Getting Here Part VI: Change is Blowin' in the Wind

1965 was a pivotal year. Time fired change our way with the rapidity of a machine gun. Rat-a-tat-tat, we were hit by another blast. We had lost our house, been threaten and moved in with my father-in-law, an uncomfortable situation. Within the course of those months I was to be drafted, have four separate jobs, something of a nervous breakdown, give up totally on religion and have a dust-up with the powers that ran Upper Darby. Change wasn't just blowin' in the wind, it was a bloomin' hurricane. No wonder we were wondering where in the world we were.

It wasn't long after we moved that President Johnson, near the end of August 1965, ordered the drafting of married men. (I wonder how many marriages that broke up? A number of men had rushed into marriage during the early years of the Vietnam War because marriage gave them a deferment.) Funny how the letter started off with "Greetings" as if it was a Christmas Card. I had to report to 401 North Broad Street for a pre-induction physical. I wasn't thrilled about this. I knew exactly where I would end up and it wasn't a safe place. However, to make a long story short, I suffered from psoriasis. It had appeared in childhood. At this time it was pretty light, but there was one patch on my shoulder and that was enough to get me classified as 1-Y. [Registrant available for military service, but qualified only in case of war or national emergency. Usually given to registrants with medical conditions that were limiting but not disabling (examples: high blood pressure, mild muscular or skeletal injuries or disorders, skin disorders, severe allergies, etc.).] I would have been the rare bird thanking God for a skin disease, except back then I didn't thank God for anything. In fact, around that time I pretty much dismissed God altogether from my life.

Lois and I began looking for a church. Things had obviously went a little south in our lives and suddenly we got interested in religion. But we weren't so much seeking God as a sanctuary from reality. We were looking for a warm and fuzzy place, not a Savior. After all, we were very nice people a bit down on our luck and in need of some commiseration.

We didn't find it. We didn't find anything. We started by visiting a number of "mainstream" churches in the area (Presbyterian, Baptist, Episcopalian) and one big Methodist Church, even though we were trying to avoid the denominations of our parents, which were Methodist and Lutheran. These churches were not very welcoming. They were actually rather intimidating. No one spoke to us. Some people even glared at us. Was it my long hair? I don't know, but we distinctly felt unwelcome.

There was a large Roman Catholic Church a few blocks from where we lived then. I began to go there in the morning before work and attend Mass. I bought a book on Catholic beliefs, a Rosary, a miraculous metal. This was what religion should be, I thought, all this ritual and objects to handle. I felt since I was doing something I was earning my way to Heaven. We ( I talked her into it) decided to join the Catholic Church. I knew this would give both our families fits, but by this time I was doing a lot of stuff for just that reason, to gave my family fits.

But the night the Priest was supposed to meet with us to start the process he didn't show up. He stood us up without so much as a phone call.  So that was it for Catholicism. If the Priest doesn't care, why should we?

Our search didn't end here. We just moved a bit further from the religious center. The Unitarians were our next stop. I had no idea what that name meant, but a church was a church to me as long as it claimed to be Christian,  but that requirement ceased with the Unitarians. This was a church in downtown Philadelphia. We attended their service, but this was really a big pep rally for the next protest to be held. We sat on the floor in a big room and talked strategy for our march for civil rights or against the war or to save the earth or to save a rare flea endangered by a highway project, whatever was that particular weeks reason for anger. Now Lois and I were already getting involved in protests we didn't need more. This wasn't what we wanted from a church.

Having believed we had exhausted Christianity at this point, we turned to the Ethical Society. We went to their Sunday morning service. We entered and some music was played as in my old church, a kind of prelude. Some songs were sung at times as well, but none of this music was a hymn. They were Classical pieces. Someone said something corresponding to a prayer, but it was a poem. A text was read, but it was a piece by one of the great philosophers. A sermon was given focused on the greatness of mankind, saying that the problems of the world would eventually be solved by the technological advances made by man. Everything was on the unique quality of humans to do good and save the world, like humans had did such a wonderful job of that so far.

It was all I could do not to laugh. When we left I said it was a joke. If you don't believe in God and think mankind is the end-all and be-all, why are you parodying what could easily be a Methodist service, simply replacing anything that smacks of God with some human produced babble?

