Catching Up

I will be brief. Wow!  Wrapping up 40 years of full-time ministry, "retiring," and moving to a fresh place with new opportunities is hard work. Now I have more time for writing and am committed to a couple of volunteer ministry situations. All that to say that I am writing again and a lot, just finishing a western (book 2 of the Lorne Wolfe series), and have surrendered the 73,000+ word manuscript for editing. Now, this is a blog and I apologize for not giving it more serious attention. I mean to be much more frequent, starting now. My blogs in general will tend to be brief, and will deal with writing related matters, faith in history, books I like, lessons learned, and anything else that catches my fancy. I might even resort to dignified venting, should I feel the urge. This is all for now. I just wanted to do this fresh start at blogging. See you soon.

Still Remembering

Memorial Day, 2013

I can’t remember his name. I barely remember his friendly, sunburned face. Like a lot of us stationed at Di An, South Vietnam in 1968,  he went to bed after a long day’s work and, no doubt, fell asleep. Sometime in the dark hours of early morning, the Viet Cong launched a barrage of mortars, landing them right on top of us.

Having just returned from a month at Lai Khe, which received rocket and mortar fire many times every day and night I was there, I awoke at the first sound and dashed toward our bunker. By then, it was routine. My friends and I made it to safety that night—but he didn’t.

A couple of days after the attack, I recall a few of us attending a brief memorial service led by a chaplain we barely knew. An empty pair of combat boots and his empty helmet set upon his M-16 provoked a serious sense of loss. We left the meeting in silence and never talked about it with each other again.

It is likely his family and friends will remember him on Memorial Day. They probably still lament a life cut far too short, and what he might have become. For some reason, I remember him, too. He was one of the 58,150 others whose lives were lost during that far away war. He was one who lived where I lived.

The count goes on. A vast number of men and women, serving their country in uniform, have lost their lives in many conflicts. They still do. Since the beginning of this nation, their sacrifices have helped to preserve and protect this country, and they still do!

Like I said, I can’t remember his name and I barely remember his face. But this Memorial Day, for some reason, I remember him. I will remember others, as well. So will many of you.

God bless and comfort those who remember, and God bless the United States of America. 

www.quietstreambooks.com

IT WAS A FIRST...

February 27, 201

Living in progressive times like these makes it possible to still experience “firsts,” even as the years pile up.  Take, for example, my first adventure with the GPS function of my new Droid phone yesterday. Being in a remote neighborhood of Portland and needing to get to a certain hospital to make a pastoral visit, I asked a couple of questions of my relatives about directions. One of them set up the phone’s GPS/map function and said all I had to do was follow instructions.

Fine. I can do that. I can follow instructions. So I boarded my Rave4, slid the phone in an available slot, and took off. A pleasant feminine voice gave patient directions. I listened and obeyed. It seemed that all went better than imagined.

Now, I know Portland pretty well. It took me but a few right and left turns to figure out where I was in relation to the rest of the city. In fact, I soon knew exactly where to go and didn’t really need the GPS (I’ll call her, “Gipsy”). When I got to a fork in the road, the sign said I should veer to the right, but Gipsy urged me to the left. Then she started to spit out rapid-fire commands. I was to turn right on Blah-blah SE, then left on Blah-blah, followed by an immediate order to turn right on East Blah-blah Avenue.

Three quick commands referring to streets with which I was not entirely familiar turned out to be more than I could process. I couldn’t read the street signs fast enough and made a wrong turn. Gipsy began a whole new line of orders. “Right at Blah-blah Drive, right at Blah-blah Street NE and make a U-turn.” Brother, was she ever bossy. When I somehow arrived at the correct place, a No U-Turn sign forced me to keep going forward. Gipsy, nevertheless, continued a series of quick orders to turn either left or right. I sensed her vocal chords tightening just a bit—or was it me?

I suddenly found myself in a part of Portland I had seen before. In fact, that time I got lost without the benefit of Gipsy. She’s still talked to me, but I didn’t listen anymore. I got to a freeway on-ramp and gunned my car in the right direction.

Gipsy spoke a little slower now—almost as if she felt tired. She told me to proceed three miles before turning onto a particular exit. Then she said no more. For three miles of rollicking Portland freeway driving I forged ahead in blissful silence. At the exit she gave clear orders I didn’t need to hear, and I told her so.

After the visit, I returned to my relatives home with a sense of serenity. I forbade Gipsy to speak, and got back to the our relatives’ house in almost half the time it took me to get from there to the hospital.

Moral:  A good map works for me better than that chatty electronic Gipsy. Still, I believe I’ll try it again. Maybe, like in almost everything else techno, practice will make perfect.

