|
Users viewing this topic:
none
|
|
Login  | |
|
Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 7/6/2005 12:12:39 AM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
Father God, as I begin this new adventure for me, keep me ever mindful that if it is not edifying you, I should leave it be. Help me to see my life experience in ways that will help draw me closer to you Father God, and give me the tools that maybe my experiences can have value to my friends here on FaithCommunityNetwork!
I ask this all in Jesus precious and holy name...Amen!
Good evening friends! The time locally for me is 9:50pm, Tuesday July 5th, 2005. Welcome to my little corner of the World Wide Web. My intent in starting this blog is to have a place to share my thoughts, feelings and just generally what is going on in my life and the life of my family.
What are we going to find here? WHO KNOWS??? I don't even know and I'm WRITING the silly thing! 
I guess a good place to start would be to introduce myself. The rest of the world ONLINE knows me as Hatfield...the world OFFLINE knows me as Ron, the fourth child of William Carl _____ and Elaine Stuart _____. Now, I love my friends here on CW, but please know that there are people out there that can't be trusted as far as you can throw them. So, "Ron" is fine with me.
I grew up on the north side of Indianapolis Indiana, in a family that was half way between that in the television series "The Wonder Years" and the one in "That 70's Show" (But at least, there wasn't anything of "Married....with children" in it!) Life wasn't perfect, but I am blessed to say that looking back I realize now that I was deeply loved -- and still am!  
Grade school and high school had their typical ups and downs. I was more a 'nerdy' sort of kid. I kept to a close circle of friends and was too shy to date.
My first date was a blind date with one of my sister's bridesmaids who'd come into town the night before the rehearsal...so my sister set her up with me because she was unable to 'entertain' her friend. Suffice to say, I'm really glad that experience didn't sour me on dating as a whole. It wasn't pretty.
One of the high points from Jr High and all through high school and even my first summer in college was going to a summer camp in southern Indiana called Waycross. Waycross is the summer camp for the Episcopal Diocese of Indianapolis, and was very vital to much of my growing up years.
Also during this time, in the early summer just before going to summer camp, I would attend a program called "The Industrial Arts Summer Program" sponsored by an evangelical denomination. I had been invited to participate by the program's founder, who also happened to be the teacher of my Jr High shop class, Mr. Johnston. Having grown up in the Episcopal church, this was one of my first experiences with what my future wife's uncle would call "Holy Rollers." This was also my first experience hearing a message about this thing called Personal Salvation. You might say that seeds were planted.
OK, move the clock forward a few years ... up to my freshman year at Ball State University in Muncie Indiana. Campus life in the typical university is busy busy busy, and for me it was no different. What to study, what did I want to do with my life AFTER college, how do I choose the people I want to hang around with? Thankfully the first couple of these were answered really before I started college.
In high school, I had been very active with the photography club. Mr. Kantor, our advisor and the teacher of the only two photography classes in the school, was one of the first teachers that treated me---or so I thought at the time, hindsight being 20/20 and all that---as a peer rather than a subject. He encouraged my love of photography...to the point that what had started as a TWO class curriculum in the basics of photography and darkroom processing, became a FOUR class curriculum spanning basics, darkroom, studio and news photography! From this, I learned to love looking through the lens. (BTW, someone PM me and let me know if the image thing is disabled in the Blogs??? PLEASE??)
OK, back to college! I bet you think I wanted to study photojournalism don't you? Oddly enough, being a "Newsie" seemed ~~BORING~~ to my still teenaged mind. So I started taking classes in Ball State's Telecommunications curriculum (which at first was the RTM department...Radio, Television and Motion Pictures).
One of the very first classes that was needed in the department was TCOM 201, which was an introduction to television production. I showed up for the first day of class...along with the 40 or so others...into a classroom with 35 openings   . The professor, a very kindly gentleman took the role and explained that as happens on occasion, the university had intentionally overbooked a class, anticipating no shows or drops...so he randomly selected five names and asked them to go to the administration building to see if there was another slot in another class available. Guess who's name got called?  As the other students dashed up the stairs in a mad rush for the administration building across campus, I just didn't have the strength for it, so I walked up the stairs and half way up to the next floor I exclaimed very loudly a word that I know here won't be said ....
Rather than heading for the administration building, I went to the 2nd floor to the department office to see if there was another class that I could pick up, intending to come back for the 201 the following term. I was speaking with an advisor in the office when we heard running come down the hallway followed by the screech of shoes just outside the door. In pops the professor, rather flushed from running up the stairs and he quickly explains that one of the students that had STAYED...didn't have one of the prerequisite classes...so he was OUT and I was IN! We returned to the class together, and as the professor comes through the doors he very theatrically says, "Now I don't know WHO it was who would have used such LANGUAGE in the stairwell a moment ago...but I'm sure it wasn't Ron here!" Polite laughter went around the room...and I was in my first TCom class. I had also met the professor who was my personal advisor through my college education, Doctor Alan "Doc" Richards.
I think Fr. Mulcahy said it best when he said, "While it is true that the Meek shall inherit the Earth...its the PUSHY who will get PROMOTED!" 
I've got a whole lot more I'll be sharing with you in the weeks and months to come, so please come by again!
In Christ's Love
-Ron
[Edited per TOS 5]
< Message edited by BenQuebec -- 9/13/2005 10:24:32 PM >
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 7/6/2005 8:41:40 PM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
Yay the pics work in here!!
At first I was thinking that I was going to take this whole thing chronologically....but seeing as that's not how my mind works, why should that be how my blog works either??
My Dad
William Carl, "Bill" to all but us four kids was the younger of two children of Dallas and Marie. Dad wanted to go into the navy in a big way, and seeing as at the time World War II was in full swing, he thought it wouldn't be a problem to get his father to sign off on the permission slip to let him go in at 17 years old. Dad was a good sized young fellow, and the recruiter was more than happy to talk with him about the benefits that a military life could offer him. He gave Dad the paper work for Grandpa to sign and told him to bring them back signed the next day.
Grandpa would have nothing to do with it! In fact, so that Dad couldn't consider getting Grandma to sign for him, Grandpa tore up the papers and told him to take THAT back to the recruiter. Dad wasn't a happy boy. 
Well, Dad didn't have to wait all that long. Less than 2 weeks after his 18th birthday ... he received his official greetings from the President of the United States, telling him to report to the appropriate induction office. Grandpa might not have wanted him to go, but Uncle Sam had other plans for Dad. He went to the induction office, along with about two dozen other young men. The same recruiter that Dad had spoken with before was there processing them. At that time, the greatest need for military service was infantry in the Army. So the recruiting officer walked down the line and would point at each man saying... "Army .... Army ... Army ... Marines ... Navy ..." dividing 3/5ths to the army for infantry, and 1/5th each to the marines and navy. Sure enough when the recruiter came around to Dad's end of the line, he pointed at the guy just BEFORE Dad saying "Navy..." then pointed at Dad saying "Army..." For what Dad calls the only time in his military career he ever spoke back to a superior, he stopped the recruiter and reminded him that they'd spoken just a couple of months prior, and that he'd REALLY much rather be in the navy. Without even missing a beat or actually responding to Dad, the recruiter pointed again at the man he'd designated for the navy, saying "Army..." and to Dad, "Navy..." and went right along in his count as if nothing had happened. Dad was in the Navy.
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 7/9/2005 12:00:21 AM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
I guess what got me wanting to start this whole blog thing in the first place was that my Mom took a class a couple of years ago on writing memoirs, the result of that work is available here, in my writer's portfolio on writing.com.
It intrigued me...Trying to condense bits and pieces of our lives down to managable bite sized pieces for others to share. Mom writes memoirs...I blog. I think the only real difference is, her's are on paper and you can go to HER house to look at them...mine, if you're hooked to the net, you're good to go!
More about Dad
I try to think about what to write, and so much comes to me in such a rush I'm gonna have trouble thinking about what NOT to write.
My earliest memories of my father are very closely linked with two other members of my family on Dad's side of the family tree, Dad's Cousin Ruth and my Grandma (Dad's Mom). When I was around four years old, my parents divorced. As was typical in the mid-1960's, Mom received custody with Dad having visitation. Dad's visitation took the form that we saw him every Sunday (we all still went to the same church, Christ Church Episcopal Cathedral in Indianapolis IN) and that for two weeks each summer, Dad would pile all four of us kids into his car and take us for a visit with Cousin Ruth in Michigan.
Now for those that are unfamiliar, Michigan has almost as many lakes as Minnesota, and each summer, Ruth, Grandma, Dad, and my sibs Melissa, Eric, Becky and I would spend most of that two weeks in a lakeside cabin that Dad and Ruth would rent. Dad, Ruth and my brother Eric were very avid fishers, and would spend hours a day out in a little rowboat, which as often as not would have a little outboard motor on it.
While they were out fishing, Melissa (eldest child) would be watching the soaps with Grandma while Becky and I would do whatever to amuse ourselves. Usually this involved swimming off the little boat dock that the rowboat would otherwise be moored to. Looking back at how very little supervision we had as kids, and seeing what is daily trumpetted in the newspapers now, I consider it the full protection of God and his Angels that we all made it to adulthood. But we did.
Much of my childhood memories ellude me. I'll have flashes...like thinking about the trips to the cabin in Michigan that jump out at me. But there are times I wonder why I couldn't tell you all that much about other times. Is this me?
More another day!
In Christ's loving arms
-Ron
< Message edited by Hatfield -- 7/9/2005 11:45:55 PM >
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 7/10/2005 2:04:20 AM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
Some of my personal testimony
This one could get a little bit interesting.
I grew up in the Episcopal Church, which is another name for the Church of England  (Anglican Church) in the United States. I guess when you look at it...the Anglican Church was the State Church of early Great Britain, and so it was this church that the earliest settlers of the american colonies was fleeing. I know, an odd way of looking at it, but anyway...
I grew up in the Episcopal Church. At one point as a young teen, I had considered the Episcopal priesthood, as one of my favorite uncles, Uncle Al, was a priest. I felt very comfortable in the Episcopal church, much like the Roman Catholic and Lutheran churchs, the worship service focused around litergy as a means of worship...singing hymns and anthems, reading passes of scripture and receiving the sacrement of communion...and of course sleeping through hearing a sermon by one of the priests of the church. It was comfortable, just about everyone I knew was in our church.
I had attended services in other churches. During my freshman year in college, I began meeting new friends. Friends who WEREN'T Episcopalians!  This was all fine and good of course. I would go home on weekends (Ball State was among other nicknames called the "Suitcase College", because a good number of its students were from communities close enough that they'd go home on weekends...) and be back in my little safe zone.
