So Logically

If only a handful of people even know anything about the Burrell money that was taken and they are going to keep it and the rest of us poor people must just die, because we don't get the Burrell money, then obviously the entire state of Michigan will be nuked, wiped off the map because nobody gets a prize just for having tombstone. Is that clear enough, you snarky Michiganders? You just won't have time to figure it out before it is all over.

Oh, I See

Now we see how those snarky Michigan dogs are going to lose their snarky little game and get themselves automatically eliminated from the finals. We see that the Michi-Ganders are all clued in to Alfred J. Burrell, a carver of tombstones at a cemetery in Ypsilanti, Michigan. So? Yes, so everybody's tombstone will have a birth and death date and not much else, as these Michiganders are fond of reminding us, and that just might sum up their lives as well, sad to say, because obviously, their Burro is not the Alfred W. Burrell, the bridge builder in Oakland, Calif., who walked off with the Salvadoran dough. Who are we to argue with the Tribunal of Arbitrators? And what valuable point do the Michiganders think they are making by pointing out the cemeteries of Michigan? I fail to see the value of the point when I never knew of the existence of Alfred W. Burrell in the first place, so, like, whatever. Why should we care about the tombstones of Michigan? I really couldn't care less, to be specific. If Michiganders are so fond of their Ypsilanti tombstone engravers, perhaps they could will a final resting place there. Because really I don't have a clue what their point is. We are all born and die but only one Alfred Burro has the dough, and the Michiganders just don't have what it takes.

Which Reminds Me

Someone has accused me of overheating, but obviously they are not talking about me. They are perhaps referring to the time that the radiator on my Mercury Topaz sprung a leak, causing the engine to overheat and eventually resulting in the replacement of the entire radiator. Or else maybe they are referring to Cori, my college roommate who was talking about her boyfriend James. That was not about me. I only heard something that Cori said.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I sometimes wonder why the slobbering idiot trashy wicked [Popineau] family imagines they will have anything to say about me and my future? In a million years I would not be interested in further socializing with their creepy weirdo Loren (and his dog Alana), what a stupid hack he was in terms of preaching, grating to the ears, so obviously the personal opinions of the obnoxious Popineau family are of no concern to me and can be easily shrugged off as the mutterings of a stupid idiot. Sylvia's problem is not my problem. That was utterly rude of them to trash me and steal my personal reputation which is of much more worth to me than some stupid table that can always be replaced anyway. The Popineaus are overly pompous in their French-fried airs. Obviously the insular French and Germans are cruising for a bruising but it would not be my place to return the favor.

Which Reminds Me

Someone was talking about Mickey Mantle jokes but I don't remember the context. Maybe that was the Stewarts kidding around with Mickey Wright, Becky Stewart's husband, although he was never an athlete needless to say. Or maybe that was in college where there was someone named Larry Mantle. I don't remember anything specific, obviously. It might have been something Susie said although I have forgotten. Sorry.

Which Reminds Me

In great-grandmother's diaries, we see that she often talks about watching wildlife on television. We are not surprised to see this reference to Mutual of Omaha's famous Animal Wildlife program. After all, we remember that at Grandma and Grandpa Calkins' house this very televisions programs was highly approved and they would likely sit down and enjoy watching that themselves. In fact, back in olden times a National Geographical special on television some night would be occasion to draw everyone around the television set for a treat watching Jacques Cousteau's latest voyage of discovery or something like that. Grandpa Calkins also was a lifetime member of the San Diego Zoo which explains the presence of zoo magazines all over the house and Grandpa's free ticket to the zoo plus he would get us all special discounts. So, like, what is so unusual about that? Nowadays there are entire TV channels dedicated to animal documentaries that are highly popular so obviously we were normal people.

However, TV programs of which Grandpa Calkins would not approve included Bob Hope movies. I remember his disapproval when we were found to be watching that. It was not so much that the funniness but the off-color nature of the humor of which Grandpa Calkins disapproved. Yes, Hope really does grate on one's nerves if one pays too much attention to that. Grandpa Calkins was probably right on that point.

Which Reminds Me

I remember that I attended the 1977 Christmas banquet invited by Jim Linzey and there I saw Warren Dobson with Grace Yukumoto, the Hawaiian Japanese who was vamping with us girls earlier that evening. Well, we did not say hello. We just left Warren to his chess game in Bangkok because it is not our problem. Whatever.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I cleaned my bathroom but you will never see it. My bathroom is not Grand Central Station so without an invitation you will not get a chance at that. Anyway, I would not recommend that you eat off my bathroom floor. How revolting that you would even suggest such a thing. North Carolina often seems to behave like the flea-bitten armpit of a thousand camels.

And wasn't Becky Nolin (MK-Malaysia), who lived on the same dorm floor, at the other extreme of the hall, during the year I was at Evangel, from Alabama? One day she introduced us to the music of Boston, playing some of their songs on her stereo set, and I did like their music even though they are quite the heavy metal trip. I don't get much more heavy metal than that. Beyond Boston, it gets to be just so much noise.

Which Reminds Me

Speaking of songwriting, I am vaguely reminded of something that Lynda Botsford said. Lynda said that Debbie Tracy had written a song and performed it at some graduation-related function. Lynda was impressed with Debbie's song and thought it sounded pretty good. I myself did not hear Debbie's song as I did not attend that function so I really would not be able to comment on that. I reaally have no idea. Lots of people write songs about many things for many purposes. Whatever.