There were sudden changes in my work situation during the remainder of 1965 as well. I had been doing quite well and become the supervisor of my unit, but I had grown restless. I had also learned when I first took a job in this unit I had made a tactical error. It was a service division, not a clerical one. I learned from others this was a dead end. There was a stigma against people working in the service divisions and once there it was very difficult to get a position in the clerical areas, but those were the areas where advancement was possible. Of course, I was just eager to make some more money and was getting bored with what I was doing because it had become routine to me. I applied for and got a job as Traffic Control Clerk.

It was a grade level improvement and more money, but it was located in the back of a warehouse at the refining yards. My job was basically handling the paperwork and dispatching the various trucks in and out of the refinery. I was on the job two weeks and I had a breakdown. I am not certain why. Maybe the isolation and dreariness of my office, but more likely I was dealing with men much like my father. At any rate, I came to work one morning and I began to cry and I couldn't stop. Totally embarrassing, especially around the type of men I worked with there. But they didn't make fun of me. They were concerned and the boss sent me home.

I was sure my career at ARCo was done. I was depressed and worried and thought I would be fired. Personnel, (you know, what they call Human Resources today) called me back in after a week. They gave me a job as a Parcel Post Clerk back in the mailroom and told me I would be offered the next Level 6 job that opened. That was the Level of the Traffic Control job, so not only wasn't I fired, I wasn't even going to be demoted.

About a month later I was offered a position in Accounts Receivable. So in the course of less than two months I had been Supervisor of Addressograph, Traffic Control Clerk, Partial Post Clerk and Ledger Clerk.

Then that winter Lois announced she was pregnant again. The Doctor warned her to be careful. Given her history with the first baby and his examination, she had a number of problems that could put the pregnancy at risk.

Near Christmas there was a bad snowstorm. Two blocks away a stop sign was knocked down when a car skidded into it a couple weeks earlier during another storm. Despite the snow my parents came down to visit on Christmas. My father was a professional driver, snow didn't deter him. However, they almost had an accident because of the downed stop sign had still not been replaced. They had no way of knowing the traffic on the cross street didn't have to stop, because it looked like the street they were on was the right of way.

Then a few days later, Lois fell on a sidewalk nearby because it had never been shoveled and the snow had packed to ice. What angered me was this sidewalk was at the home of the Local Committeeman for the Republican Party, which at that time had a stranglehold on the government in the borough. It was the law that sidewalks be cleared of snow within 24 hours of the end of a snow storm. I had shoveled (picture on right is me in that 1965 snow doing just that). Everyone on our street had shoveled, except this politician.

My wife's family (she had several living on the street) were upset. They knew my wife's condition, plus they were also already angry because snowplows had plowed out the streets of the upper-income sections of the township, but not our streets, resulting in the trash trucks being unable to come thought and the garbage was piling up. They said we should all write letters to the Mayor complaining about this Committeeman and the lack of plowing. Well, you know how it goes, I wrote a letter and no one else did. I wrote about the stop sign and the trash and especially about my pregnant wife's fall.

Next thing I know the Committeeman is knocking on the door. He accused me of lying. Then he said I didn't even know where he lived. I said, "Come on" and led him outside and up the street to his house, which still hadn't been shoveled. He was furious. He called me a name and I though he was going to hit me, but he turned and stomped into his home.

Not long after my wife gets a tearful phone call from her aunt. Her uncle had a patronage job with Upper Darby, now someone in government called and said if her niece's husband didn't stop writing letters they were going to fire her husband. She begged Lois to tell me to shut up. I tried to get her family to band together, but in the end I stopped for their sake. This was not to be my last confrontation with bad politicians. (Probably why I don't like them much even today.)

My wife did end up losing that baby, too. It wouldn't be the last.

These winds of 1965 were to blow us in an entirely different direction in our lives and eventually to a very dark place.


TO BE CONTINUED...

Nitewrit the Carney: Having a Fun Day

This past Saturday the church I attend had a Community Day BBQ. Besides a lot of good food, there were games and small rides.

It wasn't a fund raiser. The churches I have attended do not practice fund raising. Those who worship here supply the funds as the Lord leads them.  No, everything in our little carnival was free, no one paid a cent, not to get in, not to eat, not to play a game or take a ride. We offered our neighbors a fun day, food and free Bibles if they wanted one. 

We opened up at 10:00 and ran the fair until 3:00. Most of these pictures were taken early. In got more crowded as the day progressed into the afternoon.

