? Call Monique.

By the way, if you haven’t bought my delightful book, you can easily purchase one simply by clicking here.

The Most Exciting 4tha July Ever

2010-08-10T21:22:00.000-05:00

Last Writers’ meeting our writing exercise was, “Describe your most exciting 4tha July ever. We’ll take about ten minutes.” So I wrote the following story. Gotta be honest: I did a little editing since then. But enjoy.

There were 30 of us that evening, kids included. The BBQ pit never quit, cold drinks lay waiting in a kiddie pool full of icy water, the makeshift volleyball court was busy and so was the swimming pool that hot, humid night.

Darkness crept up on us and the kids started asking, “When are we gonna have fireworks?”

“Pretty soon,” we told them. "Won’t be long. It needs to get a little darker.”

The kids could see fireworks in the distance. “Hey, look!”

“Now?” they pleaded. “Pleeze.”

“Just a few more minutes.”

Ten o’clock and complete darkness came. It came quickly, like a blanket falling out of blackness. And suddenly it was unusually cool—chilly, in fact.

“Ka-rack!” A bolt of lightning riveted itself to the neighbor’s fence. The unseen clouds unloaded a downpour while that fence lit up the neighborhood.

After the fire engine left at 11:30, we popped off a few little firecrackers and woke up the kids.

I snatched that example photo from Google. Daylight; and those tree look like north Florida.

Christmas in July

2010-07-22T08:47:00.001-05:00

Note: This piece was an entry at a recent Writers’ meeting. Here were the rules: Begin your story with, “The Christmas treasure I thought I’d never find...” and end it with, “...quietly, I said, ‘Thank you."

The Shiniest Present

Paul Nichols

The Christmas treasure I thought I’d never find found me when I was a senior in high school. Our family was poor, but stable. Mom and Dad worked hard and saved hard to send our older twin brothers on to college. My sister Ruthie and I knew better than to ask our folks for anything that might hinder those boys’ education. Anyway, they would have said, “You want it? You work.”

But we had a family tradition: Mom and Dad always let us ask for a Christmas gift and tried their best to get it under the tree. For twelve years I gave them a list of five items. Every year I started the list with an electric train and a watch. Every year, I got one of the other things on the list. In my senior year my list said,

Elec Train
Watch
Wintertime gloves
Real wallet
New basketball net

Those last three items cost only five dollars or less. I needed a store-bought wallet that wouldn’t unravel like the one I made at camp several summers ago. And the basketball net was down to its last two or three strings.

“Just get one,” I told Mom, “Not all of them.” I gave her the list and waited for Christmas.

My part-time, after-school job was at Maxwell’s Market, and I was usually home by 9:30—or else! If I had had a watch, I would have been home on time, every time. I once vowed I’d save up enough for a real nice watch.

Mom and Dad saw to it that I set aside a tithe and some savings, leaving me precious little spending money. But that year, I saved up enough to get Mom, Dad and Ruthie their Christmas gifts; little books full of inspirational quotes.

On Christmas morning Ruthie was up first and turned on the tree lights. She made just enough noise to get Dad up. He started some coffee. The two of them talked till Mom shuffled herself to my room and said, “Merry Christmas, honey. It’s time to get up.”

That year Mom and Dad put three gifts under the tree for me. Unusual indeed. The first, wrapped in “manly” paper, was a really nice pair of warm leather gloves. Then I unwrapped a new basketball net. I knew what I’d be doing later that day. And finally, a smooth, genuine cowhide wallet. I was pleased and I liked it right away.

But I was also embarrassed. “Dad, you only had to get one. Not all of them,” I said. My parents were poor, yet here they were squandering all their money on me. But look! Ruthie got three presents, too! One was a little watch with a bright pink patent leather band.

“There’s one last present down here waiting for someone to claim it,” Dad said.

Huh? I hadn’t seen that down there before. “Ruthie,” he asked, “what’s it say on that name tag?” She looked at it, and then looked at me. “It’s for you,” she said. “Here.”

“But I already got… Where’d it come from?”

“Open it, honey,” Mom encouraged.

I peeled off the paper and discovered a brown plastic box, hardly big enough to hold a baseball. “Wha…?” It required some twisting and prying to pop it open. Inside was something shiny. “What’s this?” I didn’t recognize it because it was upside-down, too. I had never received a shiny, upside-down present before. I turned it ov… A watch! My eyes saw it, but my mind had to wait a minute to catch on.

A watch! They gave me a watch for Christmas! “I don’t think this is for me,” I said quickly.

“Yeah, it is!” my sister yelled. “I got one, too!”

“But Mom…Dad…” My eyes exploded with tears. “…this is a wa…a wa...!” I lost all composure. Completely astonished and sobbing unchecked, I lost my voice and collapsed onto the couch, my shiny, upside-down present cupped in both hands. How could they afford this? They already gave me three presents. Where did they get all the money?

Dad reminded me, “Now you take good care of that watch and it will take good care of you.” Mom stood beside him, smiling proudly.

I don’t know if I was crying because I was so surprised to find that watch, or crying because I was so proud of my hard-working parent’s extra income. They had just given me the shiniest present I ever got. I stumbled across the room and hugged my mom. Whispering quietly, I said, “Thank you.”

There is a terrific new picture on My Hats Blog. Stop by.

Hank Heron

2010-07-11T17:39:00.002-05:00

Saturday afternoon I went walking in a real purty park and came upon Hank Heron. Bleeve me: I am a blessed man. I'm just going to line up the photos I took. Please enjoy.

And at the end is the photo I went to take in the first place.

Hank Heron

This is my favorite photo of Hank.

And this photo is the reason I went to the park.

Business in Missouri

2010-07-09T18:11:00.001-05:00

Hah! You probably thought I was going to say "walking" in Missouri. But today I only had a few minutes (in a long-sleeve shirt and tie) to shoot these photos. Not much to 'em, but enjoy.

I stopped to take a picture of this church steeple. Unfortunately, there is construction going on in the front of it, so I went around back.

While I was around back, I kept hearing the scree of an eagle or a hawk. "Hey, look! There! On the top of that tree!" I slowly made my way across a field to get as close as possible. I kept taking pics as I approached. This is the best I could do. I wanted to get closer, but that eagle or hawk must be a member of that church, because it screed, "I'll Fly Away" and flew away. So what was it? An eagle or a hawk?

Then there is a church I've been wanting to photograph for years, but almost always passed it at night, going the other direction, camera at home--something. I got it today, though. It's right beside a busy six-laner, so I stopped in the emergency lane and took an emergency photo. Finally, into My Church Steeples Folder.

The sky was beautiful today. These kind of clouds dominated all you could see above. The blue was unusually blue. It was all real purty and peaceful. It would have been a good day to go walking in Missouri.

Walking in the HOA

2010-07-06T19:23:00.005-05:00

Cloudy and threatening on July 6, but I went out walking in the Heart of America anyway…

…really, in the Heart of America. Can you see the train behind that far white fence? That red dot by the highway is the engine. There is a walking trail right beside that track. Noisy, frightening and exciting all at once! Beautiful, too, because the track and the trail flow right alongside Mill Creek. But this highway passes by many a beautiful nook, too. You gotta walk to see ‘em. Fr’instance…

I found a “hidden” barn to add to My Barn Folder. You have to squint and look closely or you might not see it.

And for My Fence Folder is a fence that protects nothing. It’s just there. Probably used to be a big farm house there. Family sittin’ out on the porch worryin' about the weather, shuckin’ corn, snappin' peas and a-wavin’ at passin' cars. Fence held up pretty good all these years.

And how ‘bout this cute little church. It used to be a house. Somebody knocked out some interior walls and nailed a steeple on top and it became “The Rock.” However, the real estate appraiser who was out there called it “This Dog-Gone Church.”
I will include it in My Church Steeples Folder.

You know it’s July in Kansas when wheat harvest is complete.

Immediately after, those wheat stalks get rounded up and become hay.

Barbed wire (Bob Waar) and windmills always remind me of Arizona, no matter where I am.

Today was a nice day. Sure would be nice if you'd come walk with me.

And for one more nice photo, scroll down to the previous post. Thanks.

Lavendar Bees

2010-07-05T15:42:00.000-05:00

I think that all two of my faithful readers know that Dad was a beekeeper, and that I lived among bees from the day I was born. And, yes, I've been worried about the loss of honey bees the past few years. I don't think I saw even one last year. (Sigh) I read recently that this loss of bees is cyclical, and that it has happened both in the US and Europe more than once. About 100 or so years ago/200 or so years ago and so forth. Hmmm.

Oh look! There! In my neighbor's yard! In all that lavendar! This is not a great photo. I took more than 20 shots and this the only one that is okay. But the bees are back and I'm happy.

Have a Seat

2010-06-30T19:32:00.003-05:00

Does anyone realize just how picturesque benches can be? I have some photos of really interesting benches. These are only a few out of my Bench Folder (about 135).

These ladies walked through their parking lot to sit here and smoke. They’re in the park next to their high rise office building. The bench support on the lower left is about a foot shorter than the one on the right, thus making the bench level. (I like this park, despite its location.)

There are lively stories about ghosts in the Gadsden Hotel, Douglas, Arizona, my home town.
Those stories keep the tourists coming back.

Not a good photo, but this old trolley stop is about 100 years old; just down the street from where I live.

Look closely to see what’s left of the trolley tracks. I believe those are original street bricks, too.

Can you guess what’s out of place among all these squares and straight lines?

Madonna and Madonnette.

This mother and child were enjoying the pond in one of our city's most delightful parks.

Virgin benches. They had just been placed there earlier that day.

Not on speaking terms? I dunno. But that gaggle of geese were a-gaggling.

Wagon wheels at one of our favorite breakfast nooks.

My daughter’s front yard. All these years later and I’m still telling her to put her things away.

Handmade (they say) and for sale in Amish country.