Strangely

It just wouldn't do for me to prattle on as if I were Queen Elizabeth or Anne Boleyn or some other reject of the Tudors and/or some snarky Italian. The Tudors have no place to be throwing stones at me when obviously they have no claim to the English throne, either, and their very own Henry a flawed character to say the least. I am sure that they know better than I the flawed outlook for Henry Tudor himself even though his descendants live on even though there are those who wish to review the Catholic/Protestant divorce. Anyway, we see that nowadays there are American Tudors as well as British but none of these have much place to tell Queen Elizabeth what to do when obviously they threw their tea boxes into Boston Harbor long ago figuratively speaking. Nobody really cares about that. Lots of very ordinary people may have royal ancestry. Yes, and what was the Reba Rambo song that talked about having royal blood flowing through my veins? I can't really speak for Reba Rambo, even though I may have sung some of her songs at church, but anyway it was just a figuratively speaking idea. We as believers in Christ are grafted onto the tree, as the Bible says in Romans 11. So it is really nothing to boast of, being not of our own doing but only a matter of faith in Christ. And Jesus himself said that he could make new descendants of Abraham out of stones (Matthew 3:9). I cannot imagine how a simple song sung in church could create such confusion among the church audience. Someone out there is really really stupid and pretending to be one of us or something like that, obviously.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I probably should not have stayed at SCC as long as I did, especially not graduate from there, as there is really not much there for me, just some empty memories of nothing much. I don't remember very much about those people. Maybe we talked once or twice and then again maybe not. Anyway, some persons wrote in my yearbook that I had much to give. So other persons went through my yearbook and erased everything good of positive encouragement and left behind only their own curses of myself being of no value to anyone. Ok, so, fine. I really don't care who you are. My treasures are not here in heaven so you will just never know.

Which Reminds Me

My co-worker in California, Mindy Anderson, talked her interest in literature in books. She was talking about some books that she had read but I really don't remember anything specific about that. Sorry but so many books, so little time.

Which Reminds Me

At college there was a whole quad of guys who prided themselves in chewing tobacco. This was perhaps a sneaky way of getting around college rules forbidding smoking and dancing. Personally I don't see anything particularly "cool" about chewing tobacco. Makes you wonder how they ever got girlfriends willing to kiss such tobacco breath, but they did. Anyway, I never really wanted to think about them that much. I remember that Heather Stewart, a South Africa MK, married one of the tobacco chewers, Dwight McConnell. Later Dwight became a missionary to South Africa himself and Heather was able to return to the country where she grew up. I really never asked how they got approved as tobacco chewing missionaries. Some things are better left unsaid. If I were to ask about that I am sure that I would get back a lot of guff because it will done unto you what do unto others, so to speak, is sort of an unwritten rule. If I were to make waves about the tobacco chewers I am sure that they would find some reason to snipe back at me so I never said anything else about that. Whatever. It is better to leave such matters to the authorities that be because it is not my place to say. It is not my place to check up on their tobacco fumes.

Anderson Terrorists

It is very strange to see that we are being terrorized by the wicked Anderson family, as if there were anything nice to say about those boring people. As if we ever knew those people existed as an entity of interest until someone pointed out the Scotty Kid book. Perhaps there is not even anything Scottish about the Scandinavian "Scotty Kid" who either died in 1895 in Montana or else rode the rails post-jail time to a new life as a missionary in Hawaii and later Bolivia. As if we had ever given a second thought to the existence of the dreary Anderson nobodies. Perhaps our great-grandparents met the Andersons while evangelizing in China in the 1910s and then again maybe not. I really would not know anything about that. Oddly, our great-grandparents were in Hawaii in the 1930s while the Andersons were in Hawaii in the 1910s. Not that anyone ever mentioned whether the two families were ever acquainted. To us Tom Anderson was nothing much, just another boring guy at college of no interest. He married Gretchen Grams, a South Africa MK. I wonder if she was acquainted with that boring Tom Shirey who also married but divorced a South Africa MK. Tom wrote in my yearbook some drivel about how I am tied up with a bow on my head waiting for some lucky guy to come along, but what would Tom know about anything? South Africa is not my problem. It will be hard for those boring guys to find pastoral jobs after all the churches are gone, after they have run off all of the people with their mysterious intrigues and there are not enough people left inside church doors to pay the electric bill. Sure, maybe you can always get more people later, and then maybe again the world is ending and the Tribulation will be yours to work through. I really don't care that much.

Gold Standard

Yes, who does not remember Grandpa Calkins muttering about the gold standard, deploring the government's decision to depart from the gold standard. Yes, and someone is trying to continue the same old argument over the gold standard even though Grandpa Calkins has been gone for about 20 years now at least and the gold standard abandoned for longer, since 1976. What does gold matter now when paper is abundant? One can always grow more trees. Anyway, everyone already knows that the value of money cannot be fixed. It fluctuates due to inflation or deflation. No big secret there. So why all this fuss over nothing much? Discussion of the monetary system is not found in chemistry textbooks. At least our money still bears the words "In God We Trust," because that is all that we would need to say about that. "In God We Trust" is a good fix for monetary policy. However there is still the problem of these loose cannons rolling around the decks.

