Happy New Year!

As I look toward 2010 I hope and pray that it will be a healthy and peaceful one for everyone.

Before I start to look forward to 2010 I'm reflecting on some of many personal highlights of the past 365 days. In no particular order here goes:

• Celebrating 40 years of marriage to my best friend.
• Spending a month with Caitlin, our granddaughter from England, showing her the delights of North Carolina and DC - that was such fun.
• Becoming Senior Warden of our church.
• Having the honor of integrating with the homeless in our community and learning so much from them.

I feel blessed that there were many more, believe me.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

It's a Christmas Miracle!

Well, not quite. It reflects the exclamation that our daughter-in-law shouted when, on Christmas Day, I unveiled to her the doll house that I had just completed.

I must explain that I bought the doll house kit three years ago and have made several attempts to get started but my initial enthusiasm waned. I will say that Gail has been very patient (as always), but Leslie is a true Libra and has given me a lot of deserved grief to get me to get on with it.

However, Gail finally motivated me when a couple of months ago she declared, "If you are not going to build it, I will!" Woa! - that did it. It gave me the kick in the butt I needed and the project was completed two days before Christmas.

We still have to furnish our "new home"

Now for my next project. More of that later.

The true Christmas Miracle, was of course over 2,000 years ago. Now that is worth celebrating.

A Happy New Year to all, may it bring you peace, joy and good health.

Winter begins and Christmas is upon us

It's been a busy December for me so far and I cannot see that changing. We seem to have been at our church every day for one reason or another and we both have projects we are wanting to clear before Christmas Day.

The weekend's dusting of snow wasn't as bad as we had expected, but still enough to bring out the worst in drivers here. After speaking to family in Norfolk, England, it seems as if that county has been experiencing the same weather conditions as North Carolina - if anything Norfolk has been slightly colder.

We have seen an increase in those needing extra blankets and clothing during the past couple of weeks and I was overwhelmed at the response to an appeal for such. I know how much these are appreciated.

Our wonderful Deacon, the Rev. Maggie Silton, who spends much of her time at Urban Ministries in Durham, was our preacher on Sunday. I think her inspiring sermon needs to be shared with more than the congregation of St. Joseph's, so with her permission I reproduce it here:

Here we are again. Even though it comes around every year, the Fourth Sunday of Advent always seems to sneak up on us. It’s a busy time. There’s such a lot to do and seemingly not enough time in which to do it. I’m feeling a sense of urgency, and I suspect you are too.

There’s certainly a sense of urgency among our neighbors over at Urban Ministries. What’s even more noticeable is the sense of unease that pervades the place. You can almost reach out and touch it. There are more bad moods and arguments in the soup kitchen line than there are at other times. Too many people show up on the food pantry days and we have to turn several away. Earlier in the year this news might not elicit a strong reaction, but now it may result in an angry outburst, pleading, or even tears. This year is particularly difficult given the high rate of unemployment.

Some folks at Urban Ministries have a sudden sense of focus that they didn’t have just a few weeks earlier. James (all the names are changed), who normally seems perpetually distracted, is all of a sudden focused on getting a bus ticket back home to visit his grown children. Annie, who’s normally a fairly laid-back woman, goes into high gear to assemble all the trimmings of Christmas for her children. Alvin, who normally just hangs out on the corner, is suddenly looking for a way to make a little cash. Between my minimal Spanish and Maria’s halting English I learn that she will leave no stone unturned to make sure she has an extra blanket for a visiting relative.

The time leading up to Christmas is stressful for most of us, but even more so for the poor and homeless. In a season that’s so often defined by buying, how hard it is for those with no money for gifts. In a season that glorifies the concept of being home for the holidays, how devastating it is to have no home at all. In a season that celebrates families getting together, how painful it is to have blood ties strained by poverty, addiction, or abuse. In a season known for feasting, how sad it is to have little to put on the table. Even attending a church service this time of year seems daunting for those without even a coin to drop in the collection plate. For the broken in purse and spirit, Christmas is anything but merry. It’s a season of embarrassment, even shame.

This season may be painful even for those who are more prosperous. The dark secret hidden underneath that pile of presents may be a huge credit card debt. Family gatherings may expose the estrangement that lies behind the hearty greetings and forced festiveness. Christmas may well be an emotional and logistical nightmare for those who must tread carefully in the minefield of split families and step-relations. The anxieties and addictions we’ve held in check the rest of the year may get the better of us now. If we’ve lost friends and family members this past year we feel their absence sorely. In this season even those of us who are rich in worldly goods may feel poor on some level. We truly need some good news right now!

