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All about me, and stuff like that... well, how about "some about me". Lemme see... I was born in 1943, and so far, I'm still alive today... oh, wait... yup, still alive. OK, so maybe there are a few things in between those two events... some of which I'll mention here. I've spent a life working, and retired at the end of 2006. During the working years, I stayed a moving target, living in Louisiana, Texas, Arkansas, Nebraska, Maryland, and Georgia. My resume includes no major accomplishments or awards, no official accolades, my name isn't known in high places on earth... but, I daily pray it is in the Book of Life... the highest honor for which anyone can hope and strive. However, there are some friends who are special people, or have managed special accomplishments, or they're simply some people to be admired. Mike and Noleen live in Iowa, and are among my dearest friends. Then there's Dottie, a great friend who rose through the ranks to be President of NACM SouthWest. Sharon, a neighbor and friend when I lived in Nebraska, became a successful novelist (A Perfect Evil). Ron, from the old military days, made his million... the old fashioned way. Chris and Jennifer are two of the most genuine people in the world. And, there's Jeff, who like Mike, is one of the most passionate, deeply spiritual, and dedicated-to-truth soldiers of Christ and minister of the Good News for the salvation of mankind that I've ever had the good pleasure to know. I could go on naming the impressive people I've met, but I've lost track of so many. I also have a deep, abiding love and admiration for my two beautiful daughters; Connie and Terrie, and their kids, Victoria, Scott, Luke, and Lauren. And, my very sweet sisters as well, Carolyn and Julia, and their children (as well as the children of our brother, James, who died in a tragic accident... which was a great loss for me, since he was one of the people I most admired in life); Mary, Frances, Susan, Dan, Randy, Sharon, and Cindy. I'm really proud of each one... and, besides, I am their favorite uncle... ok..ok... their only uncle, if ya gotta be picky about it. My interests range from hither to thither, and yonder to beyond. I've been a pilot and scuba diver. Haven't been fishing or gone hunting in years, although I still have my guns. I've played with writing and photography and music. (Music might have been more fulfilling if I could ever have learned to play that doggone guitar! Anyone wanna buy a Guild F47??) I enjoy tinkering in my shop (garage), building, modifying, rebuilding. Doesn't matter whether it's electronics, or wood, or metal, or a computer program. It's especially fun when my buddy, Ron, and I get together and work on projects. But, he lives in Alamogordo (NM), so most of our projects are shared ideas via email. One or the both of us are forever working on the "umpteenth" version of something or other. As a ham radio operator, first licensed by the FCC as a General class in 1974, I've an Extra class license, my call sign is WD4MP, and currently, I'm vp of the local radio club (LARC), a member of ARRL and a Volunteer Examiner. I enjoy the camaraderie of my ham buddies. Doyle (W4DJG) and I just (April, '08) built ourselves compressed-air "antenna launchers"... what a blast... figuratively and literally! (My own design has a longer barrel and larger pressure chamber. It looks like a marriage between a bazooka and a trombone, but it sounds like a 30-06 when ya pull the trigger, and will darn near put a tennis ball into low earth orbit... ok, maybe not.) Anyway, for the hams out there, at home a Yaesu FT-1000MP drives a SB-201 amplifier for about 500 watts RF into a G5RV up almost 70', and I check into an East Coast net (GYN) on 3.967 most mornings. For mobile ops in the truck, there's both a Icom IC-7000 driving a ham-stick type whip for HF/VHF/UHF, and a Yaesu 2800M driving a 5/8 wave whip for VHF backup. For the information of non-hams, it's a fun hobby... and one that serves well in times of wide-spread disaster. Travel, camping, and exploring are great fun, too. I seem to have an affinity for mountains and wilderness areas. For a long time, my "favorite of favorite places" has been the Black Hills of South Dakota. The Western Lore of the area adds appeal to the great scenery, and intrigue to the mountains and every boulder, butte, and canyon. That's such a great area, but, perhaps the most fun is simply surviving some of my