Hands

Read Kathleen's blog of Oct 30 and was going to comment but thought my comment was a little long and I needed to a blog anyway.

I was walking across the campass here at Sagar Brown last January when a new employee
responsible for a program called Circles (A family support service) said to me. I'll bet you are
a minister down here to help out. I smiled and answered, no I am not a man of the word, I am
a person of deeds.

In the search for life I was born, I was a child, I was a teenager (fun) , I went to school, I went to
war, I went to college (loved it), I engineered, supervised, managed, directed, was a father ( the
best of times), built things, and fixed things. I have found that using my hands to perform any
task is my strengh. Without this I would just wither away. I wonder what Epictetus would say?

But then, Epictetus would remind me not to be concerned with what he would say.

I like that because on the day I elected to start blogging my main thought was not to worry
about any negative feedback it any form that I received about what I wrote.

Sitten of the bayou

Saturday is laundry time. I gather up the dirty duds, soap and dryer sheets, my coffee and my
book and head for the campers bath and laundry facilitity. The is located on the bayou.
After I get the loads started I pull a chair out of the broom closet, grab my coffee and book,
sit outside the door to drink, read and watch the tide roll in. This morning the tide was moving
big islands of green folage created by the sugar cane harvest up the bayou really slow. I dropped my observation to read a little and take a sip and when I looked up the islands were flowing
down stream. The only activity was fishermen heading out to try their luck in in their not so fancy boats.

After the laundry was completed I started to make a picture frame for the lady in charge
of the depot. I was almost done but came up short of material I needed to complete it. So
I repaired the old frame instead. They have the various tools and material I needed
scattered in three different buildings. So even a small job takes a lot of time hunting and
gathering just like our ancesters had to do to survive.

The other day I heard that some lady doesn't believe in the here after. The way I feel
about it is that if you are not her after, what I'm here after, you will be her after I'm gone.

Joke and more

The Methodist Church moves their ministers from church to church every few years. This
little church received a new minister who happened to be female. Of course this set some
of the congragation on edge and concerned that this might not work. One fine gentlemen
decided they should try to make the right moves to help her out so he and his wife invited
to go fishing with them. She allowed that she didn't know how to fish but would love to go with
them. So in due time they reach the boat and motored to a good fishing spot. As time passed
it grew cooler and the minister got cold and needed to go back to get her sweater she left in the
car. The gentleman quickly offered to take her back to get it. But the lady said, no I can get
it my self. Where upon she got out of the boat and walked on the water to get her sweater. When she was about half way back the gentlemen said, wouldn't you know it. She not only doesn't
know how to fish, she can't swim either.

That was not part of the message at vespers but I thought the first part of what she said
was good and the second part was a waste of time. The part I liked was that a church
was where people gathered to meet and get to know their neighbors and community
members, become friend, develop helping and lasting relationships. She said that was the
primary benefit and purpose of the church. The second part was to praise an individual
who had past away that most of us did not know. It would have been ok in their local
church where he was well known.

The title of her message was, "Do We Really Need the Church?"

Hands

We went to a celebration in a nearby town Saturday and Ellen stopped at a booth for battered
women and bought a funnel cake and in the process won a tee shirt. On the front of the shirt
it reads, Hands Are Not For Hitting. On the back it tells you, Hands are for....Hugs, helping my
mom, building tree houses, eating ice cream, planting vegetables, shaking, high fives, writing
stories, playing games, throwing baseballs, waving hello, waving goodby, signing, raising,
petting a kitten, brushing my hair, making paper airplanes, washing the dishes, hand-stands,
jumping rope, making art, playing the drums, riding my bike, picking flowers, walking the dog,
brushing my teeth, tying my shoes, playing catch with my friend, making pancakes with my
grandma, catching dragonflies, fishing, coloring pictures, playing the piano, "rocks, paper, scissors", pinky swears......hands are never for hitting.

NEAT!

The Job

Have heart Kim. Mark Twains autobiography is ready to be published one hundred years
after his death at his request.His notes for in the form of blogs. Mark Twaim was the original
blogger. I think his book is more about other people than himself and he didn't want anyone
that he offended to be around to read it.

Here it is Sunday evening. Ellen is in bed and I have the TV, the computer, etc all to
myself.

Daytime during the week I load trucks, unload trucks, fill boxes, empty boxes, sweep floors,
move pallets of material, cut down boxes, crush and bale cardboard, move the bales outside,
build items they need to make things keep on ticking, etc. Once a day I get a reprieve. I
get to take the truck to the post office to pick up the mail. When I get to the post office the
reprieve ends. Awaiting are boxes of material and kits that churches have send that weigh
anywhere from ten to fifty pounds to be loaded onto the truck, taken back to the depot,
unloaded, unpacked and placed in a large container to be processed. The process also
includes identifying the sender so we can send them a thank you.

We are situated between a state highway and a bayou. During the day the haighway
carries monster trucks loaded with sugar cane just harvested headed for the refinery.
During the night barges carry the refined sugar down the bayou to the rest of the world.

More later.

Veterans

I see where the White House turned the family of a Medal of Honor winner away from an
exclusive tour because the late veterans 10 year old grandson was wearing shorts. The
black veteran recieved his medal in for action in WWII in 1975. In 1945 the veteran
rallied black troops after their white commander deserted and captured a German
stronghold.

Now the Supreme Court is to determine if the Constitution will permit so called religious
groups to spout hate at a veterans funeral. If I was on active duty at this time and the US
Supreme Court voted to permit this to occur, I would say that I might be willing to go in
harms way but I would not be willing to put my family though something like that. Get
someone else to fight you stupid wars.