Good news is exactly what we get from today’s Gospel. The thing is, it doesn’t look like good news at first. Think about Elizabeth and Mary for a moment. Talk about embarrassment and shame! Elizabeth is pregnant at an age far past the acceptable age for childbearing. Her earlier childlessness was a problem in her world, to be sure, but this latest development could be seen as strange or even ominous. After all, to everything there is a season, and Elizabeth’s season for childbearing should be long past. And what about Mary? What do you think the neighbors were saying about this poor, unmarried teenager who claimed that an angel told her that she would become pregnant by the Holy Spirit? And if that’s not enough, consider what will happen to Elizabeth’s and Mary’s unborn sons. John the Baptist will be beheaded by Herod, and Jesus will be crucified by the Romans. Does this sound like good news to you?

At this point we may want to pause a moment and reflect. God’s ways are not our ways, and God’s values may not be the same as ours. As we’ve seen time and time again, God works through people and in situations that may appear very unpromising to us. In fact, God does some of God’s best work with powerless people whose lives most of us would consider impossible.

As first century women in Palestine, Mary and Elizabeth were certainly powerless. In their culture women had very little standing. They weren’t just women, but they were poor women as well.

But God saw these women differently than their contemporaries did. Remember that God chose Moses to deliver the Ten Commandments despite Moses’ stutter. Remember that God chose David, a younger brother and a lowly shepherd, to be be God’s anointed. In the case of David, Samuel explains that “The Lord does not see as mortals see, they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” The world’s standards of excellence and prestige don’t matter to God. What matters is what God finds in our hearts.

Luke expects us to make the connection between Mary and God’s work with the lowly. Mary’s song—known as the Magnificat—echoes the song of Hannah in First Samuel. Luke wants us to know that this choice of a low-status person isn’t an isolated incident or a novelty. Luke wants to make sure we understand that this is the way that God works. God judges and selects people not by worldly criteria but by what Martin Luther King called the content of their character.

Our lesson from Hebrews reinforces this idea. God isn’t impressed by our outward and material actions and appearance but by our inward and spiritual condition manifested in obedience to God’s will. Hebrews tells us, “Sacrifices and burn offerings you have not desired, but a body you have prepared for me” and “See, I have come to do your will.” What God wants is an obedient and willing heart, not a big show. God isn’t interested in having us bow and scrape to prove our love for God. God would rather we incarnated God’s love for us and show forth God’s praise, as the Prayer Book says, “not only with our lips but in our lives.”

So God’s ways are not our ways, and if you look all over scripture you’ll find plenty of evidence. Isaiah announces God’s reversal of the so-called natural order of things by saying, “Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low.” Doesn’t that remind you of Mary’s words in today’s Gospel lesson? She says of God, “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly.”

Mary’s next words announce that “God has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.” Where else in scripture have we heard words like these? We’ve heard them in the Beatitudes. Every one of the Beatitudes is a reversal of what we think is the usual order of things. We don’t think of the poor in spirit, or those who mourn, or the meek, or those who hunger and thirst for righteousness as blessed, yet Jesus says they are.

But Jesus in the Beatitudes and Luke in our reading today aren’t talking about how things are in their culture or in ours. They’re talking about who is blessed and who is valued in a community that looks forward to the coming of the kingdom. Here is real Gospel, good news about what the kingdom is like and good news about what and whom the kingdom values.

Jesus never said, blessed are the rich and powerful. God didn’t choose the daughter of the chief rabbi or the temple high priest to be the mother of Jesus. Instead, God chose Mary, a poor young girl from Nazareth. Jesus wasn’t born on a soft bed in a palace but on straw in a stable among the barnyard animals. The shepherds are the first to learn of Jesus’ birth in Luke’s Gospel. Remember, shepherds occupied the lowest rung of the social ladder.

Do you see the picture here? Jesus never said it was fun or lucky or enjoyable to be poor, but he said it was blessed. God is with the poor. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never run into Jesus at a country club or at the mall. I never even ran into him at Duke Divinity School. But I think I’ve met him in a soup kitchen a time or two, and I’m willing to believe he stays in the shelter from time to time.

God is with the poor, and poverty is only partly about money. There isn’t anyone among us who isn’t poor in some way. Many of us are poor in purse and many others of us are poor in health or poor in spirit. There is not a person on this planet who isn’t broken in some way or another. We all have our wounds, inside and out. This season, as we prepare to welcome God into our midst in the form of a homeless baby, let us welcome God into our brokenness so that it may be healed. Let us welcome God into our hearts and experience a transformation beyond any we could ever ask for or even imagine. Come Lord Jesus, heal us and save us. Amen.