Inside our favorite Chinese Restaurant.

I love this photo. These twin benches are in front of a popular restaurant. I knew when the sun would create these amazing shadows, so I went back at the appropriate time and loved My Digital Camera. Don't you like all the lines? I like this one because you can see that V-shaped reflection in the lower foreground.

Oh, and from the other side? See the pic below.

I'm learning that benches featuring people are much more interesting than just plain benches. Michelle and My First Wife. Two of my favorite people.

And here’s a bonus from my Fence Folder (I forgot it last week).
There about 16 or 18 huge wagon wheels anchored to this fence.
Notice the windmill in the background.

Loose Park

2010-06-26T13:57:00.003-05:00

Today I went walking in another state—Missouri. I walked in a park that is probably one of the Top Three Most Popular city parks in this whole metro area. It has two walking trails. One is 1 1/2 mile around and the other is just over a mile around. While I walked I suddenly remembered why I like Loose Park so much. It’s just downright beautiful—but it holds some sad American history.

Would you believe that on this deliciously idyllic spot a major Civil War battle was fought? It’s true. It was the Battle of Westport, October 1864. Behind those trees (see picture below) is a field where 3,000 casualties were counted.

Who in their right mind would want to shoot cannons at people in such a beautiful, restful and peaceful place as this? Today they tossed Frisbees there. And across the way was a rousing game of Kick-ball.

Well, here’s what they used back then.

On a happier note, I think I will put this photo in my “Reflections” folder. Or should it go in my "Fountains" folder? Please vote.

On an even happier note, visit My Hats Blog and see three real pretty girls.

From My Fence Folder

2010-06-23T18:59:00.001-05:00

I accidentally opened My Fence Folder a few minutes ago and these photos spilled out onto my blog. These pictures were taken at various times of the year. Click pics to garganuate. Enjoy.

Let's start at one of my favorite places out in the Southern Arizona desert. (This is my only barbed wire fence photo so far.) The ranch is safe haven for children who are going (have gone) through tough, tough times. God bless this ranch.

The Pepper Tree Apartments have all kinds of clean and pretty fences. Interesting. This is just one view. Peaceful.

I didn't take this picture. But I like the fence enough to include it in my Folder. It's the only picture in my Folder of 150 that isn't mine.

Did anyone lose a boat?

Aah. Fences and old barns in the Heart of America.

A couple of fences in our neighborhood. Both in the same yard.

This photo won some polite applause in a photo contest a few years ago. I titled it "Light at the End of the Fence." The fence surrounds the oldest cemetery in this neck of the woods. This is also the oldest (first) photo in My Fence Folder. I'm attached to it.

Oh, by the way. Stop by My Hats Blog for a peek at some purty girls.

Evening Geese

2010-06-19T06:18:00.004-05:00

Sometimes I just can't believe what comes out of My Digital Camera. I took this photo two years ago while I was out walking after dinner. (Click the pic to enlargenate.)

"Evening Geese"
Copyright 2008-2010 by Paul Nichols

I Saw Bambi Yesterday

2010-06-11T11:43:00.001-05:00

I found a new place to walk the other day. Loved it. While I walked along I took a ka-jillion photos. I tried to get one of Bambi, but she bounded away (beautifully) before I could get the camera clicking. I'm only going to post four pics for now... Please enjoy.

Some prairie wild flowers at Lake Lenexa, Heart of America.

I think the orange ones are called Butterfly Weeds.

Some prairie cacti in the Heart of America, not Arizona.

Part of the walking path around Lake Lenexa.
It's about 3 miles around the lake, some of it is only gravel.

Lake Lenexa, Kansas. Would anyone like to come walk with me?

Color, Color, Color

2010-06-07T14:37:00.005-05:00

My First Wife and I have taken to lilies the past few years.

The dazzling Asian pink lily had over 30 bulbs on it, still some haven't blossomed yet.The golden Day Lilies in the corner are protecting some beautiful purple Prairie Tall Grass. It's hard to see here, but in the fall that grass will be higher than the fence. It gets real thick and pretty. And if you look real hard under the lilies, you can see some mum leaves. (Click pics to enlargenate.) They're waiting till September to burst forth with gallons of thick Yellow mums. They'll be awesome. Stop by, why don't cha.

This little orange Asian lily is new to our patio this year. Notice how many of its flowers are still to bloom. We're expecting big things in the years to come.

Oh, and if you like the color green, this is Indian Creek. It's a treasure here in The Big City. I waded out into it to take this photo. After a few days of nice rains, you cannot see those dry stones on the right. And as quiet and peaceful as this green dream looks, the noisiest freeway in the Heart of America is only a hundred feet to my left. Bleeve me, it's noisy!

Why don't you come visit?

The Santa Fe Trail

2010-06-03T14:18:00.000-05:00

Out walking this morning, I came upon this trail. It doesn’t look like much—it’s only about eight feet wide—and time has tempered it quite a bit. But it holds 200 years of American history in its tracks.

This is part of the Santa Fe Trail. In this park it’s only about 50 yards long. It’s eight feet wide (give or take) and its ancient bed is almost gone. Can you see the depression? Yes, that’s where oxen and mules pulled wagon after wagon back and forth between Missouri and Santa Fe Mexico for 40 short years. Then war. Then the Oregon Trail. Then the railroad, the Civil War, the Gold Rush…

This limestone marker has helped define the trail for years and years. When I stood there this morning, shivers ran up my spine. This is not the first time that such a feeling o-whelmed me. There’s something special about American history, don't ya think?

Remember these Kids?

2010-05-31T13:41:00.001-05:00

I can't find the link to these kids. I posted their picture some months ago. Remember them? They sit on that bench at the mall. Turns out they are All-American Kids, too! Here's another picture of them.

Oh, and I know who put that flag in the boy's hand. He put it there just after sunrise on Saturday morning when there wasn't much traffic. He also drove by there later Saturday, Sunday and Monday to check on it. It's still flying on Memorial Day. (Disclaimer: No sculps or flowers were harmed in the placement of the flag.)

The Windmill on 87th Street

2010-05-28T21:13:00.003-05:00

My First Wife and I use 87th Street a lot. More than just about any street in the entire Heart of America. Sometimes we pass things so often that we don't really see them. Know what I mean? Remember that cool house on the Prairie? It's on 87th Street.

This windmill is only a few blocks on down the street. I wonder how many times we've driven passed it without ever seeing it? Well, if I hadn't been walking, maybe I'd never have taken this picture. I like it.

Well, shoot. I'm surprised how many 87th Street pictures I've taken. So I started a new folder today. I gotta get it organized, but later this year, I'll publish the photos from it. Whatcha think?

And have you been to My Hats Blog lately? You should stop by.

How Great Thou Art...

2010-05-25T19:24:00.000-05:00

I walked a long way in a quiet and beautiful area of the Heart of America last Saturday. It was a bright, windy day; the first hot day of this year (Really!) and I sunburned my arms really bright.

I will gladly accept the sunburn for the natural eye candy I enjoyed that day. (It was the morning Cleta died, so I felt especially sensitive to what the Lord has made.) I took too many photos to post, but I selected a few to share here.

Despite everything you’ve heard, The Heart of America is not completely flat.

This is a Prairie Swallow standing watch over his homestead while his wife is inside watching over their eggs. His head and shoulders are iridescent and glow, glow, glow in the sunlight. You shoulda been there. (Click the photo to see his beautiful headdress.)

There was a shy barn, peeking around some trees to see what I was doing. Notice the tree; see how the wind was blowing.

And then I happened upon this Thorny Locus Tree. They grow quite prolifically here in The Heart of America. Not in people’s yards too much cuz little kids will hurt themselves really, really badly. Their parents, too. (Click the photo(s) to enlargenate and get a good look at the thorns.) These are fierce and dangerous trees—hardy, too—that you don’t wanna mess with. They're called "Thorny" for a reason: those thorns are as hard 'n' tough as a 16-penny nail. Roman soldiers used something like these branches to fashion a crown of thorns for King Jesus. They jammed it down into his scalp and into his tender temples, barely missing his eyes—and then laughed at him half the night.

When through the woods, and forest glades I wander,

And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.

When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur

And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze.

Then sings my soul, My Savior God, to Thee,

How great Thou art, How great Thou art.

Then sings my soul, My Savior God, to Thee,

How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

And when I think, that God, His Son not sparing;

Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in;

That on the Cross, my burden gladly bearing,

He bled and died to take away my sin.

Then sings my soul, My Savior God, to Thee,

How great Thou art, How great Thou art.

Then sings my soul, My Savior God, to Thee,

How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

She Was Only 92 Years Old

2010-05-22T13:45:00.001-05:00

On Thursday, one of My First Wife's Best Friends went to the hospital for tests. Doctor's orders. While she was there in the hospital, she fell and hit her head against something.

Brain damage. Coma. Some time after 10:00 p.m. Friday night, she quietly passed away.

She was only 92 years old and almost five feet tall. She never needed glasses; she lived alone--well, with her cat--cooked her own meals, bathed herself, kept a little garden. She had a walker, but didn't use it. She lost most of her teeth in some kind of an accident several years ago. She beat breast cancer and skin cancer and a horrible cat scratch that cost her a complete blood transfusion. "So what?" she often said.

She was a giver and a helper. Remember the bad earthquake in Haiti? One afternoon after that she worked right alongside everyone else filling bags of food to send to the victims. That was typical of her. We took her to church every Sunday, and every Sunday she thanked us like we had performed the most wonderful favor ever. I baked cakes for her. She liked Lemon cake and occasionally gave me a box of mix. We took her to the doctor(s) and to shopping and out to eat. What a treat it was! We were not the only ones. She left us all with only happy, happy memories. We'll get together with her again.

One day at our church late last summer, while she was still only 91.

Same day. Our pastor's wife. Miss Cleta. My First Wife.

