The Frog Prince, when he was a young man, often made his parents resort to prayer for peculiar things.
On one occasion the Frog Prince needed a clean drug test inorder to return to Military School in the Northern part of Outer Ozarklandia. Now the Frog Prince was determined that he was not going to be in military school and so went to a party where he proceeded to smoke all kinds of weed, hemp and other stuff that he was sure was an insurance policy that he would be able to maintain his lifestyle in a "high" fashion and with this particular crowd.
At that time HarleyDad and Brokerbelle mistakenly believed that military school might be an avenue out of his local friendships having not yet learned that a drug user if placed in a room with 100 persons, 99 of whom are clean and 1 who is a user, will immediately gravitate to the user and become "best buds."Well it came time for the drug test. And guess what? Instead of testing positive for drug use, the Frog Prince received a negative and was able to return to military school.
The Frog Prince was very upset about this turn of events and believed that someone had ripped him off and had sold him some fake "stuff."Now we do not know what really happened. Did he get sold some fake stuff or did the testing facility know that he Frog Prince need to return to military school? Who knows ? But we do know that sometimes God moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform.
God may have used a drug pusher ripping off his customers or a testing facility that made a mistake. But miracles do happen.Unfortunately, even when God does miraculous things to bring us to a second chance, we can through the choice of our will, put ourselves in a position where God in His great mercy must use more drastic measures.
But that is a story for another time.
God can use strange people and strange events to carry out His will.
HarleyDad
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Thanksgiving in Time
I asked my father and Aunt Mame to tell me about one of the Thanksgivings that they remember.
They told me about a time when they living in Dayton Texas in the 1920s. It seems that their house burned down. The family watched as every item vanished in the flames. Aunt Mame who was about 3 had a favorite pair of house shoes. She commented as all burned up :"There go my house shoes and Ma-Ma's too just a snappin and poppin in the fire. " The two parents and family of 4 stayed at a neighbor's house. (Back then it was before T.V. and a "me" generation, and they had something called neighbors. Today we are not too sure what this is-but can only guess.) At any rate, the next morning some men went to the garage or storage area behind the house. They cut a door into it and a window for light. The family moved into it, and lived with a dirt floor and the family of 6 lived in this small area until the house was rebuilt.
My father and Aunt Mame recall the Thanksgiving in this small house as being one of their greatest and best Thanksgivings. They were thankful that their family was together and that no one had been killed or injured in the fire. Looking back they both considered it a wonderful and amazing time.
The story also reminded me of a time when I was a young college student at home, when a Hurricane hit the house where we were living in New Orleans. A tornado that accompanied the hurricane ripped through our neighborhood and hit our house, ripping the roof off. I remember as the watersoaked sheet rock dropped on my head from the second story and just cracked around me due to being waterlogged. The house was ruined. Our family walked away having lost everything--but having lost nothing of real importance. We were all still alive, all still had our faculties, no emotional trauma---we had just lost things. No real loss at all.
It is when we loose people that we love, when we are traumatized, when we loose our hope--these are the real losses in life. It is when we loose our faith in one another, then we really loose something.
So -- along with the Turkey and the leftovers comes a story about Thanksgiving. Sometimes those left overs are mighty good!
HarleyDad riding back into History with a prior generation.
They told me about a time when they living in Dayton Texas in the 1920s. It seems that their house burned down. The family watched as every item vanished in the flames. Aunt Mame who was about 3 had a favorite pair of house shoes. She commented as all burned up :"There go my house shoes and Ma-Ma's too just a snappin and poppin in the fire. " The two parents and family of 4 stayed at a neighbor's house. (Back then it was before T.V. and a "me" generation, and they had something called neighbors. Today we are not too sure what this is-but can only guess.) At any rate, the next morning some men went to the garage or storage area behind the house. They cut a door into it and a window for light. The family moved into it, and lived with a dirt floor and the family of 6 lived in this small area until the house was rebuilt.
My father and Aunt Mame recall the Thanksgiving in this small house as being one of their greatest and best Thanksgivings. They were thankful that their family was together and that no one had been killed or injured in the fire. Looking back they both considered it a wonderful and amazing time.
The story also reminded me of a time when I was a young college student at home, when a Hurricane hit the house where we were living in New Orleans. A tornado that accompanied the hurricane ripped through our neighborhood and hit our house, ripping the roof off. I remember as the watersoaked sheet rock dropped on my head from the second story and just cracked around me due to being waterlogged. The house was ruined. Our family walked away having lost everything--but having lost nothing of real importance. We were all still alive, all still had our faculties, no emotional trauma---we had just lost things. No real loss at all.
It is when we loose people that we love, when we are traumatized, when we loose our hope--these are the real losses in life. It is when we loose our faith in one another, then we really loose something.
So -- along with the Turkey and the leftovers comes a story about Thanksgiving. Sometimes those left overs are mighty good!
HarleyDad riding back into History with a prior generation.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Thanksgiving Harley Style
Beautiful Fall Day in Ozarklandia.
HarleyDad and Extended Family went out to eat and had a great time. Brokerbelle had Thanksgiving lunch with the family instead of serving them. Bill was big-but Brokerbelle said it was well worth it. After all, what is a marriage worth?
HarleyDad, Texbro and Mr. Monarch spent the afternoon watching "American Chopper" to which Texbro is addicted. Then the Three Amigos went out to ride. Texbro had not ridden on a bike as big as HarleyDad's and did a great job--any ride where there is no damage to "The Preeeecious" is a great ride as far as HarleyDad was concerned.
Mr. Monarch then got on "The Preeecious" and took off like a pro--obviously he had misspent his youth riding.
Next the Dallas game and a warmed up smoked turkey for supper.
The extended family spoke on the phone to the Emerald Prince who was going later to be treated to one of the really fine dinners funded by the good state of Ozarklandia. It is tough to be green on holidays, and tough to talk to your family that you can not be with. Sure, the Emerald Prince had missed many holidays before; but he was sedated through many of them and did not know that he was missing them. Spaced out! Now he is in his right mind and feels pain about missing them.
We also talked with Sparkey who serves in the military-emphasis on the word "serve". Sparkey was patient and kind and let us pass the phone from relative to relative so that he could answer the same questions 12 times in succession. We think that this is good interrogation training and will be a help to him if he goes over yonder. He probably sprung (spring, sprang, sprung) his fingers translating for Beautiful Bridgette.
Sparkey has been extensively trained by Uncle Sam-we don't know what he does for certain but we know it involves a pencil, paper and magic markers. Can he tell us what he is doing we ask? Answer--no. Can he tell us that he can't tell us? Answer--may be. Can he tell us if he has been told not to tell us? Answer--no.
Sparkey has been working on a novel. He said that he could write stuff scarier than Stephen King. I only hope he is not writing about the family. I am afraid--very afraid. My son, Sparkey, the very well educated military man, artist, diver, chef, linguist and writer.
We wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving as we continue to work through our convoluted and wondrous family dynamics.
HarleyDad (Who is very thankful that no one crashed his Harley today.)
Thanksgiving Meditation.
1 Peter 3:8.
Be harmonious.
This is one of the harder admonitions of Scripture-at least for HarleyDad. HarleyDad's experiences with church choirs were inharmonious to say the least. On one occasion many moons ago, a choir director came to HarleyYoungMan (I was not a Dad in those days) and suggested that perhaps my ministry was not involved with the Church Choir. It seems that the Choir Director expected the choir to sing in harmony. Without intent I was the discordant note.
My music career then moved from choir status to solo status-so low that others would not hear me. Later, I included that even the rocks and stones must praise Him so I got into rock music (Christian Rock). And then the Rolling Stones, who never gather any moss. Of course, there is also hard rock for "hard shell" Baptists. At any rate, after much listening, I could tell that the Stones were really not praising Him. So I dropped the Stones.
It seems that singing and being naturally harmonious both in life and in song, must have skipped my generation. My Father is a great singer (well not great, but pretty good). Often growing up he would lead music when the music leader was out. (I was never, I repeat NEVER at any time ever asked to do this by any one, and I mean NEVER in my whole life). Today, Dad is 85 and still sings in a senior choir and in a senior group called the "Good Old Boys" down in East Texas Promised Land.
My granddaughter Harbow, sings soprano in her school choir and is going to sing the Star Spangled Banner (that song that is so hard to sing) at some type of football game this next week.
(Jose, can you see?)
There is something wonderful about being in harmony. At least that grass looks pretty good from Discordant Land. There is something wonderful about making beautiful music together whether we are in a choir, a string quartet, or worshipping in church. There is a gestalt in it. When we are really good and our hearts are true, we forget about ourselves. Sometimes the sum of all the parts is more than just the parts themselves. The Angels join in the singing. We all kinda know when that happens, and if you have never felt that happen, you have missed something wonderful-like never having seen the Grand Canyon. Yeah, people can describe the Grand Canyon,---"It's this big hole in the ground that is like awesome and beautiful." Somehow the description does not quite do it justice!
It is good when God joins in praise and worship. It is good when the angels sing in harmony with us. Somehow everything is right in the universe and we finally are in harmony. There is music in the spheres-the music of the Universe. The divine hum of God humming as He crafted the world. Somehow all those Tibetan monks picked up that hummmmmmmmmmmm-and we pick it up when we smell fresh apple pie and go hummmmmmmmmm good! The monks go hummmmm-god!
So Scripture tells us to be harmonious. To get in the groove. We are to get in tune with the Bishop and Comforter of our souls. As others get tuned up to Him, we find that we are tuned up one to another as each of us faithfully tune ourselves to the Lover of Our Souls. When we are all together, all on the same note, all on the same page, we can make beautiful music in the universe. Our lives can resonate one to another.
It is interesting to me that we can find harmony without loosing our individually, at least not permanently. An orchestra is made up of widely disparate instruments and people- they can come into harmony with out loosing the identity of their instruments or of the players of the instruments. However, at some point the members of the orchestra, determine to lay down their will about how to do things and to take command from the orchestra leader. As we so determine in our own lives to lay aside our will, and to take command from the Bishop and Great Shepherd of our Souls, we will move toward the goal of "being harmonious." Interestingly, being harmonious is not a suggestion, but a command.
Let's get on with it.
HarleyDad
Be harmonious.
This is one of the harder admonitions of Scripture-at least for HarleyDad. HarleyDad's experiences with church choirs were inharmonious to say the least. On one occasion many moons ago, a choir director came to HarleyYoungMan (I was not a Dad in those days) and suggested that perhaps my ministry was not involved with the Church Choir. It seems that the Choir Director expected the choir to sing in harmony. Without intent I was the discordant note.
My music career then moved from choir status to solo status-so low that others would not hear me. Later, I included that even the rocks and stones must praise Him so I got into rock music (Christian Rock). And then the Rolling Stones, who never gather any moss. Of course, there is also hard rock for "hard shell" Baptists. At any rate, after much listening, I could tell that the Stones were really not praising Him. So I dropped the Stones.
It seems that singing and being naturally harmonious both in life and in song, must have skipped my generation. My Father is a great singer (well not great, but pretty good). Often growing up he would lead music when the music leader was out. (I was never, I repeat NEVER at any time ever asked to do this by any one, and I mean NEVER in my whole life). Today, Dad is 85 and still sings in a senior choir and in a senior group called the "Good Old Boys" down in East Texas Promised Land.
My granddaughter Harbow, sings soprano in her school choir and is going to sing the Star Spangled Banner (that song that is so hard to sing) at some type of football game this next week.
(Jose, can you see?)
