Waiting on the phone to ring...
The fires in California are terrible, but they remind me of the time when I saved two states through my fire-fighting skills. It was a few years ago in Morganton, North Carolina when a raging forest fire was threatening civilization, a few moonshine operations, and marijuana fields back up in the hollers.
The state was begging for volunteers, so I set aside my duties as an English instructor at Western Piedmont Community College, and joined the fray under the direction of professional fire fighters. I worked from dawn to dusk and discovered what hard physical labor was like. When we paused briefly for lunch, lounging on the mountain top, Hardee's brought us free food, which we inhaled. Then we went back to work.
The men I helped were enormous employees of a tree company, and most of them were built like trees: Men with no necks and a coarse sense of humor, joking about the time they drove off the mountain in the bulldozer, or stepped up to their neck in a hole in the ground that held a still-burning tree stump.
When I got home that night, I told my LSW that I was going straight to bed. She suggested I look in the mirror first, and there I saw a guy whose appearance was totally covered with black ash. My eyes and teeth were visible, and that was it. I took a shower.
I did recover, eventually, and was pleased to learn my actions saved the states of North Carolina and Virginia from being burned into oblivion. So, if you're from either of those states, let me just say, "You're welcome!" I am now waiting for a call to save California.
Hit the road, Jack...
The last time I wrote that having a variety of job experiences is a good thing for writers, just for their overall education and background to draw from. I realize it also made it look like I couldn't keep a job, but there's nothing I can do about that. You may reach any conclusion you want.
Today I'm addressing another topic, and that is the benefit of travel as a source of education and material. I tend to believe this one, although I know it's possible to travel in one's imagination and still come out sounding knowledgeable. I'm confident Arthur C. Clarke did a fine job with 2001: A Space Odyssey.
I have traveled a lot, including 47 states and the District of Columbia. I have actually lived in Iowa, California, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and Virginia. I lived on USAF bases in Texas and Massachusetts. I also traveled in 24 countries, living in Germany, Turkey, and Israel, and stationed by the USAF in The Republic of the Philippines for eighteen months.
I have yet to live on another planet, but if that ever happens, there'll be something I can use for my stories. Travel!
Nailed it!
The response to my male shopping blog last week was so overwhelming, I have decided to do a short series of blogs about shopping habits of myself and my long-suffering wife, Lisa. A few decades ago, we purchased an abandoned stone house in the country in western North Carolina, and set about transforming the place. One thing it needed was nails so we could proceed with some basic carpentry, so I took the truck and drove into Morganton to the Lowe's. I bought the nails, and also a stove, which we also needed.
Imagine Lisa's surprised when I came home with a stove instead of just nails! Talk about a smart shopper. I don't think she expected me to return with nails AND a stove, but, hey, we needed one, and I'm pretty sure they were on sale. It was beautiful. White. And it worked right away.
I think that was the first of our Carenen family shopping saga, and a story that refuses to go away, appearing and reappearing in small gatherings of family and friends. And, heck, why should it go away? I'm proud of it.
Anyway, I hope you, dear reader, are impressed with my shopping acumen and overall wisdom when it comes to participating in our capitalistic, consumeristic society in which we live so comfortably.
Next blog? Well, I want to surprise you, but it has something to do with arrowroot. Stay tuned.
Sonrise Service
I don't usually write about religion and politics. However, I just wanted to share with you, dear readers, my experience on Easter Sunday. My wife, younger daughter, and I attended the 242nd Easter Sunrise Service in Winston-Salem, held where Salem College and the Moravian Church are joined at the hip. People began gathering well before the 6 AM beginning, young and old, male and female, black and white, sweatshirts and suits. All of us standing.
When the service began with a traditional liturgy, the crowd stretched from the parking lots and side streets, down the main street of the college and church, to "God's Acre," a Moravian Cemetary where every grave has identical, recumbent headstones with only the deceased's name, birth date, and death date. This represents that in death we are all the same. Humbling. Good for one's perspective.
As we moved along the cobblestone street, small brass bands played, urging us forward, and echoing from behind. In the clear, crisp morning air, and as the sun was appearing in the east, we strode slowly to "God's Acre."
Once at the cemetary, we stood, heard the word of God, and sang hymns as the sun rose higher in the sky, shedding light on a gathering of congregants with one thing in common, our love for Christ and one another.
After the benediction, the crowd broke up and headed out and away down more cobblestone streets, by the oldest women's college in the nation, back to our separate lives and hopes and dreams, united briefly during that Easter morning service, united eternally in our faith.