Another special day: about 35 people came to a birthday dinner for her.

She enjoyed sitting with me at the computer and letting me show her my photos.

She always liked this one best. I gave it to her in a frame.

Red, Green and Violet

2010-05-18T14:29:00.003-05:00

Continuing our study of red and green photos (see post below); I took all these (and more) today on the first pleasant early morning this May. Walking, naturally.

It looked so sparkling in the 9:00 sun, what with a fresh grass trim and a good rainstorm to wash off the target. I really like all the lines in this photo.

This benches photo is going into my "Benches Folder." I have several in that folder now and I'm gonna post them all one of these days. I keep procrastinating... But would anyone care to name this photo?

And then there are two little Kansas wildflowers looking for some friends.

And oh, by the way: one of the best Hat photos ever is now on My Hats Blog. Please visit.

Breaking News: Mrs. Rose...

2010-05-14T19:24:00.003-05:00

Mrs. Rose and Buddy managed to slip away from their trellis. However, the paparazzi found them just before sundown, hiding among the mint.

Jake Ran, Darby Ran and Meghan Finished

2010-05-08T16:15:00.003-05:00

I told you I’d post pictures of our grandkids flashing down the track. Here they are! Last Saturday, May 1.

Here's Darby, just about to finish her lap of a relay. See anybody near her? She fast and determined when she's on the track. Her team won that race and a few others besides. In fact, one team dropped out of the competition because its coach knew there was no way to beat Darby’s third-grade team.

It’s the first time we’ve ever seen Jake race. He's a fifth-grader. He took the lead here and finished first in the 200 meter dash. He loves to run and it shows.

Wow! He ran the fastest lap of a 1600 meter relay. In 67 seconds! Flash! His team finished half a lap ahead of the second place runners, who were sixth-graders. (Pound your chest! Pound your chest!) That boy can run, I tell you. That's one of his coaches on the side cheering him on. We were, too!

We couldn’t make it to Georgia to watch Meghan graduate from college, but we watched on streaming video. Trouble with that is, you only get to see her for a couple of seconds. But she graduated from Georgia Southern this morning (Saturday) and our whole family is as proud as you can be. She looked so proud and beautiful in her cap and gown. Rightly so!

There is a delightful new picture on My Hats Blogs (two pretty girls). Check it out.

Oh, by the way, those pictures in the previous post were taken in Emporia, Kansas (coffee stop) and at an I-40 rest area in the Texas panhandle (decoffee stop).

Please Read Carefully

2010-05-04T16:59:00.002-05:00

My First Wife and I took off on a long weekend; on a long weekend trip to see The World's Fastest Grandkids! My goodness, our grandkids can run! More photos to follow.

But along the way we came across two interesting signs. Thought you'd like 'em, too. (Specially Rachel.)

Can you guess where we were?

Oh wait, before you guess, please visit My Hats Blog. What a great hat!

Adventures with Muscle Spasms

2010-04-28T09:41:00.001-05:00

I took a walk in the mall this morning. Good thing, too, because there is a little walk-in health clinic for simple problems like pinched fingers and so forth. They also give free flu shots, if you want to stop by.

Well, as I was walking, suddenly there was an awful and unusual muscle spasm in my back side. I wasn’t but a few steps from the clinic, so I dashed in and told ‘em what was wrong. Wouldn’t you know it, the spasm stopped about then, too. But they said they wanted to examine me real quick anyway.

Turned out that there was a cell phone in my hip pocket. It was set on Vibrate.

It cost me $65.00 for them to pull my pants down and laugh at me.

How to Live Happily Ever After, Part...oh, 101

2010-04-25T05:20:00.003-05:00

I'm serious, kids. Attend Grandparent's Day at your grandkids' school. They give you cookies and juice; they show off their classroom. There's a music show in the all-purpose room, art in all the hallways; and a free tour of the library. Does life get any better? Well, okay. A souvenir picture, too.

Big House on the Prairie

2010-04-13T20:00:00.005-05:00

You don't come across scenes like this very often anymore. Especially, right in the middle of The Big City. I was out walking Tuesday morning and when I came upon this colorful homestead I stopped in my tracks. For a few moments I felt like I was in a special place. I gingerly stepped into the yard and stayed long enough to take 38 photos.

Please enjoy this little tribute to the Great American Prairies.

You can clicken the pics to enlargenate.

The Big House on the Prairie, Lenexa, Kansas.
Note the hay rake just left of center.
And there's a wishing well in the shade (right side).

Don't you wish you had a colorful front yard like this one ?

It's a big colorful front yard, too!

It goes all over the place!

I got down on my stomach among the dandelions for this shot.

My First Wife likes this view best.

"Oh, look. You have all those green colors. And that soft blue. And that Redbud tree...oh, and that little rock wall. I like that very much. So many colors. And, you know, when artists paint pictures, they always put a road in it like this. I love this picture, Hunny."

Please keep scrolling to see all the pretty orange tulips in yesterday's post.

Distractions at the Bookstore

2010-04-12T21:12:00.000-05:00

I went to the Big Bookstore today. One of the delightful things about bookstores is that you can get distracted so easily. Even before you go in.

I guess orange is still a "hot" color this year.

Spring—Finally!

2010-04-11T21:24:00.002-05:00

The other day after lunch, Spring finally showed up here in the Heart of America. My First Wife and I were out in a neighborhood where we spied dozens (!) of dogwood trees. You shoulda been there. I only had time for a few photos. So enjoy.

Dogwood blossoms up close.

Dogwood across the street

Dogwood with Yellow Tulips.

Pear Trees, too. They're everywhere!

Ding-a-Ling

2010-04-06T15:38:00.000-05:00

Ding-a-ling! Ding-a-ling!

'Lo.

"Hi, Paul. This is Suzie Q. Is Your First Wife Home?"

No.

"Do you know where she is?"

She went to get her hair all purtied up.

"Oh, I saw her this morning and told her she didn't need to go get it all purtied up. I thought it looked real nice."

Me, too, but you know...

"Oh yes. Y'know, I always said God shoulda made us all bald. That way we'd never have to fool with it. And we'd never know the difference."

Sounds reasonable.

"Well, tell Your Purtied Up First Wife to give me a call, will ya?"

Okay.

Does Your Title Sell Your Book?

2010-03-31T12:17:00.000-05:00

Hey! You wanna write from the hip? Try this.

At a recent writers’ club meeting, Our Fearless Leader issued a challenge during the writing exercise time. Does your title sell your book? Will shoppers pick up your book because the title intrigues them? I thought it might be fun to toss this out to you all and see what comes back. Try it. From the hip.

Write three catchy titles, each using one of the words below.

Supper / Where / Remove

Rules: Please keep them clean. This is a family-friendly blog, you know.

Your title is all we want here. Don’t explain or give a synopsis of your book.
You may not use all three words in one title.
No length limit.
Words may be placed anywhere in the title.
You may add “s,” “ed,” “er,” “ing” and so forth to a word(s).

Examples (weak ones):

The Sly Supper
Singing Where No Man Has Sung Before
Body Removal for Dummies; a Gangster’s Resource for the Rest of Us

Hint: You have an advantage. We only had five minutes to create our titles. Please join the fun. Hurry back with your inspiration.

Oh, wait. Click My Hats Blog and take a look at the latest post. She's real cute...

My Favorite Cuban Redhead

2010-03-29T17:00:00.004-05:00

Today I mailed something to Ily. She’s my favorite Cuban redhead who helped me with Español in the book I wrote. I like Ily for three reasons.

First, she knows how to draw so that's an automatic “Oh, I like you.”
Second, she’s a great blogger who I'd really like to meet.
Third, she conceived an excellent art project for ten of us bloggers. Bless 'er heart! The project is called 10 in '10 (with several variations).

It goes like this: ten of us (including her) signed up to participate. Then we all bought a sketchbook and arted on the first page (or two). Today, we each mailed our book to an artist in the group. In a few days I’ll receive a book from someone in the group. I’ll art something on the next blank page (or two) of that sketchbook and mail it on. Everybody will be doing the same thing at the same time until we've placed some personal art in each book. Theoretically, we’ll have 10 (or so) pages of exceptional art when our personal book returns to us. Then we’ll have a coffee table book.

You didn’t know I was an artist, didja? But it was all I could do to keep from photographing my book and posting it. Well, I’m gonna do you a favor when I get mine back: I’ll photo all the pages at once and post them then. Whatcha think?

Better yet. When I get Ily’s book (I think it will be my last one), maybe My First Wife and I can take a trip to her house and present her book in person.

And fourth, she serves red wine. It'll be worth the trip.

Important Note Department: We should be all finished in October. Hang on; stay tuned.

Baby Taxi Service

2010-03-23T08:09:00.003-05:00

Isn’t this an idyllic scene? A Sunday afternoon picnic in the park (one of Our County’s most attractive parks, by the way). Taken last summer. Clicken the photos to biggenate.

“Where'd he go? I’ve got a baby taxi here. Baby Taxi?”

“Hey, sir! Need a Baby Taxi?"

"Come on, Dude. I'm just trying to make a buck here."

Say, why don't you hurry on over to My Hats Blog for the latest photo. That's fun, too.

Forget Spring—Let's Start Summer Now!

2010-03-20T06:16:00.002-05:00

UPDATE: Sunday, second day of spring 2010. 6:00 a.m. Snow is 8" deep and still falling. Strong wind about 20 mph. Temp is 32; wind chill is 20. I wanna go home!

* * *

It's the first day of spring and it's snowing here in the Heart of America. There is an easy two inches of snow piled up. And according to our crack team of weather casters, it's gonna snow till Sunday evening. Six to eight inches! Yikes! Is that suppose to happen on the first day of spring?

Well in the meantime, I'm trying to write a book about local parks and walking trails. I'm in the "reviewing photos stage" and have found many I'd like to include in the book, but can't. So I'm going to post them here for a little while.