I even had a response for those that asked me if I'd been "Saved"...I'd tell them, "Why yes I was, it was about 2,000 years ago..." From my experience, the Episcopal church's teaching doesn't so much focus on the personal relationship with the Lord, but rather to the service to others by the body of the church--just my observation. I could likely start a very lively thread in Religion and Ethics on some of my ponderings and musing ... but that will be for another day.
So anyway, I met friends of different faiths in college, I would go to some of their church services, and as often as not, they'd tag along with me to visit with my family on weekends and would come to church with US.
A funny brief story on that line...One of my college friends, Mark, was raised in the Friends Church--what is also called the Quakers (yeah, like the guy on the oatmeal boxes), and after having spent a weekend visiting with his family, a few weeks after, he came and visited with mine. That Sunday, Mark came with me to church at the Cathedral. After services, there was a coffee hour, a chance to fellowship with church friends before returning to that outside world...
Well, we were mingling with my friends, I was introducing Mark around, and just about every girl I would say hi to, would give me a big hug (and a couple of them a little peck  ) and when I'd introduce them to Mark...well they'd give HIM a little squeeze as well! After we were back in the car and headed back to campus, I asked Mark what he thought about it. He asked me some questions about the service--which is VERY different from a Friend's meeting I had learned-- and then he asked me what I think had really been his biggest concern, he asked me, "Are the girls always that friendly??" I couldn't help but chuckle.
By the time I came through my Junior year at Ball State, I was a little more receptive of others speaking about their faith, and I acknowledged that maybe, just maybe the Episcopal church didn't have absolutely all the answers I was looking for. As God's timing would have it, it was also around that same time that I started dating a very wonderful woman. Very accepting, very loving, and very "Born Again" Those around here know her, she's my wife Beth (Scarlett) And as boyfriends sometimes do, at her mother's invitation, I would visit with Beth's family on some weekends and go to church with them.
Mind you, I was used to church being...
Choirboys in robes..
Pipe organs..
and priests in vestments..
We went to Beth's family's church (First Assembly of God, Logansport IN) and found things like guitars, pianos and banjos and a set of drums!
and people raising their hands praising God!
And the other thing I found there...I could never find a good picture so I won't even try, but before I'd said a word to anyone, as I entered the sanctuary of that church, it was like stepping from a freezing cold blizzard into a house warmed by a roaring fire. The blizzard was forgotten and the warmth came straight to my bones. It was very different...but very much what I had needed but didn't realize.
So, in November of 1986, we were attending a dramatic performance. It was a play about what life would be like AFTER the Rapture...but this was NOT the 'Left Behind' books, but a similar concept. Church members played the parts of persecuted Christians as well as some really NASTY people who were hunting the Christians and the story told of the events of that time ... the gist of the play was how dire and necessary it was to make a decision to follow Jesus as your Lord and Savior NOW, while you still had the chance to MAKE a choice.
After the performance, the Pastor came to the front of the sanctuary and gave an explanation of what many of us know as the "Roman Road". How it is not by our own works that we get into Heaven, but it is by faith in Jesus, so that no man should boast...that it didn't happen 2000 years ago, that it is happening right NOW if you would choose to let God have control in your life. I was almost so much so aghast that it had been so much right there in front of me, that I sat their for a moment not knowing what to do. But God knew how to show me, the pastor said, "Now with every head bowed, and every eye closed, I want you to consider what you've seen tonight. If the Rapture would occur now ... do you know where you would be? If you don't know I'd like for you to raise your hand, just for a moment, then I'll have you put your hand down..." I raised my hand.
The Pastor then explained that there were members of the church that would like an opportunity to pray with you (meaning ME), "And so again, with every eye closed, and heads bowed, if you would like to make a commitment to follow the Lord, to give your heart to Him, I will ask you to stand. Don't leave your seat, just stand up, and one of our church members will come and stand with you to pray with you." I stood. It may sound cliche' now, but my knees shook a little. I felt a hand upon my shoulder, and found that Kerry, the man who'd played the leader of the persecutors in the drama (and still in his frightful costume I might add! ), was smiling at me. That evening, we prayed together...with Beth at my side and crying her eyes out, as I gave my heart to Jesus.
Life since then hasn't been perfect, as a dear friend once told me, "Watermelon still has seeds..." but by God's grace I am living my life to the best of my ability and in the love of my Lord!
_____________________________
Ron  (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 7/11/2005 1:16:34 AM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
Brief note about previous post...the pictures were from sites found in an image search, they are not of anyone he knows, just similar to what he was describing!
Pardon me while I take a moment to rant...
I work in retail, at a "Super Store" retailer similar to a Super Walmart. With their home offices in Michigan, I work for Meijer. I've been cashiering with the Meijer organization for over six years now, and in that time, there are some things that have become pet peeves of mine. So if I may, I will say to you my dear reading friend what I might say to the guest ... If I were able to without the possibility of getting fired:
- No I'm sorry, just because I cannot get the upc number to scan, doesn't mean that you get it for free...
- Yes Ma'am/Sir, I can see that there are three oranges in the produce bag, working with money requires my being able to COUNT.
- Ma'am, the tag is missing from this garment, would you recall what the price was? Well yes, I'm sure it was supposed to be 50% off, the question is 50% from WHAT?
- No, I'm sorry. Indiana law specifically states that I cannot sell alcoholic beverages on Sundays. Well I'm sorry, I don't make the rules. Yes, I'm sure you DO use it for medicinal purposes, but I still cannot sell it to you until tomorrow. (OK, I admit it, I DID have that conversation!)
I feel so much better getting that off my chest a moment! Don't get too comfortable, I've been known to rant occasionally, so I might just do it here.
I guess the one thing that I've found that I need to focus on during the trials of my life is this....
Yes, I have a less than exhilerating job that while it pays the bills doesn't do to much more than that, but this also means that I have a job and can (usually) pay my bills, when others around me are less fortunate.
Yes, I am more than 50 pounds overweight, but it means I live in a country where people have so much food that I can pack on these pounds--even when I shouldn't.
Yes, occasionally I fight with friends and my sweet Beth, but this also means I have people that care enough about me that when I disagree with them on some issue or other, it upsets them!
So, even in the midst of trial, I try with my heart to give praise for the blessings that I have.
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 7/19/2005 9:12:49 PM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
Where I got the name "Hatfield"
A friend of my mother's is an Episcopal priest named Martin Bell. Now, Father Bell was very atypical of the priests that I have known in my life. Asside from having been the priest at a church my Mom attended for a time (another story there... ), he played guitar with a rather rock and bluesy sort of style. Father Bell was also an author, and wrote some wonderful books. My two favorites being The Way of the Wolf: The Gospel in New Images and Return of the Wolf. In Return, a collection of what Fr. Bell calls "Fables, parables and short stories" is the story of Hatfield.
Hatfield is a blind man, the master of a fictional sort of martial arts called Dhariki. The story follows:
(for the TOS, I provide the following statement: To my knowledge, this work is not available in a linkable format online, else I would provide it. While I do not hold exclusive copyright to this work, I am offering it as a fan of Fr. Bell's work, and as such will gain nothing financially or otherwise. If you LIKE the story, I would encourage you to go to http://www.barringtonbunny.com and follow their instructions towards purchasing a copy of the book for yourself!)
(I)
"Of course you realize he has dhariki powers," said one of the translucent
creatures who had been summoned.
"As a matter of principle he will not use dhariki," Tolak replied.
His words had a hollow sound.
"A man of principle," the second creature laughed.
Tolak stared at them. "Jennings says to stop him at all costs. Do
you understand?"
Nefid and Droh understood. Nevertheless, any thought of
confronting Hatfield was profoundly disturbing.
"Where is he?" asked Droh.
"In the forest at present. Traveling southwest. He is searching
for the wolf's lair."
"How do suggest we stop him?" Nefid said uneasily.
"In the name of Hell," hissed Tolak. "I don't know. Tell him you
have word from the wolf. Threaten him with death. Just get the job
done."
Nefid and Droh looked at each other, then at Tolak. Neither of
them spoke.
"Hatfield must be stopped," Tolak went on. "Jennings will not
tolerate failure in this matter.."
(II)
Quite unaware of these developments, Hatfield moved swiftly along
his way. The narrow sheath affixed to his left forearm held a thin
blade of tempered steel--its handle resting just above the wrist. In
addition, he carried a heavy wooden staff. And a wineskin filled with
water was slung over one shoulder.
After a while he arrived at a clearing near the forest's edge.
Hatfield was about to cross when he sensed a pressence in that place.
Something or someone was there. The traveler stopped and raised his
staff.
"Who are you?" Hatfield called out.
"Messengers," Droh said, his voice faltering.
"We bring word from the wolf," Nefid added quickly.
"So...messengers." Hatfield did not move. "What word do you
bring?"
"Wrong path," Nefid replied. "You are traveling southwest. Wolf
is due east."
Hatfield let this thought spread across his mind. The wolf sends
directions to his lair? Unlikely.
"Due east," Nefid said again with conviction.
Hatfield appeared to be considering the matter. "Journey to the
East, is it?"
"Exactly,"Nefid agreed.
"What else does the wolf want me to know?"
Droh could not resist answering. "He has prepared a feast for you.
A reward for the work you have accomplished."
The traveler shook his head in bewilderment. Not only does the
wolf send directions to his lair, but now he offers a reward. Without
question, these two were imposters. Hatfield grasped the staff with
both hands. His voice barely audible.
"The wolf did not send you. Your words are those of Jennings.
Stand aside or I'll flatten both of you."
"Damn you Hatfield!" Nefid exclaimed. "Turn back or die!"
"You are prepared to kill me?"
"We are."
"Minion! Fool! You threaten Hatfield with death?"
"We know of your dhariki powers," said Droh. "We also know that you
will not use them.
Hatfield looked surprised. "Is that what Jennings told you?"
"Jennings himself did not send us," Nefid replied. "We work for
Tolak."
"Then it was Tolak who said I would not use dhariki?"
"Yes."
"And you believed him?"
"Why not?"
Hatfield shrugged. "Because Tolak is a liar. I will use dhariki."
Nefid did not wait. He screamed, jerked his sword from its
scabbard and ran toward Hatfield swinging the weapon wildly.
The when he was within five feet of his opponent, the translucent
creature suddenly dropped low to the ground and spun about twice with
astonishing skill. The blade made a whistling sound as it cut through
the air where Hatfield's legs should have been.
Simultaniously, Droh removed an irregular metallic disc from his
belt pouch. Raising his hand to hurl the object, he realized Hatfield
was gone.
Nefid and Droh moved around the clearing--their eyes searching for
some sign of the traveler.
"He's disappeared," Droh whispered.
