Are Sharkicanes Next?

A few years back, some cocaine fueled movie producers got together and bounced around some ideas for a movie. They thought, maybe comedy or horror or science fiction - something like that. Jaws made a lot of money and shark movies boiled off the franchise in doves. Someone else suggested a disaster movie. A lot of people love disaster movies. Then someone who obviously was one toke over the line, said, "Why not combine Jaws and Twister; call it say, "Tornado-sharks!"

"It doesn't have the ring of a good disaster film."

"What if we have a tornado pick up a whole bunch of sharks and drop them on people in Los Angeles?  Call it Sharknado!"

"Brilliant!" shouted the third producer. And it was off to the races with sequels that struck LA again, Florida, and sent the hero, surfer and bar owner Fin Shepherd and his surfer chick girlfriend April all over the world. Wherever they go in the 5 sequels more sharknadoes would break out around them. The world is destroyed except for Fin who then time travels in the last installment, rescues a bunch of key people and saves the world.

Now, I don't want to upset anyone, but I watched a documentary about tornadoes a while back and I'm concerned. Apparently, if these two hurricanes cranking up in the Atlantic and Pacific cross paths, there could be water spouts that draw sharks up into the hurricanes and when these hurricanes make landfall sharks actually could be dumped all over what the movie producers called "The Feast Coast"  from Florida to Texas. Now, this isn't the problem that I'm having exactly. I know that between gangs with stores of illegal guns in LA and Texans who are some of the most heavily armed Americans. So both places have adequate ammunition and sufficient stores of spices to handle the situation. 

 

The problem in the states that will be struck would be working out the bag limits on flying sharks. I can't afford to get into any trouble with the game wardens. Can you even shoot flying sharks, when they exit the sharkicane or do you have to wait till they make land fall? Is there a tag I need to buy in the event of a 2020 sharkicane? 

 

If anyone has any information about how to get flying shark hunting licenses, let me know. It will be very much appreciated. 

 

© 2023 by Tom King

How They Made The Canterville Ghost Better Than Oscar Wilde's Original

Why I Like What Some Screenwriters Do to the Stories They Base Their Movies On.

Just finished watching the 1944 movie, The Canterville Ghost and then went back and refreshed my memory of the original Oscar Wilde story from which it was drawn. There have been other versions, but I like the '44 outing with Margaret O'Brien and Robert Montgomery. It is the kindest version of the lot. 

First of all in the movie, Sir Simon is only guilty of cowardice. In the book he murdered his wife in cold blood along with 4 other people who died as a result of his prodigious haunting ability. He is an evil spirit and lies and manipulates the daughter of the American minister's family who have come to live in Canterville Chase while working for the American government. Sir Simon delights in pointing out the hypocrisy of the minister. This is not in any way a story to create good feelings between the British and Americans.

The '44 movie version, on the other hand, is set during WWII and the story is adjusted to promote good feelings between the Brits and their American cousins jammed into southern England preparatory to crossing the channel into France. In the story, a platoon of Army Rangers take up residence in the castle and are confronted by the ghost. The soldiers aren't intimidated by the ghost and drive into a corner in deep depression. Margaret O'Brien who is delightful as the Lady Jessica DeCanterville, meets her spectral  ancestor and sets about to help him find a brave relative to help him end the curse.

The original story also has a female character, Virginia Otis, whom Sir Simon manipulates into helping him cross over to the other side. Given his track record, I suspect that bright light he goes into are the fires of hell, but that's just me. Wilde seemed to be saying that the unrepentant Simon managed to manipulate his way to heaven without having to repent of murdering his wife.

One of the American soldiers in the '44 movie, Cuffy Williams, played by Robert Montgomery, turns out to be a descendant of the Cantervilles and as such can do a heroic deed in Sir Simon's name and free his spirit to rest in the garden behind the pines. He overcomes his own fear, does the heroic deed proving that all Cantervilles are not cowards and frees Sir Simon's spirit from the curse his father had put upon him when he was walled up in the closet. This Simon did repent and was more of a hapless victim than the Oscar Wilde Simon. 

I think the movie is way better than Oscar Wilde's cynical version. Wilde, a gay socialist and aesthetic, never wrote anything I cared for other than ones that screenwriters managed to give happy endings like Canterville. The poor man kept looking for God, but didn't seem terribly interested in obtaining forgiveness or changing his ways. Wishful thinking may explain why Sir Simon in his story manages to take advantage of a pure hearted girl and a letter of the law ritual. Wilde attempted to do much the same by doing a last minute Catholic conversion and last rites on his deathbed. 

