Weekend Trip

My daughter Laura and I took a trip to the mountains this past weekend. It was a chance to reconnect and do what we used to do before I started working two jobs. Laura needed some time with her dad and we both needed a break.

Saturday was a washout. We went to Blowing Rock, Image and video hosting by TinyPic
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before heading on to Boone and then on to Grandfather Mountain.

On Sunday the skies were sunny so we went to Chimney Rock and Lake Lure.

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Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

It was at Lake Lure that we enjoyed a boat tour of the lake and learned some of the history and lore of the area. The guide stopped our boat in the middle of the lake and pointed out an island in front of us, nicknamed "Millionaire Row". It was named not because the properties cost over a million dollars - all of the lakefront lots are over $1M. The island was called "Millionaire Row" because of the million dollar view the owners enjoyed.

While sitting there in the middle of the lake the guide informed us that there was 85 feet of water beneath us. Directly beneath us was a church and a cemetery in a community once known as Buffalo, North Carolina. It seems that when the dam was constructed back in the early 1900s, the small farming community near Buffalo Mountain was inundated. Divers went down several years back and reported that many of the windows in the church still have their glass, and that the bell is still in the bellfry. The water is below freezing at 85 feet and everything is preserved the way it was back almost 100 years ago. The divers did find an old truck, called an REO Speedwagon (I thought it was a rock band). They used baloons to float the truck to the surface. The upholstery was shot, but only one tire was flat. When they hooked a battery up to the engine, the magneto fired; so they decided to restore the vehicle to working order. The truck was painted fire engine red and "Buffalo Fire Dept" was stenciled on its side. It was really a farm truck, but they thought it was cooler to turn it into an old fashioned fire truck. It now appears in local parades.

Another legend has it that some nights residents claim to hear the sound of a church bell ringing. The guide pointed out the first house built on the lake, long before the dam was built and the water level was known. The owner guessed where the water would rise and built a small house and dock. Today the water sits at the bottom of the dock. Back then there was nothing within miles of the settler. He rowed supplies in by canoe and walked up the hill to construct his house. I'm sure there were many evenings where there was nothing but dark sky, dark mountains, and dark water surrounding him. It must have been chilling to sit on his porch at night and hear the sound of a distant church bell.

Chimney Rock park and Lake Lure are about 3 hours from Raleigh; about 22 miles south of Asheville, NC. It is a beautiful area. Someday, when I've struck it rich in the lottery, I'm going to build a house on that lake and sit in my boat in the middle of the lake listening for that church bell.

The Preacher and Satan

He's wearing a long-sleeve blue shirt with white tab, black pants, and a baseball cap. Above his heavy beard, his skin is bright red from sitting in the sun all day. It's the same place he's sat for the past two weekends - the intersection of Ten-Ten Rd and US Hwy 401 in Garner. He sits in a folding chair, surrounded by cardboard and plywood signs, the most prominent - the one he wants everyone to see if they read none of the others - reads, "Preacher. Need job to help family survive. NOW!" On a sheet of plywood he's taped pictures of his family, the reason he's willing to make himself a spectacle if that's what it takes to support them.

Around his neck is a large wooden cross. It usually hangs on the bedroom wall, but scripture tells him to take up his cross and follow Jesus. That's why he's here. He knows he's called to preach the Word to the lost. People are dying and going to hell; someone has to tell them about Jesus.

A couple of months ago he was laid off from a job that barely supported his family. After the initial shock, he perceived it was a move of God preparing him to enter into the ministry and fulfill his life's purpose...but that was weeks ago. The rent hasn't been paid, there's practically nothing in the house to feed his family of six, and if he doesn't come up with some money soon they're going to turn off his electricity.

He's put out all the feelers at churches in the area; none need an associate pastor or there's no room in the budget to pay for one. God must want him to plant a new church...but where are the people coming from? Maybe if he stands on the corner of a busy highway, God will send the people to him. So he stands there in the late summer sun, sipping on a large sweet tea he bought at the McDonalds directly behind him. Maybe today is the day. He's not hearing God speak specifically, but this is just God's way of testing him to see if he's faithful. "I'll show Him how serious I am about serving Him." the preacher thinks. "I can suffer this heat; and when God does show up with my reward I'll have a story to tell my grandkids about." That's what he thinks at 10 in the morning, before the temperature starts creeping up and hundreds of cars pass him with barely a glance; and those that look stare at him like he's a freak. "A Jesus freak, that's me." be tells himself.