There is something wonderful about being in harmony. At least that grass looks pretty good from Discordant Land. There is something wonderful about making beautiful music together whether we are in a choir, a string quartet, or worshipping in church. There is a gestalt in it. When we are really good and our hearts are true, we forget about ourselves. Sometimes the sum of all the parts is more than just the parts themselves. The Angels join in the singing. We all kinda know when that happens, and if you have never felt that happen, you have missed something wonderful-like never having seen the Grand Canyon. Yeah, people can describe the Grand Canyon,---"It's this big hole in the ground that is like awesome and beautiful." Somehow the description does not quite do it justice!
It is good when God joins in praise and worship. It is good when the angels sing in harmony with us. Somehow everything is right in the universe and we finally are in harmony. There is music in the spheres-the music of the Universe. The divine hum of God humming as He crafted the world. Somehow all those Tibetan monks picked up that hummmmmmmmmmmm-and we pick it up when we smell fresh apple pie and go hummmmmmmmmm good! The monks go hummmmm-god!
So Scripture tells us to be harmonious. To get in the groove. We are to get in tune with the Bishop and Comforter of our souls. As others get tuned up to Him, we find that we are tuned up one to another as each of us faithfully tune ourselves to the Lover of Our Souls. When we are all together, all on the same note, all on the same page, we can make beautiful music in the universe. Our lives can resonate one to another.
It is interesting to me that we can find harmony without loosing our individually, at least not permanently. An orchestra is made up of widely disparate instruments and people- they can come into harmony with out loosing the identity of their instruments or of the players of the instruments. However, at some point the members of the orchestra, determine to lay down their will about how to do things and to take command from the orchestra leader. As we so determine in our own lives to lay aside our will, and to take command from the Bishop and Great Shepherd of our Souls, we will move toward the goal of "being harmonious." Interestingly, being harmonious is not a suggestion, but a command.
Let's get on with it.
HarleyDad
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
The Archangel Mike
Now Mike did not look like an angel. He looked like a tough CFO (Chief Financial Officer) of a major U.S. Company. That is what he looked like --at least on the outside . He was a tough talking hombre and he knew how to squeeze money out of a turnip (and often did, by the way).
I had the opportunity to go with Mike, his wife and a number of other executives to a heart banquet. The final offering at this charitable auction was a simple piece of art from a handicapped girl. I watched Mike begin to bid on this piece of art, which really was just a simple piece of art. Well believe me when I tell you that there were some doctors from the local hospital that decided to begin to bid on this simple item as a way of making a contribution. Slowly Mike matched those doctors bid after bid until he had won that piece of art. I dropped out early having exhausted my meager funds on a dog with whom Brokerbelle had earlier bonded. I learned something about Mike from this experience. He had a heart for children.
Life often surprises us. Sometimes profoundly. That auction taught me something about Mike. I saw qualities in his life that impressed me more deeply than the most astute financial planning and judgment. I saw compassion in him for a simple girl with a terrible heart problem.
Later, I saw Mike adopt a troubled child-his granddaughter. Mike and his wife ML began the trials of raising a wonderful child with challenging issues. Mike fought the public school system here in Ozarklandia for his daughters care and education. Finally Mike took early retirement from our company and moved to a city in the South where his adopted daughter could be educated.
A tough man who had a tender heart for all children and for his granddaughter/daughter. Mike does not see himself as a hero or an "angel." Mike has had his problems and has made mistakes like all of us. However, I am instructed by Mike's and ML's lives. They are good people, doing the right things and making the hard choices.
HarleyDad is a student of people and of life. Mike, though he does not know it and probably never will know it, is one of my instructors.
He has taught me about the heart. He has surprised me with his compassion and tenderness for children. I think Mike's heart in the process has some how grown and I suspect that his compassion has touched the heart of God.
Mercy and kindness ambushes us when we least expect it.
HarleyDad
I had the opportunity to go with Mike, his wife and a number of other executives to a heart banquet. The final offering at this charitable auction was a simple piece of art from a handicapped girl. I watched Mike begin to bid on this piece of art, which really was just a simple piece of art. Well believe me when I tell you that there were some doctors from the local hospital that decided to begin to bid on this simple item as a way of making a contribution. Slowly Mike matched those doctors bid after bid until he had won that piece of art. I dropped out early having exhausted my meager funds on a dog with whom Brokerbelle had earlier bonded. I learned something about Mike from this experience. He had a heart for children.
Life often surprises us. Sometimes profoundly. That auction taught me something about Mike. I saw qualities in his life that impressed me more deeply than the most astute financial planning and judgment. I saw compassion in him for a simple girl with a terrible heart problem.
Later, I saw Mike adopt a troubled child-his granddaughter. Mike and his wife ML began the trials of raising a wonderful child with challenging issues. Mike fought the public school system here in Ozarklandia for his daughters care and education. Finally Mike took early retirement from our company and moved to a city in the South where his adopted daughter could be educated.
A tough man who had a tender heart for all children and for his granddaughter/daughter. Mike does not see himself as a hero or an "angel." Mike has had his problems and has made mistakes like all of us. However, I am instructed by Mike's and ML's lives. They are good people, doing the right things and making the hard choices.
HarleyDad is a student of people and of life. Mike, though he does not know it and probably never will know it, is one of my instructors.
He has taught me about the heart. He has surprised me with his compassion and tenderness for children. I think Mike's heart in the process has some how grown and I suspect that his compassion has touched the heart of God.
Mercy and kindness ambushes us when we least expect it.
HarleyDad
1 Pet. 2:24-25
1 Peter 2:24
For by his wounds, you were healed.
During this Thanksgiving Season, there are many that wonder whether they have anything to give thanks for. Many find the holidays a time of increased pressure and deep loneliness.
In our own family, Aunt Kat is in a hospital dying. She is a person of fiery yet tender spirit who has seen more heartache than I care to think about. Sister W. is at the bedside of her dying mother-in-law. Others have those in the hospital or are going out of town to be with dying relatives.
So what does it mean when it says that "By his wounds, I am healed."
I believe that it says that through a dying Christ, we who live and we who die (i.e. all of us) find a healing of our lives, our spirits, our souls.
It means that we do not have to live under the fear of death or the authority of death. By his blood we are absolved from sin, we are released from our bondage to pain and dying. That does not mean that we will not experience it. It does mean that it can not hold us. It has lost its authority.
All authority is in the hands of Jesus Christ. That authority is there. It is does not depend upon your acknowledgement or your belief. God is sovereign. Really sovereign.
By his suffering, his wounds, his blood, we have life. True life. New Life. Life that is not under the authority of death or suffering. It means that the last enemies of man can not defeat us. Dying is not defeat. Being killed is not defeat.
Resurrection throws a divine money wrench into the plans of bondage and slavery.
Death can be an escape and a blessing. Paul who lived with the threat of torture and death, wrote: "If I live, I live unto the Lord, and If I die, I die unto the Lord, and therefore if I live or die, I am the Lord's.
The wounds of Christ bring us healing and life. In his death and resurrection, we are set free.
We identify with his wounds and He identifies himself with the wounded.
Most of us are wounded in many ways. Just as Christ was wounded so much, so do we have a multitude of wounds. A thousand hurts from a thousand rejections. As we are rejected by people, he was rejected. If we have been betrayed, he was betrayed.
But in all this hurt, there is life. Real life. Not some nifty little life or benefit as is taught by many teachers and churches, but real life. The very life of God is present.
Christ is with us. Even in times like these. Even in times when you are standing at the hospital during the holiday season.
Christ is here. Christ is alive. Death can not stand. Stones still roll away. The impossible happens. Some are healed now. Some are healed for eternity, and thankfully will not experience further pain-ready to have a new body.
My prayer is that Christ will heal your heart and your mind and your spirit during this holiday season.
For by his wounds, you were healed.
During this Thanksgiving Season, there are many that wonder whether they have anything to give thanks for. Many find the holidays a time of increased pressure and deep loneliness.
In our own family, Aunt Kat is in a hospital dying. She is a person of fiery yet tender spirit who has seen more heartache than I care to think about. Sister W. is at the bedside of her dying mother-in-law. Others have those in the hospital or are going out of town to be with dying relatives.
So what does it mean when it says that "By his wounds, I am healed."
I believe that it says that through a dying Christ, we who live and we who die (i.e. all of us) find a healing of our lives, our spirits, our souls.
It means that we do not have to live under the fear of death or the authority of death. By his blood we are absolved from sin, we are released from our bondage to pain and dying. That does not mean that we will not experience it. It does mean that it can not hold us. It has lost its authority.
All authority is in the hands of Jesus Christ. That authority is there. It is does not depend upon your acknowledgement or your belief. God is sovereign. Really sovereign.
By his suffering, his wounds, his blood, we have life. True life. New Life. Life that is not under the authority of death or suffering. It means that the last enemies of man can not defeat us. Dying is not defeat. Being killed is not defeat.
Resurrection throws a divine money wrench into the plans of bondage and slavery.
Death can be an escape and a blessing. Paul who lived with the threat of torture and death, wrote: "If I live, I live unto the Lord, and If I die, I die unto the Lord, and therefore if I live or die, I am the Lord's.
The wounds of Christ bring us healing and life. In his death and resurrection, we are set free.
We identify with his wounds and He identifies himself with the wounded.
Most of us are wounded in many ways. Just as Christ was wounded so much, so do we have a multitude of wounds. A thousand hurts from a thousand rejections. As we are rejected by people, he was rejected. If we have been betrayed, he was betrayed.
But in all this hurt, there is life. Real life. Not some nifty little life or benefit as is taught by many teachers and churches, but real life. The very life of God is present.
Christ is with us. Even in times like these. Even in times when you are standing at the hospital during the holiday season.
Christ is here. Christ is alive. Death can not stand. Stones still roll away. The impossible happens. Some are healed now. Some are healed for eternity, and thankfully will not experience further pain-ready to have a new body.
My prayer is that Christ will heal your heart and your mind and your spirit during this holiday season.
Morning Psalms and Sleep
From time to time, I will blog a few morning meditations. I do these in the morning because I am a morning person. In the evening, I drop like a stone. I have mastered the arcane zen art of going to sleep while sitting up. Going to sleep is a wonderful gift of God although I do not find it specifically mentioned as one of the gifts in Romans 12 or 1 Corinthians 12.
Brokerbelle has found me asleep at many places throughout the house. When I sleep next to the aquarium, I am know to "sleep with the fishes." More correctly "sleep with the fish."
Sleep is mentioned somewhere in the Psalms where it says "He giveth his beloved sleep." Well He giveth it daily and it is wont to hit sometimes after 9-10 P.M. It goeth away between 3-4 a.m. so that I will have plenty of time for meditations.
At any rate, sleep is likely to hit in various places. It occureth in airplanes- O Blessed relief! O Perfect Peace! It is wont to strike in any sermon after 15 minutes-O Blessed relief! O embarassment! How your servant is Humbled in Your church.
A great gift has been awarded to me so that all may know that I am blessed by God --the uniniated call it snoring!! It is a trumpet call that announces my sleep to all those about me. It proclaims that I am blessed by sleep and woe to those who might awake me. It is sent that those near might not enter into this blessed state until my blessing is complete.
Instead of fighting this great gift (and believe me if you have ever been deprived of it you will know how great a blessing it really is) , I have decided to go with the flow. Therefore if you are reading my blog and any of my morning meditations at your computer and feel like you suddenly need to sleep go right ahead. I absolve you.
Sleep in peace and sleep without guilt. Sleep as a child with a clean conscience.
Rest in peace.
HarleyDad
Brokerbelle has found me asleep at many places throughout the house. When I sleep next to the aquarium, I am know to "sleep with the fishes." More correctly "sleep with the fish."