This lady and her daughters were there to man the Moon Bounce.

We had live music playing by different talented musicians all day and in the afternoon the Zoo brought some animals out for demonstrations and petting.

Most of the booths were blowups. That's the Moon Bounce, or possibly by the shape, was called the Castle Bounce here. 

It was wall to wall kids inside by noontime. By the way, the heavy-set man on the left is my Pastor.

The tall fellow on the right wearing the motorcycle hat is my Sunday School teacher.

Here is where I became a Carney, the Moon Shot.

You can't see the balls floating on jets of air toward the back, but the object was for the players to knock those balls over with pitched balls.

Had a little problem. The original targets were about the size of a soccer ball, but none came with the booth. When a man came supposedly with balls for this, they turned out to be balloons. I placed a balloon over the air jets and it shot right out the roof of the booth and disappeared.

I ended up using two of the four pitching balls as the floaters.  Smaller targets, but at least they stayed atop the air jet and didn't disappear into the wind.

Next door to me was a batting cage game. It was run by Modesty, a young woman in our congregation. Ah, she had it easier. A ball would be batted off an air jet tee toward holes to the rear of the booth. But the ball after hitting the back would roll into a groove in the center of the floor, roll down the groove to where the air jet was then drop into a bag along side.

I had to retrieve all the balls thrown in my booth. Back and forth I went all morning. It wore me out and if the ball stuck toward the far back of the target area, when I reached back to get it, the air jets would blow my hat off. Oh, the sacrifices we make!

The device you see between my Moon Shot and Modesty's Batting Game is a strength tester. You know, you strike a board with a big hammer and it sends a stick up the chimney to strike a bell...if you have the strength. Wasn't too hard, several small children were ringing the bell, although the person running it sometimes helped. 

A teenage couple came by and the boy went over to hit the bell. Bang, and the stick rose a few inches. he tried several times and couldn't ring that bell. His girl friend was laughing, but he took it well. 

Of course, as I said, there was no fee to play, no ticket to ride, and everyone got to choose a prise out of a basket win or lose. Just a fun day.

This was another game, skee ball.

Ah, but here is what drew a lot of attention. Hard to believe we church folks can be so sadistic, isn't it?

The dunk tank.  Somebody sits up on a board and people throw balls at a small target. If they hit the target, the sitter gets dunked in the tank. This is our Youth pastor climbing out of a dunking.

Oops, their he goes again into the tank.

When I walked over to the church from my house (about a mile), it was 45 degrees Fahrenheit with a stiff wind blowing. It probably felt as bad climbing up on the board after the dunking with that wind as it did hitting the water, which was just cold tap water. No heated tank.

I tell some more about this later

I had a lot of youngsters and little kids at my booth. Popular with the adults was the Sumo Wrestling. 

See, you climbed into these puffy suits and became Sumo stars. Problem here is you had to lay down to wiggle into the suits.

Once contestants were suited, they became more turtle than wrestler and couldn't get up. People had to lift them to their feet.

You had to help them up anytime they fell over too.

Twice I was almost wiped out by flying Sumo Wrestlers while snapping these photos. (Again that is my Sunday School teacher and my pastor with backs to you.)

As my Sunday School Teacher prepares to take some pictures of his own, the wrestlers get ready to strike a proper pose.

Actually, my Pastor and the fellow in the yellow pants next to him could play Sumo without putting on the suits.

We have a very good Pastor and he has a great sense of humor.

He'd probably make the same remark himself.

Even pets were welcome.

Here on the midway we had the popcorn and cotton candy concession.

I love fresh popcorn, so i made sure I got a bag.

Our Youth Pastor as barker, walking around in a crazy balloon hat with a bullhorn calling people to the events.

Ah, yes back to the Dunk Tank.  That's our Pastor on the board now. Last Sunday they had a ballot in church to elect the five people we'd most like to see in the Dunk Tank and they actually did it. 

All but the number one selection, one of the leaders in our church and something of a character and ex-Marine. They had a sign up, that he said he had to work, then the note, "what kind of an excuse is that for a Marine". My daughter, who was in the Army, but served under a Marine Command on one tour of duty got a kick out of that.

Note the Youth Pastor around the corner of the tank about to take aim at the target.

"Yeeeessss, got 'em!" he yells as the Pastor disappears under water.