Amen, indeed.

Have a joyous and blessed Christmas.

Carols and Lessons

Last evening Gail and I attended the annual Advent Festival of Lessons and Carols at The Episcopal Center at Duke University. A bit early for carols? Of course, but this regular event is held early as it's the last chance the students get to sing carols and enjoy Christmas fellowship before the festive break.

We have attended this event for the past three years and enjoy it immensely. After the service, we tucked in to wonderful food, hot cider, mulled wine. Sharing food is a crucial part of hospitality and hospitality is a crucial part of Christianity.

After dinner, we settled down, with the huge log fire roaring, to sing carols by request. I'm pleased to say that members from St. Joseph's were there in force and, as usual, were the last to leave. St. Joe's also provided three of the four musicians.

Thank you Karen (interim Chaplain), the vestry and board at ECD for continuing this wonderful tradition.

Time for a Ruby?

Time for a Ruby? No, not a curry - for my American friends Ruby (that's Ruby Murray) is Cockney rhyming slang for curry - but time for celebrating our Ruby Wedding Anniversary. Forty years is a long time. But to have as your partner on that journey your very best friend, is easy. Ups and downs, peaks and troughs - we've had them for sure, but true friends work things out.

Today, we celebrated this milestone at our church with our friends there. We reaffirmed our vows and, wait for this, actually held hands! We had pizza, cake, flowers and enjoyed a great reception in the company of many friends.

A big thank you to them for contributing and sharing the occasion with us.

The good old days?

Yesterday I received one of those "pass-this-on" e-mails (which I never do). Nevertheless, it was interesting and gave me much food for thought.

What follows is my adaptation of that e-mail. It's how I remember things when I was a youngster.

Mum cooked every day and when Dad got home from work, we sat down together at the dining room table, and if I didn't like what she put on my plate I was allowed to sit there until I did like it.

My parents never had a check book, let alone a credit card (credit was what it said it was, debit was debt), even though they both ran a business. All their bills were paid in cash. Their bank accounts were conducted using a pass book and they would never accept a check. I'm sure they never owed anyone, even though plenty of their customers owed them.

My parents never drove me to school (that would have been difficult as we didn't have a car). I walked until I had a bicycle and that was second-hand.

We didn't have a television in our house until I was 13. It was, of course, black and white, and the station went off the air at midnight, after playing the national anthem. There were only two channels and no daytime programs.

Cell phones? You are kidding. We never even had a land-line until I was married. My parents even managed running a business without one.

Pizzas were not delivered to homes, but milk, bread and even soft drinks were. So was the mail, at least twice daily. Post a local letter in the morning, it was delivered in the afternoon. Next day delivery was normal, not a premium service. Mail order? No need, everything you could possibly need was produced or purchased locally.

All newspapers were delivered by boys and all boys delivered newspapers. I delivered newspapers, morning and evening, six days a week, and had a large Sunday morning round.

Movie stars kissed with their mouths shut. At least, they did in the movies. We came home from the theater feeling entertained because all movies were responsibly produced for everyone to enjoy viewing, without profanity or violence or most anything offensive.

If you tripped and fell over it was your own fault, not that of someone else. The only counselling you got was "Oh dear, how sad never mind".

People felt, and were, responsible for their own actions. They didn't blame "society", "the government", or anyone else.

"Do-Gooders" actually did just that.

I can also remember . . .

Ignition switches on the dashboard.
Wearing cycle clips when riding my "bike".
Soldering irons you heated on a gas burner.
Using hand signals, even if the car had "semaphore" turn signals.
When there were only two sets of traffic signals in our town and only one traffic circle (roundabout).
When street lights were turned off at midnight.
When women wore hats in church but men did not.
Respecting my school teachers and those in authority (they usually earned our respect).
When we stopped what we doing and took off our caps when a funeral procession passed by.
When Christmas lasted two days, not two months.
Candy cigarettes.
Tiger nuts.
Children playing in the streets from dawn til dusk.
Having never heard of the word "obese".
Home milk delivery in glass bottles.
Cops actually knowing people in their neighborhoods.
Newsreels before the movie.
Conductors on the buses.
TV test patterns that came on at night after the last show and were there until TV shows started again the next evening.
Peashooters.
Saturday morning movie matinees (the ABC Minors).
Being able to hear oneself think in a public library.
Never, as a child, even knowing what "being bored" was.
Being satisfied with having what we needed and not craving for something we wanted.

Were these my "good old days"? Of course they were.

The Singer finally sings

On Saturday, the Singer was tuning up. I had finished the re-assembly of this wonderful piece of American ingenuity. After a final oiling, the treadle belt was fitted and the moment of truth had dawned.

