CRUSING, EATING AND MOVIES chapter 36

Cruising could happen any night we were bored, but the weekend was best. We had a very distinct route. West on Dodge past 72nd to the Miniature Golf and Trampoline park near the movie drive-in, always with a stop on both trips at the eating drive-in near the Dundee neighborhood. I can picture the drive-in, but not the location or the name. Dundee neighborhood, I think.

If life were dead on that route, no friends were located and all the hot chicks turned their heads from us, we moved on to 30^th Street and headed north to another favorite eating drive-in. It does seem to me that we only ate at the one on Dodge Street. 30^th was just a place to hunt women. We never talked about what we would do with the women if we ever picked them up. I’m sure I didn’t know. I couldn’t even imagine any of them wanting to get in a car with us. But a couple did once. We didn’t really know what to do.

The Dodge Street drive-in had the best hamburgers. Cheap too. I think a fully loaded deluxe was about 49¢. The building had limited seating inside, but the hang out was in the parking lot. There was covered parking from the building down the middle of the parking lot. You ordered food from a speaker at your car and it was delivered on a tray that hung from your window. It was all very cool, up beat, modern stuff.

Then McDonald’s came to town and located in the desert of Western Nebraska on Dodge past everything that was anything along that road. The location made no sense. They still drew a crowd because of 15¢ hamburgers. They tasted like cardboard, but you could get 5 and a drink for under a dollar. To get real food we would go back to the drive-in.

Some of us guys were addicted to the Hercules movies with Steve Reeves. No one was sure he was real. He had muscles none of us knew existed on a real guy. He also appeared in movies with half clad women, not a bad side product. The drive-in had a party spot on the roof of the building. No one went there to see the movie. It was way to noisy.

Each parking spot had a speaker you lifted off and hung from your window. More than one person drove off at the end of the night without replacing the speaker. They must have had a pile of speakers to replace after each night.

Those were the days my friend we thought would never end — but they did.

AN ADDED PATH

Something has got to change or I will drive myself crazy. I like telling some of the stories of my life, but I seriously doubt they are of much interest to anyone other than my family and myself. The stats bear that out. I receive one-two glances at a page per day. I guess that’s OK. I did not start writing with any believe that even a dozen would be interested, but I find the blog confining. I think I threw the baby out with the bath water when I dropped my first blog. I did it for a very good reason. I felt like writing about The Home was getting repetitious, but5 I also took the freedom to write about life and my thoughts. I do like to rant at times.

I am not going to drop the blog I now have, but I am going to add another one with the intent of writing in each blog one two or three times a week. If I don’t comment on something in the church, the world, politics, culture or just something that ticks me off from time to time I will explode.

I am very sorry that so many of my friends at The Home have various illnesses and certain things are not working the way they should. Me too! But there is only some much to say and when they get into medical language I am completely lost and not longer good at looking interested.

Friends here are bothered by my casual approach to my own health problems. I am not trying to get sick and I am doing what I know to do in hopes avoiding illness and prolonging my life, but I am not anxious. As I have checked, it has occurred to me that the Scriptures are right. “It is appointed unto man, once to die.” I admit to being glad it is only once, especially if my experience tends to be painful. I really don’t like pain.

My new blog will include random thoughts and ideas about whatever ever is on my mind. Maybe this has happened to you, but my ideas have evolved. Some may believe that is not a good thing. So be it. I don’t know exactly what this new blog will be called, but I am toying with “View from the Pew.” I miss talking about the church, world events, culture, and ideas. This will be my outlet. It’s time to write about our silliness.

I will let you know the new blog name when it launches.

WHO EDITS THESE POSTS? I can't type or think. I must have been out of my mind. Why start another blog. I have six followers, I may never get that many again. Tell you what I'm going to do. If I want to say something else, I will just say it right here in this blog. Sure will be easier.

I did what blogger asked me to do. Upgrade to their new and improve (and easier) format. They must be joking. I can't find anything. I've been ten minutes just trying to find out how to edit a post. Why must everyone feel the need to change everything. Is there nothing can be left alone. While I'm at it — stop changing my cereal and my laundry detergent. I brought the old model because I liked the old model. Frankly, I can't tell that you changed anything except the packaging and that you reduced in size and raised the price. I guess I am the sucker that is born every minute. But I want you to know I feel cheated and when I find a newer and more improved cereal, I'm changing brands.

ON A PERSONAL NOTE

This last health issue began in the middle of the night on Wednesday. I got up to use the toilet and felt somewhat colder than normal but didn’t give it much thought. When I got back into bed I began to shiver with every muscle in my body shaking and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I turn my heat up, added blankets, put on more clothes and the shaking did not subside for more than two hours. The next time I was up for another trip to the restroom (that night it seemed to be ever 40-60 minutes), the shivers began again. This was less than 30 minutes before it either stopped or I fell asleep from exhaustion.

I dozed off and on all day Thursday and ate nothing. Friday was a monthly potluck and I was responsible for scalloped potatoes. I called on a woman who (once foolishly I might add) said, if ever need anything, just call. I just called. She graciously made the scallops for me. She also stuck around way longer than my body would take. I finally had to ask her to leave as I was going to fall asleep on her.

