Taking Care of Business
There was a time when I went to events to try and sell my seven self-published books. Ideas of grandeur may have lurked at the back of my mind that I was a great author even though my scribbling wasn’t in the same class as Shakespeare. I gave up on ordering my books wholesale at a slightly lower price and selling them to make a few bucks. I’d rent a table at craft fairs and flea markets, but I usually spent more than I made. I’d buy some of the crafts and food. Slowly I understood the task of peddling my books wasn’t for me. It took more energy than I was willing to give.
Since then my writing has been an avocation. It is a hobby. Lately I only write for my blogspot, http://thomasbeck.blogspot.com/ . Thinking of new and different stories to share often strains my imagination. Deciding on a fresh topic may cause me to rewrite an old story, enhance the memories, or add details that I‘d forgotten at my first blog.
Although I haven’t given up on finishing more books, I find I have less time to write than I once did. I often have so many other things to do. This week I have had something scheduled for each day. It’s not always this hectic, but keeping the days and times of appointments straight are sometimes worrisome. Retirement has a way of causing me to not recall what day of the week. The lack of a regular schedule may confuse me as to which day it is.
I volunteer for four hours each week at the Stahlstown Historical Society sorting and filing the papers and items of the Laurel Highlands past. They may be photographs, deeds, marriage licenses, obituaries, maps, and artifacts that need catalogued and stored. The Society’s aim is to preserve and display as much of our area’s important documents and accomplishments.
I have access to that information stored in ledgers, file cabinets, and items housed in archival boxes at our facility. I’m able to uncover stories that would have been lost if they hadn’t been preserved by the Society. Doing the research is necessary for me, because I’m responsible for writing our newsletters. I have several others who will help me edit the paper. They will sometimes write an article that they’ve authored. Sometimes I find there are stories that almost write themselves with only a small amount of editing.
If you’re cleaning your home and find photos, documents, or items of interest, please offer them to your local historical society. If you choose not to donate them, allow your historical society to make copies and keep our history alive.

 Choose Wisely
A friend and I recently had a short discussion about whether a person is “born that way” or whether it is a choice that leads a person down a certain path. The person I was having the discussion with is gay. I have friends from different states, different countries, different religions, different views on politics, and different points of view on various things. I understand his worldly view on many things and I try to share why I believe it is a choice and not what is innate in every person’s DNA.
If it is an innate property found in our DNA why some people, even twins, turn out to be completely different creatures. One twin may be an evil homicidal maniac and the other a loving parent of children and law-abiding citizen. Is it in their DNA or is it because of the path they chose to walk? How can a loving parent one moment, quickly reverse their path and kill their children and spouse? How can the DNA driven act to kill be hidden for so long, then suddenly erupt?
How can the conversion of a person mired in the habit of alcohol or drugs occur? It has to be their choice to change their lives. They may still have the desires, but choose to make the changes necessary to be something better with their lives.
That is what missionaries and clergy of today should be presenting. The power of Jesus Christ has the power to change a person from a worldly path of destruction to a desire to follow the precepts of the Bible. The blood that Jesus shed on the cross at Calvary has the strength and ability to change the heart’s desire from the lowest, most base, most passionate desires to make the “leper clean.” It can remove the sickest desires and replace it with a yearning and craving. God’s loves the person who has sinned and yet hate the sin that they were once involved in. The transformation sometimes isn’t as dramatic as flipping a switch. It may take time to evolve, but the desire to choose sin will lessen and the desire to follow God’s Word will increase.
I feel that when a person says “I was born that way” shifts the person’s choice to sin and throws it back onto a loving God “who made them that way” and away from them making sinful choices. Choose wisely, one day we will be judged and we won’t be able to defend our choice not to seek salvation now.