We had carefully move her (I cannot bring myself to call it "it") to "Gail's Room".

On Monday morning Gail was ready to re-learn the skills of her childhood. After some final adjustments and spooling shuttles, she (Gail) was ready. "It's like riding a bike", she said.

The look on Gail's face as she got back into the swing of treadling was worth every minute of the restoration. I like it too, as I can get easily irritated by the sound of modern appliances, including her electric sewing machine (I know, I know!), but the sound of this little beauty is like comparing the sound of a Rolls Royce to a clapped-out "cash-for-clunkers" wreck with a broken muffler.

The Singer is now in full song and at 88 years old is ready to give many more years service.

Now to find a suitable chair to restore. You can tell, no doubt, that I'm really into this. But first I must complete a neglected project, Gail's doll house, otherwise I'm sure I will feel the heat of female wrath.

I must acknowledge the invaluable help from Captain Dick (Dick Wrightman) of the excellent Treadle On.net and to my dear friend, Mike King of London, England, for his advice. Finally sincere thanks to our dear friend, Pauline Nease, who wanted the Singer to have a good home. Rest assured Pauline, it has.

Bright as a button?

Bright as a button? Not me! I've only just realized that it's just over a year since I started this blog. In that time I've posted 68 times, which at over one a week, is okay I'm thinking.

I started it with the intention of giving my English family and friends, or any anyone else for that matter, an idea of what it was like for this English "traditionalist" to adapt to living in a new country. It was also intended to give my American family and the many wonderful friends we have made here, an idea of the differences between English (East Anglian) and American (Southern) culture, food and language. I've strayed many times from that original idea but, hey! what the heck?

Many of these differences are very pronounced, some not so. As an East Anglian (Norfolk) boy, I'm used to the rest of my homeland calling us "Carrot Crunchers", "Tractor Boys", "Country Bumpkins" and the like (even though I was raised as a townee). A similarity here is that "Southerners" have traditionally been treated the same by those from more "sophisticated" states.

The differences in language are again sometimes not so great. When growing up in Norfolk, it was common to call a respected person "a good ol' boy". Here in the South, the same was and still is true.

In England the true Norfolk and Suffolk culture is being diluted by "invaders" from London and the Home Counties as well as from Europe. The same is happening here, especially in the Triangle of North Carolina, but this time the "invaders" mainly hail from the North-East. In fact a nearby very fast-growing city, Cary, is said to be an acronym for "Collection Area for Retired Yankees" (only joking). So many similarities exist.

One of my favorite blogging themes has been "my catholic musical taste". If anything this has widened and I spend many hours each day listening to various genres (I'm currently listening to Vieuxtemps Violin Concerto No. 5). I have had the immense pleasure of introducing our wonderful Vicar to jazz. She happened to mention that she wanted to learn and listen more, so I have "trickle-fed" her with the likes of The Modern Jazz Quartet, Art Tatum, Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane, and many more. Overhearing her recently telling someone that "Mick is teaching and helping me appreciate jazz", did wonders for my ego. Fancy me becoming a "rabbi" to my priest!

Another thing I realized is that, whilst updating my database of music collected, is that, yes, I am a Romantic! This hit home when I was trying to compile a list of my top ten composers and noted that 70% were of the "Romantic" school - Brahms, Berlioz, Bruch, Chopin, Dvořák, Tchaikovsky and Verdi.

I wonder if Gail thinks of me as a "Romantic"?

The Singer, not the song - 2

I've had a busy couple of days, but have managed to nearly finish off the table of G8824661.

After completely drying, following the application of the oil soap, I used a liberal application of dark Old English Scratch Remover to do just that. Then, having given it time to soak in and cleaning off the surplus, it was down to using Howard's Restore-a-Finish Golden Oak. This is basically a mild stripper and I needed to repeat this before moving on to wiping any residue off.


Things were looking much better now, so it was time to apply the Howard's Orange Feed and Wax. I did this twice before reassembling the major cabinet parts. I will repeat this several times over the next few months to build up a good and lasting finish.



Following a thorough clean and greasing, the treadle mechanism is in great shape, so I'm now ready to tackle the crucial stage - the machine itself. After ninety years of accumulated grease, grime, lint and fluff to remove, moving parts to clean, re-lubricate and adjust, this will likely be a lengthy and fiddly job. It is the most important though - after all, Gail wanted a working machine, not just a piece of furniture.

You can click on the photographs to enlarge. Okay, I'm now off to the auto parts store. I'll let you know why in the next post.