Which Reminds Me

I am reminded of the time that I was talking to Dave Hoskins and I, like, used the word "like" in that slangy way in which "like" is inserted randomly in whatever sentence one is using. And then Dave derisively dismissed me as a pathetically inarticulate Valley Girl type of person. Dave's analysis was not quite right but whatever. That was probably the last time I ever talked to Dave, not that I care. Looking back, we see that it was rather hypocritical of Dave to criticize a minor flaw in my speech patterns when actually he himself is of the lowest order of slobbering idiot as we now know all too well. It is not so much what you say as what you do that makes the difference, needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, those snarky Italians have certainly placed a heavy hex on my life. During the time at Oakland Park I recall that Jennie Cerullo was visiting and she attended a rehearsal. I was rehearsing the "gold" song, which talks about one's faith being refined in the fire as analogous to the fire that refines gold, and Jennie later remarked that she had never heard me sounding so modern, she remembering only the old-fashioned stuff that I did at college. Of course, Jennie has nothing but scorn and contempt for persons who studied music in college, which she also said at the same time, herself being a natural-born singer not having any use for the stodgy forms of classical music taught in colleges, not that Jennie's musical career has achieved any public prominence as yet. I have yet to find any albums by Jennie on sale anywhere. We shall see. So anyway, what snarky things Jennie had to say about me behind my back in this regard I can only imagine. I do remember talking to Jennie a couple of times at college but I never spent any time hanging out with her snarky cheerleader clique.

Also at Oakland Park was that snarky little Rosanne monster. Once at a house meeting she accused me of giving her the evil eye. Oh, did I do that? I don't remember it that way. Perhaps I was less than impressed with Rosanne's boring recital of her own wonderfulness. Her attempts at singing in church were painful to hear and yet I dare not say anything as I have no position of strength with which to shrug off the constant whine of these dreary whiners. I would sort of like those French-Italian whiners to stop pretending they want to be Protestant, go back to their dreary Catholic homes and leave us Pentecostals in peace. There are just too many of them around here. In fact, Italians are not a superior race and have no business ordering me around when they are obviously not paying my salary. It was Susie who was on staff at Oakland Park, not I. Why Susie was fired I really can't say. She never really explained. Anyway, Christ's church was founded on a rock, which was Peter, a disciple of Christ, a Jewish man ethnically speaking, not a place called Rome where Peter was martyred as were many of the early Christians, so typical of Italy.

Shortly after I returned to South Florida in about 1993 or 1994 Pastor Max ordered me to leave his church and to move away but I did not obey Max's stupid orders. Max, being the pathetically stupid idiot that he is, had apparently worked out some deal with those wicked Italian witches in which I was fired along with Susie. I don't think that deal is fair to me when, for one thing, I actually do not understand why Susie was fired in the first place (Max did the firing for whatever reasons) and anyway the Italian whiners have always behaved lower than dirt toward me so I really don't trust any of them. If I left I would just be giving in to Max's wickedness and depravity. Thus I will need to break Max's deal. So here I sit waiting for someone to help me resolve this problem that I don't really understand. Huh?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I am sure that I sang a "gold" song at Oakland Park young adults meeting with the band although at the moment I am not sure which songbook I found it in. I have quite a few songbooks actually that I purchased along the way and the "gold" song was available in a songbook and was one that worked for my voice, not that I would ever sound anything like Reba Rambo. Oh, did the vain and arrogant ones of South America think that "gold" applied to them only and that the rest of us are scrap metal chatarra? No, we are not chatarra any more than anyone else and anyway my choice of song had nothing to do with Peru. It is sort of confusing to have this snarky Carol Garlit monster spewing misinformation. Those Johnsons are not related to anyone of interest. Peru can easily be replaced. Neither the Walkers nor the Latter Rain people started that. The treasure analogies come straight out of the Bible, obviously.

1 Corinthians 3:11-15: For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work. If what has been built survives, the builder will receive a reward. If it is burned up, the builder will suffer loss but yet will be saved—even though only as one escaping through the flames.

1 Peter 1:3-5: In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time.

1 Peter 1:17-19: Since you call on a Father who judges each person’s work impartially, live out your time as foreigners here in reverent fear. For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect.

1 Peter 2:9: But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvelous light;

Revelation 3:18: I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.

Which Reminds Me

Someone was talking about how embarrassing it must be for us to have this Dutch Linda going around with our surname, Calkins, pretending to be related to us when actually we are not Dutch and don't really know anything about those people or where she gets her stuff. Yes, Linda is a problematic person in our family and it doesn't help that all of these nasty people are helping her destroy me even though I didn't do anything to her. It was my Uncle Merle who divorced her for whatever reasons. I really don't understand. Linda is not our problem. She has plenty of Dutch money to take care of herself, obviously, so we really have no reason to feel sorry for them, especially not now.

Which Reminds Me

Those were some funny stories that Jill Anderson was telling about the persons who went to her sister, a licensed counselor, Sue Watkins, for counseling. They were unaware of the facts of life but wanted to start a family and needed some clues. I don't remember hearing their names but I am sure that Jill and Sue know who they are. I can see why someone probably decided to dump Jill but I do protest them dumping me in the same category as Jill when obviously it was Jill's big mouth that put those people's identities into wide circulation. I wouldn't be able to do that, obviously.

