Scared to Death by a Ghost!!!

I was sitting at my desk, studying something on my computer, deep in thought, when I heard a faint, eerie, ghostlike sound.  I turned my eyes toward the door to my office, and almost jumped out of my skin with fright! 

Cindy was waving this four foot long poster at me

A spectral, unhuman image appeared before me, lowly bellowing the ghostly "woooooooo!!!......wooooooooooo!!!!!"  My heart rate shot up to 200 BPM and I screamed.

It was then that my crazy wife appeared, holding this overblown photo of Don Knotts from the old "Andy Griffity Show".  She is quite proud of herself for scaring the hell outta' me.

But, don't worry---I'll get her back!

Scouting & Camping

When I was 12 years old, my dad enrolled me in the Boy Scouts.  I seem to remember him saying something about "becoming a man" and "leadership".  Well, I was all for that.  It sounded extremely adventurous---there would be camping out in the wilds, tying all kinds of esoteric knots, building campfires, and other manly pursuits.

So, I was fitted for a uniform and began to attend regular meetings.  You can imagine my excitement when I learned we would be going camping over a three day weekend that summer!  Oh, boy! 

Camp Snake?

On a memorable Thursday evening, our troop---about 15 guys between the ages of 12 and 17---headed north from our home in Houston, Texas to Camp Strake, a Boy Scout camp located about 40 miles away.  In those days, Camp Strake was in the wilds---away from the confines of civilization, located among the Texas pines and cacti.

Our pup tent

This will kill ya

Upon arrival, we pitched our tents.  Immediately thereafter, the fun began.  Our fathers, who had driven us there, began to kill rattlesnakes that inhabited our campground.  They killed five of them in a ten minute period.  Of course, this scared the livin' bejeezus out of me.  And to think I was gonna be sleeping in a tent on the same ground with these serpents?  And to think I was gonna have to be there with these snakes for three days and nights?  It was more than I could imagine.  I wanted to go home.  No, my dad said---HE would be going home, but I would be staying.  I think he took some pleasure in my plight.

That night, no one slept a wink.  Every little sound was magnified by the night and our collective fear.  We could hear critters moving just feet away from the tent fabric.  We imagined every rustle of the grass was a huge rattler or perhaps a bobcat.  Someone mentioned that Texas was home to tarantulas, which lived in abundance in that very area.  I was so scared I wanted to die.  There was no way I was gonna live to see my mom and dad and brother again.

Grapevine has a pleasant, grape-like taste when smoked

Things got a little better the first day, but I still wanted to go home.  One of the older boys educated us 12 and 13 year olds on the joys of smoking grapevine, which grows in the wild there.  You would just break off one of the hollow twigs, light one end, and suck the smoke into your mouth.  It had a mild, grapey taste.  Quite pleasant.

The next day we had classes on how to tie various knots and how to build a fire.  Now, this was more like it!  Although let me hasten to add that no one was sleeping at night.  That fear factor was still present, although only one more snake had been killed by our group.  Besides snakes, our camp area was overrun by armadillos.  The armadillo is probably the stupidest animal ever.  But, God must love 'em because He made so darn many.  They would run through the brush at night by our tents and scare the devil out of us.

I thought the armadillo was the stupidest thing on earth until I went on a snipe hunt

Our last night at camp featured the older boys in our group taking us younger guys off into the woods for a midnight snipe hunt.  We were given pillowcases in which to capture the snipes.  We were led individually into the dark, extremely creepy woods and told to kneel down and be very quiet and hold our pillowcase at the ready.  When a snipe came by, we were to snag it in our pillowcase.  I had never heard of snipes before, but the older guys assured me that they were little birds that lived in the woods.  I was told to kneel there and be patient.

By about 3:00 AM I knew I had been had.  About that time, us snipers were rounded up and taken back to camp where we were made fun of and generally made to feel stupid---which we were.  I was beginning to have some serious doubts about this whole concept of "scouting".

The final exclamation point on the unforgettable weekend came when I finally arrived home on Sunday afternoon.  I was tired, embarrassed, filled with low self-esteem, but happy to finally have access to a shower, air conditioning and my own bed.  My mom hugged me, but then all hell broke loose.  She discovered, unbeknownst to me, that I was covered, head to foot, with ticks.  She pulled 24 of them off of me.  Some of them had been there for days---they were fat with the blood they had sucked out of me.  Others were still skinny and "just getting started".  They were in my scalp and all over---and under---my body. 


