A Dream Job
When most people think about a dream job, they imagine a profession that suits them well and a job they love doing. A job that has good pay, good hours, good benefits and that they feel comfortable doing. It will be a job that they have the qualification to do and to do well in that post. It could be a job that has all of the niceties a person could want and has a great work environment. It could be a position to which they have struggled for years to obtain. Dream positions are sometimes just the imaginings of a person and turn out to be a nightmare instead of something they thought it would be.
A dream job for someone who loves animals might be a veterinarian, a vet tech, or a person who cares for animals at a zoo. They might gravitate to groom or train pets. They might combine the love of the outdoors with their desire to care for and to protect animals and become a game warden. They might love the outdoors and animals and become a cowboy or cowgirl on a ranch or for something a bit more exciting ride horses or bulls in a rodeo. Perhaps the person could join the thoroughbred elite and jockey for the position of riding or caring for race horses. The opportunities are nearly endless.
If the oceans have a certain allure the options range from sailing in the United States Navy to working as a fisherman, a shrimper, or a crabber. There are folks who enjoy repairing boats or building huge sea-going vessels.
There are those who relish the feeling of independence and choose to live in the far reaches of Alaska and Canada. Some dream of living a secluded life on an island whether in the tropics or along barren coasts.
This thought of a dream job started with a dream about being in the middle of a job. I was still working and was getting extremely frustrated because things weren’t going well. The part of the dream I can remember was that I was retiring and that although everything was going all wrong; all I needed to do was to hang in and finish my shift. The dream blurred about whatever was happening but it was chaffing the living daylights out of me, then I woke up. That was a “dream” job but it came awfully close to being a nightmare.

 Oh Canada
In the winter I would often tease my Canadian friends. When the winter winds would blow snow and ice in my direction and always when the cold would flow from the north, I would complain that my Canadian neighbors forgot to close the doors on their refrigerators and deep freezers. I would blame them for the frigid weather and snow. I know it’s not true, but I like to make a joke at their expense.
Lately I have shifted the blame for the smoke filled sky to them again. I know that the forest fires are the cause and there is nothing that can be done about it. I still have to tease just a bit and I ask, “Why are so many Canadians barbecuing and grilling at the same time?” Or are they just smoking the meat?
Don’t think I am heartless. I understand the seriousness of the wild fires and pray that all will be safe and that the situation will soon be under control. I went with a friend to California two years ago and the air was smoky many days depending on the direction of the wind. The haze from California and from Canada rivals each other, sometimes making fragile moments of beauty.
I really have nothing harsh to say about my neighbors to the north. Quite a few years ago it was my pleasure to accompany a young man who wanted to be a missionary in Labrador. Several of us went with him driving from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania through New England and into New Brunswick and Nova Scotia before riding the ferry into Newfoundland. Again we drove from the southern tip to northern Newfoundland to St. Anthony. Once in St. Anthony we boarded the “Northern Ranger”
The Northern Ranger had a hardened hull to travel through icy water lessening damage to the ship. The black and white ship was trimmed in red. It was 235 feet long. The ship was a working vessel with accommodations for passengers. There were rooms for tourists and a gallery of seats for people raveling from port to port. The Ranger would stop at each port to unload passengers and goods or to pick up passengers and good. Many towns didn’t have a dock and the citizens would use their boats to transport folk or goods to and from the ship.
We rode the Ranger to Nain, Labrador and back. We were at sea. It was exciting being able to see icebergs close to shore and farther out on the ocean. One iceberg was so large if the top would have been leveled off, I small plane could have landed on it.