Which Reminds Me

The Italian magazine vendor was very pushy, very hypnotic of sales pitch. I was almost persuaded to buy magazines and then the extreme pushiness turned me off and I ordered the man to leave. Snapping myself back to reality, I suddenly realized that I can't do that. As good and affordable as that magazine deal sounded I don't even live there, only visiting, and don't need the hassle of having to change address very shortly, of having that stuff piling up in my place and not enough time to read even half, and later having to haul all of that stuff out to the garbage bin, all of which hassle I would be paying for. So I did not buy the magazine deal and, needless to say, don't want to hear another word about it. Thus I acquired an immunity to pushy magazine vendors who pound on the door a bit too vehemently. I am just not interested. Go away and leave me alone.

Which Reminds Me

Hmmm.... Sometimes I wonder if Jill Anderson is related to the Anderson who married Dawn Saword and whether they related to Tom Anderson. I don't really know the Andersons but I do know that the Sawords are mostly anti-Pentecostal, as are the Baptist Bells and Reeses, so we would not want to have those ignorant Baptists running our lives behind the scenes, needless to say. There is nothing particularly more talented about Baptists. That is a myth they often fuel to mask their disagreement with Pentecostals on various points of theology. Since we cannot expect to get a fair deal from the clueless Baptists, we will need to be able to chart our own course in life without undue interference from these pathetically clueless Baptist Andersons, Bells, Reeses, Nippers, Evans, etc. I am not being mean in throwing out the obnoxiously secretly Baptist Jill dog. They just don't understand.

Which Reminds Me

Who would know about "The Lottery" story anyway except my very own sister and also possibly her California roommates Linda Harrington and Jill Anderson, boring persons of no interest to anyone.

Which Reminds Me

The story of Corrie ten Boom sort of gives the impression that the Dutch are always right, always the heroes, always wholesome and nice. Of course, Corrie ten Boom is nothing like that trashy dog Cori Nipper, who comes from a vile disgusting family of Japan dogs that somehow has not yet been prosecuted for being unbelievably obnoxious. Someone really ought to take the Japan dogs to account for a change because they get way too much credit for really nothing.

Which Reminds Me

I don't have to explain that we are not Dutch. That was so nice of Susie's brother David to pay for sodas that time Susie and I went somewhere with him to a restaurant in El Salvador. I mean, nobody said anything beforehand about it being a Dutch event and so it was just assumed that since David generously invited, David would be generously paying for all. Otherwise I would not have been there in the first place. Otherwise David would have said upfront that I would need to pay for my own soda or whatever it was that we had there. That is not how it unfolded in my view and I have yet to feel even a twinge of guilt over that minor incident which has been transmogrified into something else by the shenanigans of some obnoxious persons. If the Stewarts are such kind and generous people, why are they demanding that I pay for Cathy's lunch? I think that you are supposed to give without demanding anything in return. Otherwise God cannot bless your generosity given that you are just a stingy miser in disguise.

Which Reminds Me

Hmmm....tuning tuning....I seem to hear someone saying that the Dutch have gotten much too big for their britches. Well, you be the judge. I don't even know any Dutch so have no clue what their problem is. We are all Americans so you have your freedom. I really don't understand what the Dutch are expecting from us as they never include us anyway, just live over there in their Dutch milkmaid cottages grinding cheese and treating us non-Dutch pioneers like garbage. So if they were expecting my thanks for that, well, no, they are not going to get much respect just for doing everybody's duty. You are just another cog in the wheel, obviously, and there is nothing I need to say to the Dutch.

Yes, and wasn't it the Dutch who exalted pagan trash Sandra way beyond her level of accomplishment? There is nothing Christian about Sandra that I can recall. Who even knew how low those people would stoop to gain attention for the Emperor Maximilian jokes? Appalling!

Which Reminds Me

Yes, we all know that Grandpa Calkins was on the board of Ed Cole's "Maximized Manhood" ministry. But before that Ed Cole was among the hired workers of Grandpa Calkins' plastering contractor business. The transition from hired worker to ministry leader means that Ed Cole got saved while or after working for Grandpa Calkins. I myself heard Mr. Cole say that Grandpa Calkins had been a role model for him in changing his life around. He filled my Dad's shoes with cement at work but did not get much response. Anyway, if Ed Cole had not gotten saved and had continued on his path toward alcoholism and wicked prankfulness, it is doubtful that Grandpa Calkins would ever have become a board member of the Cole family ministry. Nowadays our family feels no obligation of slavery to the Cole family. That was strictly a thing of their generation. We saw their smiling faces on Christmas card photos but we really don't know anything about those people. I did meet his daughter Joan at college once but our paths never crossed. I don't know anything about her. Anyway, if you did not get saved you cannot be expect to be commanding the Salvation Army. It just doesn't work that way.

Which Reminds Me

Years ago Grandpa Calkins was traveling with Ed Cole, a minister who wrote a book called "Maximized Manhood" and who had an extensive men's ministry. Grandpa Calkins said that he arrived at a church somewhere in Colorado maybe but that Ed Cole's flight was delayed or something and did not arrive at all so the people there had Grandpa Calkins say a few words from the pulpit on his behalf. He said that it made him very nervous because he is not really a minister and not accustomed to public speaking. That is all that I would be able to remember about that.

