Snow Games
With all of the snow falling recently, I usually have to remove it one shovelful at a time from my drive and walkway. Snow wasn’t so bad when I was a kid. I appreciated it for what it was; something different for me to enjoy. I’m not sure if the youth of today still play the same games and find pleasure in the snow activities that I did. Most of the games were played during recess in school. My home was a mile away from any other kids my age. The neighbor boys were older and the only activity that we shared was sledding.
Some outdoor games were played either at my grandparent’s Ray and Becky Rugg Miner’s house when cousins gathered or at school. At  Gram’s house we didn’t have sleds to ride although there were several hills that would have made great places to go sledding. It was restricted to snowball fights, building snowmen, or making forts.
Fox and geese was a game we played when several kids gathered. We’d stamp down a large maze of trails within an even larger circle. At the center was the safe space, a trampled down area usually about three or four feet in diameter. One kid was designated the fox while all others were geese. The “geese” had to remain on the predetermined trails. It was the responsibility of the fox to catch a goose before it escaped to the safe center. A goose couldn’t stay in the center for long and the fox couldn’t tag a goose while safe in the base, but if a goose was caught on the trails, the roles would be reversed and the goose would automatically become the fox.
Another activity was creating snow angels. I’m sure most of us have made a snow angel at one time. Falling backward into the snow, the kid would drag its arms up and down while spreading and closing its legs to form a “winged” angel impression in the snow. The real challenge was to get up from the angel without marring its shape.
Some winter games I remember we played were inside games at my grandma Becky’s. It was more likely when we stayed at her home when the power was out. We would carry water for her, while her coal furnace and kitchen woodstove kept us warm.
Board games of Pollyanna or Parcheesi were played by the light of an oil lamp. Grandma Miner liked to play dominoes most anytime, especially Muggins where she secretly taught us math skills counting the domino dots. We even played an occasional game of checkers or the card game of war. 

The J of W Letter
I guess the elevated cost of gasoline has caused the Jehovah’s Witnesses to start a letter writing campaign and dispense with the unannounced personal visits for now. I received a letter saying or resident, so I responded with the following letter of my own. I got no response, so I’m not sure if they are unable or unwilling to reply.
Since my daughter no longer lives at this address, I must assume because your envelope included “resident” it must be addressed to me. I am glad to know that you are concerned about your neighbors as am I, and that is why I am responding to your letter. I too have found joy and peace even though the world around me is in turmoil. It’s because I have hope for an eternal tomorrow through Jesus Christ my Lord. His death on the cross has paid my sin debt.
I’d like to have answers from your church leaders. How can Jesus be just “a god” when the Scripture clearly states in John 1030-31 that He and the Father are one in the same person. John 4:9 says by seeing Jesus that they saw the Father. In 1 John 5:7 the Bible says that all three members are One. Jesus has the power to take away sin (John 1:29). Jesus was called the Word of God in John 1:1, the verse says that the Word WAS God.
In the past the Witness leaders prophesied that the catching away of saints would occur in 1874, 1914, 1925, and in 1975. So either these men were false prophets, having been proved false. They have also said that only 144,000 dedicated followers will be able to enter heaven. Surely there have been many more faithful and dedicated followers to the Witnesses. Who will judge those followers and what will happen to those who haven’t reached that work-based level? Ephesians 2:8-9 states, “For by grace are ye saved through faith, and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works lest any man should boast.”
Very plainly the Bible teaches there is an actual Heaven and there is a Hell. Jesus mentions Hell much more often than He does Heaven.
Galatians 1:8,9 “But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed.”
Finally, how can you teach anything from the Bible that is taken out of context and shared under false pretenses? Revelations 22:18-19 says, “Ye shall not add unto the word which I command you, neither shall ye diminish ought from it, that ye may keep the commandments of the LORD your God.”
I would be glad to hear back from you with answers from your leaders.