By mid-afternoon the doubts begin to creep in. He tries to rebuke them, but they keep coming. Unseen, Satan has stopped by to revel in the man's misery. "Maybe I should help him come to his senses." Satan muses. Leaning in to whisper in the preacher's ear Satan speaks in a voice that sounds remarkably like the preacher's own. "Did God really say that I was going to preach, or did I miss Him somewhere along the way?"

"Of course I'm called to preach. It's what I've wanted to do since I was saved. People need to hear my story so they will have faith and trust Him for salvation."

"But what if I'm supposed to go out and find the people instead of waiting on God to lead the people to me?"

"I don't have time to build relationships. My family is going to starve if I don't get a job soon!"

"Maybe it's not about me. Surely God will take care of my family even if I can't."

"No! God gave me my wife and He gave me our children. I'm the man. It's my job to provide! As long as I'm seeking the Lord with all my heart, He's going to take care of us. I just need to wait on God's timing."

"Maybe I missed God's timing. Maybe I should have applied for some jobs just in case."

"But if I'm working, I don't have time to find a job as a preacher. I'll end up in the same situation I was in before - depending on man rather than on God."

"But look at all these people driving past me. Surely some of them are Christians. Maybe even a pastor or a deacon. Somebody has to be tuned in to what God is doing and will stop. Not one soul has even offered me money....not that I'd accept it. God will provide."

"Times are tough for everyone. I know people care. They're bound to be praying for me, even if they don't stop and help."

"But why did God have to send Hurricane Gustav at this time and drive up the price of gas so that people who might have helped now have to use that money to fill their gas tanks. Doesn't He care about me and my family? Couldn't He have done this later?"

"There are some people who are in a lot worse shape than me."

"But there are many, many more who are better off. Godless people who have stolen my inheritance. Damn them!"

"I wonder what people think when they see me? Can't they see I'm on fire for God?"

"Or do they see me as some wierdo with a stupid wooden cross hanging around my neck, wearing the same clothes I've worn every time I've been out here. And what kind of people would be attracted to me? Probably the ultra conservatives, less educated, someone older; people who live frugally. They probably don't earn a lot and they won't want their pastor living high on the hog if they can't live that way."

"But all I want is a living wage. I've got a big family to take care of."

"This isn't what I promised my wife when we got married. I'm not setting a good example for the kids, especially if I can't buy them clothes and shoes. If my wife wasn't home schooling, things would be far worse."

"God! What am I supposed to do? I'm trying to listen and obey. Please God. Have mercy on me and my family. Please don't make them suffer for my sins God. Tell me what I've done wrong so I can repent and be forgiven. Please help God!"

The afternoon sun sinks behind the trees on the other side of the road. Less than a quarter of a mile away in either direction are two thriving churches; but the preacher is all alone. God is silent. The preacher looks at his watch and sees that it's time to leave. He promised his wife he'd be home by seven thirty and that he would bring the family something for dinner. The preacher folds his chair and grabs a sign and takes them to his car, then returns and gathers the other two. They fill the back seat of his old car. He reaches into his pockets and pulls out his money. Six dollars. Not near enough to feed his family; so he searches under the seats and in the glove box for loose change. Nothing.

The preacher collapses into the front seat of his car. "I'll have to go home empty handed." he ponders.

"But I promised my wife something for dinner. I was sure someone would stop and help me on a Sunday of all days!"

"I can't go home without something for the family. I wish I'd never bought that drink earlier. I could have brought a jug of water from home. That was $2.00 that was wasted. No wonder God isn't speaking to me. I can't even steward the little I have."

Satan grins. "He sounds just like me now." he thinks. Seeing the agony in the preacher's face, Satan knows he's got the preacher where he wants him. Just one more push. Leaning very close and imitating the preacher in the most pitiful of voices, he whispers, "I guess I will have to beg and see if someone will give me food for tonight."

The preacher's eyes swell with tears as he attempts to hold back his emotions, but they come anyway. "God, why are you doing this to me? I'd don't know what else to do. How am I going to share the Good News if all I do is struggle all my life? Where's the victory you promised Lord? I don't mind sacrifice, but where's the peace you promised? Do you really know what we're going through. Do you care? I've staked everything on you because I thought you loved me; but now I'm not so sure."

The preacher weeps until he can't cry any longer. Satan sits back and laughs at the pathetic creature. "Go beg, you dog!" he shouts. He laughs again as the preacher opens his car door. "Go ahead and beg. I'll be here when you get back so I can rub it in some more."