"Dhariki!" Nefid's dread was palpable. "Hatfield is still in the
clearing. Be careful."
With his sword, Nefid repeatedly and systematically slashed each
quadrant of the space surrounding him.
"He's not here," Droh said again.
Exasperated, Nefid turned to reprimand his companion. What he saw
was Droh lying face up on the ground. Near his right hand lay the
irregular metallic disc.
"Hatfield!" Nefid yelled.
"You should never have believed Tolak." Hatfield's voice spoke
from behind. Nefid felt something sharp strike hard just beneath his
left shoulder blade. Before he could speak, he went unconscious.
"Tolak...." Hatfiled mused as he continued to make his way along
the southwest passage leading out of the forest. "No, it isn't over.
Jennings will not let matters rest here." He moved quickly, tapping
with his staff, listening, now and again turning his head to better hear
the sounds around him. Hatfield was a dhariki master. But he was also
blind.
Jennings spoke from a remote sector of region five. "Hatfield has
to be stopped."
"Nefid and Droh were dispatched," Tolak said.
"They have failed."
"I do not understand...."
"You do understand sir. They were inadequately prepared. You told
them Hatfield would not use dhariki."
"I thought it best."
"You didn't think at all, Tolak," Jennings said evenly. "Hatfield
has passed through the Nindra Forest and is even now on his way to the
Desert of Tabib. You are relieved of any further responsibility in this
matter. I myself shall be waiting for Hatfield when he reaches Tabib.
(IV)
Desert's edge--Hatfield sensed the vast wasteland before him. Sand
was warm to the touch. Air was cool, almost chilling. The traveler
concluded had arrived at this place just after dark. Hatfield sat down
to rest.
He reflected: Best to keep going and cross by night. But can the
journey be accomplished before daybreak? To be in the middle of the
desert when the sun comes up, even with water and provisions means
death. I must cross at night--tonight, tomorrow night, its all the
same. But how far to the other side? There's no way to be certain.
The wolf demands a journey and gives no directions. He never offers
answers. The result is incalculable risk on an unknown desert -- headed
in a direction one can only guess at.
Hatfield was confounded. His own thoughts stopped him like a wall.
In truth he could not be sure of anything.
The blind man continued to sit motionless at the desert's edge.
Then from a place somewhere deep within him, another idea broke through:
Jennings. How subtle. How characteristic. To use my own mind to
defeat me. Rational arguments designed to kill the spirit.
"Very clever, Jennings," Hatfield said aloud. "Master of the 'what
if' and 'first be sure of the way.' Purveyor of a truth that brings
about inaction." But then immediately the traveler speculated: What if
it's not Jennings? What if I am simply facing facts?
"Incredible," Hatfield laughed. "I'm at it again. No. It's
Jennings all right. Far greater than Tolak."
Without hesitating, Hatfield scrambled to his feet and stepped
forth into the desert. Repeatedly swinging his staff in a wide arc, he
moved silently through the cold night air. A breeze cut across his body
from left front to right rear. Hatfield kept moving--traveling blind.
Trusting the wind.
After what seemed like several hours it occurred to Hatfield that
the wind might have shifted without his perceiving it. In spite of
these doubts, however, he kept on his way--remembering the cunning
methods of Jennings.
To his surprise there was no noise when the staff suddenly
connected with something ahead of him. Hatfield stopped short. Once
again he swung the staff in a wide arc. The jarring sensation like that
of hitting a tree. But there was no sound.
"Mr. Hatfield, you are a stubborn man."
"Jennings?"
"Quite so, sir."
"Here in person?"
"Does that surprise you, Hatfield?"
"I suppose not..."
"I shouldn't have thought so. Come now, shall we get straight to
the point? You must abandon this journey, if for no other reason that
you are no longer able to continue. Dhariki is of no avail. And you
cannot get around me. As I am certain you are aware, Mr. Hatfield, I am
real--unlike Tolak and his people."
"I know you are real," Hatfield acknowledged.
"And far more powerful than you."
"Agreed."
"Well then?"
"I'm thinking," responded the blind dhariki master.
"May I remind you that what you are attempting is impossible? No
one can search out the wolf's lair."
"Yes, I know that."
"Then your journey is futile in any event."
"If the journey were utterly futile, Jennings, you would not be so
determined to stop me."
"But that brings us back to the beginning, Mr. Hatfield. If I am,
as you say, determined to stop you...how do you propose to continue?"
"I'm thinking."
"It's not too late to turn back," Jennings said without emotion.
Hatfield's mind raced. Jennings was telling the truth when he said
no one could search out the wolf's lair. But it did not follow that the
wolf could not be found. If the whole journey were meaningless, why
would Jennings interfere? Why involve Tolak? Hatfield was sure that
the wolf could be found--not by searching, not by waiting. The journey
itself was of utmost importance. From the first, Hatfield had believed
he was on the right track. Now Jennings reaction confirmed it. Not
by searching, not by waiting. He would never find the wolf. The wolf
would find him.
"What do you think, Hatfield? Is it not wiser to abandon the
project?"
The blind man moved suddenly, somersaulting foward. In the next
instant he slammed the staffupward with full force. The blow would have
been fatal to another opponent. Under the present circumstances,
however, Hatfield had a sense of having just attacked infinite mass and
weight. The heavy wooden staff snapped in two like a twig.
"Stop it Hatfield!" Jennings roared. "Your skill is not equal to
the task."
The dhariki master circled slowly. "my skill is not equal to any
of this, Jennings. So why not fight you?"
Hatfield jabbed with half of the broken staff. Then Jennings hit
him. The traveler was knocked to the ground hard, but immediately
regained his footing. Again Jennings lashed out. This time Hatfield
grabbed instinctively and got hold of what felt like a
tentacle--certainly not an arm. Quickly the thing wrapped itself around
his neck. A second appendage lashed around his legs. Hatfield could
not breathe. With his right hand he slapped at his left wrist. From
its narrow sheath on his forearm, he managed to remove the thin blade of
tempered steel. Without hesitating, Hatfield cut deep into the tentacle
that was strangling him. Jennings bellowed and the blind man could feel
an oily liquid oozing from the wound.
Now Hatfield could breath. Immediately, however, he felt himself
being lifted from the ground. Jennings continued to roar and bellow.
"Your power is limited," Hatfield gasped as Jennings raised him
higher and higher above the desert. "You mobilized Tolak, the artful
illusionist--but the wolf sent you. Oh, you are real enough, Jennings.
Nevertheless, your power is limited. The wolf is ultimately responsible
for what happens here." Hatfield had the sensation of spinning. Then
the dhariki master was hurled onto the desert with such force that he
lost consciousness.
(V)
"Enough, Jennings," the wolf said. "Here in the Desert of Tabib,
it is I who have an appointment with Hatfield, not you."
"He is clever and ruthless," Jennings muttered.
"He is blind and unconscious," replied the wolf. "Leave him alone.
Go now. Your work here is finished."
Without another word Jennings disappeared into the darkness. The
silver wolf stood for a moment looking at the traveler, who was barely
breathing.
"You have astonishing courage, dhariki master," he said. "we have
a great deal to talk about. And more to accomplish. But do not try to
speak now. First you must rest from your journey."
Then like some fierce sheppard keeping watch by night, the great
animal crouched beside Hatfield and growled at the desert surrounding
them.
The End
Story taken from "Return of the Wolf" By Fr. Martin Bell
published by Seabury Press 1984
< Message edited by Hatfield -- 7/20/2005 2:16:49 PM >
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 7/20/2005 2:58:42 PM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
A little bit about my other half.
For those that cruise the PFY threads here on FCN, many of you have had the pleasure of meeting my wife Beth. After 17 years of marriage, I still marvel daily at the joy this woman brings to my life--and trust me I thank God daily for her!
We met, as I've mentioned, at Ball State University in Muncie Indiana. At the time of our initial meeting, I was persuing but not quite stalking one of Beth's best friends, a young lady named Rindy. One afternoon, I had gone over to Rindy's room where I was visiting her and her roommate. We were just passing time when a girl sticks her head into the room and asks Rindy about something. Rindy introduces me to Beth, we both say 'Hi...' and Beth was off.
Move the clock forward a few months...Its approaching the Thanksgiving break. Before the advent of this thing we all know and love as the internet, BSU had what would now be refered to as an intranet system of computers with computer labs situated all over campus. It was lovingly refered to simply as the VAX. (I'm sure that acronym has a meaning, I only know it was an IBM based system and was text only...pre-windows sort of stuff) I was on one of the terminals in my dormatory and was playing some games and was also chatting with other students I knew on a system called the VAXPhone. Sorta like chat pm'ing...I saw that Rindy's friend Beth was online so I sent her a 'Hiya!' we got to chatting, and I mentioned that I was going to a campus ministry Thanksgiving dinner that night. Beth dropped a twenty pound HINT on my foot saying "Gee, I don't have any plans this evening..." (sly thing...  ) so I invited her to come along.
The fun part of the story was told from Beth's perspective. As soon as she got off the computer, she pushed her wheelchair pellmell down the hall to her dorm room and made a train wreck out of the room figuring out what she was going to wear! Her roommate at the time (a Laotian exchange student who went by "Connie") was aghast..."What you mean you going on date? Who is your chaparone??" As Beth got herself dressed, she explained that in the US, you don't need a chaparone for dating...and Beth zipped out of the room back to the dorm's common room where I'd agreed to meet her to walk with her over to the dinner.
At that time, Beth had an electric wheelchair, so I didn't have to push her, but I do admit there were times I had to KEEP UP with her!! The top speed on that buggy was just a little faster than a very brisk walk, but not quite a run. Well, when I met her in the dorm, I wanted to be a gentleman, so I was holding the door for her as we exited the building. Beth, not realizing how close she was as I was holding the door, ran over my foot.  She was very apologetic, but laughed when I commented that you had to admit, it made a good first impression. That evening, I did things like get her food for her (no, I let her cut her own up!  ) but I just generally treated her the best I knew how. Beth told me years later that she was like, Whoa! I can get used to this!
With a couple of exceptions because of school and such...we've not been apart since. We met in 1986, we married in 1988. Life is never perfect for anyone, and we're no exceptions to that, but if I had it to do again knowing what I know now...I wouldn't change a thing!
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 7/25/2005 2:22:51 AM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
Childhood Memories
I'm not sure if I'm normal in one regard or not. I don't have as many childhood memories as I think most other people do. I mean, I know that most people don't have this whole memories-down-to-the-minute thing about their childhoods, but there are times I don't think I have ... well ... much at all.
I do have memories about some things, and maybe this is the way things are for people's memories, at least once you're older and trying to remember stuff from your childhood.