Sleep is mentioned somewhere in the Psalms where it says "He giveth his beloved sleep." Well He giveth it daily and it is wont to hit sometimes after 9-10 P.M. It goeth away between 3-4 a.m. so that I will have plenty of time for meditations.
At any rate, sleep is likely to hit in various places. It occureth in airplanes- O Blessed relief! O Perfect Peace! It is wont to strike in any sermon after 15 minutes-O Blessed relief! O embarassment! How your servant is Humbled in Your church.
A great gift has been awarded to me so that all may know that I am blessed by God --the uniniated call it snoring!! It is a trumpet call that announces my sleep to all those about me. It proclaims that I am blessed by sleep and woe to those who might awake me. It is sent that those near might not enter into this blessed state until my blessing is complete.
Instead of fighting this great gift (and believe me if you have ever been deprived of it you will know how great a blessing it really is) , I have decided to go with the flow. Therefore if you are reading my blog and any of my morning meditations at your computer and feel like you suddenly need to sleep go right ahead. I absolve you.
Sleep in peace and sleep without guilt. Sleep as a child with a clean conscience.
Rest in peace.
HarleyDad
Bros on Bikes
Got a message from my brother in Texas. He and the rest of the family are coming to visit this Thanksgiving.
TexBro has just completed a motorcycle training course. (He is almost as old as I am-but he did not know better either.)
He is in the process of looking for bikes, and may be in the market for a Harley eventually.
I can only hope that he enjoys it as much as I do. I love it.
The Harley 1200 Sportster is a wonderful bike; however if you plan on spending your life on the Interstate-go for the big boys. If you are like me however, and have modest goals of winding roads through beautiful Ozarklandia, the Sportster is great bike.
Is Texbro a Harley convert, will bless my dew-rag, I don't know. However, I will say three Harleys now that he has seen the light and become a motorcycle convert.
Harley, Harley, Harley
HarleyDAD
TexBro has just completed a motorcycle training course. (He is almost as old as I am-but he did not know better either.)
He is in the process of looking for bikes, and may be in the market for a Harley eventually.
I can only hope that he enjoys it as much as I do. I love it.
The Harley 1200 Sportster is a wonderful bike; however if you plan on spending your life on the Interstate-go for the big boys. If you are like me however, and have modest goals of winding roads through beautiful Ozarklandia, the Sportster is great bike.
Is Texbro a Harley convert, will bless my dew-rag, I don't know. However, I will say three Harleys now that he has seen the light and become a motorcycle convert.
Harley, Harley, Harley
HarleyDAD
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Eating Our Way Through Branson
HarleyDad, Brokerbelle, and Princessbelle are eating their way through Branson. To join us, go to our EVERYTHING BRANSON blog for our Ozarklandia Adventures in Fine Dining.
Tie on the feedbag as we flee from the Farm House.
Join us as we blog from Crockers in Downtown Branson.
Experience the culinary delights of the Southtown Grille in Hollister, Mo.
Join Brokerbelle, HarleyDad and Princessbelle as they take their lives in hand, and eat their way through Branson!!
Read about our adventures in Red Neck dining in EVERYTHING BRANSON !!
Tie on the feedbag as we flee from the Farm House.
Join us as we blog from Crockers in Downtown Branson.
Experience the culinary delights of the Southtown Grille in Hollister, Mo.
Join Brokerbelle, HarleyDad and Princessbelle as they take their lives in hand, and eat their way through Branson!!
Read about our adventures in Red Neck dining in EVERYTHING BRANSON !!
Friday, November 19, 2004
ImpQueen the Artist
ImpQueen is experimenting on Brokerbelle's blog . No link provided in as much as "It is Under Construction." Now we loved the graphics and the background of the old blog. Brokerbelle was comfortable with it, and we were absolutely certain that the pictures of the man and woman were Brokerbelle and Harley Dad except for one small point that is---the man was not wearing a motorcycle helmet. The size, weight and age of the two individuals running through the sand were just like Brokerbelle and HarleyDad. And the background of tourquoise and pale gray enabled Brokerbelle to use her lovely lavendar fonts.
However, change, through sometimes painful. is often beneficial. It causes us to leave the usual and the comfortable and to grow. Change is often good in that it leads us to something better. We all find comfort zones that we are very comfortable with. They are comfort zones because they have things in them that we like.
Sometimes circumstances cause us to leave these comfort zones. We then complain like a little child forced to go to a new place that they have never been before. We often find after the change is beneficial for us and we are better off for it. The little child in us finds that it has been led to an amuzement park. Neccessity forces us to make changes that we ordinarily would not just as soon make.
However, the better our circumstances, the less we like the change and more risk there is to it. Leaving a job where a person enjoys those with whom he works, and is lavishly paid always would have more risk than leaving a job where he or she were underpaid.
If you are an artist like HarleyDad there is never too much risk in repainting or rewriting. If you are Michaelangelo and have just painted the Sistine Chapel, why muck with it. Why take a few more chips with a chisel on the Pieta or the David.
So there you are. Change encompasses risk. Fortunately, most of us have the intellectual and moral capital that we can accept some risk in order to improve our situation.
How much change are you willing to accept today?
HarleyDad
However, change, through sometimes painful. is often beneficial. It causes us to leave the usual and the comfortable and to grow. Change is often good in that it leads us to something better. We all find comfort zones that we are very comfortable with. They are comfort zones because they have things in them that we like.
Sometimes circumstances cause us to leave these comfort zones. We then complain like a little child forced to go to a new place that they have never been before. We often find after the change is beneficial for us and we are better off for it. The little child in us finds that it has been led to an amuzement park. Neccessity forces us to make changes that we ordinarily would not just as soon make.
However, the better our circumstances, the less we like the change and more risk there is to it. Leaving a job where a person enjoys those with whom he works, and is lavishly paid always would have more risk than leaving a job where he or she were underpaid.
If you are an artist like HarleyDad there is never too much risk in repainting or rewriting. If you are Michaelangelo and have just painted the Sistine Chapel, why muck with it. Why take a few more chips with a chisel on the Pieta or the David.
So there you are. Change encompasses risk. Fortunately, most of us have the intellectual and moral capital that we can accept some risk in order to improve our situation.
How much change are you willing to accept today?
HarleyDad
Thursday, November 18, 2004
Rewriting History
As a student of history, I took courses on history and the writing of history. These course were called historiography. In them, I learned that it is very difficult to know what real history is. It seems that “to the victors go the spoil.” Also to the victors, go the history.
Imagine, if you will, what our history books would look like if the South had won the Civil War. What would they have looked like if the Third Reich and Japan had won the Second World War.
If you read text books coming out of Communist Russia or Communist China and used in their schools it would be a primer in rewriting history for political purposes.
The rewriting of history is not just an exercise for the past it is one of our favorite contemporaneous past times.
A most interesting instance of a historical rewrite occurred right here in Outer Ozarklandia.
There was a man who was quite a rascal. He ran around on his wife and family and was generally up to no good. However, a few years before he died, he began to worry about his final destination. Now this individual was fairly wealthy and so he endowed (Paid for) a small country church where he began to attend. After a few years the man died. The two daughters stayed in the church and over the years told all the new members what a man of God their father was and now the people that attend that church believe that it was founded by this great man of God.
I think that those two daughters told the story because that is what they wanted to be true. Therefore, they rewrote their personal history.
We are all much like the two daughters. We constantly rewrite history. We justify our actions, we make ourselves look better than we are.
We all seem to have our own Public Relations Firm inside, our own Spin Doctor that is constantly working, constantly putting a positive spin on our own actions.
Truth is tough. It takes courage to see ourselves in the harsh light of reality.
God sees the reality of the heart. Sometimes, that reality is much worse than we project to the world. However, fortunately sometimes that reality is also much better than the world chooses to see.
One of my prayers is to see as God sees. To have the eyes of God. To see reality. Lately, it seems that I have been seeing that there are many people with great qualities and great strengths who have buried these gifts deeply in their lives.
HarleyDad feels like one of these metal detectors that are used to find treasure. There is treasure in many lives that is waiting to be unearthed.
It is time to make true history, honest history.
HarleyDad
Imagine, if you will, what our history books would look like if the South had won the Civil War. What would they have looked like if the Third Reich and Japan had won the Second World War.
If you read text books coming out of Communist Russia or Communist China and used in their schools it would be a primer in rewriting history for political purposes.
The rewriting of history is not just an exercise for the past it is one of our favorite contemporaneous past times.
A most interesting instance of a historical rewrite occurred right here in Outer Ozarklandia.
There was a man who was quite a rascal. He ran around on his wife and family and was generally up to no good. However, a few years before he died, he began to worry about his final destination. Now this individual was fairly wealthy and so he endowed (Paid for) a small country church where he began to attend. After a few years the man died. The two daughters stayed in the church and over the years told all the new members what a man of God their father was and now the people that attend that church believe that it was founded by this great man of God.
I think that those two daughters told the story because that is what they wanted to be true. Therefore, they rewrote their personal history.
We are all much like the two daughters. We constantly rewrite history. We justify our actions, we make ourselves look better than we are.
We all seem to have our own Public Relations Firm inside, our own Spin Doctor that is constantly working, constantly putting a positive spin on our own actions.
Truth is tough. It takes courage to see ourselves in the harsh light of reality.
God sees the reality of the heart. Sometimes, that reality is much worse than we project to the world. However, fortunately sometimes that reality is also much better than the world chooses to see.
One of my prayers is to see as God sees. To have the eyes of God. To see reality. Lately, it seems that I have been seeing that there are many people with great qualities and great strengths who have buried these gifts deeply in their lives.
HarleyDad feels like one of these metal detectors that are used to find treasure. There is treasure in many lives that is waiting to be unearthed.
It is time to make true history, honest history.
HarleyDad
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Writing
Writing should be passionate.
We write because we must. It is the overflow of the heart.
When Christ was on the cross, he was pierced with the lance and blood and water flowed out.
Writing should be like that. It should be redemptive in nature. Not done for gain-but to bless.
We should write when we are pierced by the harsh lance of the world that would kill and crush the human spirit.
Writing should redeem. Conversation should restore, not tear down. High callings for low and simple people.
HarleyDad
We write because we must. It is the overflow of the heart.
When Christ was on the cross, he was pierced with the lance and blood and water flowed out.
Writing should be like that. It should be redemptive in nature. Not done for gain-but to bless.
We should write when we are pierced by the harsh lance of the world that would kill and crush the human spirit.
Writing should redeem. Conversation should restore, not tear down. High callings for low and simple people.
HarleyDad
Karla
Yesterday, I went to the dentist.
Now my dental hygenist is Karla and I have known Karla for a long time-since she was a little girl in a church that Brokerbelle and I were involved with.
Karla's mother, Debbie, is a wonderful Chistian inspirational speaker and leader, who has a gift of mercy.
Karla, some how, inherited her Mother's spiritual gift of mercy. She worries about whether she is doing the right thing in church and the fact that she is unable to attend regularly because of her husband, who both to Karla, Debbie and to myself, is a pretty great guy. She has no "church ministry" like her mother.
Instead, she exhibits the grace of God and the mercy of God to all those who come into the House of Pain (excuse me, I meant the dentists office). She is a delight both to her employer and all those who work with her .
She has a child of her own. She has also taken in her sister's teen-age daughter, and is raising her. She works with children that have cancer. She talks about having Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving Evening but hopes to have her and her family serving in a soup kitchen on Thanksgiving Day. I have watched her with patients. She pets them. She pats them on the back, she touches their arms, she counsels them. Every person in the dentist chair is an object of Karla's mercy.
