[Post originally written 7/2/08]

I’m still alive but my neighbor is not.

Kristal looked up something on the web last night and had her worst fears confirmed. A little over a month ago she had noticed our next door neighbor (KM) was spending a lot of time at home during the day and wondered if had been laid off from his job. He’s a single guy just a year older than us. He would have occasional visitors, and sometimes we’d hear loud music or see him drinking a beer while grilling a steak, but he was never a problem.

While we were friendly and would chat over the fence, we never got together socially. After we got back from vacation at the beach over Memorial Day, we noticed his truck (and him) missing and did not see his dog out. On June 5, while riding in the back of a pickup truck with his brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew (latter three in the cab) on the interstate in Virginia, he committed suicide by jumping out of the truck and being hit by a car.

A few weeks prior to June 5 KM had been let go of his job he had held for 23 years. Supposedly some words had been said (political?), and the arguments got to the point where he was fired. No warning, no suspension, just let go. There was no mention of prior incidents. KM was also three months away from being eligible for retirement. His parents live in the area, though his dad just had triple-bypass surgery a month ago. He also has a brother in the area and another up in SW Virginia.

As a brother, how much soul-searching do you do, trying not to replay that jump in your mind? The brother is angry and may sue the city as well as a doctor who prescribed a large dose of Xanax to KM. As a father, how do you explain what happened to your kid’s uncle, when they were there to witness the aftermath? As a neighbor, did I do “enough”? Did I love my neighbor - could I have made a difference?

KM was an Oriole’s fan, and I was looking forward to hollering at him when the Cubs played them a few weeks ago. Obviously that never happened. The houses in the neighborhood I live in are fairly well-spaced apart with big yards. The houses were built in the late 60’s, and some of the original owners are still living in them, probably until they die. We have not had any “block parties” or gatherings since we moved here 8 years ago.

KM’s house had a tumultuous past. An older black man and his son were living there when we first moved in, and there were many nights we heard them arguing after drinking. The son would walk to work when he had a job. Eventually he ended up in rehab, and we think the old man was sent to a retirement home. The house was vacant for a fairly long time. At first somebody came over to cut the grass, but eventually that stopped. Finally a real estate investor bought the house, refurbished it and “flipped it”.

We were hoping for a family with kids to move in, as there are not other kids in the neighborhood for ours to play with. While we were disappointed it was just a single guy who got the house a few years ago, he was an OK neighbor. It will probably take some time for the estate to be settled and the house prepped for sale, as well as just being able to sell the house in this depressed housing market. Once again we’re hoping for a good family with young kids. It’s a 3-4 BR house, so there’s a chance.

There’s no chance for KM, as he decided he had had enough. It’s difficult to say at what point anyone makes that kind of decision, but I suppose all of us have some line we don’t want to cross. What do we have to live for? The answer to that question determines whether or not we decide to hop off the truck.

… an angel drove overnight from near Toledo to Wheeling WV, picking up a 2 month old boy and then returning back to the Toledo area.  The baby, born to a teenage mother who could not take care of herself let alone a baby, was delivered at about 7 am into my arms.  It was the first day of the rest of my life, the first day I could call myself “Dad”, the first day of the enormity of that responsibility started to sink in.  It would be about a year later that the adoption would be final/legal, but he had my heart from the beginning, after the shock wore off.

He was our third placement in the foster care system (we were helping at the time in Ohio).  When they called us about the boy and said he would probably be “for keeps” (something they don’t say unless they are very certain) I actually hesitated.  We had been taking care of a black 2 month old girl with a broken ankle, and I wasn’t sure I could care for them both at the same time.   After prayer and a calm feeling afterwards, I said yes.  The girl’s broken ankle was probably caused by somebody grabbing the baby by the foot and yanking hard, though nobody ever ‘fessed up to it.

Her parents did what DSS asked them to do and they were reunited a few months later.  The boy’s birth mother only visited him once.  If ever the abortionists would approve of “discarding” a child it would have been this boy, carried by a teenage girl already in the DSS system.  Instead, by the grace of God, she chose life and the world/my life is richer for it.  We heard a rumor that she got pregnant again and decided on aborting that baby.  My heart grieves to think about the missing brother/sister my son could have had.  This is what happens on the fringes of society, and some folks do what they can to help out the innocent and the abused.