I think the earliest actual memory I can recall...I'm laying in my crib and my Mom is leaning over the crib and says, "Num-num!" I have no idea what the context was.
Like my wife Beth, because of a birth condition, I spent a goodly amount of time in my childhood in the hospital. Maybe my memory gaps are the result of the volumes of anesthetics I was exposed to by the time I was 5 or 6. But I also remember very vividly the halls and rooms I was in at the hospital. It was at Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis, the entire Children's Pavillion was a gift from the Lilly family (Eli Lilly and Co. Pharmeceuticals of Indianapolis IN). In its day and time it was state of the art. Within the past couple of years, a family friend had their son in the Lilly Pavillion, and Beth and I went to visit with them. Talk about your major league flashbacks! With some minor exceptions like additional monitoring equipment and computers at the nurse's desk...the unit had barely changed. Well, asside from seeming so much smaller than I remember it. But maybe that was me.
Other memories will revolve around particular events. My parents divorced when I was about 4 years old, and I vividly remember the day Dad left. All four of us kids were crying our eyes out, and Mom was as well. I'm the youngest, and my sister Becky (#3) ran to the door intending to go with Dad when he left. But he knelt gave her a quick hug and told her she had to stay and help take care of the baby (meaning me).
Happy memories include the Holidays. If you look at it from the positive side, one advantage of having divorced parents was that we had two Christmases! We'd have Christmas morning with Mom, my maternal Grandma and her Cousin LaVon (kinda reminded me of the Baldwin Sisters on the Waltons...), and we'd have Christmas day evening with Dad and his sister and bil (Uncle Dick and Aunt Helene) and their kids. To say I had blessings in my family would be understating it. But usually by the time Christmas day was over, there was seldom if ever anything for me to complain about.
The Christmas season as a whole always seemed to have an air of magic for me as a child. Even looking back now, there are some things that will just get my spirit moving to think about them. As I've mentioned, I grew up going to the Cathedral for the Episcopal Diocese of Indianapolis,  . For me, the Christmas season started with the "Greening of the Cathedral", which was when volunteers would come down to the church and put about a full acre of pine forest into the sanctuary! When it was finished, the sight was such that in hind sight I wish I'd gotten some pictures during my teen years.
Christmas Eve would begin with the Lessons and Carols service at 6pm. During it, various members of the congregation would read the Christmas story, taking different sets of verses from each of the gospels. Also from the OT and the book of Genesis telling the Creation story. Between the readings, the church choir would either sing anthems or would sing just about every carol that has ever been written. My favorite will always be Oh Come All Ye Faithful, because I loved singing the descant....or I did when I still had a suprano's voice that could hit the notes in the descant. To this day, hearing others sing it, it gives me chills its so beautiful. But when I could sing it, it was almost like playing for me...
Sing choirs of Angels
Sing in exultation!
Sing all ye citizens
Of heaven above
Glory to God
In the Highest
Oh Come!
Oh Come!
Oh Come let us adore Him
Christ the Lord!!
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 8/3/2005 5:15:06 PM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
Just thinking out loud today...
Our pastor, Walt Weaver of Faith Church Assembly of God, while being a very intelligent and Spirit driven man of God, is also something of a NUT. Right about this time of year--I'm not sure of the exact dates--he is preparing to undergo surgery on his leg. Why? Because prior to being a pastor, Walt was in construction. As a result, anytime ANYthing needs fixed at the church, he doesn't expect someone else to do it..he goes and gets the supplies to do it himself!
OK, I will grant you that this is by far the more fiscally responsible use of the church's money, but our church has a reasonably good sized regular attendance (typically 200+ at each of the two Sunday morning services) and I'm sure that if they really wanted to, they could hire someone to do repair work ... maybe Walt just likes keeping his hand in on his old skills.
Recently, I'm not sure what he was up to, but as it was described to me, Walt was on a step stool, outside the building, with a carpenter's hammer hanging from his jeans and both hands wrapped around a six foot by eight foot sheet of plywood, intending to lift it into place for it to be nailed onto some portion of the building. As Walt lifted the plywood sheet and turned to line it up on the building, a gust of wind came up making Walt one of the world's heaviest kites! He was knocked to the ground where he REBROKE the leg he'd broken a previous year...doing what? Falling off a ladder at the church! I told him at the Church's July 4th gathering that the next time he got it in his head to work on ladders or climb on 'things' to work on the church, I was gonna sic the Men's Ministries Team on him like it was a therapeudic intervention.
We met Walt Weaver when he was the youth minister at the church Beth and I got married at, First Assembly of God in Beth's home town of Logansport IN. My fondest memory of Walt was during a New Years Eve vigil being held at the church. The plan was to have praise and worship up until about 11:30pm, break for a late evening pitch-in in the fellowship hall, and then return for the Senior Pastor's message after we all counted down the new year. I think this was 1990 or 1991?
As we were all returning to the sanctuary, we took our seats and I looked to the back to see where the rest of our family was (we were there with Beth's Mom and some dear friends that to us are family whether by blood or not). I glance to the door just in time to see Walt Weaver come in the door bouncing one of those "superballs"...the high density rubber balls, and with a big goofy grin on his face like he was having the time of his life. I told Beth I thought the "youth pastor" was taking his title way to literally...
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 8/5/2005 12:40:12 AM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
One of the very few things I've ever done
that I was ashamed of myself
First a tiny bit of background information: One of the biggest things I like to do online is play online interactive games more commonly refered to as "MUDs" (Multiple User Devices), these games are text based (no gee-wizzy graphics like video games) and share many elements of Role Playing Games. You solve mysteries, fight bad guys and you also chat with people from all over the globe, much like we do here on FCN/Crosswalk.
Shortly after we'd moved here to our present home, but before we had our own personal computers, we would go online from our local public library. One afternoon I was surfing around and came across a page listing free games for people to play online. Having played as much Solitaire and read as much email as were available to me, I checked out the webpage of a game (won't give the full name, for I wish them no ill will) with the initials TF.
Their introduction stated that they were an online adventuring game, and invited the reader in to explore and see how well they could survive and thrive! I logged on (this was THE first place I used the name "Hatfield" which I still use to this day), and after finding my footing I was pretty much hooked. There were things to explore, and lots of people to talk to. I learned that the hosting computer for this game was actually over in England, and as a result, the majority of the game's players were also english. But they didn't seem to mind a couple of Yanks coming around once in a while. And so I invited my wife to join me there(for her, that was also the first time she used the screen name of Scarlett)
Between the two of us, we explored, we solved puzzles and we just generally had a ball. After we'd been there for a while (most of a year as I recall it) we had many people on the game that we considered friends. One of MY friends was a 26 year old woman who lived in the UK. She was having relationship issues with her then-fiance and would seek my counsel on what she was supposed to do. I would suggest things like counseling and maybe spending some time OFF the computers with him and so forth, but after a time nothing seemed to work out with them, and since they weren't married, they ended their relationship.
Having to pause to think for a moment, this is the first time I've spoken of this in a forum that wasn't specifically just between myself and someone specifically being addressed.
We would talk about her issues, and sometimes about my life. I didn't see myself as having any issues, but she encouraged me to speak when I had something on my mind.
Note to the moderators if you're out there:
As this is a private blog, I will be admitting to something
here in a moment, but I will not be crude in saying it.
But I feel I need to get this off my proverbial chest.
This woman and I became closer and closer 'friends', to the point that I felt I needed to hide my feelings about HER from my wife Beth. This woman and I would correspond via email, or we'd visit while on this game (one advantage of her being 6 hours ahead of me, on days I was off work, she would be home AFTER work during her evening hours.) Our relationship developed to the point that while there were miles seperating us, we were for all intents having an affair.
I'm not proud of it now, and if there were any way I could make that bit of time just go away, I would do it. It almost cost my wife and I our marriage.
Here on THIS side of the CRT, I had pretty much shut down emotionally. We would go to church, not because I wanted to worship the King of kings. I still felt that so long as I was married, that I needed to take care of my wife. She wanted to go to church, we went. At the end of every service, our pastor would give an altar call, every service, I would remain seated but Beth would go forward to pray for us.
After a time, the woman in England ended our 'relationship' because she'd met someone locally, and to be frankly honest about it, her new boyfriend was THERE, and I was HERE...with very little chance of getting over THERE any time soon. I cried.
A few months later I started the same cycle all over again, THIS time with a woman in California. Same stuff, different place...But Beth KEPT praying for me. Almost another full year later, as I was being the dutiful husband yet again, we were in Church, Beth was at the altar praying for me--her worthless no-good cheating husband, and I was just sitting in my seat.
A voice spoke in my ear. I looked around, but there was no one standing close enough to have spoken this clearly.
quote:
You have not loved Me as you've loved your self,
and you have not honored your marriage as I have commanded you to do.
I knew I still had issues, but it was as if the scales fell from my eyes and I understood not only what I had been doing wrong, but I understood how it was crushing my wife's heart. I broke down in tears like I have never cried before. Snot all down the face, scarlet red cheeks--only holding back the hollering by a force of will crying. I walked up beside Beth at the rail, and knelt beside her, and begged her to forgive me for the garbage I'd put her through. She held me in her arms while I cried, adding her tears to my own.
We agreed that we needed to seek counseling with a Christian counselor. And we attended sessions with a wonderful man for the better part of 6 months. At the time however, our finances were a bit tight and we almost wound up losing our house! So we had to stop counseling, but I think we got the basic message that we needed...that's been almost 5 years ago I think. And I thank God for my Beth every day!
To you dear reader,
If you and your spouse are having troubles, even if you're NOT having the same sort of experience we had, seek counseling; preferably with a Christian Counselor (your pastor/minister/priest should be able to refer you to someone in your area) Marriage is like a garden. When the weeds come--and trust me they will-- you don't till the whole garden under, you pull the weeds. Work with your spouse. Pray for them daily and even when you might not feel like it, tell them how much they mean to you and how much you love them. The time will come when you WILL mean it, and you WILL feel like it.
I will hold you in my prayers.
-R
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 8/7/2005 12:34:16 AM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
Good evening friends!
I feel led to post, but I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to be saying, so forgive me if I ramble for a little bit. After posting this whole thing I posted the night before last. It felt really odd to me that I had "put that out there," but in another sense, it felt good as well.
My Writing
I guess part of what I like about this little adventure in blogging is that I have a chance to practice my writing. With very little exception, it is a very rare thing for me to edit what I'm writing. Most of the time I'll only even think to use a spell checker AFTER I've posted the final form...but, that's what EDIT buttons are for huh?
My mother writes, though with the exception of her childhood memoirs (see my earlier posts), her writing is almost exclusively poetry. Very inspired poetry if I dare say so!