When Karla was a child I saw her pray in faith for other children. And God who sees a child's pure heart, was quick to answer. I believe the faith of that child is still in her heart.
How ironic to see God's grace and mercy showing itself not in the church, but in a dentist's chair in Outer Ozarklandia. How wonderful to see such a quiet and peaceful ministry. How dichotomous, to see a person with such mercy, wield such terrible metal instruments for cleaning of mouths. How strange to think of Mother Theresa cleaning teeth.
Well, that is HarleyDad's dental hygenist. I bet you wish you had one like her!!
Now my dental hygenist is Karla and I have known Karla for a long time-since she was a little girl in a church that Brokerbelle and I were involved with.
Karla's mother, Debbie, is a wonderful Chistian inspirational speaker and leader, who has a gift of mercy.
Karla, some how, inherited her Mother's spiritual gift of mercy. She worries about whether she is doing the right thing in church and the fact that she is unable to attend regularly because of her husband, who both to Karla, Debbie and to myself, is a pretty great guy. She has no "church ministry" like her mother.
Instead, she exhibits the grace of God and the mercy of God to all those who come into the House of Pain (excuse me, I meant the dentists office). She is a delight both to her employer and all those who work with her .
She has a child of her own. She has also taken in her sister's teen-age daughter, and is raising her. She works with children that have cancer. She talks about having Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving Evening but hopes to have her and her family serving in a soup kitchen on Thanksgiving Day. I have watched her with patients. She pets them. She pats them on the back, she touches their arms, she counsels them. Every person in the dentist chair is an object of Karla's mercy.
When Karla was a child I saw her pray in faith for other children. And God who sees a child's pure heart, was quick to answer. I believe the faith of that child is still in her heart.
How ironic to see God's grace and mercy showing itself not in the church, but in a dentist's chair in Outer Ozarklandia. How wonderful to see such a quiet and peaceful ministry. How dichotomous, to see a person with such mercy, wield such terrible metal instruments for cleaning of mouths. How strange to think of Mother Theresa cleaning teeth.
Well, that is HarleyDad's dental hygenist. I bet you wish you had one like her!!
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Vision
It is time to start dreaming.
Without a vision, the people perish.
One of the major problems in ourselves and our nation is that we have lost our vision. As one of the Greek philosophers said: "The ship that has no destination nevers comes to the right port."
Our nation, our churches, ourselves have lost their vision. For that reason we are lost in the wide sea of conflicting thought and opinion. There is no North Star to guide us. The moral compass of our life is spinning uncontrollably. We stay active on whatever ship we are on. There are decks to be cleaned, rope to be stored, sails to be taken care of---but in heart we know that our ships have no destination, that we are lost at sea, and we despair.
Even we who are Christians are like the apostles who were in boats when the storms came up and Jesus appeared to be calmly asleep at the front of the boat. We need direction and guidance. We have gone from teacher to teacher, from church to church, never being satisfied. We have been fed the stale crumbs of others, the warmed over words of God. We are promised God's presence at these churches, but instead find only man's presence. The warm campfires of yesterday are now only cold embers and God has moved on.
My prayer for this nation, for our churches, and for ourselves, is not that we will be bigger and richer and more prosperous organizations ---but that we will find the true presence of God.
I pray that we will regain God's vision for ourselves, our families, our jobs, our government, our nation and our world.
Even businesses have Vision Statements. I pray that we will have a vision for ourselves and for our neighbors.
The problem , of course, is always with ourselves. When I look into the mirror, I see the person responsible for the bad things in my life. I see the person who makes the bad choices. As the cartoon character Pogo said: "We are the enemy." I am my own worst enemy. I have made the choices and no one else.
God, grant me a vision of myself as I am in Your eyes and as You would have me to be. Help me to see myself as a loved child of God, sho was so valuable that you let Your only child die for me. Help me to see myself as a loving person with love to give to others. Help me to see myself as a person of light and hope in a dark and hopeless world. Help me to see myself as a good husband and father.
Grant us vision for ourselves so that we do not perish.
Without a vision, the people perish.
One of the major problems in ourselves and our nation is that we have lost our vision. As one of the Greek philosophers said: "The ship that has no destination nevers comes to the right port."
Our nation, our churches, ourselves have lost their vision. For that reason we are lost in the wide sea of conflicting thought and opinion. There is no North Star to guide us. The moral compass of our life is spinning uncontrollably. We stay active on whatever ship we are on. There are decks to be cleaned, rope to be stored, sails to be taken care of---but in heart we know that our ships have no destination, that we are lost at sea, and we despair.
Even we who are Christians are like the apostles who were in boats when the storms came up and Jesus appeared to be calmly asleep at the front of the boat. We need direction and guidance. We have gone from teacher to teacher, from church to church, never being satisfied. We have been fed the stale crumbs of others, the warmed over words of God. We are promised God's presence at these churches, but instead find only man's presence. The warm campfires of yesterday are now only cold embers and God has moved on.
My prayer for this nation, for our churches, and for ourselves, is not that we will be bigger and richer and more prosperous organizations ---but that we will find the true presence of God.
I pray that we will regain God's vision for ourselves, our families, our jobs, our government, our nation and our world.
Even businesses have Vision Statements. I pray that we will have a vision for ourselves and for our neighbors.
The problem , of course, is always with ourselves. When I look into the mirror, I see the person responsible for the bad things in my life. I see the person who makes the bad choices. As the cartoon character Pogo said: "We are the enemy." I am my own worst enemy. I have made the choices and no one else.
God, grant me a vision of myself as I am in Your eyes and as You would have me to be. Help me to see myself as a loved child of God, sho was so valuable that you let Your only child die for me. Help me to see myself as a loving person with love to give to others. Help me to see myself as a person of light and hope in a dark and hopeless world. Help me to see myself as a good husband and father.
Grant us vision for ourselves so that we do not perish.
Monday, November 15, 2004
Nothing Sacred
Yippes! I have been found out. See today's Brokerbelle blog if you must. Brokerbelle read my desciption of myself on the Blog. Is nothing sacred in the Hacienda? Is there no sanctity of blog?
Now I have been assessed a penalty of 1,000,000 points and green ones at that, and have nothing to show for it. Wow, I will be working this off for years if I am lucky. All those points convert to cash and other benefits.
I wonder what tipped her off. Did she see Semantha and I together somewhere? Did one of the children tell her why I had really been watching Stargate 1 all these years?
ImpQueen, this is your fault. You are the ghost-writer of my bio. Now I have to confess that I really like comic books, read Mad Magazine and watch Survivor instead of reading War and Peace. And that part about being a lover-how could you?? How humiliating!
I am going out for a ride. Perhaps I will be lucky and will become a hood ornament for a truck!
HarleyDad
Now I have been assessed a penalty of 1,000,000 points and green ones at that, and have nothing to show for it. Wow, I will be working this off for years if I am lucky. All those points convert to cash and other benefits.
I wonder what tipped her off. Did she see Semantha and I together somewhere? Did one of the children tell her why I had really been watching Stargate 1 all these years?
ImpQueen, this is your fault. You are the ghost-writer of my bio. Now I have to confess that I really like comic books, read Mad Magazine and watch Survivor instead of reading War and Peace. And that part about being a lover-how could you?? How humiliating!
I am going out for a ride. Perhaps I will be lucky and will become a hood ornament for a truck!
HarleyDad
Helmet
Well, I guess I have a new hero that I can look up to. It is Dark Helmet in SpaceBalls played by Rick Moranis.
Well, Dark Helmet has nothing on me. My helmet is almost as big as his.
My kids loved this movie, and I must have watched it 20 times, although only one time was willingly.
Fortunately for the younger generation they do not remember SpaceBalls. Well, somethings are better forgotten.
HarleyDad
Well, Dark Helmet has nothing on me. My helmet is almost as big as his.
My kids loved this movie, and I must have watched it 20 times, although only one time was willingly.
Fortunately for the younger generation they do not remember SpaceBalls. Well, somethings are better forgotten.
HarleyDad
Young of Mind
Blogging seems to be for the young. As I surf blogs, I note that the majority are written by people in their twenties. Some could be titled: "Me, All about Me, Wonderful ME, Terrible Me and Woe Me. Others seem keyed to political insight, as though the world were waiting for more trenchant comments on politics. Afterall, don't we get enough on Television.
YET---there are some extremely talented bloggers out there. Some have a wonderful way with words. Others touch the heart with their stories, and humor. On balance, the glass is half full. There are wonderful, talented people out there. People worth talking to.
If we have a heart to learn, we can learn from those younger than ourselves. Some of the greatest lessons and pronouncements of God have come through children. Sometimes when people speak from the heart, that is the medicine that we need.
Then there is the matter of age. Some of us never have been and never will be beautiful. But beauty is also a matter of the heart.
I close with a discussion I had with my grandfather. I was in the early twentys at the time. He told me that he got up every morning. When he got up, he looked into the mirror and thought he would see someone twenty looking back at him. Instead, he would see an old man looking at him and wonder where that old guy came from. The reason that happened was that my grandfather had remained young on the inside. He still wanted to learn, to meet new people, to read and to learn.
Age sometimes is a matter of the heart. Of course, only we older people say such things.
On another topic, HarleyDad tried out a new 100 Anniversary full helmet yesterday. Normally, I use a half helmet. Well it was in the high 40's when I went out. The full helmet which I thought might be claustrophobic was great. It kept the wind coming through, had more protection, and was warmer. Good for riding fast in cold weather. The only problem is that I look like one of the Star Wars Storm Troopers and keep yelling "May the Force be With You" as I pass other Harley Owners. For a picture of me in the new helmet --see the ImpQueen's post of November 10.
Here's to ya! HarleyDad
YET---there are some extremely talented bloggers out there. Some have a wonderful way with words. Others touch the heart with their stories, and humor. On balance, the glass is half full. There are wonderful, talented people out there. People worth talking to.
If we have a heart to learn, we can learn from those younger than ourselves. Some of the greatest lessons and pronouncements of God have come through children. Sometimes when people speak from the heart, that is the medicine that we need.
Then there is the matter of age. Some of us never have been and never will be beautiful. But beauty is also a matter of the heart.
I close with a discussion I had with my grandfather. I was in the early twentys at the time. He told me that he got up every morning. When he got up, he looked into the mirror and thought he would see someone twenty looking back at him. Instead, he would see an old man looking at him and wonder where that old guy came from. The reason that happened was that my grandfather had remained young on the inside. He still wanted to learn, to meet new people, to read and to learn.
Age sometimes is a matter of the heart. Of course, only we older people say such things.
On another topic, HarleyDad tried out a new 100 Anniversary full helmet yesterday. Normally, I use a half helmet. Well it was in the high 40's when I went out. The full helmet which I thought might be claustrophobic was great. It kept the wind coming through, had more protection, and was warmer. Good for riding fast in cold weather. The only problem is that I look like one of the Star Wars Storm Troopers and keep yelling "May the Force be With You" as I pass other Harley Owners. For a picture of me in the new helmet --see the ImpQueen's post of November 10.
Here's to ya! HarleyDad
Sunday, November 14, 2004
Imperfect People
It is amazing to me that God uses imperfect people in His plans and to carry out His will.
The Bible says somewhere that we are like treasures in jars of clay.
Now if God is to use people at all then he must use imperfect people. Generally people may argue about many things but they generally acknowledge the existence of evil and the fact that people are imperfect.
Even the great men of the Bible seem to be loaded with imperfections.
Adam-God tells him not to do one thing and he does it.
