For twenty years I worked with seventh and eighth grade children in a public school and must confess it was, at times, depressing.  They often acted bad – disrespected teachers and staff, turned on one another (sometimes violently), dressed inappropriately, cursed openly, hated school and hated adults including their parents.  Being in that environment day after day had an ill effect on me – tainting my opinion that all young people were worthless wastes of time just needing to grow up and get on with their lives as soon as possible.  Periodically a child would do something kind or completely unselfish and my opinion would change once again.  It was really an ebb and flow emotional ride.  Now I find myself a year removed and firmly planted in retirement and my perspective has changed again – somewhat.

It may have been good for me to get away from that world every ten years or so – could have used take that time to heal up.  If I could recommend anything to my friends still working with young people day in and day out – time away periodically may be the best medicine to help regain a healthy perspective.  I’m not sure two months off in the summer can quite do that.  Take a year away – even if it means financial sacrifice and then get back into it.  It may make your next decade much more satisfying.

As I retrospect my years working with kids – I am aware that I am sounding more and more like the old farts who have been disparaging young people since the fifties. The generalization that all teenagers are juvenile delinquents is wrong-headed at best and dangerously destructive at worst.  I would never have wanted my two children to be lumped into the same categories as the young criminals that are making headlines daily.  It is completely unfair to allow the destructive conduct of a “few” – shape ones viewpoint of the “many”.  Admittedly – I had reached that point in my career where it became more and more difficult to find the good in any of the young people I worked with.  I knew – it was time to get out.

Still I am fighting the urge to judge kids I see – even here in Kingman – with the preconceived idea that they are worthless, trouble makers.  I have seen enough kids being escorted out of the local Wal-Mart in just the two months we have been here to have reason to believe the youth culture here is in real trouble.  About the time I am close to convincing myself all teenagers are Satan’s seed – something happens that changes my mind.  Something like what I observed yesterday.

There is no place to shop here in Kingman except Wal-Mart.  Because of that – I spend a good deal of time there – far more time than I would like.  One thing about it – Wal-Mart draws people from all walks of life and if I’m really bored I may just sit and watch all the “Wal-Martians” go by in the latest “Wal-Martian” hair and clothing styles.  (I never knew hair could be so green or purple spandex so tight).  Yesterday afternoon must have been Wal-Mart ‘Mardi-Gras’. I would say the place was a zoo but that is being cruel to animals.

As I sat drinking my Diet Coke at the Wal-Mart McDonald’s (could there ever be a more deadly combination) I noticed many young people milling around and making a lot of noise.  Several of the young men were wearing the latest style in sagging, underwear revealing jeans.  For one young future leader of America I noticed he had to keep one hand on his waistband at all times for fear his pants may slide all the way to the floor.  The young ladies bounding behind the guys were equally impressive in their costumes that would make “Hooters” shut down.  I was immediately disgusted and prepared to leave before the party got too intense.  As I was gathering my things a man in a wheelchair rolled up to the booth next to me and I noticed he was a double leg amputee struggling with his food and a case of soft drinks laying in his lap.  After he finished his meal – I watched as he rolled his chair to refill his drink and he had to ask the gathered throng of punk kids to clear a way for him to maneuver.  As he balanced the case of drinks in his lap – I noticed one of these geniuses with his girlfriend walk up and thought they would certainly make a joke about the poor man – which may have sent me over the edge and probably in jail.  The young man walked up and asked if he could help the man with his drinks.  What?  Am I seeing this?  I cleaned off my glasses and blinked a few times.  I could not believe what I was seeing.  The young man then took the case of drinks (I’m not lying about this) and with his girlfriend at his side began walking with the man through the store while he finished shopping and then walked with him outside to his car.  At first I thought they may have known one another – may even be related.  But I soon realized they were complete strangers.  What a moment – what an incredible young man.

I don’t know if I will ever see that teenager again – but you can bet I will be looking for him every time I go to Wal-Mart.  He made me change my mind about young people – again.  There are some amazing kids out there doing some amazing things while overcoming some incredible obstacles.  Now I remember why I worked at a middle school for twenty years.

Whoever that young man is – thanks!

See Ya!

It was in an airport in Texas.  Lisa and I were flying from California to Orlando and had to change planes in Austin.  The airport was busy – people were everywhere walking, running, drinking coffee, looking at their phones.  We stopped for lunch at a counter service restaurant to wait on our next flight and it was in that moment that I recognized the quiet.  Surreal quiet.  All these people – everywhere and hardly a sound was being made.  People were silently in their own little world of looking at newspapers, eating lunch, staring out windows and simply trying to get through their day.