Mystery Writer’s Mystery Solved?
I was concerned that I’d have to climb up onto my house roof and be this jolly fat man would have to clean out the chimney’s soot and creosote. I know my kids have threatened before to kill me if I didn’t kill myself from a fall and somehow survived. I cleaned the chimney late last year and didn’t think it would need to be attended to so early this season. I tried earlier to burn a few papers but the smoke filtered back into my basement. That meant the chimney was clogged not allowing the smoke to rise. I knew the gasket on the door of my furnace needed replaced, but the chimney should still have had a good draw.
The gasket is ordered and I decided I’d remove the old worn one and be ready to cement the new one into place when it came. Once the door and the gasket were removed, I decided to clean the furnace pipe from the wood burner to the chimney flue. Soot has a way of building up in the pipe. It too needs cleaned regularly. Tapping on the pipe, I loosened the soot collecting it into a bucket. I cleaned the connecting pipe as far into the chimney as I could reach.
When I finished that, I thought I might be able to remove the clog or at least lessen it from the clean-out door at the base of my chimney. I picked up a bucket, a small shovel, and a long handled screwdriver to attack the sooty buildup. After pulling out a few plants that crowd the base on the chimney that blocked the cleanout door from opening wide, I began the task of removing the black soot that was already loosened and had fallen to the floor of the cleanout pit.
I was in for a surprise. I found the answer to two mysteries. As I began to scoop out the soot from the bottom of the chimney, I found grass and sticks in the debris. It puzzled me at first then I remembered that during the summer, I found a bird in my basement, twice. I’ve never had a bird in my house before. I wasn’t able to find any place where the bird made an entrance. I’m still not sure how it got inside, but the twigs and grass at the bottom cleanout seemed to be the beginnings of a nest that was started inside of the chimney. Once the soot and grass was removed, the draw on my chimney had returned and I don’t think this old fat man will need to mount the roof, yet.

Escape from the Canning Nazi
I have two days off Thursday and Friday this week and the weekend from the canning kitchen prison camp and the head warden, but not so fast. Friday Seedline comes to our church. We will unload the equipment and unassembled printed Gospel of John and Romans from their trailer and move them into the gymnasium. Once inside we will start to place the printed pages into the covers before we staple them into a finished product to be trimmed and boxed for shipping. It is my understanding that the language we will put together is Croatian. Once the order request from missionaries in Croatia is filled, the Gospel will be shipped to them for distribution. Our church has done this for many years and has put together the Gospel in many languages. I can’t remember all of them, but English, French, Polish, Spanish, Ukrainian, Korean, and Portuguese. On average we are able to assemble 12,000 copies or so at each visit from Seedline.
Saturday I will help with the Seedline project before I have to leave early. I am docent at Chestnut Ridge Historical Society. When I’m done with that, I have to hurry over to my friend’s house. She’s making the evening meal for the Seedline people and a young missionary lady who is interested in translating God’s word, so my Saturday is shot.
Sunday is filled with our regular church services. Sunday morning preaching, Sunday school, then evening services. There may be time for an afternoon nap.
Monday begins a whirlwind schedule. It’s back to the canning kitchen to pare pears and put them into jars. Later on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday I am to pick up my granddaughter from school, then return her for her ensemble practice. Wednesday I have morning duties at Chestnut Ridge Historical Society then I have van duty in the evening. Thursday I have an appointment with my dietician before picking up my granddaughter. Friday I am helping a friend distribute food baskets to veterans. I need to be there at 0800 to sort and get ready for the onslaught of needy veterans. I am near weeping at the sight of these old men and women. I hope they have someone at home to help them unload. I’ll be there until 1400 or so.
I’m just holding my breath that nothing comes up for me to do on Saturday. Sunday is to be a day of rest, but I’m hoping that Saturday is too.