Do you like these geese? I photoed them on a warm autumn afternoon a couple of years ago. I love a quality water photo, too. Speaking of warmth, you can warm up over at My Hats Blog, too.

Two Irish Women

2010-03-15T07:46:00.001-05:00

Two women sat next to each other at a bar. After a while one looked at the other and said, “I can’t help but think, from listening to your accent, that you’re from Ireland. Would that be true, ma’am?”

The other woman responded proudly, “Why yes. I sure am!”

The first lady said, “So am I! And where abouts in Ireland are ya from?”

The other woman answered, “I’m from St. John’s, I am.”

The first one responded, “So am I! And what street did you live on?”

The other woman said dreamily, “A lovely little area. I lived on Warbury Street in the old central part of town.”

The first one said, “My Faith! and it’s a small world. So did I! So did I! And what school did ya go to, if ya don't mind me askin'?”

The other woman answered, “Well now, I went to Holy Heart of Mary, of course.”

The first one got really excited and said, “And so did I! Tell me, what year did you graduate?”

The other woman answered, “I graduated in 1964, I did. With honors.”

The first woman exclaimed, “Oh, St. Patrick is prayin' for us and the Good Lord is smiling down upon us! I can hardly believe our good luck at winding up in this same pub tonight! Can you believe it? I graduated from Holy Heart of Mary in 1964 meself! And with honors, too!”

About then, Michael walked into the bar, sat down and ordered a pint of beer.

Brian, the bartender, hurried over and whispered to Michael, “Good ta see ya, Mike. Here’s your pint. I’m afraid it’ll be another long night tonight.”

Michael asked, “Why do you say that, Brian?”

“It's them O’Malley twins. They’re drunk again!”

Fourth Time is the Charm

2010-03-12T07:53:00.001-06:00

Thursday afternoon My First Wife and I attended a funeral of a pretty good buddy from our church. The place was packed; all seats taken and extra chairs brought in.

After that we hurried to another state to participate in Grandparent’s Day at our grandkids’ elementary school. The featured entertainment was in the “all-purpose” room where the music students outdid themselves. The room was packed; SRO.

At both places we heard this four times. Pointing to a chair: “Is anyone sitting here?”

After the fourth time, I stood up, stared hard at the chair and said, “I don’t see anyone.”

Bonus: At church when someone asks, “Is this seat saved?” we often answer, “No, but it’s under conviction.”

Wonderland (The Movie)

2010-03-07T06:40:00.005-06:00

Run, don't walk, over to My Hats Blog for a new post that is directly related to this one.

I don't do movie reviews cuz I don't go to all that many movies. So forgive this amateurish attempt at a critique. My oldest grandson took me to a Saturday afternoon matinee and he declared that it is "Awesome!" And I will add, "Gather up your family and go see Alice in Wonderland."

It will be nominated for some Academy Awards (next year). Costumes are creative; I liked the Red Queen's lipstick (of all things). My grandson was impressed with the cinematography. We couldn't watch the 3-D version because the show time was not convenient. But the "plain vanilla" version is very good, too.

After Alice arrives in Wonderland, it's a busy, busy movie. Lot's of fun and chaos almost non-stop. Lots of weird (but kid-friendly) characters and animals. There are some battle scenes that fall flat. The colors of Wonderland seem dark to me, but they're not spooky. There's plenty of humor, but most of it is subtle.

But The Mad Hatter dances. Yessir! Oh, does he dance! I like his hat! Johnny Depp stars as the Mad Hatter. What a great job! I was particularly impressed with the lines he delivered. High-speed verbosity. The Hatter is a mad man, remember, and his vocabulary and grammar rarely make sense but he always gets his point across. Johnny Depp pulls it off so skillfully and artfully that it's easy to give him your undivided attention. Alice in Wonderland is not about Alice; it's about the Mad Hatter. He entertains us well.

Mia Wasikowska plays Alice. I don't know this actress, but this Alice is a role that just about any young woman can play. This version of Alice in Wonderland is not about Alice; it's about the Mad Hatter.

I'd like to see it again, just to keep up with The Mad Hatter's dialog. I probably won't, so why don't you go for me. Enjoy.

I'm gonna give it three and a half outta five stars. Despite that highly average rating, go see it because it's family-friendlier than it looks. You can thank me later.

Fun, Fun, Fun with Pain

2010-03-05T17:17:00.004-06:00

A friend chased me down at church the other day and asked if I could help him move a little TV stand from one lady’s house to another’s. “Shouldn’t take long,” he said.

“Sure,” I dutifully agreed.

So yesterday, off we went to get it. The little TV stand was actually a well-built, solid walnut entertainment center. Uh, well…it was taller than either of us. We removed a couple of shelves and wiped the dust off the top to get rid of as much weight as possible.

“This might be a three-man job,” my friend said quietly.

“You should have brought a dolly or something,” the lady told us. “Don’t you have a hand-truck or something?”

We lifted it a few inches off the carpet and managed to get it to the hallway leading outside. After that, we were going to figure out how to wiggle it around two sets of hall stairs.

“Wait. My son has a skateboard. He won’t be using it today. Too much snow and stuff. And go out the back door. No steps.” That was nice.

Bleeve it or not, that skate board worked a wonder. We only had to push the entertainment center down a narrow 200-foot sidewalk, across a decorative footbridge and down five steps. (The sidewalk is a textbook example of bad concrete work.) We pushed, twisted, lifted and wiggled our way over wide cracks, across small patches of ice and uneven sections. All the while balancing that piece of furniture on that little skateboard. The lady was alongside encouraging us with "...when the other guys first brought it in here they didn't this much trouble." We made it to the end, though. Eventually.

And as I lifted —oof!—my end to get the thing into the pickup, I noticed a little discomfort in my lower back. But pretty soon, I forgot about it.

It was real easy getting it off and into the second lady’s home. Well, except for dragging it across the carpet. Oof! Old skateboards aren’t built for old shag carpets.

I woke up this morning and noticed an unusual pain in both shoulders. But my back felt okay. So I went for my daily walk.

When I got back, My First Wife cheerfully suggested, “Hunny, can we shampoo the carpet this morning.” I dutifully brought the shampooer up from the basement. Oof! Oh! Ow!

“I wonder what she means by 'we'."

Suddenly that little discomfort in my back kicked in. And kick is the right word, too. Oh, did I mention that my sore shoulders were suddenly asking for some attention?

Hey listen! If you ever hear me agree to move furniture and then shampoo the carpet, will you drag me outta the house as fast as you can and toss me onto the busiest freeway you can find?

Thank you. I feel better already.

Here We Go Again

2010-03-02T15:59:00.000-06:00

Okay, here we go again...with the answers to the two questions on my previous post. If you haven't read that yet, you probably should. All you have to do is scroll down, read the post, leave an exhilarating comment and then pop back here. Ta-da! We'll wait.

So then, the answer to Number 6 is...may I have the envelope, please?...

We have four grandchildren who live in Atlanta (area) Georgia; three who live in Lee's Summit, Missouri and two who live in Amarillo, Texas. All nine live in our hearts.

The answer to the Final Jeopardy question Number 7 is (What movie first featured rock 'n' roll music?)...a drum roll please...

Blackboard Jungle, starring Sidney Portier, Glenn Ford, Ann Francis and Vic Morrow and a whole classroom full of others. My son's answer on Jeopardy was "The Concrete Jungle." I yelled it out to him from the living room, but...alas. He said he really enjoyed that experience.

Aren't you glad you know me?

Here We Go

2010-02-28T06:52:00.003-06:00

I don’t usually do these kinda things, but because she didn’t know my rules I’m gonna go ahead and participate. This is my only meme for 2009-2010. La Fraulein Senorita de San Francisco y Barcelona (how’s that for a title?) is looking for seven things folks don’t know about me. I like her blog, which is earthy and honest; sometimes silly, always frank and really entertaining. She jumps out of airplanes. She’s on my bucket list of people I’d like to meet.

Well, I betcha didn’t know these things about me. Don’t feel bad, I just found out about them myself.

My First Wife and I really, really enjoy Middle Eastern and Persian restaurants. Varied food there, and lamb is cooked/served in a great number of delicious ways. Soups are outta this world! Wanna join us next time?
When I was in the restaurant business I once served David Pogue and his wife. In fact, I gladly paid for their meals. He wrote one of the first (and still the best-selling) “…Dummies” books, Mac for Dummies. He autographed my copy. My First Wife came down to the restaurant to meet him, too. After their meal, we gave them a ride back to their hotel and visited there for a couple of more hours. What a night.
I almost always take a Sunday afternoon nap. I always have. Our whole family always has. You cannot be a Nichols if you don’t. Exception: My First Wife has rarely taken a Sunday afternoon nap.
Friday night, My First Wife and I had a date night. We went in my pickup. First we went to Lowe’s to look at shelving and toilet seats and stuff like that. Then we stopped by the Quik Trip for coffee to go. I held the door for her.
During our marriage, My First Wife and I have moved around the country several times. Therefore, we have been church members in several different Protestant denominations. Our favorite denomination? The Four-Square Gospel.
My First Wife and I have lived in seven states: Georgia, Arizona, Oregon, Washington, Texas, Missouri, Kansas. Not necessarily in that order. Oh, our kids were with us in most of those states.We currently have grandkids in three of those states. Care to guess which ones?
About five years ago our son was a contestant on Jeopardy. Did you get a chance to see him? He finished second in a close and exciting contest. Did you notice how handsome he is? The question that stumped everybody? "This movie was the first to feature rock 'n' roll music." Stay tuned...

As Far as the East is from the West

2010-02-20T07:12:00.002-06:00

Our pastor is quite the learned man and in one exciting sermon he learned us some pretty interesting stuff. I liked it enough to keep thinking about it still some months later.