The Singer, not the song

As mention in the previous post, I regret not taking a "before" photograph. I shall, from now on, take a few for the records. These photos are after taking the actual machine out of the table and spending some time removing the grime, oil and dust accumulated over many years.

After brushing, I used Murphy's Oil Soap on the table and most of the wood. The drawers (not shown) and their runners looked to have been treated with some type of shellac many years ago. They cleaned up reasonably well so I decided not to strip this off.

The effects of the oil soap with copious amounts of "elbow grease" made a remarkable difference.

Although I'm currently concentrating on the table and the treadle mechanism, I did take some tentative steps on the cleaning and de-greasing of the actual machine. Using Formula 409 I gently cleaned the steel cover plates and then, even more gently, tried the main body taking extra care over the decals. I am pleased that these seem to be in good condition under the layers of grime, although more work on this is required after I finish off the woodwork.

My first research into the date of manufacture was incorrect. I have now discovered that serial number G8824661 was manufactured c1922. Still, it's getting on for 90 years old and is a credit to American manufacturing. After all, the Singer sewing machine was very likely the first " home appliance."

At last, another post

I've just realized it's over a month since my last post. It's not that nothing has happened worthy of posting, indeed just the opposite.

With colder nights, including some which resulted in early frosts, our thoughts have been with those who have no homes. Gail and I have gradually become more aware of our good fortune in having a roof over our heads and food in the pantry, something which many do not have. This can be for a multitude of reasons, which, to be fair, many of us cannot (or do not want to try) to understand.

I've started a new project. Gail was given a Singer treadle sewing machine, a model similar to the one she learned to sew on by her mother. She has been hankering after one of these for some time, not only as a "piece of furniture" but for a more practical reason - she has never really got on with electric sewing machines. We had looked at previously "restored" models for which the sellers were asking ridiculous prices as well as wrecks which would be beyond my capabilities of restoring. This one, built in 1910, is a little beauty, it's just in need of some TLC. I spent ages on the Internet researching the practicalities of restoring it before coming to the conclusion that, "Hey! I can do that". It will not look like new (I've watched too many "Antiques Roadshows" to fall for that), but will, I hope, look like it has been well used in it's nearly hundred years, but also lovingly cared for. Long story short (that's a first for me) - I'm hooked! I have, however, made a huge mistake - that is I didn't take a "before" photograph. As it is now all in pieces, it's a mistake I regret, but I'm going to have to live with. At least we can remember what it looked like.

I appreciate that blogs can only be of interest if (a) they have something interesting to say; and (b) they are updated regularly. I cannot help it if the former is not to every one's taste, but I'm going to make more effort to make sure that latter happens. There - it's in writing.

And for the record - Gail's Doll House is still "work in progress" (albeit slowly).

Decisions, decisions - part 3

Decisions are made virtually every second of our lives. Even when we sleep, decisions are made which effect our lives.

Without doubt my biggest and best decision was made in 1968. I spent lots of time at the home of my best friend. My best friend had two sisters, one spoken for, one not. A gradual friendship evolved and on one magical evening I asked the wonderful one for a date.

Those who know Gail also know that subtlety is not one of her strong points. What I'm saying is that she didn't play "hard to get". I cannot speak for her, but I knew, on that first date that I would be spending the rest of my life with her. A cliche? Maybe, but that's how I felt. My family immediately fell in love with her too.

The aforementioned decision was made at The Buck Inn in Flixton, Suffolk, which was owned and run by a famous radio and TV star, Alan Breeze. We talked and just decided to get married, no formal proposal was made. We both knew it was right.

On November 15, 1969 we celebrated Holy Matrimony, at St. Mary's RC Church, Norfolk, England.

Some decisions we make turn out to be the wrong ones. Forty years after this that evening at The Buck, we still both know this one was right.

On November 15, 2009, we will celebrate with friends at St. Joseph's Episcopal Church, in the USA.

An empty feeling

Uncle Stuart, Caitlin, Granddad and Nan (wearing the beautiful earrings Caitlin made for her)

Caitlin is now home in England. What an emotional day it was yesterday. No sooner had her 767 taken off and we were missing her. Those 26 days flew by nearly as fast as the aircraft taking her home.

She really is a great kid - yes, I know, all grandparents would say the same - but this 14-year-old really impressed everyone she met.

I think she has taken home a touch of The South. On asking what she would miss the most (hoping she was going to say, "why you and Nan of course"), she replied as quick as a flash "Bojangles Chicken Biscuits"! She had asked to have her last lunch here at the aforesaid Bojangles.