 Traveling Man
My Father Edson Carl Beck was in the United States Army during World War II. He didn’t talk much about where he was or what he did. The few things I was able to gather were from photographs or items he brought back. He did share that he was stationed in the Philippines as a chaplain’s assistant. I always thought he didn’t see much action or wasn’t near the front lines until he showed me a piece of shrapnel from an exploding bomb that had hit him. He said that it had injured him, but said no more about it.
He did have photos, mostly of black men and women who were naked to the waist with just a loincloth or wrapped skirt. I distinctly remember several of them. One was of a man climbing out of a foxhole or bomb crater covered in mud. Another was of a man suffering from elephantiasis with a scaly enlarged leg and genitals, a disease caused by roundworms creating gross edema of the affected area. I’m not sure where these were taken, but I imagine somewhere in the South Pacific.
Before my dad passed away, he wrote a short autobiography asking me to type it up. Most things I already knew; his parents, where and when he was born, and where he went to school. I was surprised to see that he had visited Hiroshima, Japan. I knew that visit had to be after the bomb was dropped after the war had ended. He was a poor farmer’s kid and that trip couldn’t have happened before the war.
Every so often I am surprised by another fact from my dad’s past. Just the other day my daughter Amanda Yoder called to say that she met a person who worked at Seven Springs ski resort with him. As they talked he told stories of my dad and what a prankster he was. Dad drove bus for awhile after he retired from the Walworth Valve Company. The guy said Dad would wait until another bus would park behind him. He would turn on the interior lights and exaggeratedly make motions of cleaning the bus. When he completed the task he’d often wave a twenty dollar bill so the driver behind could see. The money was from his own wallet, but did it to tease the driver behind. It was December 7th and Dad asked the guy what did he know about the date? The guy said dad told him that Dad was at Pearl Harbor In 1941. He was in the mess hall when the bombs began to fall. That was a surprise to me. I get a lump in my throat just thinking about it.

Is Imprinting the Answer?
When a creature is first born, it more often than not will form an attachment to whatever it first sees. It will follow that person or animal as if it is their mother. It’s in the early stages of life that a bond is formed. It’s the time when the new born begins to learn how to walk, feed, and communicate. It’s a time when thought patterns that will rule the creature’s life are shaped. It’s a time when the instincts and habits are created. Especially if the mother rejects the newborn and a surrogate animal nurtures and cares for it. Surrogate mothers can be the same breed or an entirely different species, but that doesn’t matter to the infant being cared for. If a chick is raised by a duck, that chick will nearly drown itself trying to swim after the mother duck. Why? That chick thinks it’s a duck.
A child imprints on a human mother, learning to walk, talk, and being potty trained by the mom or caregiver. Sometimes young men cling to the feminine motherly image and do not develop manly traits. Why? Could it be an attitude of acceptance from the mother and not redirecting the male child’s choices? Mothers need to be able to nurture without encouraging a boy’s misdirected thoughts.
I do not mean to entirely blame the mothers. Often there is no male model for the boys to emulate. A single parent home is often lacking the yin and yang type relationship which both boys and girls have a need to be exposed. Two mothers or two fathers were not the design of God. Nor is the family with multiple wives of a male or multiple husbands to one wife. Although the Bible has many examples of multiple parenting, they are far from good examples. The infighting from family members, jealousy, and greed are often the results. Are these things at the core of gender confusion?
Satan’s desire is to weaken the family. He is using our Federal government to push his agenda. It started years ago when Uncle Sam discouraged fathers from being in the home paying mothers to care for out-of-wedlock children. The government became the child’s daddy providing food, shelter, and medical care. Another step was taken when the government took taxpayers money to pay for aborting future generations and shattering families. When we thought it couldn’t get worse for families, the government is now promoting gender confusion and introduction to sexual perversions into our public schools. The schools have become indoctrination centers for pedophiles, completely circumventing the parent’s rights to train up a child and removing the moral foundations that America once held dear. 

Vacation Bible School Wears Me Out
This is the third year I’ve helped cook for Mt. Zion Community Church Vacation Bible School. Before we had morning events and served a wide variety of lunches. It hustled the three of us to prepare and serve for the children, staff, and visitors. The visitors were either parents or grandparents who were cautious with their kids or the drove quite a distance and stayed instead of making two trips. It was wonderful having them and sharing stories with them. This year the Bible school will be held in the evening 6:30 pm Monday 6-28 till 6-30-2023.
There are the same three cooks who will again be preparing and serving “snacks.” The menu will have a wide variety of selections, keeping in mind the dietary restrictions for some of our young charges. Last week we created a wonderful menu of food from fresh fruit cups to s’mores. Other offerings will include an ice cream bar (sherbet for the lactose intolerant) and a few other substitutes. We know that several kids have peanut allergies, so this year there will be NO peanuts or peanut butter anywhere in the kitchen. There are kids who’ve requested finger Jell-o and I believe we will have those as nightly as well.
Someone had to go shopping for the ingredients. My friend Kathy Hawk and I stepped into the traces to pull the shopping carts. With the church credit card in hand, we drove off in the mini-van, heading to the Greensburg Sam’s Club praying for good buys and our ability to find of the ingredients that we needed After we made rounds at Sam’s buying items in bulk, we headed back to Mt. Pleasant to search for the remaining items on our list. I knew there was at least one item that Aldi’s had that was necessary for our fake s’mores. We bought several things including the sprinkles and syrups for our ice cream bar then we were off to Wal-Mart to finish our marathon shopping spree. After getting gas for the mini-van, we headed back to the church to offload our purchases filling cooler, freezer, and kitchen shelves. We left at 9 AM and got back to the church three and one half hours later. I was tired and back home I lay down for half an hour, just resting. I didn’t take a nap; I still had my lawn to mow. I knew it was to rain in the evening and tomorrow.
Y’all are welcome to come to Mt. Zion Community Church for the Camping themed Vacation Bible School program and sample our snacks.