 Apple of My Eye
Canning season is hopefully coming to an end. It has been one day after the nest with little rest between projects. Tomatoes are coming to an end. Between the blight and the end of their growing season, the plants look as though they’ve finally given up and I am so glad. Tomato soup, sauce, salsa, canned whole tomatoes, pickled green tomatoes, and tomatoes for the vegetable beef soup have marched across the table and been baptized in the canning kettles. Cucumbers have given their all to make pickles of all flavors. The green beans are being ignored and are in decline because so many beans have already been canned, plain and pickled. Corn has been blanched, cut from the cobs and canned although some ears have been left intact and frozen.
This year the apple trees were hanging full and heavy with their fruit. I can’t remember ever having seen such a great crop. And we’ve been harvesting and canning them as they ripened into all sorts of products. We started out by making applesauce, then made several crock pots of apple butter. We’ve canned apple slices to make pies of apple dumplings later.
I’ve allowed others to harvest apples from my trees and I have gathered apples from my apple trees.  I imagine at least seven feed sacks full of Grimes Golden apples and the other red apple have been picked already. I can’t remember the red apple’s name but its flavor is sweet and makes excellent applesauce. We were recently invited to pick apples from church friends and their trees were just as blessed as mine. Trees were filled and the limbs were hanging heavy with fruit. Other neighbors have shared their bounty with us Golden delicious, Grimes Golden, Harleson, Jonathan, and Winesap to name only a few of the types of apples. Jar after jar of their deliciousness have filled our shelves. I believe that we have a nice supply laid in and canning apples have come to an end. I still have quite a bit of fruit in my trees. Most of the low branches have been picked clean. If anyone wants to pick some, they will have to shake the trees or bring an apple picker to reach the fruit in the top branches.
We are watching for the pears to ripen and the sauerkraut to finish fermenting. They will need to be canned when they are ready. The faithful of the caning crew are tiring, but the end is in sight.

My Cogs Are More than Slipping
It’s happened. My cogs are no longer meshing. Friday I had several errands to run and was concentrating on the next thing I had to do. The first was to have the oil changed in my car. That took longer than I had expected. I got a late start and there were several people ahead of me. I stopped doing my own oil change while my wife Cindy was alive. She was in a constant state of worry, checking on me every five minutes while I was under or around my car during the oil change. To give her comfort and to relieve me from her continual interruptions, I had someone else change the oil.
My next errand was going to the bank. I broke open my last package of checks and needed to reorder them before I forgot and would face the possibility of running out. Yes, I’ve done that once or twice and it is such a hassle. I have no desire to let that happen again.
My next stop was at the gas station, but my mind was on chores that were still waiting undone at home. I went inside and paid for the gas, came out, got into my car and drove away. As I left the station, I noticed that my fuel gage was exactly at the same position as when I pulled in to get the gas. DUH, then it hit me. I hadn’t pumped the fuel and drove off. I quickly turned my car around praying that no one had pulled into the fueling bay until I got back. The bay was empty and I was able to pump the gasoline that I paid for. I’d never done that before and pray that it never happens again. It’s bad enough when I go into a room and forget why I came in or what I came after, but this is taking memory loss to a place where it has never gone before.
The other day, after eating with fellow classmates at Bud Murphy’s, I took the leftovers home in a Styrofoam container and hurried to help a friend with canning. I stuck it into the refrigerator to take home. I planned to eat the leftovers for supper. But forgetful me, I left it in the refrigerator for two days before I remembered to bring it home and eat it.
I used to remember thinking, “How can a man forget to pull up his zipper on his trousers?” I am getting closer and closer to that stage in my life. If you EVER see me in that state, politely say, “XYZ.” Fix your zipper. Thank you.
 

Abundance
The gardens have done well this year and we’ve been canning its abundance. The produce comes from two family gardens and four friends do most of the canning. All last year and this year so far, we’ve been collecting canning jars of all sizes and shapes. As long as the jars will accept and allow the rings to be tightened down on the lids, we have used them.
Some of the jars are reused from year to year. Some are bought at yard sales and auctions. Some were purchased new. Some were donated from people who no longer are canning. They prefer to freeze their vegetables. Canning is a lot of work. Lids were dealt out like in a card game.
Tilling, planting, weeding, and tending gardens until the plants mature and actually produce is a monumental task in itself. Then there is a constant need to monitor for insects, groundhogs, deer, and other critters. Watering and fertilizing are other aspects of keeping the plants in the garden healthy and producing. This year with the help of some electronic borders, the marauding creatures were kept at bay. Special attention was needed to keep the tomatoes healthy from the tomato blight. It was an almost constant battle, although the tomato crop was adequate. Carrots and beets have been cut, canned and stored. The corn that wasn’t eaten for lunches has been shucked, cut, and canned.
The butternut squash plants and cucumbers spread out to cover one end of the garden. Plenty of pickles were canned and the squash was shared. Rows of green beans and yellow wax were picked, canned, and pickled for use later. All types of peppers populated several rows in the garden. Cubano peppers, green bell peppers, yellow Hungarian wax, hot and mild, jalapenos mild and hot, red cayenne peppers, and a new pepper was tried. It was as hot as blazes. Its name was fish pepper because of its shape and color.
The production from the garden is finally coming to a close, but sauerkraut is still fermenting and will need to be placed in jars and canned. We are waiting for the crop of pears to ripen. All of the peaches and apples are already canned. Applesauce and apple butter are in jars and stored away. The pumpkins have been peeled, pureed, cooked, and jarred for pies and cookies later.
The rush to can and preserve is slowing as the garden empties, the fruit trees become bare, and the numbers of jars and lids decrease. Soon the snow will fly and we will be thankful that the garden’s goodness will live again.

