140 years ago, this gravestone of my great great grandfather was fresh and clear. Now, the information about his life can only be read with difficulty. Not long ago my wife and I traveled to Park City Utah, near the birthplace of my father, to combine a week's vacation and a family heritage tour. Thomas Jefferson Thurston pioneered a valley east of Ogden, accumulated a number of worthwhile accomplishments in his 80 years, and passed away in St. George UT in 1885. But outside his family and a few historians, few know of him (yes, he was…
Read MoreLose it. Quick
On my ride to meet Rich in Grand Junction to tour Colorado and New Mexico, I stopped in Mesquite, Nevada to fill my bike’s tank at a Sinclair station and my belly with a Western Bacon Cheeseburger at Carl’s Jr. The mediocre burger could have been an omen. 50 miles later, beyond St. George, I noticed the gas gauge was almost zero, with 30 miles of range left. That bothered me, my CTX1300 can near 200 miles on a tank, so I slowed down and looked for a station before my scheduled stop 50 more miles in Cedar City. The needle continued to fall, then found a station 10 miles before Cedar. With the new gas, the mileage slowly improved, leading me to suspect I got some bad gas in Mesquite.
That night my stomach…
Read MoreA Good Campsite
Last week’s post focused on a recent Sierra trip; a lesson learned on distinguishing between good and bad, using the analogy of eating trout. But it also taught a lesson about paradoxes, two truths that at least seem to oppose one another—the concept of balance. Another metaphor, this one on choosing a campsite. (relevant even for non-campers!)
Read MoreOf Fish and Bones
Early October of this year featured a five-day trip to Rock Creek, about 25 miles north of Bishop on 395. This celebrated a Riter centennial: Dad first traveled up here on a washboard dirt road in 1925, and he got me hooked on Sierra fishing, camping, and Fords. On the second day, my sis now living in Kentucky called, and the topic of trout came up. She declared she didn’t care for them, too many bones. Being trained in debate, and knowing the tastiness of trout, I used an old line, “Life is like eating fish: pick out and discard the bones, and enjoy the meat.”
She didn’t buy that, but…
Read MoreBorn in Blood and Mud
True confession time—not only am I a bit of a Christmas junkie, but this post is revised from earlier, because the concept haunts me. Our displays seem so bright and cheery and sanitary, but the first Christmas differed, and the difference impacts our following. So, let’s think about that first one.
His parents were alone, far from home and family, and likely delivered their firstborn…
Read MoreSeek Advice
My two years in Taos transformed my life—giving me challenges and encouragement to enter the ministry, making lifelong deep friends. Something about the plains yielding to the mountains, the striking crystal-clear blue sky, the blend of three cultures, and soul thrilling outdoor options. I suspected John Denver had been reading my mail in his line, “He was born in the summer of his 27th year, coming home to a place he’d never been before.” I came, I saw, I loved it, I knew it.
But when Rich and I rode into Taos last summer…
Read MoreTough Times
Until he moved away, Jim and I met regularly at the Swing Inn in Old Town Temecula. Breakfast and God talk and job and health issues and well, just life. Guy times. Good times. Once, Jim brought up a friend of his who had a marvelous job opportunity in another state, and every step seemed orchestrated by God. Prayer inundated it all. They asked for input from trusted friends. Too many coincidences to be coincidental. The job turned out to be the proverbial “died and gone to heaven” type. Until…
Within a few months, the job ended, bringing financial devastation. Jim wondered why? Where was God when he seemed so involved in the move?…
Read MoreFrench Camp Lessons
I know just enough science to trouble me, yet not enough to create a profession. My high school chem and physics captivated me, and I even taught junior high science for two years. My Sierra trips awoke an interest in geology and astrophysics, enough to purchase a graduate level text, “Annals of the Former World.” Frequent visits to a dictionary help me understand it. Guess getting philosophical and theological were destined at French Camp on…
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