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Saturday, November 10th, 2018
8:47 pm - A Veteran of the Great War
On this Veteran's Day, I am remembering my Great-Uncle Bob Collins, veteran of WW I, member of the 40 & 8 (and every other veterans' org you can name). Time was, when most of Anderson, Indiana, probably had a Bob Collins story. He was a hoot.

As a young man, he worked for a while as a daredevil, riding motorcycles up the inside of a circular wooden wall at carnivals and fairs. He taught himself to fly, and built an airplane in his mother's basement. She wouldn't let him tear out the basement wall to remove it, so he had to disassemble it to get it out.

During Prohibition, an explosion rocked the house. My Aunt Evelyn (a wee thing at the time) ran into the living room and announced, "Unca Bob's beer blowed up!"

When the USA was propelled into WW II, Uncle Bob tried to enlist again, but was told he was too old. So he would go down to the Delco-Remy factory gates and cuss out the draft dodgers as a form of public service.

Uncle Bob was known as a bit of a crank, so when he voiced his suspicions that some guy at Delco-Remy was a German spy, everyone blew him off. He wrote to Walter Winchell, then the king of investigative reporters, who looked into it. Turns out, the guy WAS a German spy. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day.

He loved my father and did his best to mentor him, after his brother (my Grandpa Speedy) divorced his wife and dumped their kids on Great-Grandpa and Great-Grandma Collins. And he thought I was special.

He also used to tease me unmercifully about girls when I was young. "How many girlfriends do you have, Arthur?" he'd ask me once I entered adolescence. I was embarrassed and didn't know what to say. Finally, when I was about 15, I figured out how to handle Uncle Bob. "Oh, Uncle Bob," I said, the last time he asked, "I've got so many I have to beat 'em off with a stick." He never jibed me about my social life again.

He was a larger than life character, and a great American patriot.

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Thursday, November 8th, 2018
9:23 am - When Push Comes to Shove
Those of us in the orthodox/evangelical/traditional camp of The UMC keep trying to explain to our liberal/progressive/radical fellow church members why we believe as we do and why we are threatening to leave The UMC and start a new denomination (or something like that) if the latest progressive plan (The One Church Plan, OCP) is approved by the called General Conference next February.

This essay is not addressed to them, the progs. It is addressed to my co-believers, the trads, who are still trying to wrap their heads around what is happening in The UMC and hoping against hope that it will all go away and just be all right, no matter what happens. It is not a call to head for the doors. But it is a reminder why doors exist, and why one needs to think about the unthinkable before it becomes the new normal. Collapse )

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Wednesday, November 7th, 2018
8:06 am - Spot Analysis
Spot 04

Our Perspicacious Puppy Pundit

Major Takeaways from Midterm Elections, 2018:

The Senate becomes more solidly Republican. Result No. 1, the confirmation of judges will be a flood. Trump and the GOP have the ability to stock the federal judiciary for years to come. This is a good thing. Result No. 2, the ability of the GOP to hold the Senate in 2020 is enhanced, since the electoral map this year was extraordinarily favorable to them, and the next one won't be as nice.

The House goes Democratic. Will the Democrats try to pass legislation, working with the Senate and President Trump, to build their brand and inspire confidence? Nah. Some of the nastiest denizens of Washington (looking at you, Maxine Waters) will now chair House committees -- with subpoena power. Look for them to investigate everything. I expect two years of fireworks between the Democrats in the House and President Trump. Nothing of much importance will get done. That said, Trump's economic program is pretty much nailed in place, so that's a good thing. We'll survive.

All of this sets up the next electoral cycle, which begins today (God help us). Given the opportunity to show their nastiest, least responsible side to the public, I expect the House Democrats to blow their opportunity to build their brand. Their whole platform is simply, "Hate Trump." Senate Democrats, with even less power than before, will all be running for President, posturing like mad before every camera and microphone they can find. Meanwhile, Trump will pivot from "fake news" to "Democrat obstruction." Overall, I'd say his chances of re-election have actually improved a bit. But the chances of the GOP building their brand for down the ticket have lessened. Some of the best bridge-builders in the GOP, like Barbara Comstock, got hosed last night. And the Republicans have a real problem in the suburbs, especially with women. I think Trump can prevail, but his party will face bad weather and high seas.

On the whole, things will stay pretty much the same. We will be as divided as ever, and our politics as loud and obnoxious as ever. Meanwhile, there are challenges on the horizon (debt at home and bad actors abroad), and everybody should pray for our country and its leaders while going about their business.