 Keys
There was a time in history that a man’s home could be made secure with a peg above a door latch or by withdrawing a leather thong back inside of the cabin, but no longer. Slowly men created ever more ingenious ways with different contraptions. Securing the home for valuables was the main reason. As mankind became less of hunter-gatherers and settled down as farmers, they accumulated more things. They were less likely to travel and less likely to have their belongings to be light enough to transport. As houses, furniture, cooking areas, and bedding became stationary, they needed to be protected from marauding animals, weather, and other human beings.
People gathered more and more things in homes, barns, or storage areas that were of value or necessity and doors became important. Doors needed to be made secure more that a latch could afford. The latch slowly evolved into increasingly more integral inventions. Some created locks had a wooden key to turn the hidden tumblers. They were replaced by metal contrivances and used a metal key to open the lock.
I can remember growing up, the door to our house was locked and could be opened by a skeleton key. Even though we rarely locked our doors, it gave a false feeling of security. Why, because those keys were basically universal. Everyone in the neighborhood had the same key for their home’s door also. If you lost your key, I imagine that you could go next door and borrow theirs. But then again, we rarely locked our doors.
Locks evolved with each door needing separate keys. Can you remember having one key for the front door or the back of the house or the garage and one for the ignition and one for the glove-box of your car and trunk? Locking your keys inside happened only rarely.
Now keys have been replaced by key-fobs. The computer in the car tells the auto whether the key-fob is inside of the vehicle. The push button starter will not respond without the fob being present.
The doors of homes today can be accessed by your cell phone. The phone can be used to turn on or off lights. The phone can open the garage door. I imagine you could even program your phone to have a cup of coffee ready for you when you arrive at home.

Mens Retreat
I needed a break from the canning consortium. Our church took 14 men to Ramey, Pennsylvania for a Friday and Saturday retreat of men. The name of the camp is Ramey, Pennsylvania. It is the Servants Heart Camp. The roomy cabins are scattered in the woods overlooking a beautiful lake. I was able to take my son Andrew and my son-in-law James Prinkey.
It had been several years since the last time I was able to make the trip. My open heart surgery and my episode with double vision made the decision for me not to attend. It is a nearly two hour drive to the campsite. The town of Ramey is north of Altoona, located in Clearfield County.
The cabins are similar to those found in KOA Campgrounds. The log structures have indoor showers toilet, one double bed, four bunk beds, and air conditioning. The mattresses could be a little more comfortable, but like in the KOAs, the mattresses have a vinyl covering and are very firm.
Although several rain showers and an occasional rain storm, we were able to enjoy the many events that were scheduled. Stations situated around the 213 acres of woodlands and lake. Stations included “Blamzooka,” shooting range, canoes, blowguns, dodge ball court, “octo-ball, volley ball, and fishing, several less strenuous games were located inside a tented area. We were also able to shoot a muzzle loader rifle and throw hatchets. New to me this year was a zip-line, gliding over the lake, dropping a golf ball on a beached paddleboat, and landing on the far shore. For me the hard part was climbing the steps of the tower; my arthritic knee was painful even with my knee support in place. The staff was courteous, friendly, and knowledgeable.
The gracious ladies who prepared the meals were wonderful. They certainly kept us well fed. Although there was a lot of walking from one event to another, the abundance of food may have caused me to put on a few pounds.  Now I’m that I’m back to my own home-cooking, I’ll be losing weight again.
The speaker for the several of the men’s gathering was Alton Beal who is affiliated with Ambassador Bible College in North Carolina and is on the board of the Servants Heart Camp ministry. His messages were on point and directed to Christian men of the church and their roles in their family, in the church, and in the community. There were invitations to understand salvation.  All in all, I can’t wait to attend next year
The camp also hosts summer camps for kids, teens, seniors, fathers and sons If this sounds interesting to you, please check out their web site.  https//shcm.org