Caitlin enjoying her last taste of The South (for the time being)

Come back soon Caitlin (and Asha, Josie, Arwen, Sarah and Billy), we ALL miss you!

DC reflections

Our weekend in Washington DC was great. It was everything we expected and much, much more. Two things struck me. Firstly was how "walkable" this city is; secondly was my impression that it is, generally, a friendly city.

The front desk staff at our hotel were exceptionally helpful and courteous; our sedan driver was remarkably cheerful at 6:30 a.m., the Union Station security guy who personally showed us where to get breakfast, the Gray Line office guy who talked me through Union Station to find our departure point, and the "Wonderful Wayne" our driver/tour guide with his even more wonderful West Indian accent.

I urge the many Americans who have never visited their nation's capital to do so. If, like me, you have any sense of history, a visit to the Capitol alone is worth the trip. A moving experience indeed.

We will be visiting again for sure. I feel as if I could spend a couple of weeks at the Smithsonian, alone.

After an exhausting schedule, I asked Caitlin, our 14-year old granddaughter what impressed her the most. The Museum of American History? the Capitol building? the White House? No, her answer was the National World War II Memorial. Is it not surprising that an English teenager should, in 2010, find this memorial to Americans who sacrificed their lives for freedom over sixty years ago moving? I think so and am even more proud of her than ever.

The Washington Monument, from the National WWII Memorial

Rosslyn, VA, by night

Gail and Mick at The Capitol

Caitlin, enjoying the view

Lincoln, takes a peak

What a wonderful building

Gail and Mick at the Reflecting Pool. The Lincoln Memorial in the background

Ford's Theater, where Abraham Lincoln was shot

Caitlin and Gail take a look at The White House

The National World War II Memorial

Many (many) more photos on my Shutterfly page: http://norfolkboyinnc.shutterfly.com

Hooked on P.D.

Anyone who looks to the left of my home page and sees what I'm reading or listening to, cannot help but be aware that I love mysteries.

At the suggestion of a dear friend, I recently read my first novel by P.D. James, Death in Holy Orders, and was instantly hooked. How I had never sampled her work before is beyond me. I have not even seen the Anglia TV adaptations of her novels

Her use of the English language is a delight. One review I read on Goodreads.com complains that she uses words that have to be checked in the dictionary. Good for her, I say. Why should anyone complain of using good English? I'm not learned in my own written (or spoken) tongue, but I do appreciate the language being used correctly.

There, no posts for over a month, and now, two together.

Where did August go?

Amazing! I cannot believe it's well over a month since I last posted to this blog. Where did August go?

At the time of that posting we were looking forward to the visit of our granddaughter Caitlin from Norfolk, England. She has been here for two weeks and only has ten days before she flies home and back to school.

Gail and Caitlin enjoying Sarah Duke Gardens, Durham NC.

We all enjoyed our trip to the beach - Wrightsville Beach NC.

Wilmington, NC. It's twinned with Gail's birthplace, Doncaster, Yorkshire, England, hence this photograph.

The obligatory photo. The USS North Carolina is awesome.

In the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, TN

Dollywood, TN

I am a strong woman Granddad!

I think I'm going to get wet . . . . .

. . . . I did get drenched through, but this was after the "River Battle". Gail and Caitlin just "put me out in the sun to dry"

We have crammed a lot into these first two weeks - visits to the beach, the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, the thrills and delights of Dollywood and much valued family time.

Gail and Caitlin - on "retail therapy"!

We're off to DC in Friday. Unfortunately, when I booked the hotel and tours I didn't realize that it was Labor Day weekend. Hey-ho, we will still enjoy it I know, and as many have told me, it is ALWAYS busy in DC.

Why?

As every parent knows, "why?" is a common word among young children. And so it should be as, in order to learn, we have to constantly ask questions. It can of course be frustrating when one has given an answer to the original "why?", to have that puzzled looking face ask, "but why?"

As older people (I have, unfortunately, have to include myself in that category) are sometimes described as going through their second childhood, I realize that I am also asking "why?' quite often nowadays.

Some examples:

1) why do organizations, especially academic ones, spend vast amounts of money on researching subjects which most people know the answer to and not those that can really improve the quality of life. Does it really take a research team at an English University several years and many thousands of pounds to come up with finding that cats can control a human by purring and "creeping" round their owners legs when they want to be fed? or that the reason there is an increase in child obesity is that they are eating too much junk food and sugar, are not exercising enough and spend too long in front of a computer screen?

2) why do normally sensible, caring, intelligent adults, immediately change into crazy, selfish, demons when sitting behind the steering wheel of their car?