I like movies with happy endings. So sue me!

Tom King
© 2023
                                              

I Think Angels Took Pity on Me

The scene of the action. I worked in the mop
shop on the left side of the brown building.
Doc Ward's shop was behind us less than a quarter
mile. The station where I bought Mission Orange
Grape Nehi and, of course, Dr. Pepper is the white
building at the far left which often sold gas at 17¢ a 
gallon when he got into a price war with the station
across the street where Mom bought baloney.*

My friend John worked at one of my hometown's ubiquitous broom shops. Doc Ward had a shop on College Drive where John, now a respectable dentist, worked. I worked just down the street making mops for EK Birdwell. Everybody pretty much had a job in Keene, Texas. At one point it was the per capita most heavily industrialized college town in America someone figured. It was mostly because we worked our way through high school and college to pay our tuition.

John had warned me before I went to work at the mop shop to watch out for the pranks they liked to play on new guys. So, my second day at Birdwell's, the guys tried to send me down to Doc Ward's to borrow back our "handle stretcher." There was a whole, unnecessarily detailed story about mop handles that had been cut too short that went with the request. We worked strictly on piece time so a trip down to Doc's would not earn me a nickel and back then, I could get a bottle of Grape Nehi for a nickel. My thrifty soul, smelled a rat. 

So, I asked the if they wanted #2 or #4 stretching oil to go with it and by their smirks I knew I'd dodged one of those get-the-new-guy pranks. Later they tried to send me to the broom shop for a yarn stretcher. I used the time to step over to the gas station next door for a 16 oz.  Mission Orange. When I got back, I told Rocky who was on his third attempt to "get me" that the broom shop guys had put it under his mop machine. Rocky actually looked under the machine for a second before he caught himself.

For some reason I managed to avoid pranks. I think my guardian angel looked out for me. Tommy Lewis attempted to rig my mop taping and trimming station so that when you pulled the handle release it dumped a big box of mop yarn clippings on your head. Unfortunately (for him) I was over on the mop making machine learning how to make mops that day and EK came in to get a mop sample to put on one of the trucks. He wanted to make sure the sample was perfect and I don't think he trusted any of us to do it right. 

Anyway, E.K. shoved the mop's handle up into the catch above him, taped and trimmed the mop and then gave the release rope a big jerk. A cascade of white mop fuzz rained down on his head. He did not look happy. I managed to look duly shocked and thus avoided retribution. I was laughing so hard inside, however, I think I was internally hemorrhaging. Tommy on the other hand looked like a cat trying to pretend it hadn't just eaten the canary while having yellow feathers sticking out of his whiskers.

While working at summer camp, I had two pranksters go after me. I suppose I looked a likely target. My soon-to-be buddy, the young not-yet-a-doctor Allen tried putting jalapenos and bay leaves in my pancakes, but the kitchen staff, whose aid in the prank he'd enlisted, switched the poisoned pancakes and stuck some extra bay leaves in the ones they gave him. There's no taste quite like onion jalapeno chili powder bay leaf pancakes with butter and syrup. Jack ran choking and gagging across the dining area to the water fountain. It took him 3 days to get rid of the taste. He even apologized to me afterward for even thinking of such a thing.

Another prankster dumped water on one of the kitchen girls after he failed to pull off the old glass balanced on a nail gag on me. He picked the wrong victim. The next day the cook called him aside while one of the girls swapped his glass of red Kool-Aid for a glass of onion juice with red food coloring and ice in it. Tim took a big swig of it while the campers were singing the prayer song. The camp director fixed him with an icy stare when he started coughing and sputtering and he had to wait till the song was over before staggering to the water fountain to spend an unpleasant half hour trying and clear his palate.

I learned from all this that you never prank your boss, the kitchen staff, the bookkeeping staff or the innocent. Angels are watching and the word "karma" is probably derived from observation of the likely gleeful angelic works of retribution perpetrated upon naughty persons.

© 2023 by Tom King

*The photo above was taken from the parking lot of Ada's Cafe across the street from the mop shop, where I would on rare occasions buy myself breakfast or lunch of a warm Sunday morning, taking a considerable chunk out of my pitiful wages for the week. But boy howdy, the woman could cook!