The basic premise is this: In the old ancient eastern thought methods (Hebraic), a subject and a verb was good enough. But then along came the Greek and Roman (western) thought methods and everything—and I mean everything—got defined.

So that is why the Holy Scripture was written down on scrolls without paragraphs, chapters and verse numbers. It gives us the facts, ma’am, just the facts. Each writing (book) was written on its own scroll. And that is also why the Holy Scripture begins like this: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” That was plenty good enough for the thought and understanding of the early people of the Hebrew nation.

Well then, not too many centuries later, western thought developed (Greco/Roman) and everything got organized. Line by line. Jots and tittles. Numbers and punctuation. Text and subtext. Research and theory. Scores and positions. A place for everything and everything in its place.

And so the western guy shouts incredulously, “He created the heavens and the earth in one day? That’s impossible! You can’t do anything in just one day! Come here, let’s break this down! Lemme show you something.” [And much later] “…and so there you have it: it only took 200 billion years—give or take. See how simple that is, man? It’s called evolution.”

And the eastern guy shrugs and says, “That’s not what it says here, man. It says ‘…and God saw that it was good.’ ”

So it’s no wonder that western children are transfused with information, grades and degrees; competition and games, winners and losers, possessions and bigger possessions, speed and finish lines, charts and maps, statistics and trophies, chapters and verses, dictionaries and thesauruses, Honey-Do lists and 12-Step programs and Nielsen Ratings and Baby Beauty Pageants and Guinness record books and Super Bowls.* The fastest, the prettiest, the biggest, the smartest, the highest—and whoever dies with the most toys wins.

I think our pastor's sermon has given me pause to slow down with my thoughts; to anchor things/relationships that will stand long after I leave, to consider more patiently, to look at the big picture first, to let go of unimportant things, to live with integrity, to enjoy the wonder of it all. Or am I just getting older?

In the Holy Scripture written after Jesus, there is a place that tells us God will greet some of us with “Well, done, my good and faithful servant.” Wouldn't it be nice if He also says, “…and God saw that it was good.”

*(Baseball and The World Series are exempt because “In the big inning, God...")

Adventures at the Mall Today

2010-02-17T11:30:00.002-06:00

I was huffing and puffing through the mall this morning. I do that when I can; two to three miles worth. Not outside because it's really cold all the time. I can hardly wait till we have a Spring Wonderland around here. Oops, I digress.

I passed by two young women chatting.

Thin Young Woman: "...and what's with those buckles? They're, like, metal! Whatever happened to plastic?"

Not Thin Young Woman: "Are you serious?"

* * * * * * *

Visit My Hats Blog when you can. It's colorful this time.

Our Favorite Nun

2010-02-08T14:42:00.000-06:00

Continuing with my celebration of blogging forever, here's another favorite story I wrote way back when. (We're still trying to get our grandson's video prepared for YouTube. It's currently "locked.")

Last year on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, My First Wife and I went to The Big City to share food with homeless people. On that day, a "perfect day for football," we spent the entire time at a city park. It was a happy afternoon. I think the warmth, the sunshine and the approaching holiday spirit had a lot to do with that. I remember serving a lot of children that day. As soon as they ate they ran to the playground equipment.

Otherwise, there was nothing unusual about the day. Well, except for that Catholic nun.

She showed up in the middle of the afternoon and stood under a wide tree not far from the street. All of us in the van noticed that a handful of people ambled over to her. A short line formed. She spoke to one person at a time. We were curious and asked a couple of men about her. "Her? That’s Nun. She gives you a prayer, if you want one," one of them told us.

"That," I told them, "is a splendid idea—and a brave one!"

I pointed her out to Chancie, and soon we walked over to meet her. I’d say she was about thirty. She was praying with a mother and her three restless kids. Some other folks were in line ahead of us. So we waited. Chancie pointed out that her skin is the color of a Styrofoam cup. Oh my, was she white! But to make up for that she had twinkling eyes and an easy, golden smile. Even while she prayed she flashed that smile. It had to be a comfort to those she prayed for.

Finally, we stood with her and explained why we were at the park. She smiled with interest at our every sentence. Then she told us, "One day I just felt like our Lord asked me to pray for these people—every day. At first I prayed in my room, but then I decided to come here and mingle. I like this much better. If someone wants me to pray for them, then I do." And she smiled. "The personal touch, you know."

"Well, bless your heart, honey," Chancie blessed. "And how long have you been doing this?"

"Oh, I guess a few months or so. But who's counting?" she asked with another smile and a little chuckle. "It's only a small ministry for our Lord."

"And for these people," Chancie told her emphatically. "They need you and they already care about you. I can tell."

Well, it so happens that she has faithfully walked to that tree every afternoon for a year and a half now. She walks there to stand there and pray for anyone who asks. Only the most bitter weather has kept her away. The police know her and watch over her. The homeless respect her and watch over her. Other service groups (like ours) tip their hat to her and watch over her. After a couple of hours of praying for street people, she walks back to her convent. Angels watch over her.

Now whenever we go to the park, we always look for her. Sometimes we run over and pray with her and get a smile. We've become great friends even though we don't get to see each other that often.

Some months after our first meeting, Chancie finally worked up the nerve to ask her her name. "Well, these precious people have given me a street name that I prefer."

"Oh, that's neat," Chancie said. "What is it?"

Her head lilted to one side and with a shy smile she said, "Nun of the Above."

Bait and Switch Department

2010-02-02T06:11:00.000-06:00

I've had a couple of complaints from fine friends who are drumming their fingers and eagerly waiting for our grandson’s video. Hey, I don't blame you, I’m waiting, too. Something beyond my control has happened, but I promise to thrill you just as soon as I can.

In the meantime, I’ve eagerly awaited February because I began blogging in Feb ’04. So this month is a blogaversary for me. My first blog site resulted in one of the most entertaining books of the decade, Just Seven Blocks from the Mexican Border, by Paul Nichols (me). When I was pretty much done with that, I opened "Writing from the Hip." To recognize six years of personal blogging, I’m going to post a few early posts for a week or so, or until our grandson’s video gets here.

The first post is the first post ever on this site, and still one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy. And please stay tuned.

Delightful Things That Don't Make a Bit of Sense (December 04)

In alphabetical order...

Baked Alaska.

Blogs. Web logs. Web journals.

Chops sticks. How on earth do little Chinese children learn to use chop sticks? And why? They eat tiny grains of rice and bamboo shoots the size of needles. Oh, by the way: if you don’t want to destroy a bamboo forest by eating with those kind of chop sticks, you can get some nice ivory ones at most fine gift shops.

Chocolate! In Spanish it's pronounced ¡chocolate!

Christmas Eve. It's always the holiest night of the year. We celebrate Jesus' birthday that night, even though he was born Christmas night—24 hours later. How does that work? And did you ever wonder what Jesus got for his other birthdays?

Fast Cars. Yee-Haw!

Getting Even. I know the nastiest responses. I can conjure up the cruelest curses. I can offend you in front of your family. I can publicly embarrass you. My sharp, creative retorts will leave you stiff as week-old pasta. It never fails: about ten minutes after we leave each other, it will all come to me.

Hugging someone outside your normal circle of friends and family.

Jack Lynch’s Guide to Grammar and Style. This place does make sense. Every writer and reader on the planet should bookmark his page. He’s entertaining, too. This is probably my favorite Web site. (Don't roll your eyes...)

Memory. Oh, the things we remember. Oh, the things we don’t remember. Oh, the things we can’t remember.

Rainbows. We can only see a rainbow from this side of it.

Spinning Hubcaps. These things are flat-out pure fun to watch!

Teenagers.

Wedding Receptions. Those really expensive kind with open bars, dance bands and full-blown meals at the swankiest joint in town. Oh, and if they serve Baked Alaska for dessert...

American Salaries Department

2010-01-23T12:01:00.000-06:00

It's my understanding that the average school teacher salary in the US is $40,000 (+ or -). Then there is TV personality Conan O'Brien who was just given 1,000 times! that much just to sit down and shut up (pronounced Forty Million Dollars, + or -).

There's a lesson in there somewhere, but I don't think it's a good one.

Adventures in a Big Talent Contest

2010-01-17T06:59:00.002-06:00

My First Wife and I went to hear our grandson sing in the Heart of America Talent Contest yesterday afternoon. In about a week, we'll post a video of his performance. We are proud grandparents!

Thirty-eight kids competed in three divisions: Under 12; 13 Thru College; and an "Open" division for more advanced voice students regardless of age. Mike competed in the Open division.

Lemme tell you, there are some really talented vocalists here in the Heart of America. The cutest little seven-year-old in a pink dress won the Under 12 bracket. When I had an opportunity to congratulate her, she yelled at me, "They gave me a hundred dollar bill!" She got a trophy, too. She was cute as all get out.

Eighteen spectacular students sang in the Open division, including our Mike. I'm sure they dizzied the judges! Those kids were good—as in outstanding! It was a world-class concert!

Our grandson, still only 15-years-old, sang "Cry Me a River," rocked the house and took home second place! Mike is aptly named: Mike, and he knows what to do with one. We are proud grandparents! He won a cool trophy and $150 gift certificate from the Guitar Center. Pretty good, huh?

The first place winner is a 22-year-old college student with a well-developed voice who wrote his own song. (We don't agree with the judges, but the young man was good.) He got a trophy, too, whole lotta other stuff and gets to sing two nights at Mickey Gilley's place in Branson, Missouri.

It was a great afternoon and, once again, we got to be proud of a buncha kids. You shoulda been there.

Remember, hurry back! We're gonna post Mike's video as soon as we get it from the producer.

“What the…?” Department

2010-01-08T19:59:00.003-06:00

This little post is inspired by a great blogger and by my pastor. They’re both kinda weird...in a fun sort of way.