Preacher walks slowly, hoping that God will perform some miracle at the last minute so he doesn't have to beg for food. There's only two people in line, but the preacher waits until they've gotten their food and sat down before approaching the cashier.

"Yes sir. What can I get for you today?" she asks cheerily. Easy for her to be cheerful, she's got a paycheck the preacher thinks.

"Uh, is your manager in?" he asks. "I can't believe I'm doing this." he thinks at the same time.

"Yes sir. I'll get her for you."

"Lord, give me the words to say because I've never begged before." the preacher prays.

The manager walks up and asks what she can do to help the customer. The preacher explains how he's lost his job and that he's been looking but nothing is working. He tells her that his family is hungry and asks if she can give him some food - any thing extra that they might be ready to throw out - that he can take to his family. She sees the pain in the man's eyes, his sunburned skin, the sweat stains on his blue shirt from where the cross has hung. Normally she would say she's sorry but she can't help him. Regulations prohibit her from giving away leftovers. But he's a man of God. How can she deny him? What would that say about her?

"You just tell me what you want and it's on the house." she offers.

Preacher tries to protest. His pride still battles against his need to take care of his family. He offers her the six dollars. At first she tries to get him to keep it, but he insists so she relents and tells the cashier to take care of the customer. He orders from the value menu and the total comes to a little over seventeen dollars. He declines the offer of sodas. They can drink water at home, he tells them.

"Thank you so much for this. May God bless you. I'm going to come back tomorrow and repay you by working this expense off." he promises.

"That won't be necessary, sir." the manager replies.

"No. I'm not a pan-handler. I pay my debts." the preacher argues.

"There's nothing wrong with mercy and grace is there?" the manager asks; though she has no idea where that came from.

The preacher hesitates for a moment; his eyes fill with tears again. "No, nothing wrong with that. Thank you so much!" he says.

Leaving the restaurant, the preacher is torn by shame and gratitude. He places the food on the front seat, starts his car and heads home.

Unseen is the passenger in who's lap the bags of food sit. It's not the same passenger who was there earlier. This passenger rides along quietly for awhile, looking lovingly at the man. "I know you can't hear me." He says. "The enemy has you so confused you wouldn't recognize my voice if you could. But that's OK. I'm here. I know. I care. You don't have to hear me or beg me to keep my promises. Everything is in hand. What I've started, I'll finish - even if it's nothing like what you think I'm doing. I love you Preacher. I'm not going anywhere."

The Man Who Predicted 9/11

Last night, on the seventh anniversary of the terrorist attacks on America, the History Channel ran a one-hour documentary on Rick Rescorla, the head of security for Morgan Stanley bank in the World Trade Center. A couple of years ago I read a book about him and Daniel Day Hill - Heart of a Soldier by James B Stewart. The two men were former mercenaries who joined the U.S. Army during the VietNam war. If you saw the movie, "We Were Soldiers" starring Mel Gibson, these two men were officers in the company pinned down by the Vietnamese at Ia Drang (although they weren't mentioned by name in the movie so the producers wouldn't have to pay them royalties).

Rick Rescorla was referred to by some in the VietNam war as the best recon officer in the military. He learned much of his craft while a mercenary in Northern Rhodesia and Cyprus. Following the war he went to work in New York at the WTC and was there during the attempted bombing by bin Laden years before 9/11/2001. Following that attack, Rescorla began to petition the city and Port Authority to adopt tighter security precautions. His friend, Daniel Hill, a security consultant for the government by this time, told Rescorla that it was almost impossible to defend the WTC from attacks from the air. Because of the congestion around the Manhattan area, our Air Force could not fire on an unidentified aircraft that close to habitation. Escape, rather than prevention was the only realistic response to such an attack. Rick had Daniel help him draw up a plan to keep safe the people under his protection.

For the most part, Rick's pleas fell on deaf ears, so he took it upon himself to create an emergency evacuation plan for Morgan Stanley. Employees were drilled over and over on how to quickly exit the buildings and where to go should an emergency occur. Many thought Rick was nuts and overly cautious.

When the planes hit in 2001, Rick's evacuation plan was put into action for real. Despite the police and Port Authority telling people to remain where they were until help arrived, Rick made sure his people got out of the building, saving almost 3,000 lives. Then he went back inside to help people who weren't his responsibility. The last he was seen, he was on the 10th floor going stairwell to stairwell making sure peole were leaving. A few minutes later the South Tower crashed in around him. His body was never found. Rick was 62.