State Plates
I was reminded of this story while talking to a friend the other day. I’m not sure whether other people think as I did or not, but when I was stationed in Florida at the Naval Hospital in Orlando, I frequently checked license plates of the cars as they passed. When I would see a Pennsylvania license plate, it made me wonder where in our state they lived. It didn’t make me homesick, but it did give me a feeling of connection with strangers who were passing by.
That is the background for the actual story. One of the times when I was on leave my parents Carl and Sybil Miner Beck drove to the Pittsburgh Airport to pick me up. I don’t remember what time I my flight landed, but I can clearly remember that darkness had fallen. I was glad to be home and happy to be settled in the backseat of their car. As we drove along the Parkway exiting the city, I can remember seeing Pennsylvania license plates, one after another. The plates were easy to see, lit by the light over the vehicles license plates. I felt a similar tingle that I felt when I saw a Pennsylvania plate driving by when I was in Florida. Each time a car would pass, I thought, “Wow, there’s another Pennsylvania license plate.” All of a sudden it dawned on me, “You dummy. No wonder there are so many Pennsylvania license plates. You ARE back in Pennsylvania.”
As I was writing this, another recollection popped into my head. When I was a kid, we didn’t have Frisbees. We were fortunate if we had a bat and a ball. We often made do with what we found as a toy. I can remember that I found a chrome plated wheel cover that had fallen off a car. The hubcap was heavy, about fourteen inches in diameter. I picked it up and began to toss it like a flying disc. It worked fine for several flights until the thin metal edges of the underside tore into the flesh of my fingers. The black dust that had collected from the brake pads rubbed off on my skin contaminated the cut.
I didn’t need stitches, but Mom’s cleaning of the wound hurt like the devil. I don’t remember what happened to the hubcap, but I do know I never used a hubcap for a Frisbee again.

Salt of the Earth
One of my relatives had a small farm where he and his wife raised a few cows and pigs. He was so selfish and tight that he squeaked when he walked. He would make a penny stretch beyond what was legal. I was told that he often wore a heavy coat when he went shopping, coming home with more than he paid for. Supposedly he didn’t purchase the salt and sugar necessary to process the hams when it came time to butcher the hogs.
Tricksters at Frick Hospital in Mt. Pleasant, Pennsylvania would play the old switcheroo with salt and sugar on the night shift. In the cafeteria they would unscrew the tops of the salt and sugar containers, so that when another person would to use it, most of the contents were dumped onto their meal or into their coffee. Another trick was to exchange the contents so the salt was sugar and vice-versa. It became so bad that the cafeteria employees had to collect and store the salt and sugar containers in the evening. The night shift had to deal with the consequences of having no salt or sugar.
The story that actually started me down the salt trail occurred when television advertisers used a disclaimer saying that shredded wheat was salt free. It was a time that physicians said that too much salt wasn’t good for people with high blood pressure. My dad Carl Beck thought that the shredded wheat company REMOVED the salt from their cereal. He stubbornly claimed it didn’t taste the same and would add salt to his shredded wheat before eating it for breakfast. Even though we tried to explain that salt was never in the cereal’s recipe, he was adamant about the taste and determined to add the salt for flavor.
The final link in my salty story is that I was a corpsman in the United States Navy during the Vietnam Era. Although I was never “in country,” I took care of many of the injured men when they returned to the States. My “sea duty” was Iceland. In the four years that I served, I was never on a ship. I did often go fishing on an eighteen foot fishing boat and Navy sailors are called “old salts,” so technically I could be called an old salt even though I was never at sea until I actually rode a ship from Newfoundland along the coast of Labrador much later in life.