Which Reminds Me

Which reminds me that Aunt Cindy was visiting recently and while here said, almost as an aside, that they have everything locked up like a "bug-bear." Hmmm. I wonder what she meant by that. It would be hard for us to explain how alarming it would be to have them controlling everything when obviously they are booked clueless when it comes to "things that matter." They have it all locked up and they are expecting me to run around like a chicken with its head cut off which is why this is not going to work for me. A strike is one way to draw attention to the futility of life with them in control of anything that does not belong to them.

Which Reminds Me

Someone is trying to shovel guilt on my head, as if I had some share in creepy Pastor Webber's self-admitted guilt. Also, there are these mysterious imputations of guilt over the murder of a black child, as if that ever happened. Some people have big imaginations because obviously that never happened that I ever heard of. And what about all of these murdered white children? Does the color or ethnicity of the child murdered make any difference in the eyes of justice? I think not. I never murdered anyone so obviously this is not my problem. Robbing Peter to pay Paul will not get you anywhere. The present scheme is only a redistribution of guilt. Someone really ought to send Cori's angry "guilt trip" comments back to her big fat mouth because guilt was really her problem to start with, not mine. I only overheard something.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, Germans are so demanding of honor for themselves at the expense of the English and yet they make it so hard for us to do that when probably that would mean crediting their pedophilic idiot Pastor Webber for some mysterious reason that does not come to mind. Huh? Honor to a German skunk? Sometimes just holding the pastoral position is just not that important in relation to some other values such as honesty, fair play, personal integrity, etc. So the Germans will be sorry about this eventually, hopefully.

Which Reminds Me

I did read "Alice in Wonderland" and "Alice Through the Looking Glass," both books by the pseudonymous Lewis Carroll, which were in the MK school library when I was in 6th or 8th grade. However, I do not remember very much about those books. They were entertaining to read but I would not want to pretend that they made any sense. They were a pleasant pastime and I always did like to read. However, I am not so stupid as to think that books are a substitute for reality and the implied suggestions is very insulting to my dignity. Imposing some absurd logic drawn from those sources would be going too far but obviously I am not the person who did that.

Which Reminds Me

Someone is reminding me that my own song for 10th grade analysis of song lyrics as poetry was "Morning Has Broken," which was performed by Cat Stevens. At first glance this song seems to invoke the idea of the Garden of Eden, a time before mankind had fallen when God daily visited with Adam and Eve there. But God was not the only visitor to the Garden of Eden. Yes, I suppose that the song could just as easily be interpreted to invoke visions of the snake walking in the garden before it was cursed to crawl on its belly. I really don't remember what I said about the song in high school. Looking back at the song lyrics now, one sees the snake there, certainly. Adam and Eve were deceived by the snake, hid themselves from God, and were later barred from the Garden of Eden. Ok, so I was not so theologically informed in 10th grade. I doubt that I would choose that song now for any reason, but at the time it seemed a harmless choice for the high school assignment to be fulfilled, which was to choose a popular song of the day for poetry analysis. Yes, I suppose that spinnage could render it harmful. Sorry about that but anyway since I am not allowed to do spinnage someone else will have to take the blame for that.

Which Reminds Me

Someone called me a chatterbox so they must have me confused with my Aunt Anita, who is well known to be chatter endlessly on various topics of which no one else understands. Nobody really understands the Butterfields, what their problem is and why they carry on so but nothing much really. They are always moving around so we do not know very much about them and the various jobs and occupations they might have held and left behind, the people who know them are unknown to us. They were known to be moving somewhere new almost every year so obviously we cannot be expected to comment on them. I just have no clue.

I Can Only Say

We are grateful for the extensive non-smoking regulations of today that these isolate smokers like them. We no longer have to smell their offensive odorous fumes emanating from their fingered sticks. Speaking of high school, Libbey Penders is a prime example of shameless smoker. Granted that smoking or non-smoking isn't everything. Lots of dumb people don't smoke and otherwise smart people smoke. However, I am yet not persuaded to take up the dreary nervous habit of smoking and probably never will be. I just don't care and I just want these snarky smokers to butt out of my personal life. High school is over. Go get a life.

Which Reminds Me

Many years ago my aunt married a smoker but Uncle Steve later quit smoking. I don't know, maybe he was feeling guilty or something. I never really discussed this with them but I do think that Grandma Calkins would not be shy about making her opinion known on the subject. Perhaps they have not heard the news that Uncle Steve quit smoking, although I am not the police. I don't patrol those people and it is not my problem.

Which Reminds Me

I have no particular interest in ever visiting New Orleans as there is really nothing in Louisiana of interest to me, no one who I would ever call for a meeting with as I really don't know those people very well. However, I do recall that New Orleans has a special significance for people in El Salvador. The wealthy girls of that country often fly to New Orleans for weekend shopping expeditions, I remember overhearing. Also, they have many connections there. New Orleans seems to be a power base for them even though not for me. I imagine perhaps hearing that Ralph Williams' sons might have settled there also but nobody cares about those old fogies. Ralph Williams was an early missionary to El Salvador starting back in the 1920s or 1930s. However, the Williams sons are nothing to us, just cranky old ne'er-do-wells of no reputation. They have no special magical powers and we are really not interested in comparing notes with them on missionary kid experiences. The Williams boys' experience was no doubt vastly different than ours I am sure but they would be wrong to condemn us for not living in little huts, riding to church on horseback, etc., as they may have done. It just wasn't like that for us 50 years later. Times changed.