Shopping With My Sweetie

Lost in Walmart

Since you'll be incommunicado all weekend and we could hardly hear each other, I thought I'd tell you this story before I forget it. We went shopping yesterday. It was social security check day for everybody, so Walmart was packed. We got lucky and I got a mobility cart for Mom. We'd already walked to the Ross store and then to Panda Express and then over to Walmart so she was fading fast. We put our folding camp chairs in the basket. (Walmart has taken away the outside benches during CoVid and never put them back, so we take our own chairs to wait for the return bus). Also loaded the bag from Ross, and Mom's purse in there. This info is important to the story. Mom took off in the electric cart and I waited around to see if anyone dropped off another cart on their way out. My knees have had it so when I can get off them it helps. My left knee has a big dent in it where the cartilage has worn away and left it bone on bone. I now understand why Grandpa used to walk the way he did. I walk like that now. Anyway nobody gave up a cart, so I took off with the shopping basket full of stuff looking for your Mom. The woman can disappear faster than a Navy SEA:L in full camo in the middle of a jungle. I searched for her for quite a while, bought some clearance sale chrysanthemums and scanned the retail horizon before me. No sign of my Sweet Baboo. Then I got a bright idea. I'd call her phone and get her to tell me where she was. To my surprise and relief, when I called, I heard her the distinctive sound of her phone ringing somewhere up ahead of me. So off I went trying to find the source of the sound. She wasn't answering her phone so I figured I'd follow the ringing. I have her set up with an old-fashioned telephone ring so it's quite loud and easily to identify. Still, I couldn't quite track down the source of the ringing. It seemed to move here and there ahead of me. When the phone went to voice mail, I called again. The ringing sounded really close by so I took off again in pursuit. This time it sounded like she was in the cleaning supplies (not surprising), so I hurried on hoping to catch her. She still wasn't answering her phone. Again the phone went to voicemail and stopped ringing. I called again from the sour cream and yogurt section. This time it sounded like the ringing of her phone was coming from behind the back wall. I circled back found those double swinging employee doors going back into the stock room. I opened it a little and it sounded like she was back there somewhere. So I turned my cart around and parked it by the door. I rang her phone again. This time the ringing had moved off, to the left again sounding like it was moving but now moving behind the back wall of the store. I hurried to follow, hoping she'd pop out somewhere. Finally, I came to the shoe section. "Aha!" I said, knowing she'd been looking at shoes earlier. I reached the end of the back aisle and turned left onto the sneakers aisle. Again the ring tone seemed move quickly cutting across my path coming out from behind the wall. moving behind the display shelves ahead and settled on a new course somewhere up ahead somewhere. By chance, as I accelerated to catch up with her, I glanced down into the basket and stopped. My eye caught sight of a brown bag with MAMA written on it in big letters. A sudden awareness began to dawn on me. This was Sheila's handbag there in the front of my basket. And what would be in her handbag? Wallet, hand sanitizer, hairbrush, perfume, her medications, and..............................................................oh nuts! Her phone! I'd been frantically following the sound of her phone ringing at me from the front of my shopping cart trying to keep up with a phantom wife. I'm getting too old to keep up with a shopping wife. So, I went to the Subway at the front of the store, bought a drink and sat down to wait. Sure enough, in about twenty minutes, I heard my name being paged to come to the fitting room to meet my wife. I stumbled back across the store to find my sweetie perusing the clearance rack. We managed to escape Walmart once we joined forces and got out for just under $200. She says she's going to quit going shopping because she spends too much money. I'm not helping much. She shops by picking up things, trundling around for a while and then putting it back on the shelf because she thinks she's spending too much. Earlier she'd put back some shoes and some lavender hand lotion. Coming along behind her, I picked up the discarded items and carried them along with me on the side where she couldn't see them to the checkout stand. While the cashier was ringing up her stuff, I slipped the shoes and lavender lotion onto the counter while she was looking for something in her purse. I can't stand for her to not get what she wants. Us guys are like that. Our wives put up with so much from us, we jump at any opportunity to spoil them just a bit. We guys have no idea how to get in her head and just know what she needs or wants. So, if we see that she wants something, we jump on it. Notice that women and men express love in different ways. Women read your mind and do things for their men before they ask. It is their highest form of love. Sheila buys stuff for me that I didn't know I needed. Men on the other hand, express love by deed - I'll climb the highest mountain, fight tigers, cross blazing deserts and raging rivers. Our expressions of love are things we can do that we know how to do. We're lousy at guessing what women want. We don't read minds. Tell us and we're on the job. It's the nature of men and women. Men do goal directed stuff. Women build nests and social circles. Men are outwardly focused against the threats from the world against their wives and families. Women are inwardly focused, trying to make everyone in the circle, if not, happy, at least safe, alive and breathing. So guys like me follow our wives' handbags around Walmart, rescuing shopping discards and trying to figure out how to make them feel special. I'm going to go ice down my knees now. She's taking a nap. All is well in our little world.