Rick Rescorla led an amazing and exciting life, and he died doing what he spent most of that life doing: protecting others. Most of us lead unextraordinary lives, Rick lived an exceptional life and left behind a legacy. If you didn't get a chance to see the special, there is supposed to be an encore presentation on Sunday night. The DVD is available at the www.history.com store for $24.95 or from Amazon for $29.95. Never forget our heroes.

Elvis! Elvis! Elvis!

I became an Elvis fan at a young age, but my parents wouldn't let me buy his records until my 13th birthday when they gave me his 'How Great Thou Art' album. My side of the bedroom when I was growing up was filled from wall to wall with pictures of Elvis. I'm not gay; Mama just wouldn't let us stick pin-ups of women on the walls (but I did have the poster of Raquel Welch in '1,000,000 Years B.C.') upstairs in the pool table room.



Last night I sat on the living room floor and inventoried and boxed up my Elvis records. There's a guy in Apex who's interested in buying them. Those records have survived three divorces and 24 years of military service. I used to say that I was going to have my Elvis records buried with me when I die...but since I'm going to be cremated I don't want to ruin perfectly good vinyl.

Boxing those records up was bittersweet. Sweet because I remember playing every one of them. I used to know the words to every song in the order they appear on the album. My Girl Happy and Girls! Girls! Girls! album covers are the most worn because I played those over and over again. Somewhere along the line someone has stolen a few of my albums. My King Creole and I Got Lucky albums are gone. I had a Sun record that my brother sold while I was stationed overseas. I enjoyed looking at the pictures on the back of the album, especially if the co-star was Raquel Welch (Roustabout), Ursula Andress (Fun In Acapulco), and Mary Ann Mobley (Girl Happy & Harum Scarum). The movie soundtracks are forgettable for the most part, but the women were almost always beautiful (except for Barbara Stanwyck (Roustabout) and Carolyn Jones (King Creole)

It was from Elvis that I learned to say "Yes Ma'am" and "No Ma'am", which won me "Most Courteous" in my senior year of high school. I wore pink shirts and black trousers to school, which should have won me "Best Dressed".

I can still remember the stereo console with the turntable, radio and 8-track tape I purchased with my own money as a teenager. I'd stack five or six of Elvis' records on the platter, crank up the volume, and sing along with Elvis. When I was shipped off to basic training at Ft. Jackson, SC, Elvis' step-brother, Billy Stanley. I would stand up in the back of the deuce-n-half on the way to the rifle ranges and sing 'Wellll, Well, Well, Well, Well, Wellll, I gotta woman, way across town, who's good to me, oh yeah! Said I gotta woman, way across town. She's good to me, oh yeah. She's my baby, don't you understand? I'm her loving maaannn, Well, I gotta woman, way across town, she's good to me!" just like Elvis. Now I can't sing like him anymore, but I can do Elmer Fudd singing Love Me Tender.

I really hate to have to sell these records. There are 80 albums and 26 of the 45- RPMs and 1 78-RPM EP (extended play). They're worth more than the $750 price I put on them. In fact, if I take them home tonight I won't be disappointed. I hate to think that I hold on to any possession too tightly; for after all, they're just things, and I haven't had a turntable in over twenty years. Still, it's not so much the music as the memories I don't want to let go of. I'm not the Elvis fan that I used to be, but he's been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.

Visiting the Folks in Nebraska

I flew out to Newman Grove, Nebraska over the Labor Day weekend to visit my fiance and to prepare for our November wedding. Newman Grove is a tiny farm town of about 800 citzens, located about three hours west of Omaha. I'd never seen such large cornfields and granaries in all my life. Corn, soybeans, alfalfa and beef are the sources of income for most of the residents in the Newman Grove area.

Pam and I attended marital counseling on Saturday morning. Pastor Ken Purscell gave us four personality tests to see if we're compatible. I think he was surprised just how much we'd talked and how well we knew one another. We have the gender roles already worked out - we're sharing responsibilities. It was a fun morning getting to know Ken and going over the wedding ceremony.