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Monday, November 5th, 2018
9:35 am - Round, round, get around, I get around
It was a busy fall weekend. We went over to Richmond Saturday to visit the Grandcubs. Trick or Treat had been postponed by the town because of the mid-week rain, so we were there to snap a few pix.


Trick or Treat 2018
Hand over the candy and nobody gets hurt

Sunday promised to be a dry day, so I skipped church and buzzed over the holler to get some work done. I used my laser level to shoot the various posts marking the location of piers to support the upper part of the house. Then I dug out and emplaced the forms for the piers. Each form is so placed that I can build the rest of the pier out of 8" block.


Please fill out these forms
Doesn't look like much for six hours' work, does it?

Deanne went back to work this morning for the first time since her surgery. Godspeed. I'm taking it slow, since two major out of town trips two days in a row has depleted whatever moxie I had on hand.

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Tuesday, October 30th, 2018
5:34 pm - Another gorgeous fall day in the peaceable kingdom
I was out the door by 4:20 or so this morning and arrived at the rental place in L'burg a little before 7:00. Checked out a walk-behind bush hog and tootled on out to Wilderstead. Once the sun was abroad, I started work.

I bush-hogged around the cabin, especially where the two private electrical poles are going to go. That took most of an hour, and required a break. I was running sweat even in the chilly morning. Then I bush-hogged the area above the undercroft wall, where the rest of the house is going to go. After that, I cut down one big dead tree and a lot of little weed trees. I was shaken, bruised, and cut by thorny vines by this time.

I loaded up the bush hog and returned to town to check it back in. The guys in the yard asked me how I did with it. "Imagine that you have a rhinoceros that thinks it's a beagle," I replied. "And while you're walking it on a leash, it sees a rabbit dash into a thicket."

I grabbed some lunch and returned to the holler. It was time to do some persnickety positioning of posts where the concrete piers are going to go. I did my best to line up the corners, then did a measurement of the hypoteneuse from corner to corner. I was within a half inch or so of dead on. Good enough. I also made a rough estimate of elevation with a string level. The three back piers (high side) need to be about 16", 18", and 23" to match the undercroft wall height.

Next trip, I'll get out my laser level and do some even finickier leveling, then dig out the areas for the concrete forms.


Backside of glory
Building site from the back fence, looking down on the undercroft.

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Saturday, October 27th, 2018
6:37 pm - In which our Mad Scientist continues his unholy experiments
I made my Second Attempt on Pillage the Village Stir Fry tonight.

I added some serrano peppers to the whole, as well as an extra green bell pepper. I doubled the soy sauce for moisture and the chili-garlic sauce for heat. I cut the meat and broccoli finer; Chinese cuisine aims at all pieces of about the same size in a dish. There was a lot of liquid when I was approaching the finish, so I sprinkled in some cornstarch and worked it in, which absorbed most of it. And the taste test?

Sweet Baby Jebus.

It was very tasty, but it was also about as hot as I could stand it. And when I had seconds, I discovered that while sitting there in the wok it had increased in strength. What would this do to the second seating at the Rendezvous? I think we'll need some sour cream or yogurt on hand to cut this for some folks; and, of course, we'll need some hot sauce on hand for the truly insane.

Anyway, I don't think the serranos added anything much in either flavor or heat. So, I'm not going to fool with them. I'll keep the jalapenos, though.

I may make this one more time before multiplying the recipe out to humongous. I probably need to invite some friends over when I do to give it another set of taste buds to critique it.

Lemme just broo-lay that dessert for ya

Okay, that's about got it

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Friday, October 26th, 2018
7:58 am - One last poem for Hallowe'en
Ghost House

Robert Frost

I dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
  And left no trace but the cellar walls,
  And a cellar in which the daylight falls
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow.

O’er ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing field;
  The orchard tree has grown one copse
  Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.

I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
  On that disused and forgotten road
  That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;

The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
  I hear him begin far enough away
  Full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.

It is under the small, dim, summer star.
I know not who these mute folk are
  Who share the unlit place with me—
  Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.

They are tireless folk, but slow and sad—
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,—
  With none among them that ever sings,
  And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had.

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Wednesday, October 24th, 2018
8:22 pm - Rejoice, we conquer!
So said Pheidippides, and promptly dropped dead. After this 15-hour day, I'm not in quite that bad a shape, but I'm tired, and I hurt.

We left home at 4:25 a.m. and made it to Wilderstead about 7:00. I built a fire in the wood-burning stove to warm the cabin and we ate a quickie breakfast. By 8:00, the sun was abroad, and so was I. All told, I put in about seven and half hours on the undercroft wall. Then we cleaned up and headed for home.