wanderings. A motorcycle can be an awesome way to ramble about. Since I have always gone solo, never riding with a group, planned trip routes were always considered tenative, and seldom went unchanged during the course of travel. A boring trip on a bike is a rarity I'm not sure I've ever experienced. There were several 3,000 mile trips on a Kawasaki 750 LTD I had at the time, but the most memorable ride was in late May of 1998 on my Kawasaki Voyager. The journey was from Georgia to Wyoming, then up through Yellowstone and on out to Glacier NP in Montana, through the park and over Logan's Pass on the "Going to the Sun" highway, down through Utah, across Colorado, down into New Mexico, and back eastward to Georgia, camping all along the way. Total 5,700 miles. Perhaps the funniest thing on that trip occured on I-70 in a desolate section of Western Colorado. As I was riding along at 70 mph, ahead on the shoulder of the pavement sat a big jackrabbit. He didn't scamper away as I rode by, but I swear he raised his right front paw. It wasn't until I was past that I realized I'd waved back! I almost fell off the bike laughing at myself. (I don't drink... honest.) Anyway, that trip encountered everything from a major thunderstorm on the plains of Kansas (nowhere to stop, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide...Yikes!), picking my way through a big cattle-drive down a two-lane highway in Wyoming (dodging not only the cows, but their "leavings"... and on a bike, ya wanna be veeery careful to avoid both!), waking up one morning freezing my rear end in Northern Montana and experiencing headache-inducing heat around Salt Lake City two days hence, easing through a heavy snow shower in the Colorado Rockies on I-70 near Vail, and pushing through a full-blown "frog strangling gully washer" on I-20 between Rayville, La. and Vicksburg. Why? I dunno... perhaps it's the freedom, or the surprise of surviving one's own foolishness. But, it's probably just being the modern-day version of a 1880's saddle tramp. And, speaking of modern-day "saddle tramps" and "foolishness", when I was an active pilot, I flew a lot, and every flight was memorable. They say of flying, it can be hours of pure boredom, interrupted only my moments of sheer terror. I'm not sure about other pilots, but I never got to the "boredom" part. If it had wings, and could be launched, I figured I could fly it. Seldom carrying passengers, there were always opportunities to press the limits of both aircraft and pilot. As with most any pilot, there's a story in almost every trip, but my favorite was when I owned a beautiful little Mooney M-20C, and flew from Nebraska to Boca Raton (to visit a friend), down to Key West (doing the tourist thing), back to Orlando (EPCOT), to Wilmington, NC (to visit friends), to Monroe, La. (to see my daughter graduate college), on out to Austin, Tx. (to give my sister away... in marriage... we tried to sell 'er, but that didn't work.), and then back home to Nebraska. Almost every segment of that trip was an exercise in dodging thunderstorms or some form of unsettled weather, and every segment has its own story. The straight-line segment from Orlando to Wilmington took me out over the Atlantic, so a life preserver seemed prudent. Fortunately, the engine was faithful, so the tale of that segment did not include getting wet... at least, not from Atlantic waters. Especially when the weather is rotten, it can be "better to be down here wishing I were up there, rather than up there wishing I were down here". These days, my traveling is done "down here" in my truck. My favorite drive was in 2007, when I spent 3½ months on the road. Leaving Georgia in mid-July, the route led across the Northern Plains to Calgary (AB), then through the Canadian Rockies via Banff and Jasper, and on to Dawson Creek (BC) where the Alaska Highway begins. From there, up the Alaska Highway through British Columbia and the Yukon, over hill and dale and teeth-jarring frost heaves to Wasilla (AK), camping along the way. In Alaska, my treks included some very long (80-120 miles), very rough (gravel/rock/dirt/mud) roads (such as the Denali Hwy, Nabasena Rd., and the McCarthy Rd.) into near-wilderness areas, camping where man is NOT at the top of the food chain. Since I have a back problem (a yellow streak runs down the middle of it), my trusty 18" double-barrel was loaded and ever near. In total, the trip covered 13,957 miles, burned 871 gallons (US) of diesel, and