“If the Lord had not been my help, My soul would soon have dwelt in the abode of silence.”  Psalm 95:17.

This is a busy world we live in – sometimes crazy in terms of the activities, deadlines, obligations and busy-ness of what seems at times like a mad, mad world.  My retirement and our traveling with Lisa’s job has taken away a lot of the mind numbing, body breaking deadlines.  And though we have eliminated much of that type of lifestyle – we have found ourselves now immersed for the third time in the lives of people still battling the world and, in some cases, losing.  Lisa has been able to bring a little light and energy to otherwise sad, frustrated people who God has thrown in her path and in mine.  I am proud of how she has been able to share the love of God with a lot of desperate, lonely and sad people with just a few kind words and a very, very good work ethic.

Yesterday she told me of a young nurse at her hospital who she noticed never spoke to anyone.  She did her job, ate her lunch, walked down hallways and simply existed in near silence.  As they were eating lunch, the lady blurted out – almost unknowingly – that she wished she knew how to coupon.  Lisa overheard her say this and then sat mulling over whether she should speak up and let her know she had found the right person.  For a few years now Lisa has couponed like the pros and has stockpiled tons of items that we will be using for the next decade.  I am fairly certain there is no “Colgate” toothpaste left in western Kentucky.  It is stored in our cabinets in Owensboro.  Her experience has led her to even teach several classes explaining her coupon technique.  She found herself hearing this very quiet person spill out this desire and knew God was once again up to something.  And (with the help of her co-worker, Gary – who is never at a loss for words) she introduced herself and explained that she could help her coupon.  The lady was ecstatic and began talking a mile a minute.  Others would later say they had never heard her say so much and the two are now planning to go shopping together in the coming days.  I’m interested in seeing how this relationship develops in the coming weeks.

It is my hunch that many, many people are living in quiet desperation.  They go about their lives without saying much about their pain and put a good face on an otherwise excruciating sadness.  We (and I have to include myself) are masters at “faking it”.  It does not take much (really) – just a kind word – a deliberate interaction – a breaking of the silence to make a difference.  As the Psalmist wrote “If the Lord had not been my help – my soul would have dwelt in silence.”  It is in silence, I believe, that many are living out their pain.

There is a couple living here at our campground (originally from Ohio) who after their retirement decided to move to Arizona.  They are in the process of building a house outside Kingman and are staying here until it is finished.  The man’s brother came out to visit for a few weeks and I would see him sitting by himself near the pool day after day.  On occasions I would say “Hi!” or “Nice day!” but would never get a response.  Finally, I decided he just did not want to talk to me.  After he went back to Ohio I had an opportunity to ask the couple about him.  I told them how sorry I felt for him and that he seemed so sad – often just sitting with his head in his hands.  They explained that he had some mental problems and was just unhappy no matter where he was or who he was with.  They went on to say that he would probably never be any better.

I have to wonder if many people are nearing a point in their lives where their quiet sadness will someday be irreversible and find themselves at a depressed point of no return.  It seems that Lisa has been given this unexpected ministry to be tuned into those around her that need a kind word or maybe a coupon buddy.  Her ability to reach out to people hurting has resulted in new friends now scattered across three states.  In September we are planning to meet up with some of those friends we made in Loma Linda as we will travel to Redlands, Ca. and spend a weekend with them.  We hope to get back to Hanover and visit with the friends we made in Pennsylvania.  Someday, I feel sure, we will want to return here to Kingman and see our friends here again.

It is true that Lisa is the one working and I’m retired.  I tell people that she could not make it without me.  I joke about that – but it really is true.  I cook, clean, do laundry, take care of our RV (swim and play golf – I had to throw that in). But the fact is I could not do without her.  And it is not because of her work and income.  I need her to continue pushing me to (as she says) “put myself out there” and meet people.  I am learning how to do that.  She has shown me the importance of breaking my silence in order to help other people break theirs.

Our legacies will not be what we leave in a bank account – but what lives have been brought out of an abode of silence because of a kindness we have shared.

Peace!