Also in New Orleans was Lillian Pilarinos. Although "Lil Pill" was there for two years teaching at the MK school, she was never my teacher because in eighth grade Miss Pill was teaching the 1st through 4th graders and in 9th grade I was at the American School while Miss Pill was helping Dawn Saword with her 9th grade correspondence courses at the little school. I don't remember whether Josephine from the Philippines was still around then. I really don't remember much about Josephine.
Someone was trying to paint us Southerners by virtue of Miss Pill's being there but that would be sort of misleading. Miss Pill has a unique Dixieland view of the U.S. Civil War which she was explaining to us but I don't understand. I tend to think it was more complicated than just Northern industries running roughshod over Southern agricultural interests.  I tend to think that the South could not continue to condone slavery. Eventually someone would intervene so better that the U.S. clean its own house than someone else.

Which Reminds Me

Those Italians — Kathy, Joan, Heather — were unbelievably cruel to me during high school so I really would rather forget entirely about high school and all of the misery entailed in my miserable adolescent existence there as well as the cruel wicked witches who inflicted such unbearable humiliation upon me at every social opportunity. Everything I say or do will be used against me pretty much explains their philosophy of communication in terms of me. They are saying that my words are my "seed" and they take all of my "seed" words and mangling and warping and throwing them away to the four winds so that I can never have any effect on them or anyone else. Is it any wonder I am a quiet person? You might say that I was X-communicated. Thus we see that nothing good will ever happen to me if they have anything to say about it. They have made these plans from before the beginning of the world so obviously I don't care if I ever see those snarky dogs ever again in this lifetime to be brutally honest. Maybe in heaven we will all get along but down here we never did.

Which Reminds Me

Someone is pointing out that in 10th grade English class Joan Calabrese presented the Carly Simon song, "Anticipation," which was also a ketchup TV commercial. She made some personal comparisons to her own family, where smoking is prevalent. This proves conclusively that I am not related to Joan and really don't care what she does. There were many songs discussed in Miss Marken's class but I don't have complete notes on that stuff. I really don't care that much. It is one thing to say hello at high school reunion but there is a limit. There is no reason to be jerking me back to 10th grade all of the time. The Bible says, "Do unto others what you would have them do unto you." So if they think they hooked me, that means that they will have to eat their own bait because they have actually hooked themselves.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it always make me very uneasy and nervous when people threaten to eat me, say that I have been eaten. So many jokes on my name it just gets ridiculous. "So if your name is Candy, are you sweet?" "Can I eat you, Candy?" Etc. Etc. Never mind that my name is not spelled with a "y." It just goes right past them, in one ear and out the other. People continually joke on my name nevertheless and I get very tired of hearing it. I am not food. I am a real person whose feeling get hurt sometimes. Cannibals will be charged.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, who was the high school classmate who mentioned in an oral report something about the draft dodgers who fled to Canada? I cannot quite recall the context of that or who said it. I just seem to suddenly remember the mention of draft dodgers living in Canada. Those poor things shivering in their ice cube igloos must be having a chilly time up there and no way to get home without facing justice face to face. I really wouldn't know as I never dodged the draft, not being male and also military service not being a legal requirement of our family. I can't speak for your family but only in Israel is a two-year military service de rigeur for all, the last I heard. I have not emigrated to Israel as far as I know so I feel no obligatory guilt at not having taken that route. I really wasn't interested and the nation has an overabundance of persons taking that route anyway so there was no reason to imagine that our family was going to require military and/or ministerial service. Either way, it is strictly up to you what you want to do. We really don't care.

Books

It may seem strange that I have found the books of Jacob Chamberlain interesting as he was actually a missionary for the Dutch Reformed Church, to which we have no direct connection and in which we have no personal interest. Chamberlain was a missionary of the 1800s while our church, the Pentecostal denomination of AG, did not even exist until about 1916. The Dutch Reformed Church brings to mind visions of the Crystal Cathedral which was recently sold out to Catholics so there is nothing there to draw our interest in any way, not that there ever was. The Crystal Cathedral was a repository of old-fashioned stuffed churchiness veering, as on a pendulum, toward high church extremes. Pentecostals, on the other hand, are somewhere on the low church end of the pendulum which suits us just fine. In our churches we have no use for organs that look like rocket launchers, what with all the electric guitars and keyboards in current use. Nobody really cares about organs in our churches when a good piano is available. I never took organ lessons from Mark Thallander because I really never cared for the sound of organ music and there was no reason to explain that I just don't care about organs. So?

If Only

Yes, if only I had been born in the city of Detroit where, in lieu of attending college classes, I could just walk over to the University of Michigan libraries and spend all day every day reading through their vast collection of old 19th century magazines. I would feel like a genius I am sure having spotted every point of intelligence and sparkling wit to be drawn from those sources, not to mention the technology that followed a century later. Michigan's collection seems to rival anything that New England Ivy Leaguers might offer in the way of 19th century magazines. And yet who even knew that stuff was there until Google did us the favor of putting it all online? Thank you very much, Google. We will always be grateful at least for that. Now we can all pretend to be one of those snarky know-it-all Detroit high school dropouts, never mind that we could never get access to the contents of private libraries of wealthy people such as the Rockefellers, etc. etc. At least Google's efforts have leveled the playing field somewhat for the rest of us clueless persons geographically disadvantaged in terms of library access even if we do not get the money side of it.