Kristal and I had tried for about a decade to have children of our own yet God was not blessing us, so we looked into the foster/adoption system.  Initially my heart was hard to it.  My dad would always stress the importance of “blood”, and I wasn’t sure I could love an adopted child as my own.  Well, I could, I did and it’s happened again with the two children we took in over a year ago.  In a few months the paperwork will be finished and we will legally call them our son and daughter.

What changed my heart a decade ago was the Holy Spirit leading me to Scripture about caring for widows and orphans.  In particular, James 1:27 “Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.”  The world can corrupt you when you let yourself think you can’t really accept an adopted child as your own, that they’re not blood relation.  We’re all blood relation, by the power and glory of Jesus Messiah, His shed blood uniting us as adopted children of God.

[Romans 8:12-17]  Therefore, dear brothers and sisters, you have no obligation to do what your sinful nature urges you to do.  For if you live by its dictates, you will die. But if through the power of the Spirit you put to death the deeds of your sinful nature, you will live.  For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God.

So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, “Abba, Father.”  For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children.  And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory.

[v. 23] And we believers also groan, even though we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of future glory, for we long for our bodies to be released from sin and suffering. We, too, wait with eager hope for the day when God will give us our full rights as his adopted children, including the new bodies he has promised us.

… is something you wish,
then drop on the deck and flop like a fish!

Once again, the Tater crew was treated to nearly non-stop SpongeBob during our stay at the beach. I had the first part of the SpongeBob song down, but it was not until this week that I got the second part down. Actually it’s one of the few shows that will entertain all of the kids and there’s not anything objectionable besides some potty humor. I was reminded of why we don’t have cable channels at home when I see some of the trash that passes for “kid shows” on Disney and Nick.

Otherwise the trip was OK for a short (Sat-Wed) stay. The temperature was in the upper 70’s and sunny, cool enough so that the sand did not get too hot to walk on but warm enough for swimming. Unfortunately the surf got more choppy as the week went on, rough enought to slam the 5 y.o. boy into the beach. He got a little cut/scrape on his back but took it well. He also had the misfortune of a bug (probably mosquito) bite just under his eye, causing it to swell up.

We actually had some cash left over when we got back home AND we didn’t use our credit cards, which is a good thing. I could tell the price of gas was causing a significant drop in visitors, as places that were crowded last year turned out to be sparsely attended this year. The NC beaches rely on out-of-state visitors, and with travel costs so high the resorts are going to feel some economic pain this summer.

Speaking of pain, I will have to make a decision in a few weeks that will cause pain no matter which way I go. This recent beach trip was a “dry run” for a trip to Chicago in July we have been planning. Since the two younger kids came to live with us a year and a half ago, we have only made short (a few hours) trips in the van. My loyal reader may remember the plan to fly to Chicago this summer, but that was quashed when Skybus went belly up (we finally did get a full refund - yeah!).

While I love her to death, the 4 y.o.girl makes traveling very burdensome. She has a difficult time of sitting still/quiet in one place, and ends up getting in trouble either on her own or antagonizing her brother. When things do not go her way her typical response is to scream loudly, usually followed by crying. While the +13 hr. trip itself will be difficult at best, I’m also concerned that the houses we will be visiting/staying at are not equipped for preschoolers.

I have not visited Chicago in a couple of years, so I guess I’m “due” to see both of my parents. I keep coming back to the important factors for this decision: what is best for my immediate family, what is best for the girl, how do I spend my vacation time/money. The dry run this week confirmed some of my fears about extended travelling. I do not want to spend a week of yelling at the girl, yelling at the boys as they react to the girl’s misbehavior (or misbehave all on their own), having to worry about the kids breaking things or getting into stuff when we visit another house, and always feeling the stress of finding things for the kids to keep them occupied. Unfortunately there are no cousins their age to play with, as we seem to have hit the “between generations” period.