Saturday afternoon we visited Pam's parents and siblings. They live a few miles down a well maintained gravel road about a half hour from Newman Grove. Her parents are gracious, quiet people. The first thing Pam's mom said to me was a plantive "It's a long way", meaning the distance from Nebraska to North Carolina. They didn't ask me a lot of questions; not wanting to pry, and satisfied that Pam knows me well enough for us to marry. They simply want the best for their daughter. The Doughty's are a strong family. They take pride in their children and grand children - often traveling to watch the grandaughter play volleyball or a grandson's track meet.

I sat on the front porch and soaked in the view of the sun setting over the family farm until Pam's dad started grilled burgers. Then I hung around him for awhile so he wouldn't feel alone, but I don't think it was a problem for Mr. Doughty. The only thing he asked me is if I was a football fan. The Corn Huskers were playing Western Michigan in Lincoln, and half the state was there to watch the Huskers win 47 to 24. The game was pay per-view, so we listened to the game on the radio while we ate.

We drove the trucks out to the 'back 40' with Pam's dad to turn off the irrigation pump and to see the family camping area next to the river. The Doughty's farm over 400 acres, just the two of them. There's been a drought this summer, so they've been in the fields quite a bit repositioning the irrigation pipes. It's hard work for a young farmer, but these two never complained. They've created a comfortable home with a beautiful view of corn and soybean fields. Our dinner came from the garden. The beds were covered with quilts made by my better half. The bathroom sported an oversized clawfoot tub, and there's a chicken house out back ready to receive a new brood of chickens. Pam's sister dropped by with her grandson, who wanted to camp out so we erected a tent in the front yard. The doors aren't locked at night, so if he got cold or scared he'd be able to come back inside. At eight, he knew how to make an ax out of a piece of broken flint, a stick and some duct tape. Pam's brother brought along his son and daughter with her boyfriend. The teenagers were as quiet and polite as the adults were.

On Sunday we attended the United Methodist Church, a beautiful country church in Newman Grove. Reverend Purscell presided over a sermon from Romans 12 about being transformed by a renewing of the mind. Pam and Ken sang a duet, "I Can Only Imagine". After church we all went to the City Cafe for lunch. Many members of the congregation are seniors; but these seniors are much healthier than seniors in North Carolina. They've worked hard and lived well all their lives, and they enjoy meeting and 'gossiping' with one another. 'Old' to them is someone in their upper 90's and there's some around who are over 100.

Sunday afternoon Pam and I drove to Humphrey for a picnic with her co-workers. There was a good turnout. The food was fabulous. It turned out to be a surprise wedding shower. Pam's friends were so thoughtful. They gave us a little cash and some gift cards so Pam wouldn't have to pack up more stuff for the move. Then we played 'Battle of the Sexes'. The ladies cheated, and the guys did surprisingly well; it ended appropriately in a tie.

On Monday we packed some of Pam's things and threw away quite a bit of stuff. Bernice, one of the nice ladies from the church invited us to dinner. The only place open on Labor Day was Newman Grove Bowl. The bowling alley only allows bowling and smoking after 7:30 PM. Before that, you can come in and eat and drink coffee, but no smoking.

Tim, the owner, brought us prime rib sandwiches as big as the plate. He's quite a character. He refers affectionately to Bernice as 'dumb ass', who smiles and scribbles on his order pad so he has to tear it off and start over. On one wall is a sign that claims, "This is not Burger King. You do not get it your way here. You'll take what I give you and damn well like it." The bowling alley is where the locals come to eat breakfast in the morning and to drink coffee in the afternoons. They don't serve sweet tea in Nebraska, but you can order a pop (Pepsi). The check for three meals came to just over $18.00. Bernice was not too happy that I wouldn't let her pay for it; so she made us come back for breakfast on Tuesday morning so she wouldn't 'owe' us anything.

There is a stong sense of pride and loyalty in rural Nebraska, whether it's over a football team or the family farm. If you break down on one of their roads, the next car to pass by is expected to stop and help, because the closest house might be three or four miles away. American flags fly everywhere. The few Democrats share similar values with Republicans. Neighbors help other neighbors. Were it not for the cold winters, Nebraska would be a great place to live.

As beautiful as the state of Nebraska is, with corn fields that stretch to the horizon, where the sky meets the ground rather than the treeline; it's the people of Nebraska that make it special. Southern hospitality may be a thing of the past here, but in our heartland are people who respect one another, who stand by their neighbors, who love and serve our country, who are passionate about God, family and football; people who are soft-spoken, gentle, determined, and hardy. I'm gaining a wonderful family and good friends, so I hope that Pam finds people here who are just as loving and supportive as those she leaves behind.