The good news is, I finished the wall. At least, I got the last block in it laid. There'll be more fiddling with it later, especially when I have to tie the wooden beams to it next year. And there's still a lot of other concrete and masonry work yet to do this year to make the upper piers. But still: it's an achievement. Done on time and done right (though eventually, I think a light coating of surface-bonding cement to hide the irregularities might be in order).

Deanne enjoyed the outing. Her left arm grows stronger and her left hand more nimble every day. She eventually got bored in the cabin, so she came out to kibitz on the building site.


Coming down the home stretch
This was on the last stretch of wall


Sidewalk superintendent
Deanne keeping me company

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Tuesday, October 23rd, 2018
7:10 pm - One more Hallowe'en poem
Mr. Macklin's Jack O'Lantern

David McCord

Mr. Macklin takes his knife
And carves the yellow pumpkin face:
Three holes bring eyes and nose to life,
The mouth has thirteen teeth in place.
Then Mr. Macklin just for fun
Transfers the corn-cob pipe from his
Wry mouth to Jack’s, and everyone
Dies laughing! O what fun it is
Till Mr. Macklin draws the shade
And lights the candle in Jack’s skull.
Then all the inside dark is made
As spooky and as horrorful
As Halloween, and creepy crawl
The shadows on the tool-house floor,
With Jack’s face dancing on the wall.
O Mr. Macklin! where’s the door?

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10:07 am - The old bear feels winter coming on
I weighed myself this morning. It wasn't a happy occasion. Like a bear in the fall, my appetite is cranked to the max. So controlling intake is hard, and I don't feel like exercising, either. I'm sleeping in more, and I'm sluggish. It's not the cold, it's the lack of daylight. I've upped my Vitamin D to 3000 units daily until spring. Time to fight the battle of the bloat.

I suppose I'm lucky. My wife and daughter both have Seasonal Affective Disorder, and it messes with them bad. It never used to affect me, but as I age, I feel the effects of seasonal changes more. My best hope is to hold on through the winter until energy returns and my metabolism starts to ramp up with the return of the sun.

The worst time for weight gain for me is February. The wheels just come off the wagon then. So the more I can hold the line now, the less weight I'll have to lose when losing weight becomes possible again.

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Sunday, October 21st, 2018
4:43 pm - Yet another poem for Hallowe'en
The Little Ghost

Edna St. Vincent Millay

I knew her for a little ghost
     That in my garden walked;
The wall is high—higher than most—
     And the green gate was locked.

And yet I did not think of that
     Till after she was gone—
I knew her by the broad white hat,
     All ruffled, she had on.

By the dear ruffles round her feet,
     By her small hands that hung
In their lace mitts, austere and sweet,
     Her gown’s white folds among.

I watched to see if she would stay,
     What she would do—and oh!
She looked as if she liked the way
     I let my garden grow!

She bent above my favourite mint
     With conscious garden grace,
She smiled and smiled—there was no hint
     Of sadness in her face.

She held her gown on either side
     To let her slippers show,
And up the walk she went with pride,
     The way great ladies go.

And where the wall is built in new
     And is of ivy bare
She paused—then opened and passed through
     A gate that once was there.

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Thursday, October 18th, 2018
6:06 pm - Living dangerously
So, today I cooked pumpkin (with more to do) for my Pumpkin-Pepper Soup, to be served at January's Winter Rendezvous. And for supper, I experimented with doing Mongolian Beef for the heat freaks. Here are my notes on the latter experiment.

Pillage the Village Stir Fry
First Attempt

1 lb. stir fry beef
1 lg. carrot, sliced thin
1 head of broccoli, sliced
1 lg. onion, sliced
2 bell peppers (1 green, 1 orange), sliced
3 jalapenos, sliced

Seasoned beef with salt, Chinese Five Spice, and ginger.
Placed beef and veggies in a bowl.
1/4 cup rice wine vinegar;
1/4 cup soy sauce;
1/4 cup chili oil;
1/4 cup garlic chili sauce.

Brought cast iron wok to screamin’ hot, added sesame oil and dumped in the fixin’s. When beef was more or less browned, put the lid on and steamed the veggies. Served over rice.

Made about six huge portions; the tasting portions we serve at the Rendezvous would make this serve about 10-12.

VERY tasty. Pleasantly hot. The heat was pre-eminently in the sauce, though; need to make sure that the campers get sauced when this is served up.

Beef was a bit dry. Need to make sure I start with really good beef (talk to Rice’s). I think I should season and sauce the beef and cook it first, then add the veggies. That would mean using the squarehead pans, rather than the flat-top.