Steve and Lisa

The movie theater here in Kingman features four movies you can choose from at any given time.  Apparently the theater is incapable of handling 3-D movies and many of the films Lisa and I would like to see never make it here.  Kingman has less than 30,000 residents which explains the reason for only a four screen theater.  We can live with that.  Sometimes too many choices is just that – too many.  Lisa and I have probably watched more movies here in Kingman in the short time we have been here than we watched in a year back home in Kentucky.  When the weather outside is 110 degrees – you look for any place with air conditioning.  Movies are a good place to stay cool for a couple of hours.

We have also discovered that many people living in RV campgrounds search out the best deals in terms of restaurants, grocery deals, and entertainment discounts.  My golf buddy, J.C., told me about a golf course nearby that cost just $15 bucks per person and that includes cart.  These “full timers” know how to find a deal – and we’re good with that.  We overlook the fact that often they want to eat supper at 3:00 in the afternoon – when prices are discounted.  We feel like we are living in Jerry Seinfeld’s parents community in Florida.

Today (Wednesday) Lisa and I took advantage of one of those “senior discount deals” and took in a 10:00AM movie at the theater.  Every first Wednesday of the month – a 10:00AM movie is featured for $1 and that includes popcorn and a drink.  You read that right – one dollar!  Since Lisa was off work today – we decided to take advantage of the deal along with several others from our RV park.

When we arrived we learned that the featured dollar movie was not a first run film.  In fact, the feature today was an old Elvis movie from 1961.  Oh well – what should we expect for a buck?  The popcorn and soft drink alone was worth the price of admission and besides – what else was there to do today?  So we entered the theater and immediately realized we were (by far) the youngest people in the place.  I noticed that the lady taking our ticket looked me over pretty good but did not ask my age.  I think you had to be at least seventy and show proof of age with either an AARP card or a “Depends” box top – which Lisa and I had neither – but she allowed us to go in anyway.  Now feeling completely stupid we made our way into the theater dodging walkers and oxygen tanks.  The smell of buttered popcorn, moth balls, Vicks Vapor Rub and some unmentionable smells permeated the theater air as Elvis took the screen.

Soon after the movie began – a gentleman across the aisle from us began choking on his popcorn and Lisa and I discussed which one of us would do CPR on him.  She was just re-certified last week – so she was chosen for the job.  Fortunately he made it through the movie but hacked and gagged periodically all the way to the end.

I use to think teenagers were the loudest people in a theater but Lisa and I both learned today they can’t hold a candle to senior adults.  Cell phones rang louder than train whistles throughout the movie and not only that – they answered them.  Also, Elvis must have been hot stuff back in their day – he still created some “Oohs” and “Ahhs” from the crowd and many felt the need to comment about everything that happened.  About halfway through the movie – Lisa and I, almost simultaneously, started laughing. This is one of the moments we will talk about a long time from now.

The movie ended and we began inching down the aisle behind the walkers and wheelchairs. I am glad Kingman has this service for its seniors – they seemed to enjoy their morning at the movie and in the end – Lisa and I enjoyed it was well.

We will have two more opportunities to see a movie with our new senior friends before heading back to Kentucky.  I told Lisa – not to worry next month.  Those dates are on me.

Laughing at life!

Steve and Lisa

Living in the west has many advantages – particularly sunny weather year round.  Lisa and I experienced our first western winter this past year in Loma Linda and understood the appeal of the west coast climate.  You could not ask for anything better.

Arizona weather has come with a few surprises that we have learned to live with.  It is hot here (obviously) but the evenings are extremely pleasant and we have discovered that many people here do not go out until the sun goes down.  This past week Lisa was called into the hospital (while on-call) at 2:00 in the morning and she noticed a crowd outside the local McDonalds as well as many older residents riding their bikes – two freaking O’clock in the morning!  I recently had a conversation with someone who after  hearing I was from Kentucky said she loved the skin complexion of Kentuckians compared to  people here in Arizona.  Here, she said, people’s skin look like boots.  I never really thought about Kentuckians skin complexions until she said that.

But as I thought about it – it really does make sense.  To be outside during the summer months in the Mohave Desert is a test of endurance.  We have learned to never be too far away from water as the dry air will turn your skin to ash and your throat to sandpaper in a matter of minutes.  We are now buying our skin lotion by the drum.  Lisa’s co-workers advised her early on to drink plenty of water – even if you are not thirsty.  Likewise we have tried to adjust to excessive sun exposure and my “skillet skin” (as Lisa calls it) has burned, pealed, tanned, burned and pealed again going on about the fifth cycle.  If my skin gets too much more sun exposure I’m afraid someone will confuse it for beef jerky.