3) why do the aforesaid adults, who are normally discreet when sharing confidences with real friends, turn into pseudo gossip columnists when making comments on Facebook, MySpace, blogs, etc., sharing their innermost secrets and desires with their virtual friends and indeed, the world? Oh! wait a minute, I do that too!

4) why is it not possible in this age, without living in the wilderness, the North or South Pole, or sailing around the world single-handed, to have some outer peace and stillness in one's life, even in one's own home? Inner peace is easier in any location I know.

5) why is it that very often, those who give advice are the worst recipients of it?

6) why is it not possible for me to ask these questions, without being accused of being a "grumpy old man"?

I could go on (an on).

Perhaps young children could give me the answers, before they are tainted with adulthood.

Decisions, decisions - part 2

As mentioned in the previous post, decisions are made virtually every second of our lives. Even when we sleep decisions are made which effect our lives.

Before completing my apprenticeship I had already made a decision to leave my "master" on becoming a journeyman. In fact I had already secured a new position three months before my signing off. I felt I needed more experience and started in August 1965 at the well established book printing company of Page Bros (Norwich) Ltd. I had been promised a job as a Monotype keyboard operator, something I had started at Norwich City School of Art Printing Department.

Joining a much larger company was daunting, but I was welcomed by a brotherhood of printers and made lifetime friends, many of whom still live in Norwich and correspond regularly. As printing technology developed, from letterpress to offset lithography to digital, I and my co-workers developed with it, ever learning new skills.

Taken in 1974 probably during a 12 hour late shift at the MonoPhoto Mk V keyboard. Like the 70s style?

My point is that the decision to join this company, which was founded over 260 years ago and still going strong, was another great one. I retired early in 2000 after enjoying 35 years of working there and 40 years in the printing trade. I can count on one hand, well okay, maybe two, the number of times I woke up and thought "I don't really fancy going into work today", even during some scary winter snow storms, on my 17-mile commute along country roads.

I feel blessed that I was fortunate in making the correct decision for me, and as it turned out, for my family.

The next life-changing choice was made in 1968, but that's another story.

Decisions, decisions - part 1

Except when we are asleep, we are faced with decisions almost every minute of our life. The vast majority are of a minor nature. Shall I have another cup of coffee? Shall I wear this shirt or that one?, and so on. However, some decisions are of a much more important nature, life-changing in fact.

As I was expanding this thought, my mind wandered back to what, I suppose, was my first life-forming decision. As I was approaching graduation from college in 1960, and contemplating my future career I had arranged interviews with three local companies each involved in completely different industries, all of which I had expressed an interest in. As all would involve me and my father signing indentures for a five-year apprenticeship, Dad had to accompany me.

Dad, from childhood always wanted to be a carpenter, a skill which came natural to him. However, he was under pressure from his father to join the family dairy business, which he loyally did. So Dad was keen for me to "do my own thing", albeit with all the help, guidance and support he could muster. Naturally enough, the first company tour and interview was with a joinery firm. Hmmm, a lot different from the woodworking shop at school, but there was a spark of interest. Next came a noisey, smelly, tour of a local shipwrights foundry. That was a non-starter for me, even though it would have included some woodworking skill in the preparation of moulds.

The third interview, at a small jobbing printing works, clinched my future career. I was struck immediately by a feeling that this "was for me". Within 24 hours, I was offered an apprenticeship and Dad and I signed my Indenture on August 8, 1960. The document is a work of art, the company secretary completed his part in beautiful copperplate script.

I'm reading this wonderful document as I write this and several of the terms stand out. For example, Paragraph 2(e) reads "That the Apprentice shall not gamble with cards or dice or play unlawful games or frequent taverns but that in all things he shall demean and behave himself towards his Employer and others having authority over him during the said term as a good and faithful apprentice ought".

Pictured with my "clicker" and mentor, the great Cliff Cooper, during the first year of my apprenticeship.

Then, exactly five years later on August 8, 1965, the Indenture states "We hereby certify that the hereinbeforenamed has well and faithfully served the full period of his Apprenticeship in accordance with the terms of the before written Deed".

Six years later, as a journeyman compositor at the Monotype keyboard

In 1960 I composed (typeset) by hand, but after keying via Monotype, Monophoto, Then by computer typesetting, by my retirement in 2000 we were ready for "customer-to-plate files".

My first life-forming decision was a great one, which not once did I regret making. To be able to say that in forty years I enjoyed every working day would be an exaggeration, but there were not many days I didn't enjoy, and as family and friends will testify, I still love the smell of a newly printed book!

. . . . . . . to be continued.

Crafty Love

I wrote some time ago about Gail’s passion for crafting. Mainly knitting, cross-stitching and the like, but recently quilting.