I was covered with these

 After that trip to Camp Strake (they shoulda' named it "Camp Snake"), I have never looked at camping or scouting quite the same way.

My Most Excellent Breakfast

Sometimes the simple things are the best.  For most meals I feast on Cindy's latest culinary masterpiece, but this morning I decided she should take a break.  I created this very simple, yet drop-dead delicious sandwich for my early repast.

Twelve-Grain bread, mayo, Inglehoffer stone-ground mustard, thin sliced sweet onion, sliced tomato, grated muenster cheese and smoked turkey breast.  YES!  For some crunch, I added to the side a few baked potato chips with jalapeno seasoning.  Oh yeah, babe.  That's the way uh huh uh huh I like it uh huh uh huh.

Washed down with iced green tea.  Should hold me until din-din, at which time the Cinderoo will once again wow me with another tour-de-force.

Smoke, Smoke, Smoke that Cigarette......

When I was growing up, my parents were both heavy smokers.  I never knew anything but smoke, smoke, smoke.  Our car trips were pure hell, with a thick fog of nicotine trapped inside our car, with the windows rolled up for the air conditioner in the summer and the heater in the winter.  My eyes would burn and my hair and clothes would stink; but, as I say, that was normal.

Then, when I went off to college, most of the guys---and a few of the girls---smoked.  Why I never acquired the addiction I'll never know.  Lord knows I was certainly exposed to it heavily

Then, in the workplace, for many years our meeting rooms were littered with ashtrays and the stench of tobacco.  It was an American way of life.



YUCK!!!

 Cigarette commercials were everywhere---television, magazines, radio, billboards, etc. 

But a funny thing happened over the last 35 years---almost no one smokes these days---at least, I don't know anyone who does.  Well, of course, the president of the United States hasn't been able to kick the habit, so there are still a few addicts around. 


Smoking is Glamorous

Oh, a guy might smoke a good cigar three of four times a year, but that's about it. All this got me to thinking about the way things used to be in the recent past.  I got to thinking about all the cigarette brands and their ads.  I had a good time dredging the following up from memory:

Old Gold---"A treat instead of a treatment"

Camels---"I'd walk a mile for a Camel"...They had a cartoon character named "Joe Camel" on their TV ads, who would appeal to kids to smoke.  Interesting Note:  Camels were never sold in the Middle East
Pall Mall---"Outstanding, and they are mild"
101s---"A silly millimeter longer"
Winston---"Winston tastes good---like a cigarette should"
Marlboro---"Come to Marlboro country"...Interestingly, the "Marlboro Man" on TV eventually died of lung cancer
Philip Morris---"Call for Philip Mooorrriiiissssssss!"

Lucky Strike---"LSMFT"---"Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco"

L&M---"Low tar, More taste"
Kool---"There is no substitute for that clean, cool taste"

Virginia Slims---"You've come a long way, baby!"---the first cigarette marketed exclusively to women
Eve---Another ciggy for women
Newport---"Alive with pleasure"
Viceroy---"Viceroy's got the taste that's right!"
Tareyton---"Us Tareyton smokers would rather fight than switch!"

A few other brands from my memory include Kent, Lark, & Salem

Maybe some things in the USA are worse now than they were a few decades ago, but the fact that smoking has been greatly cut back is something to be thankful for.

The Corner Bakery

Our Little Restaurant

Our prayer group meets Tuesday mornings at 7:00 at The Corner Bakery.  There are six of us in our little group, and we have become close friends and brothers in Christ.  Today, I brought my camera and took a few pictures of our time together as we visited and discussed "Simple", Robert Morgan's book about the simplicity of being a Christian.

Mayra, Our Beautiful Server

Our first vision inside the Corner Bakery is that of Mayra, our beautiful server.  She is so cheerful!  She fills our orders for coffee and breakfast, and she always reinforces our good mood with her personality.


Darrell, Our Newest Member



Paul & Croissant



Darrell & Pannini

We sit at a table and eat our breakfasts and drink our coffee and catch up with what has been going on with each other over the past week.


Bill Holding Connor's New Crib Quilt

Debbie, Paul's wife, is a seamstress, and she has made a crib quilt for Bill's new grandbaby, Connor.

Then, we start discussing our reading assignment---today, it was chapter 1.  The burning question:  "How do you know you are going to heaven?"  This is a deep and sometimes troubling topic.  But, the discussion is lively and meaningful.