My writing on the other hand tends more to short stories and novellas. I still have one of my very first stories:
Flight of the Blue Eagle
Since the beginning of my life, all I’ve ever wanted to be was a pilot. Of course, these days there are about as many fighters as there are sailing ships (which is to say, not many). My sister used to think that I was dumb for wanting to do that. I didn’t care. Big sisters always think their little brothers are dumb. Might as well deal with it.
What got me interested in flying? Well, one summer when I was about nine years old, I got a chance to take a try at one of those old simulators… you know the ones, they used them to train Air Force fighter pilots after the second Persian Gulf war. Anyway, Jimmy Allen and I were with a tour group at the old Grissom Air Force Base near Peru Indiana when the tour guide asked if anyone would like to try out one of the old simulators. At first I didn’t want to, but Jimmy talked me into it. The guide told us there was nothing to be afraid of. The computers they had flying these things did just about everything for you but aim at the target. He strapped us into the pilot seats, and showed us where the controls were… you know, the control stick, the bomb release, radio controls, all that stuff.
So here I am, sitting in this simulator thinking, what am I gonna do now?? Jimmy thinks we’re actually going to fly this thing, I think we’re going to crash (I know it’s a simulation, but I think I’d rather actually crash than to get out of this thing after a simulated crash and have all my friends laughing at me). Just then, the guide starts talking to us on the radio headsets that we were wearing. He says that he’s got a secret that he didn’t share with us outside because it was for pilots only. He explained that not only would the simulator help us fly the plane, it would also keep us from crashing! Boy was I relieved! By the time we got done, we were going to look like we really knew how to fly.
The guide took us through everything we needed to do. Setting the throttles to the starting position, setting the engine igniters, engaging the brakes…he told us everything. Then he says, “OK boys, are you ready for the greatest feeling in your life?” Jimmy pipes up, “You bet I am!” I don’t know why, but somehow I knew to say, “That’s a Roger!” The guide started laughing for a second then says, “Sounds like we got a real pilot in there already!” I didn’t know why he thought that was so funny, but adults are hard to figure out sometimes.
As we went through the start up procedures, you hear the engines fire up and this deep rumbling starts shaking a little bit. The screen in front of us lights up and I find myself looking down a runway. But its not the old cracked up overgrown runway that is outside. Its nice and clean and well kept with a white line running down the middle. The guide tells us that in just a moment he’s going to turn on the outside speakers so that everyone else can hear what’s going on. He tells us that when he says to do something we should repeat it back. If he says, “Blue Eagle, turn left bearing 43 degrees,” we should say, “Roger tower. Blue Eagle turning left, mark 43.” He also gives us some other things to say to make it sound official. It was kind of weird, but it was fun. So then the guide says, “OK boys, I’m turning on the speakers now. Anything you say now your friends outside will hear.”
Here was the time I had been waiting for and I hadn’t even known it until then. Jimmy turns on his microphone and says, “Tower, this is Blue Eagle. Preflight check is green and we are requesting clearance for take off, runway 2 right.” The guide responds, “Roger Blue Eagle, you are clear for take off, runway 2 right.” It was kind of hard to describe. I know that the simulator was really doing most of the work, but I felt like I really knew what I was doing. I knew that when you moved the stick a certain way that the plane would do what you wanted it to. As the simulator sent us down the runway, I could feel when was the right time to pull back on the stick to make the fighter take off. I felt like I could have flown a real fighter.
The guide came over the radio, “Base to Blue Eagle, radar shows a bogey at your 10 o’clock position at 5000 feet, do you copy?” It took me a second to remember that a “bogey” was what they called an enemy fighter. “Roger tower, radar shows the bogey at our 10 o’clock, we are turning to engage.” I shoved the control stick to the left, pulling it back to climb to meet the other plane at 5000 feet. While I’m doing this, the guide is explaining that all I need to do is follow the instructions on the CRT in front of me. Looking at the screen, there are instructions rolling across the bottom. Select weapon. I could choose from air-to-air missiles, air-to-ground missiles, radar reflective chaff bundles or a 50mm machine gun. As there were no air-to-ground missiles listed onboard, that meant that this would not be a bombing run. I chose the air-to-air missiles. Lock on radar guidance. I pushed the button for that under the screen and heard a tone in my headset. The guide quickly explained that that was the radar attempting to lock on to the other plane. When radar lock on was achieved, I would hear a beeping sound and should fire my missile. No sooner had he said that when, “BEEP BEEP BEEP !!” He didn’t warn me it was going to be that loud!
I looked down at my screen to see the other plane with a flashing box around it. Jimmy starts shouting, “Fire it Eddie! Hit it, hit it!” So I hit the fire button. There’s this flash of smoke off the right wing and for just a second I see the missile moving faster than anything I’ve ever seen. I looked down at my CRT and it shows a dot moving toward the image of the other plane. The other pilot tries to steer away, but the missile turns with him and then BAM! At the bottom of the screen is the message Target destroyed. The other plane is gone and the CRT is blank.
The guide comes over the headsets and says, “Well boys, that went pretty smoothly. Congratulations, you have just made the world safe for democracy once again.” There is a pause on the other end for a minute, then the guide comes back on. “OK boys, let’s see what you can really do with this thing.” As he’s saying this, a new message comes up on my screen: Multiple incoming targets bearing 23.7 degrees. As soon as Jimmy saw that he says, “Aw CRUD Eddie, lets get out of here!!” I looked over my shoulder at Jimmy, he was white as a sheet. “Jimmy, you’re the one that thought this would be such a fun idea, let’s give it a try.” Then I cover my mike so the others don’t hear and said, “Besides Jimmy, I think this tour guide is trying to see how badly he can scare us. He said this thing can almost fly itself, lets see what we can figure out to do with it.” Jimmy nodded like he would go along with the idea, but he didn’t look like he was too happy with it.
“Jimmy, you take the flight controls, I’m going to see about those other planes.” I said as I let loose of the controls and took a look at the stuff in front of me. There was a computer terminal with a small keyboard tucked in beside me. It displayed on the CRT in front of me. Finally something I knew about, a computer! I accessed the full menus for what we had available to us. Five air-to-air missiles left after the one I used earlier, 5000 rounds of armour piercing 50mm machine gun ammo (I’m sure that could do some serious damage) and ten bundles of radar reflective chaff (used to break radar lock by an enemy’s incoming missile. It scatters the radar signal so it can’t read a possible target…meaning us). Not much, but I wasn’t given much choice. I took another look at the radar screen. There were four planes spread out ahead of us. Hopefully we wouldn’t look all that threatening with one lonely little fighter plane. “Jimmy, get me some altitude. I want to get above these guys.” I had always remembered the time that the school bullies had ambushed Jimmy and I on our way home. They were hiding at the top of old man Gruber’s hill when we came by on our way to Jimmy’s house. As we came into view, suddenly we were getting hit with mud bombs, rocks and anything they could get their hands on. MAN did that hurt!
We climbed through 7000 feet, I kept my eye on the radar as I set up my next missile when the radar gave me a lock. “Jimmy, do you remember the day that Nick Hoogen and his pals pelted us from Gruber Hill? Well guess what? I think Nick and his buds are down there in those planes. Jimmy, its payback time!” Looking back at Jimmy, the smile on his face was all I needed to see. Jimmy took the plane into a rolling dive that pointed the nose right at the four specks below us. BEEP BEEP BEEP! I had a lock on from the radar! “Fire #2!” Jimmy shrieked gleefully. I launched the second missile, watching it flash briefly off the left wing before returning my attention to the CRT. I selected the 50mm machine gun. I had 5000 rounds, this thing could shoot somewhere around 100 rounds a second, which meant that I had to be careful how long I held the trigger or I’d be out of ammo in less than a minute. I looked out of the windshield just in time to see the second missile find its target, man what a fireball!
“OK Jimmy, the guy thats turning away to the right, follow him!” As Jimmy pulled the stick over and went after the guy, I brought the computer’s aiming grid onto the Heads Up Display (HUD). It is a handy thing to have really. It projects the aiming grid on the windshield so that when I’m looking out at where we’re going I can see where the guns are aimed. “Just a little bit closer Jimmy…” I lined up the aiming grid on the exhaust flame of the next plane. Squeezing the trigger, a line of tracer bullets leapt away from my plane until they made contact with the other planes exhaust. At first I didn’t think anything had happened, then black smoke poured out of the other plane as it suddenly lost control and dove for the countryside below.
Two down, two to go. I had been distracted from the radar while I shot the other plane down, now I was having trouble finding our last two targets. I checked the radar just in time to see them both pulling in behind us. Now there was a different tone in my headset and the words Scanning for lock flashed on the computer screen. They were trying to get a lock on us! “Jimmy, try to lose them! Give me a hard right and then pull straight up!” Jimmy did, and I almost wish he hadn’t. The force of the right turn was so hard that my helmet whacked the left side of the cockpit. It felt kinda like when you whack your head on a low doorway or something. As I strained against the g-forces to look at the radar, I saw that one of them had been totally surprised by the move. The other one hadn’t, but he reacted too slowly and was working to catch up with us. This time it was Jimmy’s turn to have a big idea. “Eddie, hang on. I’m going to pull us through a loop before this guy catches us, and then we’re going to go after the other one.”
“Do it Jimmy!” I said as I started looking for our target. There he was! “OK Jimmy, we got him now.” I started scanning for a radar lock. BEEP BEEP BEEP! As I launched the third missile, I thought to myself, this is too easy. Me and my big-mouthed brain! Just as the missile was approaching the target, suddenly there was this gray cloud behind the plane. Jimmy said, “Chaff bundles! He’s using chaff bundles to break our radar lock. Aww man!” The chaff did its job though. The missile fell harmlessly to earth. I could just imagine it blowing about 100 feet of simulated soil from some simulated farmer’s simulated field. Though I admit, that would have to be a good simulation!
Jimmy, take us up again. I want to get this guy from a direction that he can’t use chaff bundles.” So up we went, and this time, we came out of the clear blue sky I decided to see how well his plane could fly with the nose shot off. I selected the machine gun and when the targeting sights appeared on the windshield I lined it up and hit just in front of the windshield cutting the nose of the plane off like the head of a fish. The first couple of tries I didn’t quite get it. On the third try I finally got it. I didn’t actually shoot the nose off, but I think I busted up about everything inside the plane, including the pilot. There wasn’t too much to it going down, it just veered away from us and headed for the fields below.