Cain-In jealousy kills his brother
Noah-Gets drunk
Jacob-cheats his brother
Moses-murder of an Egyptian
Sampson-love for evil women
Samuel-his children do not follow God
David-adultery and murder
Solomon-captured by wealth, pleasure and worshipped false gods.
Apostles James and John-anger (Sons of Thunder-bring down the hell fire and damnation)
Peter-denied Christ 3 times
Paul-consented to and participated in the death of Stephen
Thus the rub is that sometimes God uses very human people to participate in carrying out his will on the earth. The coin has two sides. When we see imperfections in our spiritual "leaders" we expect better and suffer great disappointment. Part of that disappointment is that we forget that they are "just flesh". We expect better. We expect them to measure up to the high standards of God. Standards, in fact, they we admit that we do not always measure up to.
The other side of the coin is that if God uses imperfect people, that means that He could use us too. That is scary. We stand without excuses.
We can also stand our coin on the edge and claim that God only uses people when they are righteous and holy. Unfortunately, neither history nor experience particularly bear that out. God appears to have the ability to use evil to accomplish good (no, I do not understand how that works), he can use Balaam's ass to speak to Balaam (apparently many of us have heard asses speak from time to time), he can use unbelieving kings to carry out His will. (I wonder how Balaam would have looked on a Harley).
In short, God can use any of us to carry out His will.
It's Sunday in Ozarklandia, it is time to day to stop ridin' and to start dreaming-dreaming that God can use very imperfect people, that God is not finished with us yet, that God is not finished with speaking to people and changing their lives. God can still use imperfect people. After all, He is God. He works with whom he pleases.
HarleyDad Dreaming on Sunday Morn
The Bible says somewhere that we are like treasures in jars of clay.
Now if God is to use people at all then he must use imperfect people. Generally people may argue about many things but they generally acknowledge the existence of evil and the fact that people are imperfect.
Even the great men of the Bible seem to be loaded with imperfections.
Adam-God tells him not to do one thing and he does it.
Cain-In jealousy kills his brother
Noah-Gets drunk
Jacob-cheats his brother
Moses-murder of an Egyptian
Sampson-love for evil women
Samuel-his children do not follow God
David-adultery and murder
Solomon-captured by wealth, pleasure and worshipped false gods.
Apostles James and John-anger (Sons of Thunder-bring down the hell fire and damnation)
Peter-denied Christ 3 times
Paul-consented to and participated in the death of Stephen
Thus the rub is that sometimes God uses very human people to participate in carrying out his will on the earth. The coin has two sides. When we see imperfections in our spiritual "leaders" we expect better and suffer great disappointment. Part of that disappointment is that we forget that they are "just flesh". We expect better. We expect them to measure up to the high standards of God. Standards, in fact, they we admit that we do not always measure up to.
The other side of the coin is that if God uses imperfect people, that means that He could use us too. That is scary. We stand without excuses.
We can also stand our coin on the edge and claim that God only uses people when they are righteous and holy. Unfortunately, neither history nor experience particularly bear that out. God appears to have the ability to use evil to accomplish good (no, I do not understand how that works), he can use Balaam's ass to speak to Balaam (apparently many of us have heard asses speak from time to time), he can use unbelieving kings to carry out His will. (I wonder how Balaam would have looked on a Harley).
In short, God can use any of us to carry out His will.
It's Sunday in Ozarklandia, it is time to day to stop ridin' and to start dreaming-dreaming that God can use very imperfect people, that God is not finished with us yet, that God is not finished with speaking to people and changing their lives. God can still use imperfect people. After all, He is God. He works with whom he pleases.
HarleyDad Dreaming on Sunday Morn
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Goodness
I woke up thinking about the goodness of God. God is good. There is a song entitled: "God is good-He is good all the time."
There are certain basics of faith. These basics are fewer than I once believed. Two of them are:
God is.
God is good.
He is not good because I say He is good or because I believe He is good. He is not good because He answers prayers or I get what I want. (Generally, I do not get what I want, and further what I want rarely is good for me or for any one else for that matter either.)
He is good because His nature is good. He is Love because His nature is love.
If we believe that God is-that He is good, that He is love, that He has our highest and best interests at heart, then an infinite world of possibility opens up even if our circumstances are most dire.
I have always enjoyed Paul Harvey's "The Rest of the Story." Perhaps the rest of the story becomes evident after death.
If we do not believe that God is good. That loss is ours. Our belief does not not change the nature of God. God is not tinkerbelle. He does not depend on our claps in order to live.
God is good-all the time. All the time God is good. His nature does not change.
That is why the cross and Jesus stand at the center of history. Nice things do not always happen to good people. Yes, the goodness of God and the grace of God are demonstrated on the cross. Further, the goodness of God is also illustrated by the resurrection.
The cross also however demonstrates that God can make the greatest good even come out of the most terrible circumstances. Most of us see in the course of our life some pretty terrible circumstances. All the 12 apostles died violently, except John. If the cross was the destiny of Jesus, and martydom the destiny of the apostles, then what room do I have for complaint and what prospect do I as a follower of Christ have?
But God is good, any way. Not because I say he is good, not because good things happen, just simply because He is good. That is His essential nature.
There are certain basics of faith. These basics are fewer than I once believed. Two of them are:
God is.
God is good.
He is not good because I say He is good or because I believe He is good. He is not good because He answers prayers or I get what I want. (Generally, I do not get what I want, and further what I want rarely is good for me or for any one else for that matter either.)
He is good because His nature is good. He is Love because His nature is love.
If we believe that God is-that He is good, that He is love, that He has our highest and best interests at heart, then an infinite world of possibility opens up even if our circumstances are most dire.
I have always enjoyed Paul Harvey's "The Rest of the Story." Perhaps the rest of the story becomes evident after death.
If we do not believe that God is good. That loss is ours. Our belief does not not change the nature of God. God is not tinkerbelle. He does not depend on our claps in order to live.
God is good-all the time. All the time God is good. His nature does not change.
That is why the cross and Jesus stand at the center of history. Nice things do not always happen to good people. Yes, the goodness of God and the grace of God are demonstrated on the cross. Further, the goodness of God is also illustrated by the resurrection.
The cross also however demonstrates that God can make the greatest good even come out of the most terrible circumstances. Most of us see in the course of our life some pretty terrible circumstances. All the 12 apostles died violently, except John. If the cross was the destiny of Jesus, and martydom the destiny of the apostles, then what room do I have for complaint and what prospect do I as a follower of Christ have?
But God is good, any way. Not because I say he is good, not because good things happen, just simply because He is good. That is His essential nature.
Friday, November 12, 2004
Division on Ozarklandia Churches
There are two types of men in the churches of Ozarklandia. At first blush, you might think that the two groups were the sinners and the saved. Whoops! Wrong. Brokerbelle, tells me that the Bible says that we are all sinners (at least all men are, that is).
Nope, the two groups are fishermen and golfers. Now I am of the latter category and our pastor at our church is a fisherman. Even his e-mail is flyfisher of men. He wears fishing ties, tells fish stories and makes fish analogies in his sermons. According to him Jesus was into fishing instead of golf. I find this however difficult to believe but that is what he says. Well, at any rate, on a pretty day, you can either fish or golf in Ozarklandia. He fishes; I golf--but only if I am not out riding.
Well, you learn a lot of things in church these days. And I have learned that all men are sinners--but they either are fishermen or golfers.
HarleyDad
Nope, the two groups are fishermen and golfers. Now I am of the latter category and our pastor at our church is a fisherman. Even his e-mail is flyfisher of men. He wears fishing ties, tells fish stories and makes fish analogies in his sermons. According to him Jesus was into fishing instead of golf. I find this however difficult to believe but that is what he says. Well, at any rate, on a pretty day, you can either fish or golf in Ozarklandia. He fishes; I golf--but only if I am not out riding.
Well, you learn a lot of things in church these days. And I have learned that all men are sinners--but they either are fishermen or golfers.
HarleyDad
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Everything Branson
Brokerbelle, the ImpQueen and I are working on another blog that just relates to Branson, Missouri. Perhaps you would enjoy seeing it. It is located at Everything Branson!
We hope you enjoy it!
HarleyDad and Bloggerbelle (whoops! I mean Brokerbelle).
We hope you enjoy it!
HarleyDad and Bloggerbelle (whoops! I mean Brokerbelle).
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Motorcycle Jackets
Winter is on its way. And winter makes the Harley Owner think of just one thing--Motorcycle jackets.
So I ride over to the Harley store. Wow! Big time leather prices-You can get something from $500-$650 that is fairly cool. Well, I guess I could buy it-but my mother did not bring me up to pay those kind of prices.
To e-bay I go. Perhaps we can cut those prices down some. Unfortunately I am at that awkward size when some times I wear a large and sometimes I wear an x-large. No one can tell on any one coat and that is tough to do on e-bay. So it is a veritable conundrum. Too cheap to buy retail, too variable to buy on e-bay.
Can I live without the Harley logo on it. Sure, I can. So I use the leather jacket I already have.
This morning I woke up dreaming about the Greatest Motorcycle Jacket of all time. When my brother and I were kids motorcycle jackets came out for kids. Were they ever the thing. They looked just like real motorcycle jackets and had all the silver snaps and everything. They were to die for.
Now my brother and I were righteously raised in a good Baptist family. Believe me, my parents were not too excited about their two baby boys dressed up like motorcycle "hoods." Besides we were a normal family. That meant that you had three pairs of jeans, 5 tee-shirts, one suit for church on Sunday-and one winter coat. My younger brother had the same things as I but generally the blue jeans and suit were hand- me- downs. Hey, and we were not poor, either. That was just the way it was back then. You also had one pair of dress shoes and one pair of tennis shoes. Not designer, not expensive. Black and white tennis shoes, and they served for every purpose, except for going to church on Sunday morning.
Mom and Dad could not get too excited about us parading into church decked out as motorcyclists. After, all Dad was a deacon and we had been raised right. Imagine the shock and outrage of the members.
My brother and I had visions of how cool we would be in school with these great motorcycle jackets. No more Mr. Nice Guy for us. We worked Dad and Mom over for months. If you have ever seen the movie "The Christmas Story" where the boy wants a b-b gun. Well, that was my brother and I. We were about that age and looked about the same. It was about the same time in history as well. I watch the movie every Christmas because it evokes such memories. Well we got plenty of "You are going to shoot your eye out" from all the adult family members.
At any rate, my brother and I finally go on a fast until we get the jackets. Now I am not sure where we got this idea. But that is how much we wanted those jackets. At any rate, Mom and Dad somehow relented. Besides it was the first time that my brother and I had ever agreed upon anything.
Before long, my brother and I were wearing those motorcycle jackets not only to school -but also to church. Somehow, Dad kept his job as a deacon at the church. The church members did not abandon church . The children were satisfied and all once again was at peace in the house.
Today, when I think about clothing, those motorcycle jackets were something I will always remember and cherish. I wore that jacket until I had grown out of it-and you can bet my wise parents bought it big so I could get several years use out of it. That is the way all of our clothes started. They began too big and ended too tight.
When I went to school-no longer did I walk in shame. I was cool. I had a new coat and a new attitude.
No $600 Harley leather motorcycle jacket will ever hold a candle to the most wonderful motorcycle jacket of all.
This HaleyDad riding the BlogExpress signing off.
So I ride over to the Harley store. Wow! Big time leather prices-You can get something from $500-$650 that is fairly cool. Well, I guess I could buy it-but my mother did not bring me up to pay those kind of prices.