After two large mugs of java, a great discussion and comradeship, I am off for home, where Cindy will want to know what we discussed.

Our Morning Walk....

Every morning, Cindy and I arise between 5:00 and 6:00 to embark on our morning walk.  Upon awakening, our first impulse is to roll over and go back to sleep.  But, we have become disciplined enough that we "make" ourselves get up and start moving.  In the summer, the Texas heat is oppressive, even at that early hour.  And the winters can be bone-chilling, with high, piercing winds that slice through to my soul.  But still, we go on.  And, even though our walk is only 2 miles (40 minutes), it is enough to really get our blood circulating for the day.

In the darkness and stillness, we depart our home from our back patio, and briskly walk down the alley to Quarry Chase, the main road of our subdivision.  Today, the sky was perfectly clear.  A sliver of a crescent moon gazed eerily down at us, and the constellation Orion, the mighty hunter, stood guard as we ramped up our pace.

The sidewalks here in Plano, Texas are in good condition, and we know every crack and bump for the two miles of our trek.  Sprinkler systems are active at that early hour, so we must be careful to avoid the shocking spray of cold water that occurs when we are surprised by their sudden attack.

Rabbits are present in biblical numbers at dawn, and we see them scurrying away from us as we pass.  Birds call to one another.
We cross the creek at Legacy and Independence Boulevards.  An egret is stalking minnows in the shallows.  The dark, oval outline of a large snapping turtle lurks on the bottom. 

At the Kroger shopping center, few cars are present at that early hour, so we walk through the lot searching for lost coins.  Today we found a penny.  One day we found a $10 bill.

We look inside the Einstein bagel shop, and we see the regulars there, reading the morning news as they munch on their bagels and sip dark coffee.
We exit the shopping center on Independence Boulevard, and pound the pavement northward to Micarta, where we turn back into our neighborhood from the west.
We now begin to encounter other walkers and runners, and dog-walkers who like to get out early with their pets, before daybreak, so that they won't be seen leaving the dog droppings on the sidewalk.  Sorry we have so many folks like that, who care so little for the beauty of our living space.
We pass many people who will not return our simple, cheery "Good Morning!"  Sourpusses!  Ugh.
We glide by the Bethany elementary school, and a few hundred more meters brings us full circle to our alleyway and home, our bodies warmed from the exercise, our spirits lifted by the rising sun and the golden glow on the eastern horizon.

Our coffee is waiting for us.  God is in His world and all is well! 

Last night's adventure

The funeral was Friday afternoon, and I must say it was one of the most beautiful services I have ever attended.  There were three eulogies from close, personal friends of Mark.  And the preacher said some meaningful things about what is important to remember at times like these.  The mood was upbeat. There was humor.  There was joy.  It was a celebration of a wonderful life.
I sang the great Albert Brumley southern gospel favorite, "I'll Fly Away".  The reception following the service was lovely.
But when Cindy and I got home, we had a hard time settling down.  I think there is just something about a funeral that gets me to thinkin'---thinkin' about life and what is important.  And what isn't important.  And where God might see me in relation to those two opposites.  It can be a deep and somewhat troubling question.
Bottom line is that neither of us could sleep Friday night.  We both got up repeatedly, but returning to bed did not produce the desired result.
Consequently, by the time Saturday night rolled around, we were both zombies.  I fell right asleep.  And then the dreams began.  The last one was a doozy.  I found myself in a very rural, wooded area.  Oddly, there was an industrial plant there.  I somehow was sent on a mission with the plant manager---to Baltimore, which I recall was about fifty miles away---over very rugged dirt roads (why we were going to Baltimore I haven't a clue)--until our jeep came to a blockade.
A farmer had grown tired of folks crossing his land to get to Baltimore, and he had blocked our passage.
We interracted with the farmer, trying to get him to let us pass.  There were two women with him, and some other men, and we began to feel threatened, like maybe we wouldn't get out of there alive.
The farmer kept trying to touch me, getting into my personal space, and I was afraid for my safety and was becoming combative.
Somehow, I got hold of the farmer's .357 magnum pistol.  As the plant manager and I went to the jeep to escape, I shot myself in the foot with the pistol.  There was blood everywhere, but it didn't hurt.  I looked down and saw that I had accidentally shot two of my toes off.  But miraculously, they began to grow back right before my eyes!
As we began to drive away in the jeep, I awoke to an early Sunday morning.

What does it mean?