Which Reminds Me

I was talking to that girl at high school shortly before graduation and she was telling me that there was some controversy involving the boys' coach. I don't remember what she said. I just remember explaining that his name is Jesus because, strangely, many Catholics in Latin America name their sons Jesus. This seems strange to us English people because we have too much respect for the name Jesus to be putting it on our own children. To us the name of Jesus is set aside for the Son of God. But anyway these not-so-well-educated Catholics sometimes give the name Jesus to their sons. I remember that he was more often called "Don Shus" but that was his nickname, perhaps a way to avoid saying the name. As I was saying, his given first name is Jesus even though that name will not get so much respect in the U.S. It seems weird to us.

Which Reminds Me

I once used the word powwow in an article wrote, using it as a synonym for meeting. It was a casual planning meeting, not a formal proceeding, so that would seem to fit. Later someone told me not to use that word in the future because it could have some other connotations. Oh, I didn't know that. So I did not use that word again. Sorry about that but I did not have any evil intentions in that regard and that was understood by the staffers who pointed this out to me. To mount a huge witch hunt would be going much too far as there is no witch involved. If there are any witches in that picture I can assure you that it is not me. I cannot speak for them and their witchcraft behavior. I only know that all I did was write a simple article previewing an upcoming event, nothing more.

Needless to Say

There is no need for me to explain that we have no personal connection to the Batty-Mash people. I do not want to know anything about their personal business or whatever they do. I only wrote the stories that I had to write for work, and very well did I write them up I might add as I am really very accurate and truthful in my reporting for the most part. I cannot say that I never made a mistake but they are just trying to spin me fired to satisfy themselves of their empty threats. I don't deserve to be treated that way, bullied around by these utterly selfish greedy Batty-Mash people. I reported on that planning meeting and called it a powwow but I don't remember why. To me it was just another synonym for meeting. My application did not extend beyond the facts of the event. Each side had their say about it and there was nothing else to add to that. I no longer work for that newspaper so it is not my problem whatever happens to that piece of land. I really don't care personally speaking. It is not my land and never will be so it is not my problem. I think it would be too icky-sticky for me to say anything about that or to get involved in someone else's property issues since is not my problem anyway. I just don't even want to know what their problem is and I think it is very weird that they are trying to stick it to me and make it a personal thing for me when I was only doing my job and nothing more.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, wasn't Billy Graham's message last night inspirational? He is so good at preaching the salvation message but we heard that his very own granddaughter is a tramp so obviously his advice is not that useful in other respects.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, how could I possibly forget the times when Mr. Batty-Mash called me at the office and threatened to have me fired (he is very good friends with the owner/publisher who was my employer) if I don't write things that he wants to be said, all his opinions about how Smith ought to be killed, etc., rather than the actual news  of the day. What a disgusting creep, but how is a poor little nobody like me to argue with a powerfully rude millionaire named James? Impossible. Nevertheless, I never did do what James wanted. My paycheck was not coming from him so his pathetically stupid opinions were of no use to me even if my editors were not sympathetic. I resented James wasting my time with his drivel. Rick Haydan was trying to drag me into his crazy lawsuit but I really don't understand. Whatever the lawyers say. Whatever the judges say. I really don't care that much. It is not my personal problem. It was just my job at the time but I no longer work there so it is not my problem now. Will someone please kick those Batty-Mash Trash out of my life? They are not even Christians, obviously, so they deserve no respect from Christians like me.

Which Reminds Me

Is it any wonder that I wish all of these nasty rich people would go away and leave me alone? I despise nasty rich people. They expect me to work for nothing to help them unravel the mysteries of the universe and never do anything to help me or even remember who I am or care about what matters to me. Enough said.

The Johnson Connection

In our recent studies of our family tree, aided by great-grandmother's diaries, we learn that our great-grandmother had a cousin named Nancy Ermina Smith who married Edward Randall Johnson. The Johnsons had three children: Ogden, Lucille and Ermina. These people lived in New York and we never knew they existed until recently. Anyway, they are all dead now so there is nothing else to say about this. Ogden and his wife Agnes had only two daughters so we see there are no Johnsons per se related us out there.

Which reminds me that my mother's Texas relatives had a distant cousin who at one time was employed by Lady Bird Johnson in some capacity. I really don't remember anything more specific about that. My mother probably remembers more about that. The connection was very distant if at all. I really would not be able to comment as I remember nothing about that. Nevertheless, I am not an employee of the Hibberts so they should be getting their own clues.

Which Reminds Me

The song by Carly Simon, "You're So Vain," was among the song lyrics discussed in Miss Marken's 10th grade English class. I really don't remember who presented it or what they said about it. I only remember that it was one of the songs presented by students.

Which Reminds Me

We have recently learned of the existence of Lois J. Roberts. She might even be Lois Johnson Roberts although the evidence conflicts. Lois is an officially registered historian specializing in the events of Ecuadoran history. She has written entire books on the subject of Lebanese immigrants living in Ecuador. I, on the other hand, have never set foot in Ecuador, neither am I of Middle Eastern extraction, nor am I interested in those people, so obviously Lois knows absolutely nothing about me regardless of her status as registered historian of Ecuadoran Lebanese. Doctors are so specialized, as we are seeing, that they know only the a narrow scope of study to which they have devoted their entire lives, seeing nothing else beyond their books.

