Wrinkles or laugh lines? What's your pleasure?

Hello friends and neighbors and folks near and dear to me on this Thursday, September 2, 2010. One of the things that I've noticed on my wife's Facebook page is how that it gives people an opportunity to advertise sites they identify with. Members can associate their name with a particular site that expresses a point of view, a cute anecdote, or a particular cause. Many are 'thought of the day' type sites that have a Christian theme. Sometimes you see the person and read the site they like and you immediately recognize how well it fits their personalty. For instance, I saw one the other day where the person said they liked the site, "Lord help me not to slap an idiot today...." That expression was so well matched to this individual's view of the world in general, it brought a smile to my face. Since I am not on Facebook officially, just through the alias of my wife's id, I have the privilege of seeing this without being implicated directly. Some folks are very transparent and for them sharing their struggles is a good way to deal with their life issues. While I applaud them, I also know that's not the way it works with others. We come from a long line of folks that were taught to keep private the stuff that is deeply personal, therefore, it's hard to imagine sharing some of the details that others do. It just shows how that we are all different in the same sort of way. What this means is that our commonality is found in our differences because each one operates in their own uniquely personal way. Being open and outspoken is one way. Being private and quiet is another, and there are an endless array of shades between these two. One thing is clear: No matter who we are or how we operate, we need God to help us and we need others to support us as we make our way through this life journey. On that we all can agree!

I know some of you by now have probably become weary hearing me rehearse my reaching the age of 64. Mortality is one of those issues that does tend to be weighty. There's a site that actually gives an educated guess as to the date a person will die. I plugged in my vital statistics and it generated a date. One date was based on actuarial projection. Another date was categorized as being optimistic and it added 20 years. Insurance data, census information, death statistics, and of course, the famous BMI (Body Mass Index), all go into making these guesses. However, for myself, while I am interested in these clocking types of projections, I well understand and fully embrace how that my life is in the hands of God. Looking at the reality of how the sands of time are slipping through the hourglass of my life does mean something. (I didn't mean to use a soap opera reference but it just slipped in.) To me it means that I have the time I have today to do with it something that will honor God and help others. Being 64 has caused me to think about other people who are in that age bracket. For some reason I tend to remember treating people near this age with much deference out of respect for their being elderly. At the same time I can't even conceive of myself being elderly. I've said before how privileged I am to work with some older dudes here at the company. I am now third in line. The eldest is 72, next is 68, and then myself at 64. There's no one else on the property who have even reached 60 yet. Here's what's funny: These two older dudes, I tend to treat them like I used to treat Paw Paw Mac but they really are not that much older. Is that weird, or what? Once again, it only proves how true what I have told you many times before, it is not easy being me!

I was watching an episode of History Detectives the other evening on PBS where they were trying to determine if a WW2 dress dagger brought back from Italy had ever belonged to Benito Mussolini. An officer had brought it back and his telling of the story had linked it to the notorious dictator. The relative who had the dagger had heard the story many times passed down. It was very interesting to see how these history detectives went about tracing the movements of the fellow who had brought back the dagger. Given unlimited resources and unfettered access, they found out a huge amount of stuff but they also hit a few walls. One wall they hit was the same one I hit in researching my dad's military past. That was the fire that destroyed most of the WW2 records at the St. Louis records center. They had one last contact to check out. The officer had one remaining sister who was still alive. She lived in Wisconsin and was 101 years old. They paid her a visit. She sat there on the couch, looking maybe 70, and talking like she was even younger. As it turned out she had a box in the attic that contained a goldmine of papers and information. The problem was solved. The dagger was original and it was worn by an Italian officer but almost certainly never by Mussolini. The story was one that perhaps became embellished over time. I love these kinds of investigative reports but seeing that lady was super impressive. She is 37 years older than I and still going strong, red hair and all. Even my optimistic guess from that date setting site was less than that. Who knows? Only God. That's why I need to quit talking about it and start doing something that will make a difference for time and eternity. You too! Amen. .....More later.