touched 22 states and four Canadian provinces. But, the experience and scenery was worth every mile and every bump in the road. For photos, click here, then click on "slide show". Making the trip again is a possibility, if the Lord is willing. Next time it'd be nice to include traveling the Cassar Highway through British Columbia, driving the Haul Road (Dalton Hwy) north of Fairbanks to Deadhorse/Prudhoe Bay, and especially, exploring some intriguing, little-traveled roads and tracks in the Yukon. Maybe someday. On September 3, 2008, I traveled to Zimbabwe (Africa) with two companions, Mike Divis from Iowa, and Carl McMurray from Indania. We based in Bulawayo, but spent most of our time in the bush country, especially in the vast area known as Tsholotsho. Our friend, and a native to Zimbabwe, Mountbatten Brewer was our guide. We spent our time purchasing and helping deliver food to Christians in the bush country, and using whatever opportunities were available to teach the Gospel. Brewer was careful to keep the delivery of food to those hungry people separate from the teaching, so as to not cause the food to influence their acceptance of God's Word. Being south of the equator, it was their Springtime. The climate was very dry (we had to be cautious of dehydration). The days could become quite hot, but the nights were cold enough to make us shiver in our sleeping bags. The Tsholotsho area is desert-like, with fairly dense scrub brush and twisted little trees somehow growing everywhere out of the deep sand. We also traveled to the Binga Mountains, Hwange, Victoria Falls, and Belingwa areas to teach. The roads are extremely rough, and there's little wonder vehicles wear so quickly and need frequent repairs. But, Brewer is quite a resourceful fellow, and somehow manages to keep his truck (bakkie) running. The Ndebele people of southern Zimbabwe are wonderful people, who somehow manage to smile even in hunger and affliction, and LOVE to sing. The people in the rural areas live in mud huts with thatched roofs and packed-dirt floors. Their transportation is to either walk, or ride in a cart typically pulled by four scrawny burros. Their staple food is mealie-meal, made from pounding the maize grain they grow, which is somewhat like our corn. The mealie-meal is cooked with boiling water to make sadza, which has the consistency of bread dough and is about as tasteless (no seasoning or salt) a food as you can imagine. It wasn't an easy trip but it was a wonderful trip, and with mixed emotions, on September 29th my travel companions and I boarded a flight back to Johannesburg. From there, we flew to Washington Dulles, parted ways, and I returned to Atlanta. It took over a week to reset my "body clock", readjust my digestive system, and simply overcome the fatigue from a month of constant "going". The emotional upheaval is taking much longer. Perhaps someday, I can return to Zim and visit with those whom I now consider dear friends. I hope I can. (Photos coming soon) Who knows what tomorrow will bring... but whatever it is, it'll be a day the Lord made.. 73, Mac -oo0oo- Hidden Stone What will be left to say I was ever here After I've been and gone Passed this way What will I leave after The end of me... My life and my breath I will yield My heart and my hands Will be stilled The last will bring only Regret and dread Wanting to live on but Facing the end instead Even the love for those That are mine Though unfinished I must Leave behind Every plan and all the Hopes and dreams My thoughts and secrets And little schemes The aches and heartbreaks And tears that fell The lives and loves And goodbyes as well Everything I am and do Or ever will be Even the little things that Make up me Of all these things only the Engraving of my name And the obscure stone is All that will remain And a breeze will gently Sway the grass That hides the stone That hold the past... In a forgotten corner of A somewhere graveyard. mcp -oo0oo- Only to Thee Where goes the sun when the flare is gone Where goes the grass when winter's begun The rabbits, the birds, where lie their nest Where goes my soul when it longs for rest. The arms that long to hold you so They find no rest and no place to go And wandering free I'm imprisoned yet Tho' love knows no bound, it cancels no debt. So where go the animals, the grass, and sun Maybe I'll know when all life is done But this I know, for my soul's rest and peace There's but one place to go - and that's to Thee. mcp -oo0oo- |