My parents don’t have much of a relationship with them now, as they may visit us about once a year (less for my dad), so building relationships should not be an overriding factor. They are also relatively young (66) and in good health, so we should have at least a few more years to visit. I could bring up expenses too (at least $300 just for gas @$4/gal) though we’re counting on Uncle Sam to cough up some $$ due to us.

Given more time I could come up with more justification for not going, but in the end it comes down to disappointing my folks vs. dealing with the needs of a smart, energetic and stubborn 4 y.o. girl. I can’t think of a friend she could travel with to help occupy her time. Her younger brother tends to stick to older brother. They (4 and 5 y.o.’s) will occasionally play well together, but more often than not it devolves into physical confrontations. She is about as big as he is, so there’s equal give-and-take. While we encourage the older brother (10 y.o.) to be the good big brother, he’s just not at the point where he can rein in both kids as well as himself.

There’s also this nagging feeling that I choose not to travel out of selfishness (laziness). Other parents faced the same challenges and managed to get through it, so I should too. Driving at night could alleviate some of the travelling problems, but I have a hard enough time staying awake during the day. At 70 mph one slip up can be deadly.

Should I stay or should I go?

Oldest boy turned 10 on April 8.  One of his presents was tickets to a Skillet concert.  They are wrapping up the “Comatose” tour, and after having to sit through it I’m still shaking off some of the comatosity myself.  Yes, I volunteered to take him to Charlotte for the show.  On Sunday after church we loaded up at the local Taco Bell and then headed down the road to Cricket Arena.

It was a 7:30 pm show.  We thought we needed to be there a few hours early to beat the crowds for a good seat as it was general admission seating.  When we got there at 2 pm, there were a few dozen people in line, so we dinked around town (since it was an hour and a half drive back home).  After about an hour we returned and things had not really changed.  I found a shady spot to sit down and read the paper while the boy explored around the outside of the auditorium.

By 3:30 we decided to stand in line, hoping they’d open the doors at 5:30.  They did not open until 6:30, making it a solid three hours of standing on a concrete walk.  We were able to get 4th row seats, and the total attendance may have reached a thousand.  Maybe.  I suppose that’s why they were in no hurry to open up the doors any earlier.

The first band, Decypher Down, had a lead and rhythym guitarist as well as a bass player, but you could not pick out anything “musical” beyond the crunch chords and pounding beat.  While these bands were billed as Christian, you could not discern that from the lyrics as they were unintelligible.  They did give a brief witness/praise at the end, so that was something.

Oh yeah … thank God for earplugs!!  The next band, Thousand Foot Krutch, was slightly better musically with one less guitarist, and you could make out a few more words, but otherwise it was more of the same.  I got to the point where I almost nodded off a few times in spite of the high volume, as the sound waves were numbing me to sleep.  Since I was looking forward to a long drive at night after the show, I decided to gut it out.

The youngster owns the recent Skillet CD (Comatose), and we naturally had to play it on the way to the show - it’s tradition.  I was familiar with some of the songs, and even got up out of my chair for a few of them.  They were fairly accomplished musicians, and I was able to pick up more (but not much) of the lyrics.  A few of the songs featured a cello player, something you usually don’t see at a “rock” show.

The boy enjoyed all of the bands, particularly Skillet.  He slept most of the way back, and by the grace of God I was able to make it without any nodding-off on the drive home.  We got back at 12:30, giving me a total of 16 hours wearing the same clothes/shoes.  I was the only one dressed there (in khakis and polo shirt) who looked like they came from church, but that’s OK as I was playing the “Dad chaperone” mode.

What struck me the most at the show were the “yutes”, as I don’t normally spend much time with teenagers.  Some had a “worldly” appearance, tattoes and piercings, and most wore black t-shirts and jeans or shorts.  Many of the t-shirts were ones with clever Christian messages, or ones from other Christian concerts.  I shouldn’t have been, but I was a little surprised to see the girls rocking along with the guys.  While some may call it Christian rock (and roll?), it was heavy metal.  I’ve been to enough of those shows (30 years ago - yikes!) to know it when I see it.