Make sure all the sauce is drizzled over the pans we serve this up in! And tell servers to “dip from the bottom.”

Ingredients: Carrot, onion, and broccoli -- good amounts. Could have used another bell pepper.

Jalapenos added some good heat; might use serranos instead to get more punch. Dare I use habaneros? Add more chili oil? Definitely need to add more garlic chili sauce, so that the little red flecks show. Hot enough for us, but not quite to the standard of the heat freaks at camp.

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7:46 am - On a related subject . . .
I've been posting poems for Hallowe'en. This isn't a creepy sort of poem, at all. But it's still very seasonal. It's about Autumn, which is here at last.

When the Frost is on the Punkin
James Whitcomb Riley

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock,
And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of the hens,
And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it’s then’s the times a feller is a-feelin’ at his best,
With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

They’s something kindo’ harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here—
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin’ of the bees;
But the air’s so appetizin’; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur’ that no painter has the colorin’ to mock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin’ of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries—kindo’ lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin’ sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover over-head!—
O, it sets my hart a-clickin’ like the tickin’ of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin’ ’s over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! ...
I don’t know how to tell it—but ef sich a thing could be
As the Angels wantin’ boardin’, and they’d call around on me—
I’d want to ’commodate ’em—all the whole-indurin’ flock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

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Tuesday, October 16th, 2018
10:30 pm - Thoughts from a Council Board meeting
I've started (or revived) seven or eight Scout units from scratch: got the charter partner's approval, launched the program, found and trained the other adults. No startup money and no gear, some of them in very poor or rural communities, most of them not associated with another unit we could go to for help: three Scout Troops, one or two Cub Packs, two Venturing Crews, and one Explorer Post. In addition, way back in the day when I was a District volunteer in the inner city, I helped start several units from scratch in schools and churches, mostly among families and communities with little or no previous Scouting experience.

Here's what I know. Every unit needs to have a stand-alone program with its own leadership and its own committee, even if it is linked with another unit that feeds into it or from it, even if there are some youth and adults who double-register in order to participate. Trying to run two units from a single committee means one unit will always be shorted of resources -- or you will wind up with a single unit doing a single program (even if you count noses separately on charters).

So, trying to launch all-girl Troops come February from existing all-boy Troops (meaning, basically, a single committee with different leaders for the girl Troop and boy Troop) is very like what we've done with Venturing. And Venturing is all but dead in our Council because of it.

It's easier to do it right than to make it right. But people who haven't done the heavy lifting of starting things from scratch don't know that. They insist that you can take short cuts to developing strong new programs and strong new leaders. Alas, there are no short cuts to effective Leadership, Organization, and Program. Our new all-girl Troops are going to experience significant struggles -- OR, they will simply wind up (effectively) as part of co-ed Troops (which I wouldn't object to, but that's not what BSA said they were trying to do).

In the end, we'll muddle through and there will be girls who get to enjoy our Scouts program. But I fear that a lot of girls who join with high hopes are going to be disappointed, and a lot of adults frustrated. They deserve better. (Of course, they may just re-invent Scouting on the fly without official approval, which is kind of happening in Cub Scouts now. Separate dens for girls and boys won't last through the first year, except on paper.)

Okay, I've said my piece. Nobody wants to hear it, so I'll shut up now.

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7:37 am - Another poem for Hallowe'en
A little culture on order:  today's poem is a classic ballad from Goethe (with my translation).  Goethe got the story from a Danish poem.  In Goethe's version, the Erlking (elf-king) comes to steal away a child.  He is invisible to the child's father.  The child is sick, and certain sicknesses were associated with the malign influence of the elves.  When the father and the child reach their home, the child is dead.

The poem has been set to music by several composers.  Schubert's version is probably the most famous.  It's a challenging piece, in which the singer has to interpret all four characters (narrator, father, child, and erlking), each of whom is written in a slightly different register.  (I've sung it.  It's a workout.)

Anyway, it's dramatic and creepy -- and very fitting for Hallowe'en.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?
Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;
Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.

      Who rides so late through the windy night?
      It is a father with his child;
      He has the boy secured by his arm,
      He holds him closely, he keeps him warm.

Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht? -
Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht?
Den Erlenkönig mit Kron und Schweif? -
Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif. –

      My Son, why do you hide your face?
      Father, don’t you see the Erlking?
      The Erlking, with crown and cape?
      My Son, it is a wisp of fog.

"Du liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir!
Gar schöne Spiele spiel ich mit dir;
Manch bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand,
Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand."

      You lovely child, come, go with me!
      I will play beautiful games with you;
      There are many colorful flowers on the shore,
      My Mother has many golden gowns.