There are two sets of words that drive me nuts. One is “What if…” and the other is “Yeah, but…”

“What if…” sets up all kinds of scenarios that will never come to pass, nor have they ever. Yet, we will fight and argue tooth and nail to be King of the Hill when someone asks that ever-present hypothetical question, “What if …?”

Example: “What if God had not given us a free will; the ability to make choices, right or wrong?”

Then there’s “Yeah, but…” Guilty people use this a lot. A lot! I know I sure did.

Example: “I gave you two weeks to clean up the back yard, young man, and it's worse than when you started!

“Yeah, but Mom said I had to practice the piano before I did anything else.”

I promise you: “Yeah, but…” won’t get you anything less than a big butt chewin’.

Now about that “What if…” Our pastor is beginning a series of seven sermons that begin with the phrase, “What if…” What’s he trying to do to me? Does he want me to argue with him? Does he want me to change my ways? What if he knows something about me? Oh, oh, oh, oh…!

What if People Mattered More Than Possessions?
What if Everyone Served Selflessly?
What if Everyone Tithed?
What if Everyone Were Totally Surrendered to Christ?
What if You Meant What You Said?
What if Today Were the Last Day of Your Life?

Then April posted some exceptional New Years “What if’s…” and I encourage you to take a look. Great stuff that makes you think. Between her and our pastor what if we all get real humble and perfect?

“Yeah, but what if I don’t live in Kansas?”

Oh, by the way, what if you visit My Hats Blog to see the first two pictures of the year? You won't be sorry.

Department of Great Discoveries

2010-01-04T10:42:00.002-06:00

Today (Jan 4) is Isaac Newton’s birthday—again. He’s the thinker who was thinking under an apple tree when suddenly one of the apples got loose and conked him on the head. “I see the light!” he said, “Let me write that down!” So he was the first person to write down “gravity.” And we gave him credit for "discovering" it. Happy Birthday, Isaac.

Well, there are other discoveries that are greater than gravity—in my humble opinion.

Baseball
Chocolate
The Undo Button (Ctrl-Z)
Sippy Cups for little tykes
Music…followed closely by iPods
Pizza and German Chocolate Cake (tie)
Hot 'n' Cold running water
WD-40 and Duct Tape (tie)
When’s the last time you cleaned a cotton diaper in the toilet?
My Other Blog: People Who Wear Hats Go there now .

Now, if someone will just discover a "Do-Over Button" for elections.

Adventures with New Year Resolutions (10 in ‘10)

2009-12-27T17:01:00.000-06:00

I’m getting a head start on New Year’s stress. Without waiting till January, I’m posting some New Year Resolutions.

These 10 items were on my December 11th Daily Devotion. They’re not original with me, but I was impressed. I want them to help me through the whole year, not just the first weekend. Wanna join me?

Give something away; no strings attached.
Do a kindness; then forget about it.
Look intently into the face of a baby—and marvel.
Spend time with an aged person—experience priceless experience.
Laugh often. It’s life’s lubricant.
Give thanks. A hundred times a day is a good start.
Pray, or you will lose the way.
Work with vim and vigor.
Plan as though you will live forever (because you will).
Live as though you will die tomorrow; because you will die on some tomorrow.

Happy New Year to all my blogging friends.

Happy is he who has the God of Jacob for his help.—Psalm 146:5

Half the Fun of Christmas

2009-12-22T17:15:00.005-06:00

A Christmas Gift to you from page 242 in my highly entertaining memoir, Just Seven Blocks from the Mexican Border.

Half the Fun of Christmas

by Paul Nichols

We opened gifts on Christmas Eve because Mom spent Christmas morning preparing world class Christmas dinners. Only once do I remember opening on Christmas morning and that was because Dad worked the swing shift the night before.

We always bought our Christmas trees because there are no Christmas tree farms in the desert. We went down to a vacant lot on G Avenue and picked one out. While Dad was setting it up, Neal or Noel went out to the shed and dragged in a wide box of ornaments. Ruth and I added popcorn chains and colorful paper chains that we made at school. The tree wasn’t officially decorated until we put the angel on top. Noel was always the one who got to do that.

At school, all the students decorated the walls and windows with paper snowflakes and other typical childhood Christmas art. We always had two full weeks of Christmas vacation from school. At church, on the Sunday evening before Christmas, all the children sang in the Christmas pageant. All the little boys put on their father’s bath robes and called themselves shepherds and wise men. All the little girls wrapped themselves in old bed sheets and called themselves angels. Whoever had the biggest doll donated it so the cardboard box manger could have a Baby Jesus. Afterward, all the kids got a long net stocking with candy and an orange. There was always an orange at the bottom. The first year those stockings were distributed I was seven or eight years old. I was surprised to see them and politely said, “No, thank you” when one was offered to me. I declined because I wasn’t sure if Dad would pay for it. But when I saw the other kids—including Ruth—getting a free stocking full of candy I changed my mind.

Back home, we looked forward to parcel post packages. Traditionally, Aunt Crosie always sent a box of homemade divinity with walnuts and little bags of her glass candy. She always included a couple of towels that she had stencil-painted. Some years she included pink and green popcorn balls, which she also made. Grandmother sent a package of exciting things like colorful argyle socks.

Half the fun of Christmas is shaking a present to figure out what it is. The other half is counting how many presents you have under the tree—and your little sister better not have more than you!

Another half is laying on the floor close to the tree and watching the lights twinkle. We had strings of bubble lights that intrigued me to no end. On a cold December evening, I dreamt under those lights all night long.

Speaking of dreaming on the floor, half the fun of Christmas is flopping on the floor with the Sears and Roebuck and Montgomery Ward winter catalogs and drooling over page after page of Christmas toys. Sometimes Ruth and I both lay there, propped up on our elbows, telling each other how much we wanted that and that and that and, well, everything on the page. She always loitered over the dolls and strollers, make-up kits and authentic ballerina costumes. I wanted to hurry on to the fire trucks and electric trains and toy soldiers. I dreamed for an electric train more than anything else.

The best half of Christmas is being sent into the back bedroom with Ruth to anxiously wait for Noel to ring the doorbell and holler, “Ho. Ho. Ho.”

“Well, who is this?” Mom feigned every Christmas Eve at seven o’clock. “Paul! And Ruth! Come quickly! Look who’s here!” No matter how fast we ran to the living room, there was never anyone there. Just Mom, Dad, Neal and Noel. We never looked for anyone, anyway. We headed straight for the tree. “Oh, you just missed him,” Noel always teased with a grin. Ruth and I were never taught about Santa Claus. We learned about him from pictures and rumors at school. (My brother Neal once confessed, “…when I still believed in Santa.”)

The Nichols were not well-to-do folks. The kids usually got a special toy or game for Christmas and several things we “needed”—shirts and belts and underwear and still more socks.

Dad always got a shirt and a tie and a new Crescent wrench. Mom always got towels and aprons. Dad was usually romantic enough to give her something modern with an electrical cord dangling from it. Her first electric toaster was a fantastic addition to our kitchen. That Christmas Eve we must have toasted two loaves of bread. Two slices of bread toasted evenly on both sides at the same time. “Oh, wow!”

One year, Ruth received a portable pink record player for her 45 rpm records. It closed up like a suitcase and she carried it anywhere she wanted. That made for easy gift giving for me. I gave her a rock ‘n’ roll record a couple of years. The ones on the Top Ten chart cost a dollar, the others only eighty-five cents. She didn’t get the ones in the Top Ten.

There were four Christmases when I got cheated out of a present. I was thirteen when my California cousin Ruth Ann sent me a bottle of Old Spice after shave lotion. Well, her parents did. “What am I supposed to do with this?” I wondered. “I’ll just give it to Dad, I guess.”

When I was fourteen the same thing happened. “Again?”

When I was fifteen the same thing…

When I was sixteen…

When your mom tells you to send a thank you note, don’t blather on about your gift. You might get another one just like it. I have no idea what my folks picked out for Ruth Ann on my behalf, but I’ll bet it wasn’t four consecutive bottles of something she’d never use.

One year just before Christmas, I happened upon a dirty pop bottle that was almost fully buried in a vacant lot. Hmmm. I wrapped the dirty bottle in some meat wrapping paper that Mom was about to toss out. With a green crayon I wrote, “To Noel from Paul.” Ha. Ha.

“Hey, Thanks, Paul,” he said. “I can get the nickel deposit for this!” Later on Mom scolded me.

One bittersweet Christmas, I was ripping and tearing through an unusually large number of gifts when I noticed Neal sitting on the couch just watching everyone. He was home from college and had already opened his gift. A belt, I think. Just one present? That’s not fair. I looked around to see if I had something to give him. Nothing, really. I went back to my presents, but I lost my enthusiasm.

Now I must tell you that there is no such thing as a White Christmas. That’s as much of a myth as Santa Claus. Oh, no. In Douglas, Christmas is a bright, sunny day, the temperature about 65 degrees, and all the kids go outside in light jackets. Santa will melt in that red, hot suit he wears.

Half the fun of Christmas is drifting outside into the warm sunshine to find out what your friends got. Here and there was a new bike and a couple of footballs, and naturally, new dolls. Everybody got some kind of clothes, but we didn’t waste our time telling about those things. We wanted to know about the good stuff like cap pistols with holsters, Red Ryder BB guns and chemistry sets. By nine o’clock, all the kids in the neighborhood knew what each other had received.

Except for the big dinner, Christmas was pretty much over.

Other than Lavonda and her girls when they lived next door, I don’t think we had any relatives in our home during the Christmas season. We might have, though, because we had some Christmas dinners that included more people than the Nichols. Mom fixed the whole thing herself. Just before we ate, Dad read from Luke, Chapter 2, the pretty story of Jesus’ birth.

The Nichols were not well-to-do folks. When I was a junior in high school, my parents gave me a gift that came in a small, square box. Not the kind where I’d find another pair of socks. Besides, I’d already opened that box. I always opened the socks first, saving the best for last.