Before I had a chance to even think about what might be next, there was a tone in my headset that told me the other plane—the last plane—had slipped in behind us and was trying to get a radar lock on us. I turned to look at Jimmy. Before I could say anything he said, “And I think now would be a good time to get the heck outta Dodge!” Jimmy reached down and pushed the throttle controls all the way into the afterburners. We were moving so fast and so suddenly that I felt that we had been launched on one of our missiles. I looked down at the radar. While the other pilot had been surprised by our move, he was moving quickly to catch up to us. “Jimmy, DO something,” I said through gritted teeth. Jimmy wasn’t even paying any attention to me. “Eddie in just a minute, I’m going to hit the speed brakes. That’s going to slow us way down. Get the radar up and running now. When we slow down this guy’s going to come past us like we’re standing still. As soon as you get a lock on him, let him have it with everything you have.” Looking over at Jimmy I say, “I think this is where I say, ‘That’s a Roger!’”
As soon as I had the radar going, I let Jimmy know. “OK Eddie, here we go! 3-2-1…NOW!” Jimmy popped the flaps on the wings and the plane slowed down so fast I was thrown into my safety harness straps. Sure enough, the other plane came over the top of us just barely missing us. BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!! The radar locked onto him! I fired off two missiles and for extra measure, I let him have it with the last of my machine gun ammo (Okay, so I got a little carried away). Actually, I think the first missile might have been enough. From what I could see, our move surprised him so that he didn’t have a chance to throw any chaff bundles. Both missiles went right into the back of the plane, and the bullets were pretty much just wasted. I had to admit though; I was really surprised by how well that had worked.
Just then, the guide came over our headsets (I’d almost forgotten about him). “Tower to Blue Eagle, excellent job! Please return to base. You are cleared to land on 4 left.”
“Roger tower, Blue Eagle returning to base.” Jimmy said. Covering up his microphone, Jimmy asked me, “Hey Eddie, since you did the take off, can I land it?” “Sure Jimmy,” I said, “I think I’ve had enough flying for one day.” Jimmy landed the plane, being coached in by our guide and the computer. When we got out of the plane, our classmates were there and they were cheering. That was definitely a first for me.
Our guide came over and said, “I told you boys that would be a blast! You did pretty good out there too.” Jimmy accepted the compliment for both of us saying, “That computer flying those other planes must have been the greatest thing around back then. It almost seemed as if we were flying against real pilots.”
The guide smiled. “But the computer wasn’t flying the other planes. The computers were good, but they weren’t that good. Computers could never think intuitively like people do. They couldn’t guess or play a hunch.” Jimmy seemed a little confused, but then, so was I. I asked, “So, if the computers weren’t flying the other planes—who was?” The guide paused a moment and said, “Well lets have everyone come out and meet each other.” Four doors on simulators on the other side of the room opened up. “Boys, let me introduce you to the members of Falcon Squad.” Standing across from us were Nick Hoogen, and his pals Chuck Hanlor, Timmy Lee and Bob Thomas. I swallowed twice in a dry throat. They really had been flying those other fighters!
From that day forward, something told me life would never be the same….
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 8/21/2005 1:46:05 AM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
Some of my political views
The following is intended to only serve to express some of my political views, while many here on Crosswalk/FCN may or may not agree with these views, I simply state that I am fully responsible for the views expressed. If you do not agree with my opinion, that is your right! That is part of what this country was founded upon! I would however advise that noting me to express what you think of my opinion will very likely do nothing to change my opinion, so I'd politely ask you to not try!
I am no political pundit. I hold some fairly conservative values. Which is, in a way, odd considering the middle-of-the-road-to-liberal upbringing I had as a child. I am angered when I read of major corporations fleecing their employees in the name of corporate downsizing. Yes, there are times when companies have to tighten the belt a little bit to keep the doors open...but maybe they could start by the upper management cutting back a little on their 6 and 7 figure salaries, maybe trade in the Lexus or the BMW for something a little less expensive? (heck, even an American luxury car like a Cadilac or a Lincoln would still be nice and comfy for quite a bit less $$)
Small scale version of what I'm talking about:
My sister and her husband are moderately well off. They own an advertising agency in Indianapolis. Each year, our family would gather for Christmas to have some family time together. One year, the agency wasn't doing quite as well as it had been doing previously, and Sis was lamenting their plight. "Its just absolutely horrible! Our ad sales are down, our accounts receivable are under prediction and we're having to make cutbacks all over. Why, this year, we can't buy two new BMW's! [Honey's] gonna buy ONE new BMW, and I'll have to drive his two year old Mercedes!" I love my sister, I really do. I'm very proud of what she's accomplished in her life. But in that particular moment, I had absolutely no simpathy for her situation.
It is much the same to me when major employers will expect a city to offer them tax breaks to build in their town, or for corporations to neglect their responsibilities to their employees by doing things like suddenly deciding that the pension fund that people had been paying into for their retirement would have to be used to keep the company from closing.
I believe that our society has a moral responsibility (no matter what faith you claim, even if none at all) to take care of those in our society who cannot take care of themselves. But I also believe that if a company cannot make it on its own without taking handouts from the public coffers, maybe they should think about the business they are in.
Another micro example:
A few years ago, Beth and I lived in Indianapolis, and I worked for a small restaurant chain. The owner was always talking about how you needed to reach beyond your comfort zone in order to succeed, he compared it to being in deep water and being unable to swim. You should be willing to get yourself into deep enough water that you need a long straw to be able to breathe while you're doing what you're doing. He opened a second restaurant, putting a second mortgage on his family's home to pay the startup expenses of the second shop.
I understand the concept. You should be willing to step outside of your comfort zone to seek out your successes. I just don't necessarily agree that that course of action is always wise. Sometimes when God closes a door, He closes it for a reason. My friend's restaurants? They're both closed now. Last I heard, he was working for UPS in one of their shipping centers to meet the TWO mortgage bills he's paying now, along with his living expenses for his wife and three children. I believe God will at times take us out of our comfy zones and thrust us into uncharted waters. But I believe that He does that not to help us make more money, but rather to prepare us for other challenges in our lives serving His glory.
I guess the thought that came to mind that I really felt I needed to write this, focuses on a disturbing trend that I'm seeing. Many people are speaking out against the war in Iraq. And not just the extreme liberal faction that seems to take offense anytime the US uses any amount of military muscle. The issue for me is not so much why the soldiers are sent, it is how people seem to react to their being sent in the first place.
Protestors in Texas have been demonstrating near President Bush's private residence there speaking out against the military presence in Iraq, and demanding that Bush take steps to "bring our boys home". Don't get me wrong or misquote me. Military force is much like a private citizen carrying a firearm. Not really the best plan in the long run, but if you are going to use it, be sure you know how to use it right and what it is that you're really trying to use it for.
While it is true that no WMD's were ever located, a second equally as valid goal of getting a ruthless dictator out of power was accomplished. If we had not taken the action we have taken, Saddam Hussein would still be in power. We are assisting the people of Iraq to establish a diplomatic system of democratic leadership with the final goal being to withdraw our presence and leave the governing of their country to the people of Iraq. Not to some Hitler-wannabe, not the US government, to the Iraqi's. But, until that government is established and running, if we left them now, it would be like setting up an apartment, stocking it with food and supplies for living...and then placing your infant child in it, expecting them to know what they are doing!
So, the next time you hear of an American soldier dying in Iraq, do not DARE to say that their loss is a waste! These young men and women--many of whom are young enough to be my child-- are going there because they either support the President's plan, or at the least they respect the authority of their senior officers. I would be proud to call any of them my child.
OK, I think I've rambled enough for one evening...
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 8/23/2005 8:15:37 PM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
Just a little rambling...no particular subject....
Is it me, or do people (at least in the US, maybe not so much abroad) seem to have an inborn sense of entitlement? I mean, with everything going on in the world, there seems to be times that large percentages of a city's population are living at or below the poverty level, not because they cannot do any better but because it just seems easier to let someone else give them the money they need?
I work as a cashier in a midwestern chain of stores that has locations in Indiana, Michigan, Ohio and Illinois. It is not uncommon for a parent with kids to come in and pay for their groceries using a state issued foodstamp EBT card. This by and of itself does not bother me. There have been a number of times that we've needed a little help as well and I'm more than happy to ring my customers up using these cards. But there are times when they come through the line and pay with their card...while they are talking on their cell phones and using their cash to buy high end clothes or things like beer which they cannot buy with their cards. I know I cannot say anything to them, but it just bothers me some times. Any time I express my opinions to my supervisors, the typical response is "yes, it is sad, but what can we do?"
Also, please note that I am NOT saying this is of any particular ethnic group...For that matter, I've seen this sort of activity a little MORE so by caucasians than by other ethnic groups.
The people that do this sort of thing the least? Hispanic families! Its not uncommon for a hispanic family to come through my line and buy very massive amounts of food at a time. I'm not sure if this is because they don't shop very frequently, or because they have large families...but either way, they'll come through my cash register, with large amounts of healthy things like tons of fresh produce and only a few prepared foods. Anywhere from $100-200+ in food. And then, they'll pay for it in cash. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I've had a hispanic family pay for their purchases with either a credit card or even a bank debit card.
I have no issues with any ethnic group. But I do notice some particular traits that are more common with one group or another. Not any emotional or mental or physical issues, I know God created us all pretty much about the same in that regard, just particular ways how this group might like to get that sort of food at the store or how this family relates to each other differently than that family. Its actually rather interesting to me.
Just me, thinking out loud.....
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 9/1/2005 4:15:45 PM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
Just a little bragging on my nieces!
The second of my sister's daughters, Kaitlin (don't ever call her Katie if you care about living!!) graduated from High School this year. What makes it a little more special than most, the family is presently living in Puerto Rico while her father works for a pharmeceutical company with facilities there. Along with the typical commencement announcement, Kaitlin enclosed the following missive to the family:
quote:
Hola Everyone!
I just wanted to attach a little note along with this announcement to inform you of all that have been going on this year in 500 words or less. So here it goes!
As you have noticed, I did survive school and managed to graduate (finally!). School was so much fun, and my head is full of memories of all new and wonderful experiences. Such memories include class trips to the beach that somehow counted as school days, days off school for all Puerto Rican figureheads, teachers who dressed up as characters from Don Quijote de la Mancha, and all the senior guys running around campus doing things I would much rather forget.
I have also learned many life lessons during my time on the island. Some of the most prominent of these would be to always watch out for chickens on the back roads, when you see strawberries at the store buy them regardless of insane prices, and never ask "Why?" when the boys in your class come to school dressed in diapers and sit around campus claiming they can't go to class because they hadn't learned to walk yet. On a more serious note, being in such a small school taught me to truly appreciate all types of different people. Such a realization also inspired me to a new life goal: everyone can be respected on some level; you just have to find it.
Altogether, it has been a great year of experiences and growing up. I thank you all for contributing to this process and ask for your prayers as I continue on the journey to Denison University in Granville, Ohio, studying biochemistry and classical studies (so closely related aren't they?). Thanks again, and God bless!