It’s the age-old question of how far do you go in the world and not be of the world.  The yutes have a tough time trying to fit in yet (hopefully) honoring the Lord, so I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt.  It didn’t look like the mosh pit was out-of control, so that was good.  I still wrestle with the concept of Christian heavy metal as it doesn’t seem to be a “joyful noise”, but the kids seemed pretty happy during the show.  Chalk it up to old-fartness.

[And the boy did say thank you when we got home - without prompting!  There is hope ...]

About a month ago it looked like the Taterbed family had a chance to turn the corner financially: take care of a few expensive projects around the house AND make significant cuts in Mr. Mastercard’s fat underbelly. Well, we had a few gut-punches but are still keeping our heads above water.

I had heard rumors about a substantial bonus from my previous employer, since we worked for them last year prior to being bought out last October and they had a profitable year. The new company also promised to make up for the three months the old company would not pay. I kept hearing the number “15%” and made plans. What I didn’t realize was that my “low” pay grade only allowed 2/3 of that, apparently since I get overtime (which has been cut back over the last few years). I’m trying to keep a happy face about it, as we got enough to take down an old tree in the backyard (big $$) and have a little extra. It doesn’t seem right that a peer/coworker would get a higher pay grade than me. All the OT pay does is give me some incentive to answer the phone at 2 am.

The second punch came last week after I had filed taxes electronically. At first I was looking at having to pay a few hundred, which is not a big deal as I’d rather pay a little than give Uncle Sam a free loan. When I included our two foster children as dependents (legally able to do so since they lived with us all year), it turns out that we would get several thousand back due to child tax credits. That also bumped up the “tax rebate” we would be getting from $1500 to $2100.

The day after filing I got an e-mail saying that my return had been rejected since someone else had already claimed the two children. We checked with DSS and found out it was not the agency, and that we have a legal right to claim them. So now we have to file by paper and then wait around to see if we get any money back, or if this gets challenged and they want the adjusted payment with interest since they probably won’t work on it until early fall.

The last punch came on Saturday, when we found out Skybus had gone belly-up. We had planned on taking the kids to Chicago on their first flight ever in July, so Kristal purchased cheap fare tickets ($10!) as soon as they were released (as there were a limited number of them) and spent about $300. We ended up tacking on a few charges for reserved seating and flight insurance. I doubt the flight insurance has anything to do with the airline declaring bankruptcy, though, so we’re in line with thousands of others at the credit card company hoping for a refund. At least partial.

Now we have to decide how to take a 13 hour car ride with three knuckle-heads in the back seats, and it looks like the gas for the trip will be at least $300. It’s funny how things like this can have you examine your faith and trust in God. Funny. I am thankful He gives me the strength to rise up for these challenges.

Last week the ruling for the final appeal by the mother of our two (currently foster) kids was issued and delivered at the original (county) court.  The state supreme court voted 3-0 against, so the children are now available for adoption.  DSS will start the wheels turning (i.e. paperwork), though there is talk about subcontracting out our home-study.  I don’t know what’s involved in the home-study, but the fact that they would hire someone else to do it sounds like it’s involved.

On Sunday night Kristal and I talked to the boy (5) and girl (4) about adoption.  They took it much better than I anticipated.  I did not expect much from the girl, as she’s still too young to bother with anything beyond the next few minutes in her life.  The boy surprised me by knowing the difference between foster and adoption, having his name changed, remembering the different places he has lived, and just his overall acceptance of it.

I think the big difference maker for him is having an older brother he adores.  Well, maybe not so much adores but he does love him and looks to him for many things.  I did not have a big brother, and my little brother was young enough and insulated by two sisters in between us so that I did not have much to do with him while we were growing up.  Their age difference is 4 while my younger brother is 6 years younger.  It may not sound like much of a difference but it was back then.