“Hmmm? This is different. Wonder what it is?”

I was sitting on the floor. Just my luck: the box was difficult to unwrap and just as difficult to open. I picked at the stubborn tape and frantically riffled through my imagination. “What on earth?”

I finally broke open the box. I looked in, but still couldn’t figure out what it was. It was bright and shiny and upside-down. I never had a bright, shiny, upside-down gift before.

“A watch!” My eyes saw it, but my brain didn’t. “No! It can’t be!”

“We can’t… They don’t… Where did…? How could they afford this?” I never had a watch before. With uncontained disbelief I broke into shaking and sobbing—right in front of my sister.

“Well, Paul, what’s wrong, honey?” Mom asked with a proud smile. I just shook my head and kept on sobbing. I never dreamt that my parents would sacrifice so much money on me. It took me a week to take that nine dollar Timex watch out of the box, wind it up and wear it.

Half the fun of Christmas was discovering that the Nichols were more well-to-do than I thought.

"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him"—1 Corinthians 2:9

I am quite fond of all my blogging friends. My First Wife and I wish you all a Merry Christmas and too many blessings to count.

Adventures of a King

2009-12-14T13:31:00.003-06:00

From Pancake Flats, in the Heart of America, My First Wife and I wish you a Merry Christmas Season. (We will be traveling/busy the next ten days. Not blogging.)

And now...back to our regular programming.

Adventures of a King

by Paul Nichols

Once upon a time in a Land Far Away, the King rode through his kingdom. His royal coach, encrusted with the most beautiful and brilliant jewels, drawn by the most magnificent stallions and escorted by a hundred elite guardsmen passed through all the villages. In the bright sunlight, the coach was dazzling and all who saw it fell in awe of this majestic parade.

In each village, the people stood along the street, hushed by this display of Royalty. They bowed low and backed away at the honor of his presence.

And then one day, in a poor distant village, he spied her. That lovely girl with beautiful eyes and a humble smile. He saw her. He commanded his driver to stop the coach, but only briefly, and he fell in love at first sight. And without another thought he chose her for his queen. He chose that beautiful girl to be his companion and friend forever. He directed his coachmen to return to his castle immediately, for at last he found the girl he wanted to marry. With the greatest love and attention he prepared a special place in his castle for her.

“Someday soon I will send for her,” he told himself. “But,” he wondered, “how do I know if she will love me?”

“I can command her to marry me, and she will—but only because I am her King. Will she love me? I can provide for her every need; small or great, but will she love me? I can fulfill her every dream, but will she love those things or will she love only me?"

“And if I send my guardsmen to bring her to me; will she come freely; freely because she loves me?”

The King asked himself many questions; over and over, night after night. Then he realized that for the beautiful girl to love him, she must discover him herself. She must respond to his proposal—with her own love. She must respond to him as if he were a man like those in her own village. She must want to give him her love.

Therefore, he concluded, he must abandon his royal city and his royal throne for a while and become like one of the poor villagers where she lived.

And so the King put on threadbare clothes. He wore a tattered cloak and he laced up old, worn boots. With love as his guide, he walked alone to the last village in his realm. After many days he arrived with only a few crumbs of bread. Tired and dirty, he sat down in the village plaza to wait for that beautiful girl to pass.

Late in the day, he saw her and his heart called out to her. She saw him sitting there; a man she had never noticed before. But he had eyes that were honest; eyes that seemed to call to her.

When she neared, the King rose from his bench and tipped his dirty hat. “Good evening,” he said. The girl paused.

“I came here because I’d like to visit with you very soon,” the man in tattered clothing said. “Perhaps you will let me get to know you…”

“This will be a sign to you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."—Luke 2:12

Adventures with God Alone

2009-12-09T21:08:00.001-06:00

I just can't get this outta my mind.

Last month at our writers' conference, the keynote speaker told a lengthy story of Phil Vischer, the creator of the Veggie Tales characters.

It all started on his kitchen table. And the concept grew and grew and grew to greatness. Parents loved Veggie Tales almost as much as their kids. Bookstores loved them, too. $ $ $ $ Everybody loved Veggie Tales! How God did bless!

It was a heady time for all the folks at Big Idea, but alas, it all came tumbling down. Bad management, poor advice and the most ludicrous lawsuit in the annals of tort. The lawsuit claimed 'breach of contract,' even though there was no contract. The plaintiff was awarded just about everything Phil had ever thought of. It was too much. Phil lost all that he had. He sold his company for a few pence and then declared bankruptcy. He was both broke and broken.

"Why, God? Why?"

Nevertheless there was a little idea floating around in his head. Jellyfish. Jellyfish? Jellyfish cannot choose the course they will swim. They are basically helpless. They ride in the flow of the ocean current and go where it takes them. They depend on the current for all their nourishment. The current alone is their source of life.

"This is what you wanted me to learn, isn't it, God?

"That no matter how much I have; no matter the fame and celebrity; no matter the bank account, the honors, the awards...no matter where I go or what I have, I only have God Alone.

"And no matter how much I lose; how much I have lost; how little I have; how many people have turned away from me, how alone and lost I feel...no matter if I have nothing or no one, everything I have is God Alone."

He smiled and with that little Jellyfish, Phil thoughtfully began another company. It won't be long and everybody will love Jellyfish, too.

By the way, eventually the Texas Supreme Court snorted at that lawsuit and tossed it out. Overturned everything. Well, that was nice for Phil, but he was already starting over...but not alone.

Adventures with Two 12-Year-Old Kids

2009-12-01T20:26:00.000-06:00

You probably don’t know this, but I really like kids. Always have. I’m a kid at heart, I guess.

This evening, My First Wife had a buncha women over for one of those “parties” where wives spend half the month’s budget on all kinds of colorful stuff. Two sixth grade 12-year-olds tagged along with their moms. Sam, a handsome young man and Faith, a beautiful young lady.

Like most kids they were smart enough to bring along a pocket-sized electronic game thingy. And they played them sitting next to each other for quite some time. Along the way they talked and acted a little silly, but that means they’re alive and well.

Suddenly the most bizarre thing happened. It has probably never happened in the annals of 12-year-olds. They got bored with their little video devices and started snooping around our closets and such. First they found a big bowl of chips.

Then they found a Scrabble® game. They plopped on the floor and sat cross-legged there for two hours playing Scrabble®!

Is it reasonable to expect such exceptional behavior from modern 12-year-olds? You'll love these kids. I do.

Adventures with Bad Numbers

2009-11-30T11:16:00.001-06:00

This being the last day of the month, I had to hurry to my Weight Watchers® meeting. I stepped up on the scale—and decided never to eat again!

I gained seven pounds in the past seven weeks! What in the werl? I felt like crying. I thought I was a pretty good boy on Thanksgiving, and I was, but this tragedy didn’t happen overnight. I vaguely remember gobbling up about a pint of Peppermint Ice Cream a few times. I accidentally kept eating oversized portions of popcorn. It wasn’t my fault, but I consumed two slices of bread with real butter and honey—every evening meal. There was a time or two that I absentmindedly emptied a bag of corn chips. Oh, and last Saturday night we reluctantly went to a birthday bash…

I felt so hurt and disappointed in myself today, that I walked out the Weight Watchers® door and didn’t look back till I’d walked 3.1 miles. Unfortunately, I probably only burned off about 10 calories. But perhaps if I walk that far every day for the next 31 days. Whatcha think?

My current weight is 180 pounds. I don’t want to weigh 180 pounds. I want to weigh 165 pounds. I’m willing to wager 15 bucks that I can lose 15 pounds between now and January 1, 2010. If I don't reach that goal, I'll give you my book, Just Seven Blocks from the Mexican Border. If I do, you get to buy one (and it will be autographed). Anybody wanna challenge me?

Please.

Adventures on a Thanksgiving Eve Date

2009-11-26T06:17:00.001-06:00

My First Wife and I enjoyed a Thanksgiving dinner of chicken slathered with thick crab sauce (hers) and chicken pot pie (mine) at the Green Mill Restaurant here in Pancake Flats. Well, that's all the stuffing we're gonna to do to ourselves this year. It's a quiet relief, to tell you the truth. Our Thanksgiving Day is...is...is...well, unplanned.

I'm not a movie critic, but I'd like to throw in two cents worth here. After dinner, we went to see The Blind Side. Pretty good. It's worth the money--particularly if you get the senior discount. It's a modern true story of #74, a big, shy, poverty-ized African-American high school boy who was taken in by a rich, white Southern family because he had nowhere to lay his head at night. Before they bought him his first bed ever he "...ruined a ten thousand dollar couch." Caution: it's PG-13 cuz the cussing is gratuitous. The movie doesn't need it. It probably won't win any awards, but it's a positive, upbeat, fun movie. Enjoy.

All that being said, The Blind Side is the fourth theater movie we've attended since 2002. We took a chance on My Big Fat Greek Wedding and really liked it. We have since rented it and found it on late night TV. We also saw The Passion of the Christ, which is so violent it should only be shown on prime time TV. We went with friends to see Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed by Ben Stein. I fell asleep and got poked in the ribs when I started snoring.

What I'm saying is: in seven years we've seen four theater movies. We regretted that we "supported" the two so-called Christian movies. We felt thoroughly entertained and greatly enjoyed the other two.

For the record, when we want to watch a movie we rent it for a dollar or get it from the Library. We pop our own popcorn, too.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Adventures with Children's Books

2009-11-23T20:02:00.001-06:00

Well, after all the excitement with those editors, I have "officially" begun the text of my childrens book(s).

So far, I have my cover page and Page 1, and am heading toward Page 2. (All are subject to change at any moment.)

Therefore, I will blog a little less than usual, but I will continue visiting my blog friends. I think you all are terrific.

Adventures with Editors

2009-11-16T10:50:00.002-06:00

Our Heart of America Christian Writers’ Conference—you shoulda been there! Wow!