To e-bay I go. Perhaps we can cut those prices down some. Unfortunately I am at that awkward size when some times I wear a large and sometimes I wear an x-large. No one can tell on any one coat and that is tough to do on e-bay. So it is a veritable conundrum. Too cheap to buy retail, too variable to buy on e-bay.
Can I live without the Harley logo on it. Sure, I can. So I use the leather jacket I already have.
This morning I woke up dreaming about the Greatest Motorcycle Jacket of all time. When my brother and I were kids motorcycle jackets came out for kids. Were they ever the thing. They looked just like real motorcycle jackets and had all the silver snaps and everything. They were to die for.
Now my brother and I were righteously raised in a good Baptist family. Believe me, my parents were not too excited about their two baby boys dressed up like motorcycle "hoods." Besides we were a normal family. That meant that you had three pairs of jeans, 5 tee-shirts, one suit for church on Sunday-and one winter coat. My younger brother had the same things as I but generally the blue jeans and suit were hand- me- downs. Hey, and we were not poor, either. That was just the way it was back then. You also had one pair of dress shoes and one pair of tennis shoes. Not designer, not expensive. Black and white tennis shoes, and they served for every purpose, except for going to church on Sunday morning.
Mom and Dad could not get too excited about us parading into church decked out as motorcyclists. After, all Dad was a deacon and we had been raised right. Imagine the shock and outrage of the members.
My brother and I had visions of how cool we would be in school with these great motorcycle jackets. No more Mr. Nice Guy for us. We worked Dad and Mom over for months. If you have ever seen the movie "The Christmas Story" where the boy wants a b-b gun. Well, that was my brother and I. We were about that age and looked about the same. It was about the same time in history as well. I watch the movie every Christmas because it evokes such memories. Well we got plenty of "You are going to shoot your eye out" from all the adult family members.
At any rate, my brother and I finally go on a fast until we get the jackets. Now I am not sure where we got this idea. But that is how much we wanted those jackets. At any rate, Mom and Dad somehow relented. Besides it was the first time that my brother and I had ever agreed upon anything.
Before long, my brother and I were wearing those motorcycle jackets not only to school -but also to church. Somehow, Dad kept his job as a deacon at the church. The church members did not abandon church . The children were satisfied and all once again was at peace in the house.
Today, when I think about clothing, those motorcycle jackets were something I will always remember and cherish. I wore that jacket until I had grown out of it-and you can bet my wise parents bought it big so I could get several years use out of it. That is the way all of our clothes started. They began too big and ended too tight.
When I went to school-no longer did I walk in shame. I was cool. I had a new coat and a new attitude.
No $600 Harley leather motorcycle jacket will ever hold a candle to the most wonderful motorcycle jacket of all.
This HaleyDad riding the BlogExpress signing off.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
ENTITLEMENTS AND COMPETITION
Somehow we have come to the notion that we are entitled to things because we are Americans (U.S. citizens that is). Now some things we are entitled to such as our rights under the constitution. These entitlements are bought by the blood of those who have died defending those rights. Similarly, for those who follow Christ, those spiritual rights are bought for us through the blood of Jesus Christ shed for us. In both instances, to have those rights we must accept them and choose to walk in them.
Other rights, however, are not bought for us. We must earn them. If we choose not to earn them then we loose them.
There is not a right of infinite prosperity for our country. There is no right to always be taken care of if we do not work as a society.
I am reminded of a motto of a Chinese company. They said: "We are smarter. We will work harder than others. We will never give up." Now how is that for a challenge. That Chinese company threw down a guantlet and challenges U.S. business.
Business is moving offshore to seek cheaper labor even as we speak. Go to your local discount store (Walmart in Ozarklandia, of course). Start looking at your favorite products. They are made in China.
At first, we downplayed this flight of production by saying: "Well, we are keeping the information jobs here. We are only letting the unskilled jobs go." Wrong. Now the computer jobs are fleeing and major outsourcing work is being done in India. By the way yet even when you call to get a credit problem fixed or you are called on the telephone for a sales call, the person making it is often Indian.
Our manufacturing jobs in the U.S. are increasingly being taken by cross-border labor. Honest people trying to make a living--doing jobs the U.S. citizen is not willing to do. Meanwhile the U.S. worker gets his entitlements.
Take a look at your physicians these days. More and more of a foreign nationality. How about your graduate schools. What percentage of our math and science graduate schools are made up of U.S. citizens. Take a look at your graduate assistants, do you notice anything lately?
One of most serious things are that our country is beginning to loose an economic race that it does not even know that it is in. It is willing to loose this race and the price for loosing the race is an ever downward spiral in pricing of goods--unfortunately, we will some day not have the money to purchase these goods.
We have bartered our production capacity for cheaper goods today.
We are in a world economic market and value is flowing out of the U.S. to other countries.
Students that have come to the U.S. often realize what we have and what we must do to retain it. I am reminded of a Bosnian young lady who came to the U.S. from Bosnia. She worked for the U.S. military in Bosnia and learned English. She used that to spring board herself into study in the U.S. She entered a local college, worked hard and graduated at the top of her class. She was recommended for a job in Ozarklandia and is doing great. Well, why not. She worked hard and applied herself. A U.S. person thought he was entitled but lost the college position because she or he did not work at it. They were beat out by the foreign student. But the U.S. person had a nice high school experience. They spent plenty of time playing games, participating in athlectics, dating--but never applied themselves. They lost a race they never knew that they were in.
Entitlements-you think you have them and find out you don't.
HarleyDad has travelled all over the world. This country is in an economic war that goes far beyond the war in Iraq. This war is fought every day. Our education, our hard work are tools in this war. If we do not pursue them then we loose.
In conclusion, beware or we all shall be riding Hondas and driving in Hundais.
HarleyDad
Other rights, however, are not bought for us. We must earn them. If we choose not to earn them then we loose them.
There is not a right of infinite prosperity for our country. There is no right to always be taken care of if we do not work as a society.
I am reminded of a motto of a Chinese company. They said: "We are smarter. We will work harder than others. We will never give up." Now how is that for a challenge. That Chinese company threw down a guantlet and challenges U.S. business.
Business is moving offshore to seek cheaper labor even as we speak. Go to your local discount store (Walmart in Ozarklandia, of course). Start looking at your favorite products. They are made in China.
At first, we downplayed this flight of production by saying: "Well, we are keeping the information jobs here. We are only letting the unskilled jobs go." Wrong. Now the computer jobs are fleeing and major outsourcing work is being done in India. By the way yet even when you call to get a credit problem fixed or you are called on the telephone for a sales call, the person making it is often Indian.
Our manufacturing jobs in the U.S. are increasingly being taken by cross-border labor. Honest people trying to make a living--doing jobs the U.S. citizen is not willing to do. Meanwhile the U.S. worker gets his entitlements.
Take a look at your physicians these days. More and more of a foreign nationality. How about your graduate schools. What percentage of our math and science graduate schools are made up of U.S. citizens. Take a look at your graduate assistants, do you notice anything lately?
One of most serious things are that our country is beginning to loose an economic race that it does not even know that it is in. It is willing to loose this race and the price for loosing the race is an ever downward spiral in pricing of goods--unfortunately, we will some day not have the money to purchase these goods.
We have bartered our production capacity for cheaper goods today.
We are in a world economic market and value is flowing out of the U.S. to other countries.
Students that have come to the U.S. often realize what we have and what we must do to retain it. I am reminded of a Bosnian young lady who came to the U.S. from Bosnia. She worked for the U.S. military in Bosnia and learned English. She used that to spring board herself into study in the U.S. She entered a local college, worked hard and graduated at the top of her class. She was recommended for a job in Ozarklandia and is doing great. Well, why not. She worked hard and applied herself. A U.S. person thought he was entitled but lost the college position because she or he did not work at it. They were beat out by the foreign student. But the U.S. person had a nice high school experience. They spent plenty of time playing games, participating in athlectics, dating--but never applied themselves. They lost a race they never knew that they were in.
Entitlements-you think you have them and find out you don't.
HarleyDad has travelled all over the world. This country is in an economic war that goes far beyond the war in Iraq. This war is fought every day. Our education, our hard work are tools in this war. If we do not pursue them then we loose.
In conclusion, beware or we all shall be riding Hondas and driving in Hundais.
HarleyDad
Monday, November 08, 2004
No Landia Debaters
It was great hearing the High School Debaters at No Landia. Young people were debating topics such as "Whether to Withdraw from the Golan Heights", "Whether to allow the importation of Pharmaceuticals from Foreign Countries" and "Whether to abolish the Security Council of the United Nations."
These young people had put much time into researching and preparing for these debates.
It looks like our country still has some hope-not because of electing the right people-but because we still have young people that are growing mentally.
Every organization is in a process of decay, with bright lights being snuffed out through age and decay. At the same time there is the growth of new leadership and new great minds. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we saw the advantages of training the young for the leadership of tomorrow.
My hat is off to those young people who are in the process of training themselves, and to those parents and teachers who are involved in that training, who take it seriously and who invest themselves in the leaders of tomorrow-whether it be through debate, scouts, FFA, our schools and our churches.
What if our country were to make it a priority to train the young instead of to provide comfort for the mature. How would we be different. I wonder????
HarleyDad wondering in Ozarklandia
These young people had put much time into researching and preparing for these debates.
It looks like our country still has some hope-not because of electing the right people-but because we still have young people that are growing mentally.
Every organization is in a process of decay, with bright lights being snuffed out through age and decay. At the same time there is the growth of new leadership and new great minds. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we saw the advantages of training the young for the leadership of tomorrow.
My hat is off to those young people who are in the process of training themselves, and to those parents and teachers who are involved in that training, who take it seriously and who invest themselves in the leaders of tomorrow-whether it be through debate, scouts, FFA, our schools and our churches.
What if our country were to make it a priority to train the young instead of to provide comfort for the mature. How would we be different. I wonder????
HarleyDad wondering in Ozarklandia
Saturday, November 06, 2004
No Landia High School Debaters
Today, Brokerbelle and I head for No Landia High School in Ozarklandia. There we will meet up with the Imp Queen and the Brilliant Harbow and judge debate.
HarleyDad strongly believes that the wealth of this country is in the natural resources of our young men and women-in their hearts, minds and spirits.
HarleyDad is not too sympathetic with liberals who are eager to protect our natural environment but in the name of freedom allow any person for gain to pollute our countries greatest resources through cultural means, pornography, drugs and the like.
These "polluters" pollute our young with malice and intent for power and financial gain. They trade in the souls of our young.
As I play the prophet for the moment, I am reminded of a joke that I made up:
Q. How is a prophet and a drug addict alike?
A. They are both stoned.
Well, I am not a very good "prophet" because I am not too sure that I like a prophets's reward.
More, when we get back from No Landia High School.
HarleyDad
HarleyDad strongly believes that the wealth of this country is in the natural resources of our young men and women-in their hearts, minds and spirits.
HarleyDad is not too sympathetic with liberals who are eager to protect our natural environment but in the name of freedom allow any person for gain to pollute our countries greatest resources through cultural means, pornography, drugs and the like.
These "polluters" pollute our young with malice and intent for power and financial gain. They trade in the souls of our young.
As I play the prophet for the moment, I am reminded of a joke that I made up:
Q. How is a prophet and a drug addict alike?
A. They are both stoned.
Well, I am not a very good "prophet" because I am not too sure that I like a prophets's reward.
More, when we get back from No Landia High School.
HarleyDad
Scriptures for Lawyers
HarleyDad believes that the Bible is God's Word and that Word has much to say.