Over the last few months I have enjoyed a better relationship with the 5 y.o. boy, as I’m finally starting to understand what makes him tick.  He’s not very expressive (particularly when he’s in trouble!) and tends to turn to Kristal whenever he has a need, so I’ve had to find my spots.  The girl is easy to love in spite of her hard-headedness, and I’m looking forward to having a strong relationship with her including lots of fun father-daughter activities.

It has been interesting to observe the dynamics between the three kids.  I thought at first the two younger ones would band together and shut out everyone else, but that has not happened at all.  The boy is at a point in his life where girls are icky, but they will occasionally play together.  She can get bossy and he hates to be bossed around by her, thus playtimes are shortened once in a while.

I have had to intervene when the boys play together and exclude the girl.  Every now and then the older boy will play with the girl and exclude the 5 y.o. boy, so it bounces back and forth.  For now the two younger ones have not shunned the older brother, as they typically compete for his attention.  He probably would not care if they tried to shun him, anyhow.

We are hoping that we will all be a legal (court approved and certified) Tater family by September.  I still feel pangs about taking them away from their birth mother, as I got to hear from her directly on how much she loves and misses them during the hearing last year.  Unfortunately she could not take care of the problems that caused her to lose the kids.  I feel this guilt moreso than with our 9 y.o. boy, as his birth mother was just a teenage girl who could not take care of herself.

I pray for both of these women, for God to give them comfort and reassurance that their babies are loved in a good home and will grow to be strong men and woman.

Does a post a month make for a blog?  A quite meager one at that.  Better take advantage of the blog-muse hitting me …

- Next month will mark 8 years of living in the same house.  I find it hard to believe, as it’s twice as long as any stay we have made, and (of course) the time has flown by.  I don’t know if change is in the air, but it’s nice not having to pack the junk and move it somewhere else.  I have looked into a few opportunities to make more money, but they were local and did not involve a move.  I’m sure there’s a nice enough salary out there to convince me to move, but I don’t know how much or where or even if I’m up for finding it.

-  Lady Spud had bunion surgery a week ago, and her check-up with the doctor yesterday went OK.  It’s been “fun” managing the household  She’s at the point of really wanting to do stuff, though talking with her today I could tell she’s overdoing it because of her foot pain.  I have been to the library for movies and free magazines (one of her favorite pastimes is to tear out magazine articles) for her, but she is more than ready to go out and about.  Fortunately she chuckled when I said I was worried about some of the fast-food places around town feeling a pinch since she could not get out to them.

- One of the movies from the library was Master and Commander (with Russell Crowe).  We watched the first half hour of it before supper, and it looked great on the big screen TV.  Once the kids were in bed (and American Idol was over) I was somewhat surprised that she did not want to watch the rest of it with me.  I asked several times, and she declined each time.  I enjoyed the rest of it last night, but it was not until this morning I figured out her reluctance.  It’s definitely not a chick-flick, and as a matter of fact there’s only one scene where a (native) Indian woman in a canoe makes a brief appearance on screen.  Otherwise it’s manly men at sea, fighting for God and country.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that …

- This is the first year in several that I’ve not blogged about the phenomenon known as American Idol.  The favorites have been singled out, and we’ll have the usual drama about people deserving to be voted off who remain and vice versa.  I just wished they would find some other songs besides the old tired ones they keep trotting out.  And Beatles songs don’t count!

- I might go more into depth about the presidential election if the spirit moves me.  It looks like the election is going against trends in that a senator will be elected.  Senators typically do not make good candidates for president.  My main beef with the ones left standing is their lack of leadership experience/accomplishments.  The PotUS essentially runs a very large company-organization, and those without leadership skills will struggle once they sit in the Oval Office.  While people lambaste Pres. Bush, he did go into the job with experience both in private business as well as being a governor, and it served him well (enough to get him re-elected).  Leadership in military affairs will also be very important, as things are still unsettled in Arab Oil-landia.

Yes, I’m still alive. A discussion of “Comanche Moon” to follow after excuses.

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Rumors of the death of this blog were not exaggerated, since nobody was making any rumors. Over the five years on the blogosphere I’ve seen ‘em come and go, and it has been interesting to watch the life and course of various blogs. For a few years we (Axis of Weevil) had a great community, but after the axle (PossumPapa) snapped and left, the community has not been the same.