Our keynote speaker was Cindy Kenney, one of the great writers of Veggie Tales. What a great speaker; what a great speech! I bought the CD of her speech; the only CD/tape I’ve ever bought at a conference/convention of any kind. Ever. She's now an editor at a Winepress Publishing.

On Friday, I attended her workshop on writing for children. Unfortunately, at lunchtime she had a bad car wreck. “Oh, no!” She had to cancel all her workshops and critiques. You can imagine how that put a damper on things.

And just as bad: at dinner our leader was rushed to the hospital with an apparent heart attack! “Are you serious?!?”

Well, there was good news Friday. Cindy Kenney wasn't hospitalized, but she was so banged up that she couldn’t come back. She went to a relative’s home where she was resting comfortably, but pretty sore.

And our leader did not have a heart attack after all. He was just so exhausted that he couldn’t go much further. He was back by two o’clock Saturday after almost 16 hours of sleep/rest.

The Lord watches over us.

I recently began a childrens book project that has really consumed me. I spent the past month preparing a presentation for Cindy Kenney to critique at the conference. Well, since she was resting comfortably somewhere else I was allowed to present it to two editors from other publications.

The second editor hemmed and hawed and pointed out ways for it not to work, not to sell. Slumping, I wasn’t sure what he wanted. But without warning, he gathered up all my pages and said, “Work on this a little more and when you get it ready, send it to me. I want to present it to committee. I think this could go someplace.” I was blessed and pleased.

But first—the first editor riffled through my pages pretty quick. Was he anxious to get on to the next person? Suddenly he yelled out, “This is fantastic!” My mouth dropped open. “Huh?” Tears welled up. “Honest?” I was speechless.

Editors don’t use superlatives. They don’t say “Fantastic!” Or “nice” Or “beautiful” Or “wonderful.” Or anything like that. Not even “cool.” He continued with some worthy pointers on presentation, formatting and marketing. I think I remember them. I also think “Fantastic!” will float in my mind for the rest of my life. I know I'm floating.

Saturday night after the conference, My First Wife and I went to see our Grandson shine in the production, “West Side Story.” What a kid! Then on Sunday we celebrated our 46th wedding anniversary with family and friends. She keeps on loving me. Life is good. Beautiful, too.

I am still floating. When God opens the windows of heaven and blessings pour out, watch out! Because there is no holding them back.

I'm Serious...The Dog Ate My Homework

2009-11-11T07:20:00.002-06:00

On Monday, I received one of those delightful royalty checks. Tuesday morning I signed the back of it, filled out a deposit slip for it and then promptly fed both of them through our paper shredder.

It's so much fun to be rich. Why, I've got money to burn...er, shred.

Speaking of getting rich, you can help feed starving children (my grandkids). Just click here to kick-start your Christmas shopping. Spend $25 there and you get free shipping.

I will be enjoying our Heart of America Christian Writers' Conference from now through the end of the week.Anybody wanna come along?

Adventures with a High School Classmate

2009-11-03T06:15:00.000-06:00

The other day, My First Wife and I were in the mall when she spied a familiar-looking face walking toward us. (The face wasn’t walking; it was a familiar-looking person.) His head hung, tired-like. He walked slowly with a distinct and heavy limp, cane in hand.

“Izzy? Izzy!” My First Wife shouted. “Izzy Fulible, it’s me: Chancie!”

Izzy looked up, then he lit up when he saw Chancie. “Well, lookee there!” He broke into quite the smile, opened his arms and the two of them shared a hearty hug. “Aren’t you the pretty one! You’re pretty as you ever were. How you doing?”

“Oh, thank you,” she said. “You’re not so bad looking either. How are you?”

“Pretty good. Who’s the lucky guy?” he asked, pointing to me. He stretched out his hand, which I took and shook.

“This is my husband, Paul.”

“Well, I was heading down to get me a cup of joe,” he said. “Can I buy you a cuppa coffee? Got time? We can catch up a little. Jeez! When’s the last time I saw you?”

We began our trek to the food court. The banter between the two heated up, leaving me to tag along. Chancie and Izzy graduated together in Georgia, far from the Heart of America. “How long have you lived here…?” “What kind of work…?” "Kids? Grandkids?" Izzy limped along pretty hard. In the food court, he sat down with a loud, heavy sigh. “Aaaah!”

I got the coffee for all of us and delivered it. Chancie and Izzy were still buzzing. After her first sip of coffee, Chancie asked directly: “Izzy, why the cane? What’s with the limp.”

“Aah, that’s nothing,” he said. “It a hockey injury down here on my ankle. Got it several years ago.”

“Really? I didn’t know you played hockey,” Chancie said. My mind started racing. I like watching hockey when I can catch it on TV. I don’t know all the players, but my mind couldn’t place the name Izzy Fulible.

“It only bothers me when the weather turns cold.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Chancie said. “How long ago?”

“Oh, it was in during the Stanley Cup playoffs in 1988.”

“Stanley Cup?” I asked. “You played for the Stanley Cup?” I suddenly felt like I was in the presence of greatness. Or at least really coolness.

“Well, in that match," he went on, "I lost a hundred bucks and hurt my ankle when I kicked in my TV screen!”

Adventures Out on the Four-Lane

2009-10-30T09:10:00.001-05:00

Would someone please tell me: What is a woman’s yet? A yet. I never heard of a yet.

Was reading the newspaper this morning and ran across this article:

“A woman was shot late last evening by an unknown assailant just a few miles south of Pancake Flats. A passing motorist notified the sheriff’s department after finding the woman unconscious beside the road.

“The woman was first taken to the Pancake Flats Medical Clinic and Coffeeteria, but was quickly transferred to a hospital in The Big City.

“Emergency surgery was performed on the woman, but the bullet remains in her yet."

Adventures with a Sentence

2009-10-28T11:55:00.000-05:00

That First Step (or How Not to Write a Sentence)

By Paul Nichols

I was thinking and wondering some redundant thoughts one early afternoon just after lunch about what it must have been like to first step out toward the west; that is, if someone lived in, say, Virginia, and decided to “go west, young man, go west,” what it must have felt like to actually take that first brave step toward the Pacific Ocean (if it was really out there) after spending several weeks, nay, months, preparing, packing, borrowing, buying, bidding fare wells and receiving fare thee wells, and laying awake each night anticipating the journey westward across the Appalachian Mountains and wondering what lay beyond them after crossing them, only to have that anticipation replaced with fear: fear of the unknown—disease, distance, deprivation, despair—fear of the known—Indians, roaring rivers, outlaws, so that sleep never really came, but only weary eyelids that convinced the man (and especially his bride) into thinking he was slumbering, when in reality he was wide awake, mentally crossing the great American continent, committing himself to the monumental task of placing one foot in front of the other for a year—yea, maybe two years—to force himself onward toward the distant sea he longed so much to see and committing himself to forging a new family without roots, while at the same time forgetting the roots and family that lovingly installed him in Virginia with promises of a brave new opportunity to explore, and still knowing he mustn’t forget them nor abandon them—either family: his old and weary ancestors; his new and energetic progeny—for abandonment surely would undercut his dedication to the integrity of his mission, which was to superimpose his solitary will (and his bride’s) over the great forces of nature and earth and time and distance unlike anything ever before undertaken: one man (and his bride) stoically maneuvering across the mountains and the prairies and the desert and still more, but greater, mountains until the sea should stop him, even though knowing he was not the first, he knew he was the first of himself and that terrifying thought would rumble up from his innermost being to challenge the lazy demons who would taunt and tease and tempt him to forego such a mad endeavor; all the while the same terrifying thought urged and prompted and cajoled him to accomplish this unaccomplishable feat (with his bride) so that all of history would record that his one brave step led to the solidification of masses of land that entwined themselves into one great union of diverse races and cultures; of great men who threw down the heavy chains of their oppressors to rise up and take their own brave steps; of great ideas that built things so wondrous that they required over 200 years to incubate; of concepts so great that armies and eras would fawn over them until perfection; of desires so deep that only liberty and freedom were food enough for them; and to delay his first brave step another day longer would impose a hardship upon this beautiful, bountiful land and this great union and upon those great ideas and concepts and desires so heavy that surely the land would teeter and break and fall and crumble before he would ever reach the great sea he so desired to see, and so doom forever the possibility that (with his bride) he would rise up at dawn, which would be his personal dawning, and forever set forth a new order and a brave new mercantile store along a riverbank out west somewhere.

Never take a nap after an enormous lunch.

Adventures in Superlatives

2009-10-25T18:55:00.004-05:00

Never in my life have I seen autumn colors like these gracing the Heart of America right now! I must not be the only one, because they're talking about it all over town. Listen to some of the comments I’ve heard to describe our foliage.

Spectacular!

Glorious!

Beautiful!

Unbelievable!

"How can it be so pretty?"
Breathtaking!

Magnificent!

“Glorious and gloriouser!” (“Hee-hee.”)

“I’ve never seen a street that…Holy cow! Look at that tree!"
"Oh, isn’t that beautiful!”

“Have you seen how the sunshine makes them just shimmer?”

“Oh, wow!”

“Look! Look! Look! Over there on the left!”

“Look! Look! Look! Over there on the right!”

"I’m speechless."

“I sure do wish So-and-So could see this...oh, look Hunny!”
Stunning!

Fabulous!

“I love those red Burning Bushes."
"Good grief! That's just amazing!"

“This is the most beautiful fall ever—prettier than the Ozarks.”

Incredible!
Awesome!

"Thank you, Jesus."

I can't help it—I've gotta share a few more pictures. Enjoy.

Even when it's raining, it's beautiful.

Two blocks from our house.

Ten miles from our house.

Our church's parking lot.

Along a favorite walking trail.

“For by him all things were created…all things were created by him and for him…And in him all things hold together.”—Col 1:16 – 17