I.R.S. and Taxes
My father’s father, Edison Beck held many jobs in his life. He was a justice of the peace, a farmer, an accountant, and a tax consultant. He ran a lumber mill. He was a squire, did surveying, and was a lay speaker.  A tall slender man, he was active even when he was crowned with sliver white hair. My granddad kept the books, did payroll, and did taxes for two multi-million dollar companies until he was in his early eighties. His penmanship was superb. I am still envious of it.
Most of his clientele were average everyday rural people who looked to him for help with taxes, deeds, and legal matters. His clients were small time farmers, small business owners, and regular citizens who’d bring their information to him in much-handled envelopes, shoe boxes, or brown paper bags. Stacks of receipts wrapped with twine or wrapped in rubber bands for him to sort through. They came to him because they were simple plain people who were easily intimidated by the government and regulations. They trusted him with their finances and that he could sort their jumble of papers and aptly ply the numbers to the maze of government paperwork. Eventually he gave them the answer for which they anxiously awaited. Would they have to pay money to Uncle Sam or had they overpaid and would they get money back?
When the taxes were readied he would have them sign their returns and even placed a stamp on each envelope. The only thing that his clients would have to do would be to stick the finished returns into the mail.
I can remember my granddad sharing one story about a farmer coming in with his wife to get their taxes done. They sat on the opposite of his desk. He watched as the farmer would take receipts one at a time from a box and show his wife describing each receipt., then asking, “Isn’t that right?” before handing it to my grandfather. My granddad was an extremely patient man, but he was slowly reaching his limit. It came to a head when the farmer produced a receipt, showed his wife, but instead of asking her, he asked my Grandfather, “A commode seat, is deductible?”
Keeping his voice steady he replied, “Not unless the cows use it.” Granddad tactfully said, “Let me have the box. I can see what is deductible or not.” Reluctantly, the farmer handed the box to my granddad.
Another tax story revolves around another farmer Ken who was a friend of our family. He kept his tax receipts inside of five metal milk cans. Each year of receipts were stored in the sealed cans with the date painted on the lids. On the sixth year, her would dump and burn the old receipts and store the new ones in the now empty can, changing the date on the lid.
An I.R.S. agent came to his farm to audit him. He led the agent to the milk house and lowered a fold down desk where he stored his receipts. The desk was for the agent to work. Ken moved the five cans close knocking the lids open with a brass hammer and moving the cans within the agent’s reach before saying, “There are my receipts.”
The agent leaned over and peered inside. Looking up, he said to Ken, “I can’t audit your account this way. You’ll have to get an accountant to put them in order for me.” expecting Ken to bow at his feet like other people he intimidated with audits.
Ken said, “The law says that I only have to supply my receipts for you. It doesn’t say how.” Ken turned and walked away, leaving the agent to his task. Ken said it looked like the agent went through the first few inches in a couple milk cans before packing up and leaving his farm.

 Wearing Designer’s Genes
Whether humans like to admit it or not, we are created by an all-knowing being. The Creator of the universe formed it shaping all that is within it. If we follow the trail back to what scientists say is the “Big Bang Theory” their conclusions still make no sense. Where did the initial ball of gas come from and what caused a spark for it to explode? And how does gas become matter?
If we look at the entire blueprint of the cosmos, the earth, its plants, animals, gravity, the water cycle, the mixture of our atmosphere, and the complexity of human beings, it takes a far greater leap of faith to believe it all came nothing into being by mere happenstance than a belief of a Creator. There has to be a Master Designer to have everything follow those precise laws and stay in balance.
God the Creator tells of his design for humans in Psalm 139:13-18 by describing in detail that he knew each one of us as we were conceived and grew in our mother’s womb. He tells us plainly that we are not just a blob of flesh until our birth. He has set a specific blueprint for each one of us, deformities and all. It was predetermined and designed for a specific purpose. Verse 16 says that he saw my substance, yet being unperfect; and in his book all my members were written, when as yet we had none of them.
Initially, Genesis 1:27 this Creator tells us that he created male and female. That fact is repeated in Matthew 19:4, 5 saying he created from the beginning, male and female. It is repeated in Mark 10:6. There is no confusion about “gender” rendered. What was once considered a mental aberration “gender dysphoria” some now consider it normal. God didn’t cause confusion; he stated it from the very beginning. He further emphasizes it in Deuteronomy 29: 5 by saying men shouldn’t wear women’s apparel and vice versa.
Just because some people have changed their view on these aberrations, God hasn’t. Mankind has continued to water down God’s Word with hundreds of translations of the Bible and sidled ever closer to the world and its view on what is moral and right. What man has made legal is often considered sin. The creation is trying to supersede the will of the Creator. That is what caused Lucifer to fall.
I pray each day that this great and all powerful God continues to bless America and for man to have a change of heart. I pray for revival and a return to God before he decides to judge our nation like he has so many other civilizations in history.