If you have the time blogs can be great fun as you build a group of like-minded bloggers, and if you have a boring job and internet access it can be a mind saver. I had been in that situation the last few years, but starting this year I am working for a new company that does not seem to tolerate “loose surfin’”. I have also been extremely busy the last few weeks as most of the computers in my location have been changed, and the yoho’s who set up the system screwed it up to begin with. After two weeks I’m getting to the point where I can at least re-build a computer to their “standards”. I still have much work to do in getting our file/folder setup switched over to the new server.

Anywhozitz, what I’m trying to say is that posts will be less frequent, particularly those about my everyday life. I’d love to have the time to relate the joys and frustrations that come raising three young’uns with a stay-at-home mom and a very limited budget. I still plan to use this site as a repository for TUG, my lessons for the almost ten year old boy, as I try to steer him towards responsible teenage/manhood behavior. Who knows what the future may hold …

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Kristal and I are big “Lonesome Dove” fans. We have the three-pack DVD collection (Lonesome Dove/Streets of Laredo/Dead Man’s Walk) and will occasionally watch one. The original is the best, and when I think “cowboy” it’s Robert Duvall’s version of Augustus McCrae that comes to my mind. I still tear-up on some of the scenes after all of these years, and after watching “Comanche Moon” this week I’m looking forward to seeing “Lonesome Dove” again. It’s the role he was meant to play (he almost played Capt. Call when the project first started) and it’s a shame he only played the part once.

I would rate “Comanche Moon” somewhere in the middle of the 5 Lonesome Dove tales (”Return to Lonesome Dove” being the fifth title). They’re all pretty good, though I’d rate “Streets of Laredo” a little below “Lonesome Dove” but ahead of the others. We unfortunately had to excuse the almost-ten year old boy out of the room, as his 9:30 bedtime would have given him 30 minutes to watch some of “Comanche Moon”, and I’m not comfortable with him watching it or the others until he’s probably a teen, as some of the scenes can get mature.

But that was life out in the Old West. It amazes me (as a “modern” man) how people not only survived but thrived in such conditions and conquered the land west of the Mississippi. Which brings me to the post title. In the second night the Comanches raided Austin and raped Pearl. Her husband, Long Bill Coleman, rushes home to see if she’s OK. While he’s happy to see her alive, she starts getting defensive and in a round-about way blaming him for not being there when she needed him (he was out rangering).

As he’s trying to process the guilt and show his love for her, she later springs her plan: he should become a preacher so he won’t have to leave town. Long Bill is just a simple cowboy/ranger, has no Bible knowledge, can’t read, and knows he’d never make it having to get up in front of people every week. He’s so tired before bed that he can’t even get his boots off.

In the morning Pearl wakes up alone, and then finds him hanging from a tree as he committed suicide. At the commercial break Kristal asked me “Why did he kill himself?”, and I just mumbled a response about how you never know what goes through someone’s mind. This question has haunted me this week, though, as I consider my own life and where I’m at (yeah, typical middle-age crap!).

Long Bill had two things that propped up his life: he was a good Ranger and he loved Pearl. In one night he was looking at the prospect of losing both and didn’t know what else to do. Why did Buffalo Hump go on his spirit journey, knowing he’d be killed? How did Captain Scoll keep alive in conditions that broke and killed most other men? Did Maggie let herself get sick and die over Capt. Call’s lack of love?

I suppose I should read the book and have more time to reflect on possible answers. For now I’m wrestling with answers for my own life. Am I just treading water and not accomplishing what I should be capable of? Do I use the kids as an excuse to not make the extra effort for a “career”? Am I even spending enough quality time with them? Sorry to end on a negative note, but the last few weeks have been h-e-double toothpicks, yet I realize in about a month or less things will die down and I’ll be contemplating my navel again in front of a computer screen. Am I killing myself slowly? Why? Do I have it in me for one last big drive? Am I more than a conqueror? God help me.