But the dry, hot conditions we were expecting.  We were not ready for the winds.  It is very unusual to find no wind blowing here in Kingman.  Riding my bike feels like I’m pushing against a jet engine at times.  Our RV has not stopped swaying almost from the time we arrived and on occasions high winds will blow through in sudden gusts creating huge dust clouds and blowing away anything left unsecured.  Forget pulling out an RV awning – it would not last a single day.  But with the strong winds – usually comes cool breezes at night and it has on a few occasions almost felt cool – almost.

Finally we learned about monsoons.  We experienced our first and only (so far) monsoon and flood level rain this past week.  All the streets, sidewalks and parking lots were left caked in mud when the waters receded and the “washes” (large trenches designed to carry away the flood waters) flowed like small rivers throughout Kingman.  We received four inches of rain in a three-hour period and the waters carried many vehicles down stream as they moved across the area.  Some are saying it was the biggest rain they have had here in years.  Well of course – right up there with the hottest temperatures they had experienced in a hundred years and the McFarlands have seen it all.

It seems that Arizona is a state of extremes.  Here you don’t just have a summer shower – you have floods that can kill.  Here you don’t have summer breezes – you have hurricane force winds.  Here you don’t just have hot summer temperatures – you have saunas.  Some have told us that it can get cold here in the winter months.

I can only imagine.

Thanks for reading!

Steve and Lisa

Another normal day broke in Kingman and I packed Lisa’s lunch – kissed her on the forehead – told her to be good and work hard and drove her off to another day looking at hearts and saving people. Ho-hum.

When I got back to our campground  – I decided to take a morning ride since the winds were relatively calm (which is unusual) and headed out on my “grandpa” bicycle complete with one gear (slow) and coaster brake.  As I turned to pass the campground pool and activity room I heard a voice yell for me.

“Steve!”

I turned and noticed it was Carol, one of our RV neighbors, with her grandson, Luke.  The two were standing outside the game room and she asked if I could give them a hand with something.

“Sure!” I responded.  “What’s up?”

“Luke said he saw a spider in the game room and he wants to play but we can’t tell if its real or fake.  Can you look and see what you think?”

“No problem” – and I headed into the room thinking it probably was just a dime or maybe even quarter size spider – much like I had seen and killed numerous times back home in Kentucky.  I am the resident critter killer and it is not unusual for Lisa to yell, “Steve!” at any point in time for me to go rescue her from the killer tick or pin size spider.  So I walked into the game room thinking – no big deal.

My first thought as I spotted the enormous black thing sitting on the tile floor was that it had to be fake.  Carol and Luke thought the same thing.  But I was very – very unsure.  If this spider is real, I thought, it is the biggest spider I have ever seen not inside a glass case.

I inched a little forward and looked at it as close as my courage would allow me to go.  It had not moved and again I questioned if it was real.  I took a few more steps and was almost over the top of it – ready to jump out of my skin or soil myself (or both) if the thing made a move toward me.  Still it did not move.

Suddenly I noticed a leg move as if stretching in boredom or loosening up ready to attack the shivering sissy boy hovering nearby. Carol handed me a broom and a plastic container.  I thought – what do you want me to do with this?  Kill it or keep it?

Finally I took the container and again began inching toward this salad plate sized spider thinking I might be able to cover him (or her) with it.  After that I was not so sure.  I would have the beast covered and contained – but did not know what I could do with it.  Maybe I could slide it out the door and run over it with my truck.  I continued to inch forward thinking through my plan should the thing come toward me.  I wondered how fast this monster could move and imagined that if it did come toward me – I would probably tear my ACL or dislocate something trying to get out.  So – I backed away and told Carol we needed a new idea.  I wondered if her husband had a shotgun.

As Carol, Luke and I continued to work up a plan – Mark, one of the campground employees, walked through the door and saw what was happening.

“Oh, it’s a tarantula.  Glad you didn’t kill it.  It won’t hurt you.”  And then he took my little bucket and broom and calmly swept the thing in and let it go somewhere outside.  No big deal.

So now here in Arizona we have seen jack rabbits, lizards, little desert rodents, squirrels and now a tarantula.  We have not seen a snake or scorpion.  We have also seen people riding horses, golf carts and four-wheelers down the main streets of town (they are all street legal here).  It is life in a small, desert town.