 My grandmother’s garden was located on the sloping ground opposite of the privy and between her house and the barn. At the farthest edge of the turkey wire fort, was one of my favorite spots. It would lure me down the length of her large Garden of Eden and into a forbidden zone, by a savory siren’s call. It held an oasis of seven rhubarb plants that spread their wide, verdant leafy fronds, shading the gangly stalks as they grew from slender shoots until they became small trees. My mouth began to water just thinking about the wonderfully sour taste of its stringy yet tender flesh. Raids on the tasty plants were forbidden by Grandma, but I was always drawn to snitch one of the slender stems whenever we visited.
My second favorite spot was among the maze of the many tomato plants, whose thick rambling vines spread across a mat of yellow straw. Nestled in the pale green jungle were the treasured ruby jewels. Those succulent and luscious red gems called my name. I responded by trespassing into their growing field, selecting one of the fiery orbs. I would cradle it my hand, finally deciding to pluck it from the vine. Brushing against the vine’s raggedly velvet leaves, they would release a spicy and pungent aroma. In the palm of my hand, the sun-warmed fruit would transfer its solar power through my skin to the nerve endings, sending signals to my brain. The radiated energy caused me to quiver in anticipation of its fresh, acidy flavor being placed on my tongue.
I pressed the smooth-skinned love-apple to my lips. The warmth of its kiss penetrated my receptors of pleasure and I opened my mouth to have my first taste. I closed my eyes as the sensuous feeling of my teeth penetrating the tender flesh and then the heated juices coursing down my chin to wash across my bare chest. Bite after bite, I consumed the wonderfully savory fruit. The thought of eating another sun-warmed, garden-fresh tomato is a memory inducing experience.
The rest of the garden was a battlefield between the crops and the weeds that would try to invade. They were eliminated by a short handled, much worn hoe. Grandma would chop between the rows of beans, peppers, and beets. She would encourage the army of cabbage, peppers, and lettuce plants that marched down the garden in rows, keeping the no-man’s land open between them and the dark green, Indian-like feather headdresses of the onions that rose in tall rows.

Wintertime

When winter winds prevail

Sky’s filled with ice and hail

Bitter biting cold air blast

Ice pellets whizzing past

Jack Frost has laid a claim

And winter is its name

Freezing draft from the north

Winter comes marching forth

Dark night sky, crystal stars

Snow-built drifts’ long white scars

Icicles hang and grow

Reaching for ground below

Ice-bound trees fill with lace

Sparkling in sun’s bright face

In winter crystals hang

Chandelier, serpent fang

Everlasting it seems

Our hope’s in springtime dreams.

 

Special Occasion Ties
I pulled out a very special necktie to wear to church for New Year’s Day. There are several reasons that this tie is special to me. I know I’ve shared the story of this necktie before, but I can’t find it to update and share, so I’ll start at the beginning. I wore ties for all occasions while I was nursing supervisor at Frick Hospital in Mount Pleasant, Pennsylvania. Middle management was expected to wear button down shirts and ties. I had neckties for every holiday and special occasion. I think the staff enjoyed seeing the ties and I know it brightened many of our patients stay at the hospital.
Nancy was a buxomly blonde who had a wicked sense of humor. She liked to tease, joke, and always wore a smile. I often came in contact with Nancy. She was a switchboard operator and I often ducked into the switchboard to answer calls. It was a located in a central area of the hospital. One evening I walked into the switchboard and said that I liked her blouse. It was black with different shapes in bright colors. I’d never seen her wear it before and thought I’d say something about it. She must have been in a bad mood, because she said, “What, this old rag?”
I replied, “No Nancy. I think it’s nice.”
She fussed a little more before saying, “If you think it’s so nice, I’ll wash it and you can take it home to your wife.”
I managed to say before escaping with my scalp intact, “That’s not what I meant. I just think it looks nice.”
Because I had much interaction with all the operators, I gave a small Christmas gift for each one. For example, one lady had a collection of elephant figurines. When I found one at a reasonable price, I stored it away for Christmas.
I can’t remember the gift I bought for Nancy, but at Christmastime she handed me a long thin package. She was wearing one of her impish smiles and with Nancy’s sense of humor I didn’t know what to expect. “Go ahead and open it,” was her response. I peeled off the wrapping paper, pulled off the lid parting the tissue paper to find “the blouse.” Nancy had a friend create a necktie from that blouse. Recognizing it, I looked up to see Nancy’s smirking face. Later I walked back into the switchboard wearing the blouse-necktie. Nancy swore and said, “I’ll be d---ed. if it doesn’t make a better looking necktie than a blouse. Nancy has since passed away, but I wear her tie for special occasions.