Of late, and especially since living here in the USA, another of her qualities has been increasingly noticeable. I’ve always known it (although probably not always appreciated it), but many of our friends have actually commented on it. What is this quality you are no doubt asking? To put it simply, which is always a difficult task for me, it’s the fact that she is Gail!

She has a wonderful way of always being cheerful; she is usually very tolerant; she is extremely generous with her time and love; she genuinely loves helping people; she isn’t one to open her mouth before giving what she is about to say a lot of thought; she has never shown envy of anybody or anything. The list is endless. Is she a saint? Of course not, (although she ought to be canonized for putting up with me for near on forty years).

The point I’m trying to make is that, although life has not always been kind to her, she has always been kind to life. Whether it’s visiting housebound friends, running to the grocery store for them, taking people to hospital appointments or cooking a meal for the homeless guys who visit our church property, she has always had faith, even when I had lost mine.

Getting back to the crafting. My reason for writing this is that not only did she agree to knit three prayer shawls for a lady she had only briefly met once, but feels that her hands need to deliver them, not via the US Mail or FedEx. On Monday we will be travelling to Georgetown, South Carolina to ensure that her labors are delivered with love. It’s a nine hour return trip.

Am I proud of her? Do I love her dearly? You bet your life I do and I’m not ashamed to tell y’all!

Seven days in the life of . . . .

Looking back over the past week I am reminded of "the curate's egg" - good in parts.

Ups and downs, peaks and troughs or whatever you want to call them, are part of life. It's how we cope with not only the low points, but even the highs, that can make all the difference to others. Both Gail and I experienced unrelated frustrations towards the end of last week. Talking to friends not only helped both of us get past these difficulties (as minor as they were, in hindsight), but hopefully gave those friends a sense of helping and of being "wanted". It's a reminder that we all not only need, but rely on, one another. Seeking help is not always easy, but is generally rewarding for both the seeker and helper. Thank God for the family of friends we have and love.

Yesterday, Sarah telephoned from Norfolk, England, to tell me that she had successfully booked the flights for Caitlin, one of our wonderful granddaughters, to visit us this summer. To say we are excited is an understatement!

As this wonderful world continues to turn, a dear friend's younger brother died on Saturday and yesterday another friend gave birth to a beautiful girl, Macy. Lows and highs, mourning and rejoicing, they are an integral part of life . . . and death.

As Gail says every morning "Good morning life . . . how can I make a difference today?"

Food, glorious(?), food

Getting ready for the onslaught

Almost three weeks since my last posting. Gee, doesn't time fly? It's not that I've been lazy (although that's a subject in which I could win an Olympic Gold), it's that our time has been amazingly well utilized.

A more than usual proportion of our energy seems to have been spent on food, either eating out or entertaining. That, inevitably resulted in me gaining a few extra pounds, "oh dear, how sad, never mind" (no prizes for guessing what TV show that quote comes from). We had eaten out so much that Gail needed an orientation course just to get back into the swing of preparing meals in our own kitchen!

The eating marathon concluded on Saturday when we held a cook-out for friends and neighbors. It seemed, from my vantage point slaving over a hot grill, to have been a success by the 39 guests who attended. I thought I would never stop grilling ribs, dogs and burgers and swore that I wouldn't want to see another rib for months. Needless to say, by Monday, I could have died for a rib!

I mentioned above a favorite TV sitcom (It Ain't Half Hot Mum), which is now considered not politically correct, but really is a classic. I have just been informed by Amazon that my order or the complete series of another of my favorites, (thanks to my amazing friends Dawn and Michelle sweetly remembering my birthday) has been shipped. I had pre-ordered it six weeks ago and have eagerly awaited it's release on Region 1. It is "Open All Hours", starring the exceedingly talented Ronnie Barker and David Jason, and is an English classic. I don't think PBN would have shown this here, as I'm not sure that an American audience would be able to grasp the Northern humor (the series was set in Doncaster, Gail's home town).

A friend recently lent us the BBC adaptation of Barchester Chronicles. Some of my favorite actors starred, Donald Pleasance, Nigel Hawthorne, Geraldine McEwan and the wonderful Alan Rickman, who played the creepy Obadiah Slope and the equally wonderful Clive Swift playing Bishop Proudie. What a great adaption of Trollope's masterpeice and just like the books, we didn't want it to end. Thank you Lynn for sharing.

Okay, I think that's enough of the TV theme. Now, what was I going to do? Oh yes, get ready to out for the Ninth Street Neighbors Lunch with some of our friends. And that's where we came in.