It has finally happened...
I've reached the age where I could have almost sworn that the last I saw this young lady, she was just at the stage of wobbling between pieces of furniture learning to walk.
Beth and I do not have children, but I love my nieces and nephews as my own. I just hope they see how much they mean to their Uncle Ron...I don't get to see them much in person. (sigh  )
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 9/13/2005 11:20:54 AM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
If you've read this far in my blog, you will get the impression that I am a fan of an author of two small books, Fr. Martin Bell's The Way of the Wolf, and Return of the Wolf. Fr. Bell wrote the first book in the 1970's with the second coming shortly after in the 1980's. It is from the second of these books that I have taken my screen name here (that story I've included in an earlier post here in the blog).
To my knowledge, asside from places that I may have quoted his work, Fr. Bell's stories aren't available in any online format, though you CAN purchase his paperback rendering of the first book at his website, http://www.barringtonbunny.com as well as other works that he has produced. (Return of the Wolf is out of print I'm told, but copies can be found at used book retailers both online and off) I highly recommend the story of Barrington Bunny! As it tells a story of truly sacrificial love.
All of this rambling to get to a point...
Recently I learned that one of my online friends here at Crosswalk lost her brother-in-law. For you Susan, I wanted to share the following from The Way of the Wolf:
On the Death of Colin Stuart
Jesus said to his disciples, "Ye now, therefore, have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart will rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you"
.....He said: "Go now -- Have sorrow"
.....I Human beings do not belong to one another. We are God's children. We belong to him. It is by sheer grace that we are together for a time--for a little while. We receive God's gift of another person in our lives with thanksgiving. But we must realize that this person is a gift -- we cannot hang on, or refuse to let go of one of God's children when he calls.
.....II Colin Stuart was a gift. One of God's children. And, for a time, God gave Colin to the world. In order that two human beings might have a child. And, later, in order that a woman might have a husband. And some children might have a father. And some other children might have a grandfather. For those children Colin defined what it means to have a father or a grandfather. And a woman came to know what it means to have a husband. And because of Colin, the world understood more fully the greatness of the love of God. God loved the world so much that he gave it Colin. And that was nice of God.
.....III But now Colin Stuart is dead. And the world won't see him again. God took him back. That's painful. And there is no way under heaven to minimize that pain. Jesus said, "Go now, therefore, and have sorrow." We do not sorrow because God is cruel or unjust. The world did nothing to deserve Colin. God gave him to us freely. Not because we deserved it, but because he loved us. We are not sorrowing because God is unjust. We are sorrowing because Colin is gone. And that's right. That's just right. Jesus said, "Go and have sorrow." A part of us is dead. That part of us that we called our father, or our grandfather, or our friend. That part of us we called Colin is gone. And we know the pain, and the emptiness, and the bitterness and the guilt, and the heartbreak all too well. We will never be the same. And that's right too. We can't be "the same" ever again.
.....IV We are here to say good-bye to one of God's tiny children. Jesus said, "Ye now, therefore, have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart will rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you." He said, "When you pray, say 'Father.'" God loves Colin. And he belongs to him. He always has. For a time he gave him to the world. And now he has called him. And now we know emptiness. That's the way it is with human beings. We are here today, reluctantly, to offer Colin back to God. In so doing we are offering ourselves. We are here boldly -- to dare to say "Our Father" and to pray "thy will be done." We are here to trust God, and to love him, and to realize how much he loves us. We are here to say good-bye to Colin, one of God's tiny children. And today we must let go of his hand. But in so doing we give it over to that of his heavenly Father. We cannot hang on. We must let go. But God has hold of his hand. And he will never let go. Amen.
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 9/20/2005 1:20:49 PM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
FWD:
Don't you just LOVE seeing that on emails? It means someone you know thought of you enough to send something to you, but didn't take the time to actually WRITE something themselves. Well, I choose to at least be thankful that they did think of me.
The only ones of these that I really get bothered by are the ones that conclude with a statement along the lines of "Forward this to your 100 closest friends and anyone else that you have an email address for. If you DON'T forward this, then you obviously don't love Jesus. If you DO forward this, you will receive financial blessings!" Is it just me, or didn't they used to call these things "chain letters" when you got them in snail mail?
I consider myself proof positive that breaking these chains has no more detrimental value than tossing junk mail credit card applications (after tearing them up of course). I have yet have an anvil fall on my head as I walked down the street.
OK, some of the emails are cute with pictures of little puppies and kittens dancing around, and some of them offer a moral message that is nice to share with others. But don't make it an imparitive to share them or face the wrath of God. To me, that's just massively annoying!
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 9/28/2005 1:00:47 PM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
"M" is for the MANY things she gave me ...
What can I say about my Mother?
The only woman who has known me longer than my wife of 17 years. My Mother has done everything in her strength to raise four children by herself. As I mentioned in an earlier post in my blog, my parents divorced when I was very young.
Let me back up a little bit ...
My Mom grew up in Indianapolis, and attended Shortridge High School. She had the distinction of attending school with a young man who would go on to be an icon of American literature, Kurt Vonnegut. (as compared to her SON, who went to the same high school as the doofus of late night television, David Letterman ) While in high school, she met and fell in love with a gentleman a few years her senior, a sailor named William. Mom graduated from high school, and married my Dad at the age of 17.
As Dad was stationed in Florida, I'm going on the assumption that they lived down there till Dad finished his tour. I've not had any of those details filled for me however, as the whole "While you and Dad were still married" subject never really came up. In any event, after Dad left the Navy, he and Mom returned to Indianapolis where Dad started working for Eli Lilly Pharmaceuticals. Again, I have very few details about this whole time ... seeing I wasn't really around for much of it. They had my three older siblings, Melissa Elaine, William Eric, and Rebecca Marie and last but not least, Ronald Edward (Ron bows to the readers...).
As I also mentioned in an earlier post, my parents divorced when I was either two or three years old. Doing a little math...Mom married when she was 17, she had ME at age 29, so they had been married about 14 years when they divorced.
What caused them to divorce? I guess its a matter of who you ask. Neither my Mother or Father would directly say an unkind word about the other. It took my Mom a great deal of effort to make the observation at one time that Dad sometimes had issues of a lack of self confidence, even though she very obviously thought very highly of his intellect. I don't say this unkindly, but for the longest time, my Mother had issues with alcohol. I only even mention it to also celebrate the fact that Mom is approaching 30 years of sobriety! (GO MOM!!) I guess if anything, as much as my parents may have cared about each other, they just simply were two personalities that could NOT get along over the long haul. I will likely never know the full story, but maybe there are some things about my parents that I jus don't need to know.
After their divorce (this would have been around 1967 or so), Mom got a job doing the only thing a divorcee could typically get a job doing, she joined the clerical pool at a major law firm in Indianapolis where she worked dilligently to raise us kids. This of course was LONG before these wonders of modern technology like word processors. The days of the IBM Selectric electric typewriter. I can still recall on occasion calling Mom at the office about this or that matter, and in the background hearing what sounded like an Uzi machine gun on "full auto" as Mom typed at over 120 words per minute, never breaking a stride as we discussed whatever pressing matter was on my mind. On a word processor, I can only just about break 50wpm...I still marvel sometimes how she did that.
I mentioned earlier that I have some fairly heavy gaps in my memories of my childhood. One of the things I do recall was the day my Mom finally came to the realization that alcohol was not her friend. As I recall it, she woke up in the morning, glanced out the front window to see the family car parked in the driveway with the front end smashed in fairly heavily ... and she had NO recollection how it got that way. We found out later that she'd been on the losing end of a tangle with a dump truck, but had somehow managed to get the car home.
As God's grace would have it, Alcoholics Anonymous had one of their permenant structures on the next block from our house, less than 200 yards from our back door. Mom attended her first meeting that evening and has been sober ever since. (Mom, if you ever read this, I am so very proud of your accomplishment!)
There's a lot more in my head about my Mom...but I think for now I'll close.
Have a blessed day dear reader...
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 10/7/2005 9:22:22 PM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
Quick note on the dog pic...will be adding it to my other personal site here in the near future, but for now I have other stuff I'm working on (preparing for NaNoWriMo being chief of these).
Smoke
Fire
2X4
Paddle
I've been thinking about a number of the things that motivate me in my life. Asside from my faith (of course) these include my wife's love, the love of my family...and people whom I've either come to know personally or who I've heard about. People influence me more than places or things.
The Children of Israel when they were out in the desert were influenced by God even when they didn't realize that it was GOD who was leading them and not Moses. Forgive me if I don't offer verses of scripture in this, but I'm sure we're all familiar enough with the story of the Exodus to have some idea of what was going on in that day and time.
When they left Egypt, it was God that lead them, with a pillar of smoke by day and a pillar of fire by night. Moses hadn't asked God to do that...and yet the pillar went before them both day and night for the whole of the time they were in the wilderness.
Every time that they faced a hardship, the people would mumble and moan about how good they had had it in Egypt, how they had food, and a place to lay their heads at night. Never mind that they had been slaves. Never mind that their Egyptian masters worked them ruthlessly and beat them daily. All they could think of was the fact that out there in the desert, they had next to nothing. God provided mana for them to eat, but after a time they complained about even that. "Oh that we'd only stayed in Egypt! Then we would have food...we would have leeks and onions and garlic..." But they were never happy with what they had in the here and now, they were never happy with the promise that God had made to them. They wanted what they had always had before, they wanted their "comfort zones" maintained.
It is the nature of God's creation, this thing we call man. We want to stay in our nice comfortable places...even when those places aren't all that comfortable.
In 1997, my wife and I purchased our first home. I had received a job offer in another city, and we had long ago agreed that if we ever moved again, we would buy our house rather than renting. So we looked and we found our house (whole other blog post on THAT whole story!), we moved in September 17, 1997. I remember this because also at that time, we'd had to have some renovations done to the house because Beth is disabled and uses a wheelchair. We had some doors widened inside the house, and we added a ramp onto the front and side door. The ramp on the front door was poured concrete, because as our contractor explained it, he'd estimated the cost of a wooden ramp at only a slight savings over the cost of concrete. And eventually, the wood ramp would need replaced.