Simmering Summer Sauna
As the heat and humidity of this summer and the canning season collides, I can understand why many old-time farms and homesteads had a summer kitchen. Our forefathers found it necessary to erect outbuildings to meet their needs. The spring house was necessary to house the water source covering the natural spring. This building allowed the farmer’s wife to keep things like milk, butter, and cream cool to prevent spoilage. The smoke house was created to hang meat inside to cure meats for preservation. Refrigeration wasn’t invented yet and there had to be a way to preserve food for later use.
The summerhouse was another necessity. In the oppressive heat of the summer, women would find the house where the family lived become unbearable when they had to keep a fire in the fireplace. A lack of circulating air to cool the cabin made the inside intolerable to cook or heat water. Glass windows, if they had any, only allowed light to illuminate the house. Many were fixed in place and did not open. The interior of the house became a sweat box. Eating, sleeping, and any other inside activities became nearly unbearable.
A summerhouse was an answer. A small building that was separate or separated by an open breezeway helped to solve the problem. Heating water to wash clothing and cooking or any other chore that required a fire to be burning in the fireplace or if the family was wealthy enough on a cook stove. It kept the heat out of the main house. It made eating meals and sleeping inside a much cooler environment.
I believe helping to can vegetables in the heat and humidity this year makes me wish my friend had a summerhouse. The sweltering heat from a propane stove intensified the heat that hovered oppressively outside of the house. There is no air conditioning, so from the instant the flame is lit to cook the vegetables or to thicken sauce from tomatoes to the time it takes to either “cold pack,” “water bath,” or to pressure can the jars to get them to seal, the heat inside increases exponentially as does the humidity.
Constant movement cutting and preparing the vegetables for the canning process becomes more strenuous as the heat increases. It becomes just shy of the inside of a sauna bath. Fans do help a bit, but the trial becomes bearable when compared to the enjoyment of opening a jar of sauce, corn, beans, beets, applesauce, peppers, pickles, peaches, or pears when the snow flies and we can cling to memories of those hot summer days.

 Attempts at Writing
My first attempts at writing were in school when they were assigned by teachers. When I was in college, they were again assigned, but I began to allow my imagination to add color to the project and I enjoyed it. I was always faulty with my punctuation, but for the most part my grammar and spelling was on point. Later, I began to write poetry, some of it wasn’t as good as it could have been because I focused on syllable count and rhyming. I have reams of rhyming poetry and pages of self-taught Haiku.
The first attempt to write a “real” story was a challenge from others at a writers meeting. The group was challenged to write a detective story to be included in a fundraising collection book, I had never considered writing a detective story, but dutifully copied the information, That night as I tried to sleep, I kept waking and jotted down ideas all through the night on my ever-near pencil and pad. By morning, I had the entire storyline in front of me. With some polish and red herring additions, it was finished. I’ve never had a similar experience, but the character of Tommy Two-shoes was born and was the central figure of my next four books. In my mind he was built similar to William Bendix, a solid man wearing brogan shoes. A retired Pittsburgh homicide detective, he was a man who’s seen and done a lot, allowing him to share what he’d done and seen.
Occasionally, I reread those books to see what I could have done better, find errors, or thinking of other ways the plots could have gone. I’m still writing, but at a less furious pace. I’ve gotten sidetracked with other things. I have too many irons in the fire and am often lax on the time I allot myself to write. It could be that I am getting older and am less likely to push myself. Perhaps I need someone else to push me or at least to loan me a cane.
Perhaps the ideas for another plot or character haven’t appeared in the cobwebs of my mind, but I know the creative spark hasn’t gone out completely. I am trying to write another fictional story of a trapper and his dog, but the storyline wanders too much. I will try to find and end of the tale, then go back through weeding out the extraneous lines and subplots. Time will tell.
I do have a Blog and write a posting every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I often struggle to find something to different to share and that sucks out some of my creative juices.