If I see another tarantula – I may not be as freaked out as I was this morning.  But I will never get use to seeing those things.  And if Lisa sees one – her resignation will be mailed to the hospital immediately and we will be hooked up and gone.  If she sees one in our RV – the RV will just stay here and we will transfer it to whoever or whatever takes up residence.

Geez!

Time for a little ranting.

I’m sick and tired of telling people I’m from Kentucky and having some snide comment like, “Do they wear shoes in Kentucky” or mockingly repeat, “Did you say, Kantuky?”  Okay we may talk funny and I know there are poor, toothless people there but – come on?  Let me tell you this – Arizona ain’t got nuthin on them people back in Kantuky.  They some ugly people out here – I’m just sayin.

Now don’t take all this the wrong way.  People here are nice, hard working, good people.  At least that is the impression Lisa and I have of the place.  But never say Kentucky has the corner on ugly or ignorance.  I’m telling you all the places we have lived so far have their share of “Bubbas” and bad tattoos.  Speaking of tattoos – I once believed Kentucky must have had a corner on the market.  In fact, I have the firm belief that people going to “Holiday World” (an amusement park in southern Indiana very near our home in western Kentucky) receive an admission discount for every visible tattoo though I have not been able to confirm this. But, apparently, Arizona provides some sort of tax break for bad tattoos.  I saw a lady that had to be 106 the other day with a tramp stamp tattooed on her backside that looked like a hummingbird.  As I got closer I realized it was wrinkled up bald eagle.  If you don’t have a tattoo in Kingman – you ain’t nothin.  Look – I don’t mean to say everybody has one – but I saw a nun here the other day with a tat of the Pope.

So there are ugly – tattooed, toothless people everywhere and not just in Kentucky.  For all our friends back home who are proud of their bluegrass heritage – Lisa and I want you to know – you are not abnormally stupid, ugly or overly tattooed.

Either those types are everywhere or all our distant cousins moved to Arizona.

Looking the other way,

Steve and Lisa

Lisa and I do not agree on everything.  Granted we do have enough in common to keep us together enjoying most of what we experience.  We have loved traveling with her job, meeting new people and seeing new places.  But one thing we have discovered that we do not agree on is Las Vegas.  Lisa loves it – I hate it.

My first trip to Vegas was this past December traveling out to Loma Linda, California for her assignment at their hospital.  That was a whirlwind trip and my mind (and I’m sure hers) was more on getting to our new apartment and adjusting to southern California. We stayed at the “Vdara” resort and it was very, very nice.  But beyond that – I don’t really remember much.  This past weekend we returned during Lisa’s seven days off work and I was better able to assess the place and take it all in and, boy, there is a lot to take in.  I should also say that we were there celebrating our thirtieth wedding anniversary.

Vegas in the summer is hot.  So hot, in fact, some of the friends we have made here at the Kingman campground are from Vegas and come here to avoid the heat.  To put that in perspective – Kingman averages about 98 degrees in the summer.  So let me repeat – they come here to Kingman where it is cooler.  It can get up to 120 degrees in Vegas and stays in the 110 – 115 range all summer.  Last weekend it was actually cooler than usual but humid.  No wonder people sit and play slot machines for long periods of time – they aren’t addicted to gambling – they’re just so damn hot they have no where else to go.

We stayed at the “Aria” resort –  one of the myriad of huge, overstated hotels that line the sidewalks and scrape the desert sky as far as the eye can see.  Opulent seems to be an appropriate description for most of what Vegas appears to be.  But underneath all the glitz – I found a great deal of misery.  Never before in my life have I encountered more pan-handlers, beggars and homeless street people.  In one instance I was looking at billion dollar casinos and the next vision is a dirty beggar holding a sign that he needs food to eat.  It is all very strange – almost surreal.

We spent the early part of the evening walking through the “Venetian Resort” trying to find a particular restaurant we really liked during our trip in December.  After three trips around the place and growing weaker and weaker for lack of food – we finally decided on “Trattoria Reggiano” which was also fantastic.  Quality of food is certainly not lacking anywhere.  Lisa wanted me to experience the lights of the old downtown Vegas and we caught a cab after dinner.  The cab drove about four miles and the trip to and from was $50.  You would think the driver would have at least had a slot machine in the back of the seat for us to play what money we had left – at least give us a chance to win a little back.  Talk about a “Cash Cab” – this is it.