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht,
Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht? -
Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind;
In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind. –

      My Father, my Father, can’t you hear
      What Erlking softly promises me?
      Be calm, stay calm, my child;
      The wind is rustling through the dry leaves.

"Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn?
Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön;
Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn,
Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein."

      You fine boy, will you go with me?
      My daughters will wait upon you beautifully;
      My daughters lead the nightly dance,
      And will rock you and dance and sing for you.

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort
Erlkönigs Töchter am düstern Ort? -
Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh es genau:
Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau. –

      My Father, my Father, can’t you see there
      Erlking’s daughters in that gloomy place?
      My Son, my Son, I see it clearly:
      It looks like old gray willows.

"Ich liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt;
Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch ich Gewalt."
Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an!
Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan! –

      I love you, your beautiful appearance entrances me;
      And if you’re not willing, then I’ll use force.
      My Father, my Father, he’s got hold of me!
      Erlking has done me a harm!

Dem Vater grausets, er reitet geschwind,
Er hält in Armen das ächzende Kind,
Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not;
In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.

      It horrifies the father, he rides swiftly,
      In his arms he holds the moaning child,
      He reaches his yard struggling against the emergency;
      In his arms the child was dead.

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Monday, October 15th, 2018
10:22 am - A prayer for Hallowe'en
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggety beasties
and things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us.
-- Traditional Cornish prayer

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9:19 am - My $0.02 worth
50,000 girls have joined Cub Scouting this year. As we get closer to the launch of girls in [Boy] Scouting next February, there are some people who are being proactive. A friend's church in Paris, TN, is forming a committee for their new all-girl Troop. That committee's task is to recruit the founding Scoutmaster and Assistants who will give the girls who sign up the best Scouting experience available. And, he's asking the church to put some money in the budget to make this ministry happen.

I don't know that I've got the energy these days to be so involved -- nor am I sure that I should be the one to help lead an all-girl Troop, though I've plenty of experience in co-ed High Adventure camping with Venturers. But I'd like to see this succeed, if we're going to do it. I'd like to see it done right. And I'd like to see the church take the lead on it.

Scouting is a form of youth ministry. Whether we're talking BSA, GSUSA, 4-H, Camp Fire, AHG, Trail Life, or the BPSA, scouting-type programs offer a chance to work with youth at a formative time in their lives, and to attract families to the church which reaches out to them. If you're interested in discipling youth and their families, you ought to be interested in church-chartered Scouting.

To make girls in BSA work, we're going to need to recruit and train a bunch of new leaders. Those new leaders will need the support of all us old leaders. Scouting is more than wearing the uniform. It's a way of life, an all-weather/year-round adventure, a testing of limits. It's not just a program, it's a culture. We need to acculturate leaders, not just train them. And the church needs to penetrate that culture and enliven it with the presence of God.

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Sunday, October 14th, 2018
9:41 am - Still another poem for Hallowe'en
This is one my favorite poems from my childhood.  I still find myself reciting it on evening walks when the moon shines through clouds.

The Highwayman

Alfred Noyes
Collapse )

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Saturday, October 13th, 2018
7:44 pm - A lovely evening fire
So, I built a fire this evening. Got out my guitar and sang old songs. Burnt up a lot of fallen sticks. It felt good.


Fall is for fires

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Friday, October 12th, 2018
9:08 pm - 2019 Winter Rendezvous Menu
So, this is what we're looking at so far. Nothing's set in stone just yet, but I'm pretty sure this is more or less what we're going to whomp up for the 25th annual Winter Rendezvous January 18-20 at Maumee Scout Reservation. Expected attendance for the Feast is in the 525-540 range; we'll be prepared to feed up to 600, if necessary. Friday Crackerbarrel attendance always depends upon the weather (how many come early to camp); it can vary from 100-150+, so we'll be prepared to serve 200 portions for that. Staff is about 30; Saturday helpers are about another 30.

Hot Chocolate

Friday Staff Supper

Friday Crackerbarrel
Navajo Tacos
Jalapeno Poppers

Saturday Staff Breakfast
Toad in the Hole
Horned Toad in the Hole

Saturday Staff and Helpers Lunch
Soda Bread
Bread and Butter Pudding

The Feast
Pumpkin Pepper Soup
Goat Shish Kebab
Mongolian Beef Stir Fry
Rabbit Fricassee
Green Beans
Sourdough Bread
Dark Chocolate Brownies
Nanner Puddin'

Saturday Crackerbarrel

Sunday Staff Breakfast

Kitchen staff and anybody still left in camp divvy up anything left on Sunday morning, plus any unused ingredients.

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