As I was saying, so we moved in in September of 1997. The home inspection had described the insulation in the house as being adequate. Apparently "adequate" in the inspector's lexicon means, "Well, there's some insulation IN there...but not really all that much." About half way into October, the weather took a fairly serious nose dive. Even with the furnace set at 75 degrees, Beth was making her way around the house in her winter coat. We couldn't sign up for a budget as yet, because we hadn't been in the house long enough to qualify for one. Thankfully, while the bills got pretty nasty --for us at any rate-- we got through the heating season. During those cold chilly winter days, Beth would comment how maybe we should have never left the apartments, at least THERE the building was insulated, and we could keep the apartment warm enough that she didn't need her coat. But we made it through the winter. (I learned a nifty trick, run a couple of large bath towels through the dryer and let them get good and toasty, then either shove them down inside your winter coat as you sit watching the TV, or wrap yourself up in them! I would have used a blanket, but the only one we had at the time was on the bed.)
I'll talk about the 2X4 and the paddle another day!
God bless you dear reader!
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 10/13/2005 3:10:15 PM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
March 1994
Before my wife and I moved to our present home, we lived in a one bedroom apartment in Indianapolis IN on the Northwest side of the city. As the Lord's providence would have it, we both worked at jobs less than a block from our home, and as weather permitted, we'd walk to work.
One morning in March (I forget the exact date) we got up to find that there had been a very light snow the previous night, and there was just enough snow on the ground to cover smooth paved surfaces. Not thinking a thing about it, as was our tradition, I walked Beth to her job, gave her a peck on the cheek and headed across the parking lot for MY job which was at an adjacent strip mall. I was half way across the lot when suddenly I was on my back looking up at a pretty blue sky. Feeling rather foolish, I go to pick myself up thinking I sure feel like an idiot, I hope no one saw me...
As I'm attempting to sit up, I glance down and notice that my right foot is pointing roughly to about the 5 o'clock position. Looking around, I see the owner of a little chinese restaurant poking their head out the door saying "You OK? You need ambulance?" I of course wasn't really hearing them...I was trying to figure out what happened to my foot   . But as my wife says, "The good Lord watches over fools and children" just as I was falling, a pickup truck was turning into the parking lot and the couple came straight over to where I was to help. As I recall, the wife was a nurse, but she didn't have any medical gear with her. So her husband went to the chinese restaurant and called for an ambulance. When he returned, I asked him to go to the strip mall and tell the owner of the Subway restaurant (my boss) what had happened, and that I think I'd be calling off work for the day. When the husband returned, my boss John was with him. John took one look at my foot and said, "Well Ron, you're probably gonna need a little more than a day for that. Don't worry about your job, just give me a call when you're ready to come back."
Switching the view to Beth's perspective...all she knew was that I had dropped her off at work and I had gone on to my job. From where she works in her store (She worked at that time for "Smarts Outlet Center" which was an experimental store for the Target stores and sold Target's clearance merchandise, similar to "Big Lots") Beth could not see what had happened, and none of her coworkers knew that "the guy that fell in the lot" was ME.
So, one of the store managers came out to see if there was any assistance they could offer. Trina the manager is one of those types of ladies who always has her clothes just so, and who goes to one of those nail salons to have her fingernails laquered and manicured. So I glance up from the ground to see her coming, and I say the only thing I can think of to say, "Hi Trina. Nice nails..." She had brought out a small pillow for my head, and as we talked, the paramedics arrived. Trina got out of the way, but she told me that Beth would be waiting for me at the hospital, and she returned to the store.
Once back in the store, Trina went to Beth and told her that she wasn't to worry, but that she needed to tell Beth something, but that Beth shouldn't get upset. Beth looked her in the eyes and said, "Trina, just TELL me." Trina took a breath and said, "The guy they saw fall in the parking lot? That was Ron. From what I saw he looks like he broke his leg. But I think he's going to be all right...he said my nails looked good." So they made arrangements for Beth to be at the hospital when I arrived.
Returning to my perspective... With the arrival of the paramedics, I tried to warn them that the pavement was very slippery (after all, that's how I got into this mess), but one of the officers also slipped and fell. He however was fine and they made sure of their footing from that point on. After getting clearance from the hospital, the first thing the emt's did was to give me 120cc's of a synthetic morphine, and secured me to a backboard for transport.
quote:
I now have a new definition for the word TRUST: Letting four strange men carry you around on a piece of wood that doesn't feel any larger than a 2X4...
For one of only three times I get to ride in an ambulance with the lights on...and I find myself in the Emergency Room of Saint Vincent's Hospital. Once there, the doctors do an initial assessment and determine that I have a spiral fracture of the tibia and fibula. This is NOT going to be a basic set and casting of the bone. They're going to have to put me to sleep to set my leg, so they will have to wait until an operating room is available...in about an hour.
By this time, they determine that Beth has arrived at the hospital, so they let her come back to my treatment room in the ER to keep me company. The doctor has also given me an additional 50cc's of pain killer, so I have 170cc in me. My leg is now a small ache.
Soon after, the doctor comes in and explains that they will straighten my foot while we wait for an operating room, and the doctor brings in two of the biggest orderlies I have ever seen. Seeing what is about to happen, Beth really doesn't want to be in the room when they're going to do this, and askes to be allowed to leave. The Doctor says, "Oh, this should only take a moment..." and with the orderlies holding my upper body, the doctor takes my leg and turns my foot BACK to where it should be. The pain was beyond description and to be frankly honest I screamed at the top of my lunges   . Beth told me later that she heard that scream in her sleep for months after  . I told her the only reason I didn't hear it was because the drugs had me soo loopy I barely remember any of the hospital time.
Later that afternoon, the doctor took me into the OR and attempted to set my leg, but the break was such that there were not enough stable pieces of bone for them to set it. I wound up spending just over a week in the hospital I now have a steel plate and 6 pins in my ankle...and was unable to return to my job for most of 6 months. Had Target/Smarts not had work that I could do seated during that time, we would have been in even more dire straights than we were.
I pursued a lawsuit with the company that owned the property where I fell...not seeking any punitive damages, but just to pay my Dr bills. At that time we didn't have any insurance and this was the only way that my bills would be paid. Without admitting any culpability, the property owners paid out enough for us to pay my medical bills, our attorney's fees and still keep about $1200 for ourselves. To this day almost 11 years later, my ankle still gives me fits. I don't walk with the limp that I used to, but if I have to stand on it more than 8 hours at a time, its very stiff when I get home.
I guess what I learned from all this is to wait upon the Lord in all things. When I was in the midst of all that going on, I would have had no idea how we were going to pay our bills, let alone the hospital bills. But our God knows, and He will always provide for our needs. We just have to see what he is giving us and give thanks in all things.
Have a blessed day readers.
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
|
RE: Hatfield's little corner of the WWW - 10/21/2005 10:04:18 PM
|
|
|
Hatfield
Posts: 239
Joined: 4/24/2005
From: Right here at my computer!
Status: offline
|
Dear readers,
I just need to say something to get it off my chest. And I know that among my Christian brothers and sisters you will hear me out. I've only had to use this one ONCE in my blog, so excuse me if I turn on this switch...
As I have mentioned, I work in retail. I cashier for a 'Super store' type grocery chain called Meijer based out of Michigan.
Our store has the self serve style check out stands under the trademark name U-Scan. I have reached the conclusion of late that I can no longer be the attendant in charge of overseeing the U-scan terminals.
Ideally, the way the system is supposed to function is that the guest will scan the item they are purchasing, the computer will know how much THAT item is supposed to weigh, the guest will put the purchase into a bag on the platform. The platform is a scale that can accurately weigh to within .001 pounds. When the guest has finished scanning their items, they can then push the icon stating they wish to pay for their purchase. They answer a couple of questions; Coupons? Type of payment? They make their payment and are given their receipt.
There are signs all over the platform stating that the items purchased must REMAIN on the platform until the purchase is completed. If anything is removed from the platform before the order is completed, or if anything is placed ON the platform that is not scanned as part of the purchase, the attendant gets an error message on their terminal stating they need to check terminal #__. The attendant will then clarify that either the guest's child needs to stop leaning on the platform, the guest needs to not put their purse, wallet, beverage they have with them ON the platform... or ....the attendant will need to remind the guest that the purchase must remain on the platform till their order is completed. When you are the person attending the U-scan check out station, these last couple of things are the larger portion of what you are doing.
OK, I tell you all of this to relate to you an encounter I had with a guest this evening.
The guest, a gentleman I would estimate to be in his late 50's early 60's steps up to one of the U-scan terminals, scans three of the half dozen or so items that he has, and puts them in a sack (so far so good...), before scanning the rest of his purchases, he removes the bag from the platform and places it into his shopping cart. As I was assisting another guest at that moment, I had stepped away from the computer terminal.
Since he'd removed the bag, the terminal wasn't letting him scan anything else, and my computer terminal had a message to check the Uscan term for a weight issue. Looking over to the gentleman, I see what the matter is, and I helpfully step over and take his sack from the cart and place it back on the platform and explain, "Sir, the purchase needs to remain on the platform here till you're done with your order."
Well apparently the man took some sort of exception to my action because the man in a very angry voice tells me, "I don't like your [less than pleasant word] attitude!! I know what I'm doing!" As calmly as I could, I stated, "Sir, I didn't think I was giving you an attitude, I was simply trying to help you with your order. If I have offended you I'm sorry." Without replying, the man grabs his things off the platform, dumps them from the bag they are in into the cart and makes his way to a regular register.
Two other guests and my immediate supervisor happened to be there. The guests are giving the guy a look like Buddy, what's your problem?, and my supervisor's got a shocked look on her face like, Oh my gosh... After the man leaves, I make light of it and tell the other guests, "Well, I hope YOU'RE having a good evening!" I then turn to my supervisor and tell her, "Make a note: The next time someone needs me to run the U-Scan, I am the LAST person you'd better approach on your list."
I know that as Christians, we should approach everything we do with as Christ-like an attitude as we're able. And even in situations like this I try to the best of my ability. But my dear readers, please, remember that the guy/gal at the register isn't trying to tick you off, or cheat you. They're trying to do their job and take care of their families just like YOU are...so if something doesn't work exactly like you seem to think it does, don't blow up in their face. Take a breath, take a moment and cooperate.
I do feel that in all that I do, I try to do it as if I am serving Jesus himself. But let me gently point out a little detail that sometimes seems to get lost in the equation: YOU are not Jesus. While the addage states that "The Customer is always right!" Sometimes, the customer is wrong. And sometimes, the customer really needs to drop the self-righteous indignation because all it does is make you look like an idiot of the highest order.
_____________________________
Ron (aka Hatfield)
AotC Mud
|
|
|
|
 New Messages |
 No New Messages |
 Hot Topic w/ New Messages |
 Hot Topic w/o New Messages |
 Locked w/ New Messages |
 Locked w/o New Messages |
|
 Post New Thread
Reply to Message
Post New Poll
Submit Vote
Delete My Own Post
Delete My Own Thread
Rate Posts |
|
|
Forum Tools
Printable Version