Downtown Vegas has many of the familiar iconic places I remember seeing on television.  But where the newer Vegas “strip” is posh with lots of “new money”, downtown seemed a bit “seedier”.  Walking from one end to the other I imagined I was experiencing Dante’s nine circles of hell.  The heat, the homeless people, the scantily clad ladies (at least most seemed to be female – some I was unsure), was almost more than I could take.  We finally settled for something to drink and sat and listened to a really bad 90s band.  I just wanted to get back to our resort and shower.

We finished our evening playing penny slot machines and I managed to double my twenty-dollar investment while Lisa was not so lucky.  You will be glad to know that we are not big spenders – did not have to pawn away any jewelry or sell a kidney.  We lost more on the cab ride downtown than we did the slot machines.  I found myself playing one slot machine for quite a while.  I would win some – then lose – then win – then lose.  It kept me entertained (maybe mesmerized is a better description) for at least an hour and I found myself thinking – “If I just keep playing this machine – I will eventually hit it big”.  It dawned on me during that experience that probably a lot of slot machine players think that way.  Finally I pulled myself away and was relieved to collect my forty dollars.  I can now see how gambling can be addictive.

I have mentioned J.C. in a previous blog.  He and his wife Carol are camping here in Kingman and we have enjoyed getting to know them.  J.C. and I have started playing golf together once a week.  J.C., as I told before, retired as a “craps” dealer in Vegas about ten years ago.  He told me a story about a couple who came every weekend to the casino where he worked and played the same slot machines every time.  Their goal was to hit it big on a mega prize machine that required a double bet.  I suppose at that time they were still using coins because two coins were necessary to win the seven million dollar prize.  One night J.C. overheard the husband tell his wife to play while he went to the restroom and he reminded her to put two coins in the machine so they could win the seven million.  When he left – she continued to play and happened to hit the jackpot.  However, she only put one coin in.  J.C. said when the husband returned and realized what happened he began to choke her and tried to kill her right there in the casino.  Security came and saved the wife and hauled him off to jail.  That story is funny to me – but very sad.  Las Vegas does strange things to people.

So – this is Vegas.  Kingman is one hundred miles from “sin city” and I am sure we will venture there again and deposit a little more money.  Apparently Vegas is in need of cash – the cab driver told us the resorts must make at least two million dollars an hour to keep up with expenses.

I think Lisa and I may have paid for three seconds.

Viva!

July 23rd was once a day I would never have really thought much about.  It was just another summer day to be played out as a child or one worked through as an adult.  That all changed for me in 1987.  This is a story not easy to tell – but it is time to honor the memory of a brother God taken far sooner than anyone ever expected.

Gary Lea McFarland was born three years before me in 1956 and he and I would be the only children of Tom Lea and Jean McFarland.  All the experiences of his life were lived out in a sort of prelude for me.  He entered Longfellow Elementary School three years before me and was there holding my hand and explaining all I would need to know to survive my first day of school.  He walked the halls of Southern Junior High and then Owensboro High School and prepared me for the experiences of middle and high school.  He did all the things big brothers were suppose to do for their younger brother.

Aside from our school experiences, Gary and I had very little in common.  As children I was interested in just one thing – sports.  When I was hanging out at Rash Stadium watching high school football practices and dreaming of being a Owensboro Red Devil someday – Gary was probably at the library studying history or reading.  We were so different in fact that as we got older we became somewhat estranged from one another.  He went to Western Kentucky University and I went to vocational school.  He went to church and I did not.

When I was a senior in high school – I decided to turn my life around and found God to be a very real need in my life and all the years growing up in church began to pay off for me in an hour of need and my life changed forever.  Gary had much to do with that.  For years we all were convinced that Gary would end up in some sort of Christian ministry vocation.  He even announced that desire to our home church on an Easter Sunday while he was still in high school.  But that never happened.

Our lives continued to take different paths – my working as a machinist before finally deciding to go to college while he finished up his college degree.  After he graduated Gary moved away to Frankfort, KY to work as a tour guide for the Kentucky Historic Society.  Lisa and I were married in 1983 and Justin came along in 1986.  No one in our family was more excited about Justin than Gary.  He adored that little boy and Lisa and I spent a weekend with him in Frankfort so he could show Justin off to all his co-workers.  He was a very proud uncle.