Todays Scripture is as follows:
First, thing let's kill all the lawyers! Woops, that is Shakespeare. Well, it is almost like Scripture.
Woe to you lawyers as well. For you weigh men down with burderns hard to bear while you yourselves will not even touch the burden with one of your fingers. Luke 11:46
Woe to you lawyers! For you have taken away the key of knowledge, you yourselves did not enter, and you hindered those who were entering. Luke 11:52
See I told you that Scripture was inspired by God. That proves it.
HarleyDad making another unassailble theological conclusion and signing off before lightening strikes.
Never Ride your Bike in a Lightening Storm.
HarleyDad
Todays Scripture is as follows:
First, thing let's kill all the lawyers! Woops, that is Shakespeare. Well, it is almost like Scripture.
Woe to you lawyers as well. For you weigh men down with burderns hard to bear while you yourselves will not even touch the burden with one of your fingers. Luke 11:46
Woe to you lawyers! For you have taken away the key of knowledge, you yourselves did not enter, and you hindered those who were entering. Luke 11:52
See I told you that Scripture was inspired by God. That proves it.
HarleyDad making another unassailble theological conclusion and signing off before lightening strikes.
Never Ride your Bike in a Lightening Storm.
HarleyDad
Will the Real HarleyDad Stand Up
I was surfing the internet to find if my co-workers could easily find me on the internet (I would just as soon remain hidden because during the day I am a mild-mannered reporter).
Zounds!!! To my horror I find that there are an assortment of cheap foreign-made imitation made HarleyDads on the internet-who are not this HarleyDad. Do not be deceived!
They are often found hanging around "cheesy" sites. They are not me.
Now these imitation HarleyDads serve my purpose by confusing those co-workers of mine (other than the HarleyBabes of course--see the picture in a prior blog) who may know my "nom de zoom". However, HarleyDad is not going through a bitter divorce, failing to pay his bills (at least most of them) or otherwise carrying out mischief.
So beware of cheap imitations. These blogs are not sold on the Streets of New York or made in sweathouses in New Jerksie. No, they are loving crafted outdoors in Ozarklandia .
If you think you have a fake HarleyDad you can determine this by removing the left Harley Boot and sock. If there is a tattoo that reads "Made in China" or "Hecho in Mexico" then you have a fake HarleyDad. On the other hand (or the foot, as the case may be) it says "Made in Texas by Texans", then you have a genuine, kickin, true-blue, no bull s_ _t, genuine HarleyDad.
Just remember, a genuine HarleyDad has quality and should not be confused with cheap imitation HarleyDads.
Well the genuine, one and only HarleyDad has had to write this blog standing up.
It is difficult being the real thing--but, hey, someone has to do it and set the standard.
It is time to go outside and take a ride in the early night air!!
Ride Safely, Avoid cheap imitation HarleyDads.
Zounds!!! To my horror I find that there are an assortment of cheap foreign-made imitation made HarleyDads on the internet-who are not this HarleyDad. Do not be deceived!
They are often found hanging around "cheesy" sites. They are not me.
Now these imitation HarleyDads serve my purpose by confusing those co-workers of mine (other than the HarleyBabes of course--see the picture in a prior blog) who may know my "nom de zoom". However, HarleyDad is not going through a bitter divorce, failing to pay his bills (at least most of them) or otherwise carrying out mischief.
So beware of cheap imitations. These blogs are not sold on the Streets of New York or made in sweathouses in New Jerksie. No, they are loving crafted outdoors in Ozarklandia .
If you think you have a fake HarleyDad you can determine this by removing the left Harley Boot and sock. If there is a tattoo that reads "Made in China" or "Hecho in Mexico" then you have a fake HarleyDad. On the other hand (or the foot, as the case may be) it says "Made in Texas by Texans", then you have a genuine, kickin, true-blue, no bull s_ _t, genuine HarleyDad.
Just remember, a genuine HarleyDad has quality and should not be confused with cheap imitation HarleyDads.
Well the genuine, one and only HarleyDad has had to write this blog standing up.
It is difficult being the real thing--but, hey, someone has to do it and set the standard.
It is time to go outside and take a ride in the early night air!!
Ride Safely, Avoid cheap imitation HarleyDads.
CONTRITION
HarleyDad is Contrite.
I have seen the light on Tattoos; notwithstanding that many tattoos never see the light of day. Tattoos are like flowers. They begin to appear when the sun is hot and the individual with the Tattoo is near water. They are more likely to appear if parents are not around.
At any rate, here is your chance to suggest a tattoo to be inscribed upon Harley Dad in washable ink.
Post your suggestions if you think they are as good or better than those below.
Remember that this blog is rated for parents and grandchildren.
Below are some suggestions:
Harleys-Hemorrhoid Heaven on Wheels
Read Law or Die (lawyers on Harleys)
Born to Set Bail (Judges on Harleys)
Sue or Be Sued (lawyers)
So sue me (lawyer)
That's not my stomach rumbling
Born to Raze Hell (preacher on Harley)
Jesus Wore A "Do-Rag" (preacher)
I'm A HarleyDad and I'm OK
Ride Hard, Toes To the Noze
Well, now it is your turn. I have made contrition. My personal thanks to the Imp Queen for her suggestions and random thweakings of her synaptic misfires. Make your contribution to the ImpQueen so that I do not have to.
HarleyDad
I have seen the light on Tattoos; notwithstanding that many tattoos never see the light of day. Tattoos are like flowers. They begin to appear when the sun is hot and the individual with the Tattoo is near water. They are more likely to appear if parents are not around.
At any rate, here is your chance to suggest a tattoo to be inscribed upon Harley Dad in washable ink.
Post your suggestions if you think they are as good or better than those below.
Remember that this blog is rated for parents and grandchildren.
Below are some suggestions:
Harleys-Hemorrhoid Heaven on Wheels
Read Law or Die (lawyers on Harleys)
Born to Set Bail (Judges on Harleys)
Sue or Be Sued (lawyers)
So sue me (lawyer)
That's not my stomach rumbling
Born to Raze Hell (preacher on Harley)
Jesus Wore A "Do-Rag" (preacher)
I'm A HarleyDad and I'm OK
Ride Hard, Toes To the Noze
Well, now it is your turn. I have made contrition. My personal thanks to the Imp Queen for her suggestions and random thweakings of her synaptic misfires. Make your contribution to the ImpQueen so that I do not have to.
HarleyDad
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Tattoos No.2
Sparky, our second son, of whom we are most proud, also taught us about tattoos. Now Sparky decides to join the military during his senior year in college. Sparky comes in to tell us a couple of pieces of news. The first piece of news is that he is going into the military (Military Intelligence) and secondly before he goes in he is getting married. After I get off the floor and bring Brokerbelle back to consciousness with the smelling salts, we begin to plan for the wedding. So we hastily plan for the wedding with the Bride (a most pleasant young lady) and among other things plan for a reception for the wedding party (since it is summer) at the fabled swimming pool in our backyard.
Well, a few days before the pool party, it seems that Sparky needs to tell us something. So he and his intended come to visit us and tell us that she purchased a little gift for him for his birthday many moons ago. Guess what the gift was? You got it!! It was a tattoo. Well Brokerbelle and HarleyDad are used to quite a few things now so we begin to ask about the tattoo. Well it seems to be quite a large tattoo-all over his back. It is a large red dragon. We ask to look. And Behold! It is the largest Chinese dragon that you have ever seen.
It seems like swimming pools are the goblet of truth when it comes to tattoos. HarleyDad foolishly wonders how it is that someone to be in military intelligence might be able to hide their identity if they have a great big red dragon tattooed on their back. I mean, after all, isn't that a dead give away. Get the secret agent that has the giant red dragon on his back. However, HarleyDad is quickly made to understand that this is not an appropriate question to ask. Besides my security clearance is not high enough for an answer. They might have to kill me if they tell me. HarleyDad assumes that Sparky may be asked to infiltrate the Yakuza or some other oriental gang.
Fortunately, HarleyDad has a great love for oriental art, even if it is done on a person's back.
Brokerbelle and HarleyDad later enter into a long theological discussion regarding tattoos.
Brokerbelle points out that it is not what is on the outside of a person that counts but it is what is on the inside of a person that counts. For after all, did not Jesus tell the lawyers and Pharisees (Sometimes HarleyDad pretends that he is both) that they were like whitewashed tombs (no tattoos, I guess?) on the outside; but on the inside they were like rotten dead people. (Yikes, that is rough!) So HarleyDad and Brokerbelle, conclude that perhaps it is not what is written on the outside that counts, but whether there is a new cleansed person on the inside that makes the difference. Of course HarleyDad, who is not very theologically astute, gets all confused and things seem sometimes inside out.
Further Brokerbelle points out to HarleyDad that God writes (inscribes or tattoos) his law on our heart (the law that says That we are to love God and love each other). HarleyDad things he can follow this. But somehow, HarleyDad wonders whether someone might be implying that he has not been very loving lately to his children and their friends. HarleyDad decides not to say anything, but only nod his head and act like he understands.
Maybe all these tatoos, body piercings etc. are not as bad as Harley Dad first thinks. Perhaps, these tatoos are only skin deep after all, and don't have squat to do with the heart. Hmmm.
So as an act of repentance, HarleyDad decides to say three Harleys and One Our Harley and evidence his repentance by having a Biker-Harley tattoo saying contest, with the winning slogan being placed on HarleyDad's forearm in washable ink. (Ain't no doubt about it-HarleyDad has the heart of an animal (a chicken). But at least he knows when he is wrong, and has done thunk some bad thoughts about these tattoos so he is ready to make contrition.
Repentently,
HarleyDad
Well, a few days before the pool party, it seems that Sparky needs to tell us something. So he and his intended come to visit us and tell us that she purchased a little gift for him for his birthday many moons ago. Guess what the gift was? You got it!! It was a tattoo. Well Brokerbelle and HarleyDad are used to quite a few things now so we begin to ask about the tattoo. Well it seems to be quite a large tattoo-all over his back. It is a large red dragon. We ask to look. And Behold! It is the largest Chinese dragon that you have ever seen.
It seems like swimming pools are the goblet of truth when it comes to tattoos. HarleyDad foolishly wonders how it is that someone to be in military intelligence might be able to hide their identity if they have a great big red dragon tattooed on their back. I mean, after all, isn't that a dead give away. Get the secret agent that has the giant red dragon on his back. However, HarleyDad is quickly made to understand that this is not an appropriate question to ask. Besides my security clearance is not high enough for an answer. They might have to kill me if they tell me. HarleyDad assumes that Sparky may be asked to infiltrate the Yakuza or some other oriental gang.
Fortunately, HarleyDad has a great love for oriental art, even if it is done on a person's back.
Brokerbelle and HarleyDad later enter into a long theological discussion regarding tattoos.
Brokerbelle points out that it is not what is on the outside of a person that counts but it is what is on the inside of a person that counts. For after all, did not Jesus tell the lawyers and Pharisees (Sometimes HarleyDad pretends that he is both) that they were like whitewashed tombs (no tattoos, I guess?) on the outside; but on the inside they were like rotten dead people. (Yikes, that is rough!) So HarleyDad and Brokerbelle, conclude that perhaps it is not what is written on the outside that counts, but whether there is a new cleansed person on the inside that makes the difference. Of course HarleyDad, who is not very theologically astute, gets all confused and things seem sometimes inside out.
Further Brokerbelle points out to HarleyDad that God writes (inscribes or tattoos) his law on our heart (the law that says That we are to love God and love each other). HarleyDad things he can follow this. But somehow, HarleyDad wonders whether someone might be implying that he has not been very loving lately to his children and their friends. HarleyDad decides not to say anything, but only nod his head and act like he understands.