Getting Worn and Weary
I was supposed to walk one mile a day, and had been doing quite well until the past month, then canning season set in. Between helping in a friend’s garden with harvesting and doing the actual canning, I’ve been too busy. Most days my friend, her sister-in-law, and occasional help from another friend who wants to learn how to can, we start at 9 in the morning and work until three in the afternoon, sometimes longer, depending on what we are working on. The woman who allows us to use her kitchen, often she finishes the canning much later into the evening. The fruits and vegetables that must be pressure canned take longer. She has to carefully watch the pressure gages to be sure the canners don’t explode or that the temperature doesn’t waiver during the process.
We have already canned salsa, tomato sauce, ketchup peppers, sweet corn, dill pickles, sweet pickles, bread & butter pickles, green beans, dilly beans, tomato soup, pickled beets, peppers stuffed with hotdogs, peppers stuffed with smoked sausage, and applesauce.
We have also frozen sausage stuffed peppers and we have a large bucket of cabbage fermenting into sauerkraut that will need to be canned. Tomorrow will be a real “Labor Day.” Tomatoes are on the agenda, but not sure what we will make from it. The carrots have been pulled and are waiting to be cut into “wheels” and canned. I know that there are more peppers to be gathered and because the ketchup peppers are so popular, we will be making a third batch. The ketchup peppers make a wonderful sauce to pour over chicken or beef and allow it to flavor the meat as it cooks. It also makes a great sloppy Joe sauce or it can be placed on a hamburger, almost like a relish.
The ketchup Pepper recipe was given to me by an older widow woman that my wife and I used to visit and drop off some fruit on our way home from shopping.
Marie’s Ketchup Peppers
1 large onion diced    1 garlic clove minced    30 hot peppers (Strips or small chunks)        25 green peppers (Strips or small chunks)    2 Kegs of ketchup    2 cups of sugar        1 cup vegetable oil     Small chunks are best if you use it on burgers.
Combine all ingredients in a large pot. Mix, stir frequently and bring to boil.
Place mixture into canning jars, wipe rims, seat lids and screw on rings. Cold pack for 15 to 20 minutes.

 Anyong Haseyo
Anyong Haseyo, just a greeting that I remembered from a dear friend who passed away several years ago. He was my pastor for several years. Before that, he was a missionary to South Korea. He was invited to come back and speak at an anniversary at a church he helped to establish there. My son Andrew and several other church teens were able to accompany him on the trip. Anyong Haseyo basically means “May things be well with you and your family.”
Initially I learned the greeting from reading a book and Pastor Norman Johnston helped me to get the pronunciation correct. Oddly enough, I have had the chance to use it several times in my life. I was working at Frick Hospital in Mt. Pleasant, Pennsylvania when I met two young Korean men who were involved in an automobile accident. I was helping in the emergency department helping where I could. I was returning one young man on a cart from the x-ray department and as I settled him with his friend in his cubicle, I said, “Anyong Haseyo.” The surprised looks on both young men’s faces were something for me to behold. I just hoped it made their traumatic experience just a bit more bearable.
Another time, my friend and travelling partner were visiting Pastor Norm and his wife Joy in North Carolina. They took us to Charleston Carolina to show us around. While we were on board the USS Yorktown, I noticed an Oriental couple and inquired where they were from. When they said they were visiting from South Korea, I greeted them. They were excited and began to speak in Korean. I couldn’t understand, but held my finger up to pause them and called Norm over. He spent time talking with them. Joy was also there and able to join in as well.
I attended a Pittsburgh Pirate game at PNC Park with a friend. It was a time when Jung-ho Kang was a player for the team. I made a sign with his name and the Korean greeting, hoping I could get his autograph on it. I didn’t accomplish that, but there were several Orientals that sat near us and thought it was a great sign, smiling and pointing to it.
I’m not a linguistic expert by any means and have just enough knowledge in several foreign languages to get me into trouble.