I had told the pastor I hoped he'd be able to talk on Sunday to give his sermon.

He was. He spoke on "What God told us About how to Handle a Financial Crisis". 

Here is the Moon Shot again. That is not me inside. That was the fellow they drafted to relieve me.  

I was very grateful. As I said, after over two and half hours, I was worn down.

Now I could go get something to eat.

Just following these folks heading for the barbecue.

I had a good meal here, barbecued chicken, potato salad, cole slaw, a shrimp-pasta salad, baked beans and a cupcake.

Tasted pretty good after that workout in the cold air running the Moon Shot. 

I even ate the shrimp, which is something I don't like.  Nope, not a seafood lover.

And so my day kind of ended, but the party and the train chugged along for a couple more hours after I left.

We had some new faces in church this morning, people who came to our Community Day and decided to visit our service. All but one of our free Bibles was given away and it looked to me as if everyone who came had a great time.

This Band of Merry Believers

It's funny how nearly everything takes my mind to Jesus anymore. Things of no apparent relationship to God suddenly do. It proves, I suppose, how the Holy Spirit works upon us.

Take Robin Hood, for instance.  (Robin Hood was an archer; note in the picture I am pointing a bow and arrow toward the camera, just in case you wonder what this photo has to do with anything in this post.)

Robin Hood? How did he come to mind? Actually, Robin Hood has been mentioned several times in various media discussions about the current financial situation and certain policies put forth by a candidate in the current election campaign. This post has nothing whatsoever to do with those subjects. It has to do with Robin Hood and us.

At least, the more modern version of the legend of Robin Hood, the one I read tales of as a young boy. As best I recall, it goes something like this:

King Richard the Lionhearted goes off on the Third Crusade. He is gone somewhat longer than expected and the evil King John usurps the Crown of England for himself, seizing property and taxing the yeoman into peasantry. One particular yeoman, who is pretty handy with a bow and a sword, attracts a like minded and expanding group of followers called the Merry Men, and sets off to preserve the kingdom for the rightful king, until Richard returns, which he finally does and takes down King John. So the bad get their just deserts and Robin and his Merry Men are saved and blessed by king Richard. At least in the fables I read as a child this is how it went.

When the TV talking heads bring up Robin Hood, it is usually in the context of him robbin' from the rich and giving it to the poor in the 'hood. That is not exactly what I remember Robin as doing. I remember Robin as taking back from the evil and corrupt King John and his cronies what they had stolen and returning it to the people. This helped keep the folk loyal to Richard and unsubdued by John.

Well, how did all that put my mind on Jesus?

It isn't a perfect metaphor or allegory, but here is how my thoughts began to go.

Jesus was born, God incarnate, to establish His Kingdom for those who believed on Him. After a small, but growing band was established led by the Holy Spirit. Jesus the Christ, the true King, left, but promised He would return someday. We are told to keep His name alive and bring others into His Kingdom.

Satan, has tried through robbing people of the truth and burdening them with sin, to present himself as king.

The Holy Spirit and this merry band of believers has endured against all the efforts of the world and Satan to claim that Christ is dead and will never-return.

Then when the world has become covered by the shadow of Lucifer and things seem at their darkest, the Lord will return and evil will get its just deserts and we who have believed and persevered will be Blessed. 

See, everything turns my mind to my Savior and Lord. So remember, God is everywhere in everything and in control. His promises have always been true and always will be. We need to be alert and ready to send arrows of truth to those about, telling people how to free themselves from sin and serve the true King.

And no matter what may transpire in this world, we must and will endure patiently in faith.

"For many will come in my name, claiming, 'I am the Christ,' and will deceive many. You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come. Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be famines and earthquakes in various places. All these are the beginning of birth pains.

 "Then you will be handed over to be persecuted and put to death, and you will be hated by all nations because of me. At that time many will turn away from the faith and will betray and hate each other, and many false prophets will appear and deceive many people. Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold, but he who stands firm to the end will be saved. And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come. Matthew 24:5-14

Since you have kept my command to endure patiently, I will also keep you from the hour of trial that is going to come upon the whole world to test those who live on the earth. I am coming soon. Hold on to what you have, so that no one will take your crown. Him who overcomes I will make a pillar in the temple of my God. Never again will he leave it. I will write on him the name of my God and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem, which is coming down out of heaven from my God; and I will also write on him my new name. Revelation 3:10-12