Maybe all these tatoos, body piercings etc. are not as bad as Harley Dad first thinks. Perhaps, these tatoos are only skin deep after all, and don't have squat to do with the heart. Hmmm.
So as an act of repentance, HarleyDad decides to say three Harleys and One Our Harley and evidence his repentance by having a Biker-Harley tattoo saying contest, with the winning slogan being placed on HarleyDad's forearm in washable ink. (Ain't no doubt about it-HarleyDad has the heart of an animal (a chicken). But at least he knows when he is wrong, and has done thunk some bad thoughts about these tattoos so he is ready to make contrition.
Repentently,
HarleyDad
Tattoo
Tattoos.
When I was a child tattoos were uncommon. Poppye had a tattoo. Sometimes navy men had a tatoo especially those who came back from the Second World War. Often they were obtained overseas or in a port city after a drunken night of fun.
Tattoos were often seen in articles in the National Geographic about natives of foreign lands. Quequeg the native in Mody Dick had tattoos.
Tattoos at one time separated people. Nice people did not have them. Rough people did.
Tattoos were the stuff of motorcycle gangs, the Hell's Angels, the Outlaws and other mechanized tribes of the wild, individualistic, and the unruly. They went well together with leather, studs and Harleys.
Tattoos can be found in prisons-not only in the United States but in foreign countries as well. I once read a book about tattoos in the Russian Gulag and all that they meant. Today tattoos are often done in prison and have much meaning, just as they do in the Russian Gulag.
The tatoos that a lifer receives is often different than those who get out. In prison, I have seen people tattoo their face. After all they are not terribly concerned in making a good impression on a job interview. But for those who get out, they often are able to cover their tattoos by wearing shirts, or long sleeve shirts so as to make a better impression.
My children introduced me to tattoos. The Frog Prince (a.k.a. the Emerald Prince) began to grow them-so to speak. At first he came home with a rose on his arm. Why a rose, who knows?
The rose led to other tattoos including Indian feathers on the shoulder. This idea, I think, arose as he was smoking a peace pipe with some of his friends who began to experiment with various Indian religious drugs. In a stale cloud of marijuana smoke, the Frog Prince had an epiphany. Why not make money by going into tattooing. Never mind that the Frog Prince did not have any particular artistic talent. All he needed was a tattoo gun some ink, and wampum was on the way. He bought the tattoo gun, and began to work on his own tattoo. After all the canvas was blank, he had ink--what more could he do. It was after a little practice on himself (after all do you think his friends were going to let him practice on them) that he discovered that this talent was not as good as he had once believed. Then it was time for a little remedial work by an expert.
As he found himself as a guest of the good State of Middle Wilderness, he found that he had time on his hands. It is not too difficult to make a little ink, obtain a pen and , by the way, some of the guests of the State, were fairly good artists. One especially, who, I believe was in for offing a couple of his wives or girl friends, was a particularly good artist, selling his artistic services for making birthday cards for Moms and girlfriends and the like, was able to do very sensitive work. Indeed, he was a true artist who unfortunately found his calling only after incarceration.
And so the tattoos grew, and grew and grew.
Well, the Frog Prince (a.k.a. the Emerald Prince) taught us that tattoos were not just for boys. He brings his "main squeeze" home to visit us. Now HarleyDad and Brokerbelle have a swimming pool. But that is another story for another time. At any rate we ask this young lady and the Frog Prince if they want to swim. No, they reply. As they are leaving, Harley Dad notices that the young lady seems to have a tatoo on the back her neck. Regrettably I ask about it and learn that the young lady has an upside down bat tattooed all over her back. Would HarleyDad like to see it. HarleyDad decides that idea is not one that should not be pursued.
So much for lesson one on tattoos.
When I was a child tattoos were uncommon. Poppye had a tattoo. Sometimes navy men had a tatoo especially those who came back from the Second World War. Often they were obtained overseas or in a port city after a drunken night of fun.
Tattoos were often seen in articles in the National Geographic about natives of foreign lands. Quequeg the native in Mody Dick had tattoos.
Tattoos at one time separated people. Nice people did not have them. Rough people did.
Tattoos were the stuff of motorcycle gangs, the Hell's Angels, the Outlaws and other mechanized tribes of the wild, individualistic, and the unruly. They went well together with leather, studs and Harleys.
Tattoos can be found in prisons-not only in the United States but in foreign countries as well. I once read a book about tattoos in the Russian Gulag and all that they meant. Today tattoos are often done in prison and have much meaning, just as they do in the Russian Gulag.
The tatoos that a lifer receives is often different than those who get out. In prison, I have seen people tattoo their face. After all they are not terribly concerned in making a good impression on a job interview. But for those who get out, they often are able to cover their tattoos by wearing shirts, or long sleeve shirts so as to make a better impression.
My children introduced me to tattoos. The Frog Prince (a.k.a. the Emerald Prince) began to grow them-so to speak. At first he came home with a rose on his arm. Why a rose, who knows?
The rose led to other tattoos including Indian feathers on the shoulder. This idea, I think, arose as he was smoking a peace pipe with some of his friends who began to experiment with various Indian religious drugs. In a stale cloud of marijuana smoke, the Frog Prince had an epiphany. Why not make money by going into tattooing. Never mind that the Frog Prince did not have any particular artistic talent. All he needed was a tattoo gun some ink, and wampum was on the way. He bought the tattoo gun, and began to work on his own tattoo. After all the canvas was blank, he had ink--what more could he do. It was after a little practice on himself (after all do you think his friends were going to let him practice on them) that he discovered that this talent was not as good as he had once believed. Then it was time for a little remedial work by an expert.
As he found himself as a guest of the good State of Middle Wilderness, he found that he had time on his hands. It is not too difficult to make a little ink, obtain a pen and , by the way, some of the guests of the State, were fairly good artists. One especially, who, I believe was in for offing a couple of his wives or girl friends, was a particularly good artist, selling his artistic services for making birthday cards for Moms and girlfriends and the like, was able to do very sensitive work. Indeed, he was a true artist who unfortunately found his calling only after incarceration.
And so the tattoos grew, and grew and grew.
Well, the Frog Prince (a.k.a. the Emerald Prince) taught us that tattoos were not just for boys. He brings his "main squeeze" home to visit us. Now HarleyDad and Brokerbelle have a swimming pool. But that is another story for another time. At any rate we ask this young lady and the Frog Prince if they want to swim. No, they reply. As they are leaving, Harley Dad notices that the young lady seems to have a tatoo on the back her neck. Regrettably I ask about it and learn that the young lady has an upside down bat tattooed all over her back. Would HarleyDad like to see it. HarleyDad decides that idea is not one that should not be pursued.
So much for lesson one on tattoos.
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Poll Workers
Ordinary people like you and me. They are working the polls without pay. They do it as their personal contribution to our democratic process. It is a wonderful process here in the Wilderness. No coercion as there is in many countries that mask themselves as democratic but which are not.
Likewise, the corruption of the voting process is much less in our country than in other countries. Bribery and corruption here is also much less.
Kudos today to those ordinary men and women who are the underlying mechanism of the world's greatest electoral process.
HarleyDad salutes you on this election day!
Likewise, the corruption of the voting process is much less in our country than in other countries. Bribery and corruption here is also much less.
Kudos today to those ordinary men and women who are the underlying mechanism of the world's greatest electoral process.
HarleyDad salutes you on this election day!
Monday, November 01, 2004
Aggies and the 12th Man
To say that I am not an Aggies Fan is an understatement.
But the Aggies do have some great traditions. One of them was mentioned by our Pastor yesterday in his sermon.
The Twelfth Man. Evidently, a number of years ago the Aggies were having a number of injuries in a big game. They got down to just eleven members of the team who were uninjured. One of the fans came down from the stadium and volunteered. He got suited up and was ready to go into the game. He was the Twelfth Man. And that is why Aggies stand during the football games. The Pastor's point is that we need to get off our duffs so to speak and be ready to go into the game of faith. At any rate it is a great tradition.
Another great tradition was that Aggies never admit that they loose football games. They only run out of time.
Aggie's have other traditions that our Pastor did not mention such as kissing their dates after they make a touchdown. Now my wife and I have been fans of Baylor University and The University of Texas . My folks are Baylor people so I have been on the otherside of the stadium watching these Aggies for years. It always seemed to me that the Aggies had figured out a pretty good tradition and I kinda wondered why Baylor and UT if they were so smart had not come up with one as worthy.
Then there was the Aggie Band. Now everyone agreed that the Aggie Marching Band was always the best and put the rest of the Bands to shame. We all knew that and there was no arguing about it.
Well, the pastor didn't mean to but he got me to thinkin about wonderful traditions and having a great spirit, and the things that make traditions. In a few minutes, I wandered back to the service-but it made an impression.
I also thought about courage. My story is about a woman that had more guts than The Twelfth Man. As a young married, my wife Brokerbelle, who has uncommon courage (as many wives and mothers do) went to the game with me. We ended up with tickets on the Aggie side-about five rows down from the Aggie Band. Now the Band was being obnoxious when our team was doing well and being down right rude. In a moment of silence, my wife stands up and lectures the entire Aggie band about not being rude and obnoxious. HarleyDad, who sometimes has the courage of an animal (a rabbit) thought surely we would die. But you know that band settled right down for the rest of the night. Well, that takes more guts than the Twelfth Man any time. She didn't even have any football equipment on when she did it.
Next time our pastor preaches, I think he should use the Brokerbelle story. Heroes and heroines are closer than we think.
But the Aggies do have some great traditions. One of them was mentioned by our Pastor yesterday in his sermon.
The Twelfth Man. Evidently, a number of years ago the Aggies were having a number of injuries in a big game. They got down to just eleven members of the team who were uninjured. One of the fans came down from the stadium and volunteered. He got suited up and was ready to go into the game. He was the Twelfth Man. And that is why Aggies stand during the football games. The Pastor's point is that we need to get off our duffs so to speak and be ready to go into the game of faith. At any rate it is a great tradition.
Another great tradition was that Aggies never admit that they loose football games. They only run out of time.
Aggie's have other traditions that our Pastor did not mention such as kissing their dates after they make a touchdown. Now my wife and I have been fans of Baylor University and The University of Texas . My folks are Baylor people so I have been on the otherside of the stadium watching these Aggies for years. It always seemed to me that the Aggies had figured out a pretty good tradition and I kinda wondered why Baylor and UT if they were so smart had not come up with one as worthy.
Then there was the Aggie Band. Now everyone agreed that the Aggie Marching Band was always the best and put the rest of the Bands to shame. We all knew that and there was no arguing about it.
Well, the pastor didn't mean to but he got me to thinkin about wonderful traditions and having a great spirit, and the things that make traditions. In a few minutes, I wandered back to the service-but it made an impression.
I also thought about courage. My story is about a woman that had more guts than The Twelfth Man. As a young married, my wife Brokerbelle, who has uncommon courage (as many wives and mothers do) went to the game with me. We ended up with tickets on the Aggie side-about five rows down from the Aggie Band. Now the Band was being obnoxious when our team was doing well and being down right rude. In a moment of silence, my wife stands up and lectures the entire Aggie band about not being rude and obnoxious. HarleyDad, who sometimes has the courage of an animal (a rabbit) thought surely we would die. But you know that band settled right down for the rest of the night. Well, that takes more guts than the Twelfth Man any time. She didn't even have any football equipment on when she did it.
Next time our pastor preaches, I think he should use the Brokerbelle story. Heroes and heroines are closer than we think.
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