But something was not right.  Over the course of many events I began to suspect that Gary was living a secret life.  Eventually I deduced that Gary was, in fact, a homosexual and in 1987 when the AIDS scare was at its zenith with little acceptance or understanding I was forced to confront him about his lifestyle.  My fear was that he was carrying the AIDS virus and as a father – I felt it necessary to protect my child.  It was the most painful and uncomfortable conversation I ever had.  As expected Gary denied my suspicions but I was able to say to him that it was alright either way because I would love him no matter what.  I think he was relieved to hear that.

In early July of 1987 Gary came home for the last time.  My mom would later say that he looked bad – frail, pale, weak and had a cough that she questioned him about.  He kept saying he was fine but my mom found it odd that he kept hanging around on that last day – as if he did not want to go back to Frankfort – as if he wanted to tell someone he was sick – but did not know how.  I believe he knew it would be his last day in Owensboro.

On July 23rd I was at my desk at the old Goodloe School building that housed my office where I worked for Green River Comprehensive Care Center.  At 10:00 that morning a call came through to me and it would change my life and my parents lives forever.  The call came from one of Gary’s co-workers and she said she had bad news.  As she explained it – Gary had been sick and had missed that last few days of work.  He always called in to tell his co-workers he would not be at work – but that morning he did not.  Someone from their office went to his apartment and the lady told me they had found him dead.

Time stood still.  I had no idea Gary was that sick.  I had not said good-bye.  My only brother was gone and it was now up to me to go tell my parents.  I remember running from my office and driving like a mad man across town.  My only thought was that I needed to get word to my parents before someone else did.  I ran into their house – gathered them together and told them their oldest son, Gary – had died.

The devastation of that event – for all practical purposes – was the beginning of the end for both my mom and dad.  They never recovered from that horror of losing their oldest son.  How many times I hear of parents losing a child and I think of them and I know the pain – I have seen it – first hand.  My dad was never the same and he passed away just sixteen months later.  My grandmother – so strong for my mom during the funeral – went back home and fell into such a depression that she never really recovered.  My mom lived for another nineteen years – but the sadness of losing Gary stayed with her like a wound that never healed. She never found real happiness after that day.

And as for me – July 23rd has now come and gone twenty-six times since that horrible day. I think about the events of that moment – but more than that I think about Gary.  He was a man conflicted with his sexuality – probably ashamed of what and who he was.  So ashamed, in fact, that he refused to reveal his sickness to anyone and when he died – he died alone.  Lisa and I took the long painful trip to Frankfort to gather his things (he did not have much) and load them into a borrowed van to bring home.  I will never forget walking into that apartment.  The coffee table had been moved away from the couch where he died – moved to allow the gurney room to collect his emaciated body.  I remember the coroner calling me and asking if he was homosexual and my saying for the first time to anybody – “Yes”.

We would learn in the days following his death that on his way back to Frankfort, his car had broken down and was towed away.  He did not have the money for its repair and he worked out a deal with the tow company to take the vehicle to cover the charge of the tow and drive him back to his apartment.  For the last week of his life – he had no vehicle to drive and no way to get to a hospital.  And because Gary never wanted to shame his family with his lifestyle secret – he chose to die alone in a one bedroom apartment in Frankfort, Ky.  How many times I have thought about what must have been a hellish last night he suffered through and how much I wish I could have been there.  No one should ever die alone.

Knowing all this about his final days – inspired me to have engraved on his headstone a scripture verse from 1st Corinthians 16: 13-14 – “Be men of courage, be strong – do everything in love.”  Gary was the most courageous person I have ever known and he chose to die painfully alone to protect his family – to protect me.

But one thing more I know.  Gary died on that day knowing his Lord.  The God he served and loved was a God of forgiveness and grace.  I believe he knew that and I believe that God welcomed him as a person whose sins were hidden in the finished work of Jesus.  When Gary left this earth – he was welcomed into heaven by a God who saw – not a sin sick soul, diseased and unworthy.  God saw Gary hidden in the holiness of Jesus Christ.

Some will say that the sins of a homosexual are unforgivable.  I disagree and someday  when the glory of the moment finally comes – when I can embrace and thank Gary for the courage he displayed for his little brother those many years ago – the grace that not only saved him but is what I rely on as well – will be celebrated.

I miss you Gary – but I will see you again!

Peace!