Taking a Stand Against Spiritual Bullies

I grew up having to deal with bullies. I was a skinny kid with horn-rimmed glasses (usually taped) and made good grades. I might as well have worn a target on my chest. My small 10 grade public school got all the kids that were kicked out of the larger church school. The teachers used to put all the honor roll kids on the front rows as a kind of human shield against the barbarians in the back. My Mom must have worried that I had hemophilia I came home with blood on me so often.

From that experience, however, I learned to be mule-headed and somewhat indifferent to pain. I still have a knot on my forehead where a kid pushed me face-first into a concrete wall. I think he cracked my skull. In those days you didn't have CAT scans for that sort of thing and doctors were very expensive. You learned to be resilient and you get very tired of knuckling under to bullies. You also learn all sorts of subversive ways to resist them.

As an adult you expect that you won't have to put up with that sort of thing. Sadly, bullying takes on a different form among grownups, but bullies still exist. Spiritual bullying is the most pernicious form of bullying I think. It happens in religion, politics and culture one way and another. Resisting these people can be every bit as difficult as standing up to a giant 5th grade thug.

In church it's the bony-fingered self-righteous who use their position's power to intimidate others to get their own way. We've all met the woman or man that Ray Stevens, in his song Mississippi Squirrel Revival called "Sister Bertha Better Than You." In politics, it's the use of political power to crush any opposition through legal means, bureaucratic intimidation or by silencing those who speak out against whatever they are up to.

In the culture, it ranges from the homeowner's association that tries to fine you for flying a flag. I know of an HOA that tried to fine homeowner's for planting their rose bushes. Another tried to fine a woman recovering from cancer because she was two weeks late mowing her grass. I've seen community members who threaten you because they think you raised funds for a local nonprofit organization without getting permission from whoever thinks they are in charge of that sort of thing. Happened to me a couple of times.

In this day and age, as we close in on the end of time, I am reminded of Christ's admonition that we need to stand strong in such times as these. It's can be hard to do that. Often there is a price to be paid. An Air Force colonel named John Boyd used to tell the pilots he trained that they faced a choice of two paths. Along one they could do what was good for the Air Force. Along the other, you could play the political games. Play the game and you could count on steady advancement, awards and a long career.  Do what is right and, Boyd told them, you can expect you'll never be promoted beyond colonel. 

There is a price to be paid to stand for the right, though the heavens fall. Your reward may not come in this world, but God is watching and the reward he offers for your faithfulness is far beyond the rewards of men.

Jesus once told his disciples a story. It was about Pharisees who stood on a corner praying to God and thanking Him that they were better than other men who were simply praying for God's mercy. Jesus said, plainly, "They have had their reward."  

That's all they'll get it seems. For those who like David, Jonathan, Gideon, the disciples and Jesus Himself, who stand for what is right, like a tree planted by the waters, shall not be moved. For these brave souls, there is a reward beyond measure waiting. For the bullies? They have had their reward.

© 2023 by Tom King
 

 

Christian Filmmakers Making Believers Out of the Film Industry

 

Jonathan Roumie in The Jesus Revolution

 

A New Christian movie from Lionsgate studios called "The Jesus Revolution" starring Kelsey Grammar and Jonathan Roumie (who plays Jesus in The Chosen) opened in fewer than 2500 theaters on its first weekend and grossed 16 million dollars. The second weekend nearly doubled that earning 30 million dollars on a budget of just 15 million. And word of mouth has been responsible for most of that volume at the box office. It also looks like maverick Christian film producers like Dallas Jenkins over at Angel Studios are also making enough of a profit to fund several future movies that appeal to Christian audiences. Profits from The Chosen as well as other projects Angel Studios is releasing over the coming year include an animated feature about the life of David, the Israelite King, a children's animated television series and though most people don't know it, they produce the Youtube hit, Drybar Comedy that features clean comics performing in, of all places, Provo, Utah.