With the new big-screen TV at the Taterbed, we do not have the capability of watching video tapes.  Older movies, particularly the holiday “chestnuts”, are typically on tape, so we have to decide whether to watch on the old small TV, buy a DVD version or just go without.  My favorite Christmas movie, White Christmas with Crosby, Kaye, Clooney and Ellen was scheduled to be shown on one of the local channels I can get in with my antenna, in HD.

 It was with eager anticipation that I tuned in the movie, and the opening scenes were great.  You could see the background details of the beautiful sets as well as the nuances of the facial expressions better.  With a broadcast like this you expect about 7 minutes of movie followed by about 4 minutes of commercials.  When they returned from the first commercial break, it seemed like some dialogue was missing, but I didn’t mind too much.

 The next scene was the famous “Sisters” duet.  After the song they chat at the table (boy-girl, boy-girl), and then Kaye and Ellen get up to dance so the other two can talk.  At this point the number “The Best Things Happen When You’re Dancing” starts, but they cut to commercial just before it was supposed to start.  I’m not a big fan of dance, but I really enjoy watching them use the whole set.

 As it turned out they had cut out the whole dance number, and I was understandably upset.  I then had to put one of the youngsters to bed, so I missed a chunk of the movie and retuned at the point where the gang meets in the club car on the train.  As nice as Bing Crosby sings all of the songs in the movie, I love to hear him sing “Snow”.  Once again, they stopped the movie just before the start of ”Snow” for a commercial break, and then after the commercial they were in Vermont.  Ther had cut out the “Snow” number!!

 It was at that point I left the room and could not watch anymore.  It should be illegal to cut out so much from a movie.  Instead I went to the Amazon site and found some satisfaction that will hopefully be delivered soon.  My favorite version of a Christmas Carol with Albert Finney may be in the box too.

Well, they’re at it again, trying to hammer speculation and inference down our throats. Foxnews gave a report on some propaganda from the online edition of the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. EVOLUTION IS ACCELERATING! Watch out or it may crash!

As a (formerly) well-trained scientist, I was under the impression that evolution arises from mutations, where a mutation is some unexpected change in a living organism (i.e. a newborn with a second eye where only one was expected, lungs where there used to be gills). Let’s see if this report describes mutations:

Most anthropologists agree that humans first evolved in Africa and then spread to other areas, and the lighter skin color of Europeans and Asians is generally attributed to selection to allow more absorption of vitamin D in colder climates where there is less sun.The increase in human population from millions to billions in the last 10,000 years accelerated the rate of evolution because “we were in new environments to which we needed to adapt,” (Henry C.) Harpending (an anthropologist at the University of Utah) adds. “And with a larger population, more mutations occurred.”

In another example, the researchers noted that in China and most of Africa, few people can digest fresh milk into adulthood.

Lighter skin color, need to adapt, better able to digest milk … sounds like selection rather than evolution to me. Anyone who has worked with farm animals and husbandry can tell you the difference. Modern turkeys today raised on a factory farm barely resemble their wild “cousins”. The farm turkeys are so top-heavy from their enlarged chests (more white meat!) that they run the risk of literally falling and not being able to get back up. That is selection and not a mutation.

Two years ago Harpending and colleague Gregory M. Cochran published a study arguing that above-average intelligence in Ashkenazi Jews — those of northern European heritage — resulted from natural selection in medieval Europe, where they were pressured into jobs as financiers, traders, managers and tax collectors. Those who were smarter succeeded, grew wealthy and had bigger families to pass on their genes, they suggested. That evolution also is linked to genetic diseases such as Tay-Sachs and Gaucher in Jews.

It’s funny (strange) how in the same paragraph they go from “natural selection” to “that evolution”. I think it’s more than just semantics, as there is this desire from anthropologists and others to actually put their hands on something they can call “evolution”, rather than relying on digging stuff out of the ground and dealing with gaps in the ‘logical’ progression of amoebas to men.

While it’s fascinating to see how man has changed over the millenia, let’s not delude ourselves into thinking we’re evolving. God has blessed men with plenty of variety and different capabilities in order to survive and thrive in the different parts of the world He created.