Steve

It is going to be a November Disney World wedding for our son, Justin and his bride to be, Lori Johnson.  Lisa and I have been working as best we can to provide assistance for them even though we are 1700 miles away sweating it out in Arizona.  A “destination” wedding has its challenges but for Lori – a self-proclaimed Disney nut – it has been her dream to be married near the “happiest place on earth” and so we are going to make that happen.

One of the challenges has been trying to secure not only the wedding location and hotel rooms, but also trying to navigate all the legal matters of being married in Florida.  Licenses must be obtained beforehand and a person qualified to perform the wedding must also be secured.  Recently a good friend of ours managed to obtain the qualifications necessary to perform a wedding ceremony for a family member and it interested me that I may be able to do the same for Justin and Lori.  I have spoken at funerals and other venues but never at a wedding – I figure it can’t be too tough.

The internet is ripe with places wanting to get your money and “ordain” or “qualify” you to perform weddings.  It unnerved me a little seeing the different religion affiliations associated with many of these web sites and I could never bring myself to “submit” my information.  Finally I decided to check the Florida laws and found an interesting statement regarding wedding officiating.  In their state statutes there is a statement regarding the qualifications.  They include: a notary public, certain court officials, ordained ministers and “an elder of a church”.

Out of curiosity I contacted the county clerk offices in both Orange and Osceola Counties in Orlando and Kissimmee, Florida.  It so happens that I am an ordained deacon in a southern Baptist church and I was hoping that would be enough to qualify me.  Guess what?  It does.  The lady I spoke to actually said all I have to do is sign the page attached to their marriage license with an explanation of my ordination and the church I am associated with.  If Bellevue Baptist Church has not excommunicated me yet – we should be good to go.  She went on to say they never check or verify those qualifications because of the volume of marriages happening in that area.  They simply don’t have time to check if the ministers are legit or not.

So – apparently anyone can perform weddings at Disney World as long as your qualifications sound legit. “Minister of Cornhole Tournament Church in Waco, TX.”; “Ordained deacon of the 1st Church of the Big Blue Nation;” and my favorite – “The High Reverend of the Barney Fife Bud Nippers” – any of those ought to do it.

I’m starting to feel the power vested in me…,

See Ya!

Steve and Lisa

I have often thought that it must be strange being from a foreign country and flying to Disney World for your first American experience.  Many, I am sure, fly to our country directly into Orlando – spend time at “The Happiest Place on Earth” and then fly home.  What in the world must they think about us with that as their only impression?

But in other ways it has amazed me the number of foreigners that arrive in my hometown of Owensboro, Kentucky to vacation.  What in the world are they there for – to see the world’s largest sassafras tree?  I know my hometown enjoys bluegrass music and is one of probably nine hundred “Bar B-Q Capitals of the World”.  But it still seems strange for people wanting to actually visit there.  In talking to people in places where we have traveled, I have learned that others feel the same way about their communities. They love it – but can’t understand why people visit it.  Even in Gettysburg where historic events happened in every nook and cranny – the locals seem confused as to what all the hubbub was about.  I was amazed to hear adults tell me who went to school in Gettysburg that they never visited the battlefield.  Seriously?

So the biggest surprise for Lisa and I (by far) is the number of foreigners who camp here at the Kingman KOA.  I’m talking – almost every one of the single day campers are from another country.  We have met people from Germany, Sweden, United Kingdom, France, Canada, Japan and Italy.  The big thing is to rent an RV upon arriving in the country and traveling around the west visiting places in California and then, of course, The Grand Canyon.  It is very unusual to strike up a conversation in the swimming pool with someone who speaks English.

I am glad that people have a different impression of America than simply that of it being like Disney World.  Arizona has an unusual beauty and I am glad people from other countries are discovering that.  Lisa and I had never traveled to the west until she was assigned to Loma Linda, California last December.  My fear is that many Americans are staying away in droves.  I have to wonder if the days are gone with the wind when families loaded up in their cars and drove west to see the natural beauty of places like Yosemite, the canyons, the mountains, the desert, and western rivers they find along the way.  Admittedly – I am guilty of loving Disney World and certain places (Florida beaches, for example) enough to take vacations there over and over and over.  In so doing – we never experienced the beauty of the west until this past year.  I encourage anyone reading this to plan a trip west and see this place – at least once.  You will love it!

And it will be nice to be able to talk to people in the pool.

See Ya!

Steve and Lisa