With the work they've done on "The Chosen", Angel Studios has opened a breath of fresh air upon the Christian film industry and given more mainstream studios like Lionsgate the courage to take a risk on Christian-themed projects. The Christian film industry has been doing some very nice work on pretty tight crowd-funded budgets the last few years. They've even drawn some mainstream acting talent like Ed Asner, John Ratzenberger, Kevin Sorbo, Jim Caviezel, Mira Sorvino, Tyler Perry, Sean Astin, Patricia Heaton, Roma Downey, Kirk Cameron, Dean Cain, Stephen Baldwin, Eric Roberts, Kelsey Grammar, Lee Majors, Eric Avari, Randy Travis, Dean Cain and Candace Cameron Bue. Christian film also provides work for a host of new talented young actors and actresses willing to risk the wrath of Hollywood's distinctly anti-Christian culture. Hallmark and the Lifetime Channel have upped the depth of the faith-based films they produce, seemingly a bit less hesitant to address prayer, church-going and Christian values than they once were.

Jesus and His disciples - The Chosen

 My wife and I are watching The Chosen over and over every weekend the way we all did when Star Wars came out in the 70s. The series is just that compelling. Christians can't get enough and even hardened criminals find themselves drawn to a Jesus who is approachable, kindly, and joyful with a sense of humor to boot. This Jesus is one they can imagine themselves following. They can see a reflection of themselves in his very human disciples and for the first time in their lives, this collection of tough guys and hard cases can imagine themselves following Christ themselves.

Christian film is growing out of its awkward stage. The burgeoning faith-based film genre has delivered performances in the past 20 years that rival the quality of mainstream films of 20 or more years ago. I've lately seen performances and stories that for quality beat lots of today's mainstream films with much larger budgets. Christian films often tell compelling stories, many of them based on true stories. And they do it all on achingly tight budgets, while managing to look professional while doing it.

Eric Avari as Nicodemus in his secret meeting with Christ

The genre is learning its craft and producing some surprisingly wonderful films. The Chosen has even become a very popular television choice in Texas prisons with inmates stumbling around the day room engrossed in their computer tablets as they binge on season one. Violence has decreased dramatically over the weeks since the new inmate computer tablets were distributed to the men. Soon, word spread throughout the cell blocks that "The Chosen" was "...something you've gotta see, man!" Church attendance went up. An altar call at TDCJ's Coffield Unit last weekend resulted in 30 to 40 inmates coming forward to follow Jesus. Episode 1 of season 2 (only season 1 is available on the tablets so far) packed the chapel this weekend when the chaplain held a special showing.

Something is a' brewing out there; the kind of signs Jesus told us to watch for, I'm thinking. I hope we can take back the part of our culture that finds stories about faith and belief a thing worth watching and supporting. From the number of films crowd funded by independent donors and people who send in their 5 dollars because they want to see a movie they can feel good about seeing, film-makers seem to have discovered a way to produce movies that don't necessarily appeal to jaded Hollywood producers. It seems millions of movie-goers and non-movie goers are willing to put up their own cash to see wholesome films that lift the spirit, instead of being stuck with movies that glorify violence, illicit sex and crime. 

 

Lately, the proverbial fig tree has been putting forth leaves so to speak. This makes me happy.

 

© 2023 by Tom King

A Very Funny Guy

Micah leading the singing of the girl's team's fight song.

It's been more than a decade since the terrible day our beloved son, Micah died. I did CPR for 30 minutes while waiting for the ambulance and couldn't bring him back. It was the worst day of my life and I've had plenty of bad days. Sheila and I got through that day but it feels strange. It doesn't seem like more than a decade since we last heard him drive up in the driveway after work and burst through the front door looking for something to eat. In many ways our lives fell apart in the aftermath - Sheila's illness, our jobs went away, we lost our home, moved far from our families, passed through poverty, homelessness, our other son sick and in prison because of it. We lost most everything of worldly value that we have worked for. 

Gray day at the beach - Micah scooping up the ocean with a fork.

And here we stand, trusting in God that all things do, in fact, work together for good to them that love God. The devil doesn't like anyone who passes through the fire and clings to their faith in spite of it. Our daughter and son-in-law, however, are pillars of the church and are doing well. Sheila's health is stabilized. It doesn't mean the challenges are done, but we face them trusting in Jesus. We can do nothing else here at the world's end, save stand and fight. Thank you all for your many prayers and your wonderful support in our hours of need. We love you all and pray for you constantly. God bless you all. Here are a couple of stories friends sent me about Micah. They give me courage.

