The Lord’s Prayer

I went to church on Sunday in Bisbee. There were approximately a dozen people in attendance.

The church has a wonderful pipe organ. However, when I walked in a woman was playing the piano.

During the greeting time, it seems that just about everyone greeted everyone else. The pianist told me apologetically that there was a problem with the organ; “something to do with a cipher”.

The Lord’s Prayer was interesting. The elder started the recitation, and many of the parishioners were out of sync when repeating the prayer. Not exactly a sonorous sound when the congregation isn’t all together.

The elder’s voice was the leader of the prayer, and by “Hallowed” everybody was in sync. Unfortunately, the elder mis-turned the page and stopped reciting the prayer until he got to the right page.

The congregation continued the prayer. About the time the congregation finished the prayer, the elder had found his place. He finished the prayer. He then commented that he probably should say the prayer more often. Then which page wouldn’t matter.

Strangely, despite the numerous errors in the service, I left the church with the feeling that I had been among people who had worshipped.


I was returning home from a walk to downtown. I met Claire who was walking her dog. Across the street was a skateboarder. He saw Claire, and came across the street to greet her.

I walked past the couple. They talked for a bit, the skateboarder lit a cigarette, and returned to the other side of the street. Claire said, “Hey, aren’t you going to share your cigarette with me?”

He returned and gave her his cigarette. I guess that I reacted noticably to her smoking. She said, “I am bored.”


A young woman walked into the High Desert Market.

Woman: Yesterday I ran into Larry. Are you Larry?
Jerry: No, I am Jerry.
Woman: Oh, I’m going to eat outside.
When Jerry got his sandwich, he walked out to join the woman.
In a few minutes they returned inside.

Woman: I’m surprised that you have mosquitos at this elevation.”

Good luck Jerry.

Just the Facts

[In an earlier stage of my life I lived in Barrett, Minnesota.]

Dick and I lived across the street from Al and Gisela. Gisela made some serious cinnamon rolls.

One Friday night a small airplane buzzed us. This was quite unusual since the nearest airport was in Elbow Lake, a town 7 miles north of Barrett.

Gisela had made cinnamon rolls, and invited us over to enjoy her baking. Just as we left our place for their place, we saw the lights of a small plane disappeared behind the trees north of town.

A little later the siren for the volunteer fire department sounded; of course, we had to go see what had happened. The ambulance had already taken the pilot to the Elbow Lake hospital. The firemen were checking the plane and the surrounding area to insure that no fire broke out from the accident.

On Monday Dick and I were told to meet with an FAA official. We were laughing and joking as we walked down to where the official was. The silence and glare of the official convinced us that he only wanted the facts.