Richard M. Cary

www.quietstreambooks.com

Lesson From a Wanapum Canoe

     For a period of about 40 years, I drove past Wanapum Dam, on the big bend of the Columbia River, hardly noticing that massive structure. Then, about two months ago I was in the area doing field research for the latest book for children I am writing. Not only do I believe in “book research,” but I think it’s a good idea to be on site.

After ranging though acres of sage brush, stones, and all sorts of native plants and bugs, I decided to drive up to the Dam and see if it contained an interpretative center or something of interest. Turns out they have one of the finest Native American/Early Settler displays a tourist could hope to see.

One part of the displays sticks in my memory. It’s a hand-carved, dugout canoe, made from a whole log. The craft stretches to about 18-20 feet. Its makers had carved the shape to perfection. In that one canoe, humans and cargo could shoot rapids and sail along swift currents, both upstream and down. According to the pictures on the museum’s walls, such perfection of workmanship allowed for its Wanapum owner to stand up and paddle the craft atop the smooth water of deep pools. I am still impressed!

I took pictures—it is permitted—and stood for a while in thought. Who carved that canoe? How did they do it? What process taught the Wanapums to do such a fine and careful job with a wooden log?

The answers allude me. I’ll be looking for books on the subject and may learn more than I know now. But I do know this much. That canoe, in its finished form, happened one chip at a time. That’s right—one chip at a time! It wouldn’t surprise me if there were times when the canoe makers got weary of their work. Still, they just kept chipping away at it.

“How many books have you written,” someone asked me a couple of weeks ago.

“Eight,” I said. “Four have been published and the others are waiting in line”.

“Wow. I’ve thought about writing a book,” he said. “It just seems like a daunting task. How do you do it?”

“I just keep chipping away at it, one word at a time.”

Do you long to do something significant but don’t know how to get it done? Well, just get started. Write the first words, sew the first stitches, play the first notes, turn the first spade. Then stay with it, learn more about it, apply your new knowledge, and just keep chipping away at it. Your work won’t likely find a place in a future museum, but you will have the personal satisfaction of fulfilling your own dream and getting it done.

Richard M. Cary

www.quietstreambooks.com

About those elections...

     On one hand, it’s kind of interesting to follow the political happenings these days. On the other hand, it’s kind of frustrating.

     Allow me to explain. It’s always intriguing to learn what possible future political leaders think about issues of great importance. I genuinely believe these United States of America stand at a crossroads. We will go one of two directions in November—deeper into debt and farther away from our founding documents, or we’ll find ways to reduce mounting debt and more fully embrace our great Constitution. It all depends on for whom the majority of Americans will cast their ballots in the general election. Presidential and Congressional decisions will have powerful impact on this current generation, and more particularly, on the generations to follow.

     To the politicians, I have this request.  Please, please, please! Let’s dispense with negative campaigning, attack ads, out-of-context sound bites, and hypocritical nonsense. Let us know what you have done and what you plan to do, that’s all.  I know, I sound naïve and simple minded. “That’s just the way politics are done,” some say. I know all that. But deep in my heart, I long for a politician, nay, a statesman, who will rise above the common rubble of  sometimes prevaricating and ad hominem political hack attacks.  Address the issues! Give us genuine hope by sharing an achievable vision for an extension of true American Exceptionalism.

     Hmm. My glass of Diet Coke is finished, and so shall I. Before I sign out, however, I’d like to encourage voters to be informed, believers to pray, and everyone to cast their ballots this year. National, state, and local elections depend on steadfast American patriots doing their duty.

4th Quarter Rant

Today I wrote a check for my 4th quarterly estimated tax payment for 2011.  I always budget what must be paid, and I always pay it on time. In some ways, I’d rather not part with so much hard-earned money, but I can’t argue with what Jesus said: “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s...” The context was that of paying taxes.

Really, I don’t mind doing my part as long as those in authority do theirs. After all, the nation must be defended and the very fabric of its institutions must be held together. Somehow, though, those in authority are overspending our national resources by at least $15,000,000,000,000. Just staring at US Debt Clock.org  a few minutes ago almost took my breath away!

We’re talking serious responsibility here. I’m not pointing my finger at any political party. I am, however, disgusted with the members of our executive and legislative branches––all of them. They must get off their political duffs and start acting like dependable servants of the people of these United States. It’s time to treat the nation’s spending and consequent debts as seriously as we treat our own.

This week I plan to write emails to my two Senators and the one Representative. I will simply, politely, but clearly ask them to get serious about the debt. No more politics! Listen to those whom you represent! Be responsible citizens as you manage the finances of this great nation! That pretty well sums it up, I guess.

I am also asking you, dear reader, to do the same thing. A fresh flood of citizen voices could make some difference, what with elections looming in our future.

Yes, I admit to a bit of ranting here. A friend recently told me that since I had a blog, I get to rant if I want to. I guess that makes it OK.  At least I feel better.