• 

  Micah & Jordan in Mexico
  

  I often think of Micah, and his beautiful love for Christ and others. I still will never forget the Mexico trip we were both on, and our bus arrived at this out-of-the way area with small cabins and a main building. The only food sent on the bus was an entire box of flour tortillas... So around 6:00 PM that night, Micah came to my cabin, and said, ""I've been foraging for food, Paula, and I have found a really old bull roaming this property! Now I know a lot of folks here are vegetarian, but come sun-up, I think most of 'em would change their minds and eat BEEF Fajitas!". Then he added with resignation, "Besides, it's an old bull, And since I've got this (brandishing a large Bowie knife), I think I can take him! So If Harley and the food hasn't shown up by midnight, I'm killing the bull, and prepping him! All I need you to do is get a fire going on this brick-built grill, while these guys (motioning to a few young college kids) can gather fire wood for you!" - Paula Westbrook

• 

  Micah "The Wall" King
  

  In 1993 our son Micah played basketball for Keene High
  School. The boys team played first and then the girls played. I think this game was at Blum, Texas - big Keene Charger rivals. Between games one of the girls on the team complained to Micah that the girls always rooted (loudly) for the boys team, but the guys didn't seem interested in supporting the girls when they were on the court. As the girls team took the court, Micah rounded up the boys, stood them up and led the Keene crowd in singing the girls team's fight song. Someone took a picture of the moment (top of the page). That's Micah on the far right with the Big Dog sign in his hand, singing his heart out for the girls. 
  

• 

  Micah playing shark with our daycare kids.
  

  Micah worked at Little Caesar's Pizza while he was in high school. He and a friend managed the store by themselves. His partner one day was in the back making a pizza when he heard the bell on the door jingle he waited to hear Micah greet the customer. After a while he went to the front to see what was going on. A customer stood at the counter. Micah was nowhere in sight. Micah's partner went to the counter and said, "Welcome to Little Caesar's." He nearly jumped out of his pants when he felt a tug at his cuff. He stepped back and look down to see Micah, all 6'3", 280 pounds of him folded up inside the space under the counter, grinning from ear to ear.  Micah's partner had no idea what to do next. He wound up taking the customer's order and pretending there was nothing wrong. When he went back to make the customer's order, Micah crawled out from under the counter and acted as if nothing were out of the ordinary for your friendly neighborhood Little Caesar's. The poor customer looked utterly confused, but sat quietly till his pizza came out. Micah had a weird sense of humor.

• 

  Micah with his Boys & Girls Club kids
  

   A mother approached us at Micah's memorial. Her elementary school son played the trumpet. He had been invited to play a trumpet solo at the First Baptist Church, the second largest church in Tyler. He was terrified. He confided his fears with Micah during Boys & Girls Club after school the week before. Micah encouraged the boy to go ahead and play. He shared stories with the boy of his own struggles with stage fright. He sometimes would shake so hard, people on the stage could feel the floor vibrate. What Micah did for the little trumpeter was get up early on Sunday morning, went down to the First Baptist Church and sat down on the front row next to the boy. "Don't look at anyone else," Micah told him. "Look at me. Keep your eyes on me while you play and you'll be alright." The boy gave a perfect performance. Micah came home that day and never told us what he had done. The boy's mother told us how grateful she was for what Micah had done for her boy. "My son," she said, "trusted and loved Micah and that got him past his fear."
  

• 

  Micah's daycare class
  

  Two weeks before his death, Micah was talking to a friend. They talked about the future, girl troubles and school. Suddenly, Micah asked, "Do you think anyone would miss me if I died?" I kind of think he knew God was telling him his time was short. I can answer his question now. There's not a day goes by I don't think of Micah. His Mom is the same. Everyone I know remembers our gentle giant fondly. Many of his kids have come to us years later to tell us how much they miss him. 
  

• 

  Making another memory with Mom.
  

   One day I went out in the backyard of our daycare center one stiflingly hot Texas day and found Micah sitting in a wheelbarrow full of water spraying jets of water into the air with a hose. "What ARE you doing?" I asked looking at the growing puddle in the middle of the playground.  "I'm makin' a memory," he replied. It was Sunday and the puddle would evaporate by sundown so I figured no harm, no foul. The boy (I say "boy", he was over 6 feet 250 pounds by then) gave me a sheepish grin. I gave him a thumbs up and left him to his memory making. I told his Mom to look out the back window and told her what he said he was doing. She cried a little. Moms are easily made misty-eyed.
  

The mark of a life well-lived is the hole it leaves when that life ends. Our church has never been so filled for a funeral than it was for Micah's memorial service. The stories that we told of his life at the service made us laugh and cry. I've seldom seen a funeral service quite like it. I miss him and look forward to Jesus' coming when he will rise and all of us will together be caught up in the clouds to go home with Him. What a day that will be!

© 2022 by Tom King