Interestingly, we also learned in our studies that Fred Hibbert divorced Renell Barth and married Lenore Johnson. Johnson's birth certificate records her mother's name as Johnson so we have no clue as to Lenore's father's identity, not that it matters to us about this meaningless Johnson & Johnson clue.

We suspect that someone is now begging the question of whether Lois J. Roberts could actually be Lenore's mother but we had not been aware of the existence of either of these people, so out of touch are we with the worthless idiot children of Samuel Barth, my Dad's uncle who lived way up north in San Jose and whom I never met or even heard of until recently.

We really do not care about who Lenore Johnson is, not having been aware of her existence which has no bearing on my existence. There is just no family connection to speak of there. We could not care less about the Hibbert family as they have never done us any favors and go around conspiring behind our backs as if they were related to us when actually it seems that someone dropped them off a cliff and forgot about them or something. I really don't understand nor do I care to know anything else about them. Many people have problems and manage their own affairs without destroying everybody else's happiness in the process so I really don't understand why the Hibberts and Scotts cannot do the same and manage their own lives without poking their noses into places where they don't belong. I learned that lesson every young but apparently they never learned their lesson. I could say something similar about the Hiatts. Someone really ought to fence those people in because they really are not that special to us. There is only one thing that unites us, a common thread of history, but I really don't remember anything about that so I will not be of much use to them in their history book writing in which I am not interested in participating. Leave me out of it.

Which Reminds Me

I should be telling you to ask Dorothy, who obviously knows all about these things. I certainly don't know anything about it.

Which Reminds Me

Once upon a time many years ago Danny Mercado and the Kirsten's son, what's-his-name, were in town visiting their missionary parents. Susie arranged with Mrs. Kirsten I think for a double date. It was Susie and I out with Danny and What's-His-Name. We went bowling or something. Later we went to the Mercados' house for a few minutes of chat. That was about all there was to that. We might have done that once or twice. Later Susie said that the Mercados were upset with me for not arranging further outings with Danny. I was a little irritated by that third-party interference from Susie as I was really not interested in spending more time with Danny. If a guy has to ask his parents to ask Susie to ask me to call him then obviously the chemistry just is not working there. So there were no further get-togethers with Danny and What's-His-Name.

Which Reminds Me

We have not yet asked whether the Waldemar Mercados of Houston are somehow related to the Ben Mercado who was a translator of Christian books, stationed in Miami for many years, married to Marian of South Dakota, presumably from Argentina originally, at least that is what we had thought. Ben Mercado's only son was Danny, a church organist in Chicago, gay some have said. We really don't know whether Danny is related to the Hiatt family. No one has ever offered any information on this point, nor are we ever in contact with the Mercados so we really don't know anything about that. Ben and Marian were not related to us and they are both dead now so Danny is alone in the world as far as we can tell.

Which Reminds Me

My parents always warned me not to marry a Spanish man and I did not. However, I may have made the mistake of explaining my parents' rules to other persons who have no respect for my parents' wisdom in such a thing. Also, it is apparent that some of our distant cousins apparently did not get the memo. We are not a Spanish family and we are not interested in surrendering to the Spanish Armada. You cannot just show up at our house and steal all of our stuff without getting blown away by naval forces. You have to go through the proper channels. Of course, if you had a family member on your team you might try to get your hands on the proverbial locked box, if there really were such a thing, and then again maybe not. We do feel a certain degree of pity for the pathetically stupid cousins, stuck as they are permanently in PR territory. However, they are not us. We are not obligated to remedy their personal mistakes by charitable donation when obviously they are already getting welfare assistance from the government anyway. God will take care of them.

Which Reminds Me

Someone was ranting on the Three Musketeers theme: "One for all, All for One." Yes, I have heard that saying. Uh, no, I never did read that book so I really cannot share your enthusiasm for the philosophical depths of Alexandre Dumas and his theme of united defense of the French monarchy. Yes, I did see the movie, a movie, I don't remember which one but probably not the one that was in theaters during high school. There are several versions. I do think that I saw one or more versions on television. No, I did not watch Ninja turtles, only heard some related babble on the theme of the Three Musketeers. Musketeers presumably has something to do with persons shooting with ancient muskets used in the 18th century, whether for hunting or military purposes and nothing to do with mice or turtles. There are three musketeers plus a fourth person, their friend D'Artagnan, in the novel that I never actually read. Ok, whatever. Yes, anything can sound good in fiction but reality is more complicated than that. The pablum of fiction is often used to manipulate public opinion but truth is something else.

I do recall that one time when Mona Balius was here visiting I turned on the TV and the Three Musketeers was on and we watched for a while and Mona was horrified. It is better not to watch TV with these old-timers from Mississippi present. They are often horrified by everything. Perhaps they read more into it than I do. Also, maybe the movie was worse than I had realized it was going to be. The historical costumes always look so interesting but the characters are so unreal. Really, one cannot expect anything good to come out of a movie about filthy French decadents so I should have known better than to even turn on the television. There is just never anything to watch.

Which Reminds Me