Another friend brought me a plate of food after the potluck. She knows my food restrictions as her husband had the same issues. She brought a small bowl of mixed fruit and I ate that immediately. Later I got into the salad and later yet I got down most of the meal portion, a small chunk of ham, two pineapple rings and some carrots. Surprise, surprise, food did taste good and I suspect it was better because I didn’t make it.

I am still on the repair, but am writing to let you know the shaking has affected my already very limited ability to type. I am missing more and more keys. If not the shaking, I may need new glasses. I’m one of those proud boys who did not take high school typing and while I can get done what needs to be done, I have never been very good. But if you think this is bad you should see my handwriting.

I will be out of commission Easter Sunday, but a new chapter in the life of a boring high school Christian will resume by Monday afternoon.

Whoops, have to go, urgent call to the little boy’s room.

INTERLUDE: Sick

One of the beautiful things about aging it that you get to frequently experience a health issue that is new to you. It breaks up the boredom. I went down Wednesday night with chills that lasted over two hours. The exhaustion lasted all day Thursday and while better today (Friday) I don't l don't know if I can focus yet. Maybe by Sunday.

AFTER THE RALLY chapter 35

Saturday nights often meant heading up to Betty’s house or maybe Kathy’s house or even Al’s house after the YFC Rally. I looked forward to this time of fun and just being with my friends. People brought snacks or ran to get something because you can’t have the gang without food. Popcorn was big. I wonder how many gallons, or maybe tons we went through.

If we went to Betty’s, the living room was always dark for the 10:15 start of syndicated horror movies presented by local actor Gregg Dunn as Gregore. The shows began September of 1958 on KMTV channel 3 in Omaha, NB. That means it would have only been for our last two years of high school. The first film was Frankenstien. I don’t know if we saw that one, in fact, I can’t remember the names of any of the movies. I do remember actors Boris Karloff, Vincent Price, Bella Lugosi, Lon Chaney and John Barrymore. I doubt the real point of Gregore was to watch the movie. It was more likely that the point was to try and scare others in the room. Someone might make a door squeak, or make a quiet but spooky noise or waiting for just the right moment a frightening scream or a touch to a girls arm or shoulder. Even if we weren’t paying attending to the movie for most of it, we were all focused as the horror parts approached.

The point of being together was to talk, laugh and play some parlor games. Most of those games would seem peculiar to kids today, but we loved them. Games like: Crossed or Uncrossed, Murder (a winking game), Rhythm (sore fingers and legs), Hot or Cold, Charades, Four on a Couch and too many more to repeat. Some would bring a new game or we would revert to one of our old favorites. Every one of these games produced laughter. We had fun and not one got drunk.

I loved those Saturday nights because of the gang. Christian kids having a great time drew me into who they were and the God they loved.  It was a place to fit, a place to belong.

Tepeeing was huge and Kathy’s house was a primary target. There were two big beautiful trees just dying to have toilet paper hanging from their branches. Those white rolls of paper blowing in the wind and glowing in the moonlight ere a wonder to behold. It was easy to clean up if you got to it before the morning dew soaked the paper and it stuck to the leaves. Katy’s wide, flat front yard was always a challenge to get in, get the job done and get away without being seen. I suspect she always knew who did it, but if not, this is a confession that I was one of them.

Thos was only part of the grand adventures. There was also drive-in movies, drive-in burger joints (think Happy Days). We enjoyed miniature golf, trampolines, Playland Park and some of the area lakes, but I’ll get to those later.

SATURDAY NIGHT YFC chapter 34

Saturday night was Youth For Christ. It was sort of like church, but it wasn’t church.

There was always much better preaching. The men came in from all over the country and they were exciting to listen to. A few of them were such bad people with stories of redemption that it could only be God who redeemed them. However, it had an adverse affect on me. After the wire-taper, and the New York gangster I began thinking that my life was so boring and mundane that I would never be one God would or could use. What was I going to say? I lied to my parents and got made at times? Boring!

Less threatening but more annoying and controversial were the anti rock-n-roll speakers, and there were plenty. It was the devils music. The syncopated beat was going to shake us apart and destroy us morally. They never failed to bring arguments among the audience. There were both pro and anti groups. It was still the age of compliance so most of the complaints did not reach the Leadership. I have to admit I didn’t pay much attention. I listened when the music was on, but it was mostly background to me. I could sing along to some of the tunes when it was on, but couldn’t seem to remember without the beat. I tended to remember the pre-rock and roll tunes like were the Kingston Trio, Everly Brothers, Pat Bone and my all time favorite song Flying Purple People Eater, a real classic. Smile, I am.

What I did like was the inclusion of teens in the program. There were a number of kids doing special music, and they had an electric chair with a mild electric shock to it. They would bring some unsuspecting kid to the front and ask him questions and give him a shock if he was wrong. The crowd would laugh uproariously. So did I — on the outside. I was hurt and embarrassed for that person and lived in absolute fear of being called up front. I suspect I would have passed out had they called on me. I might be wrong around why the chair was used, but it was the fact that it gave off a shock that troubled me. I always wondered why they would intentionally embarrass a teen. I suppose some liked it, but I definitely wasn’t one of them.

The shock gag was my one objection to YFC. I thought it was cruel and not used for fun, but for embarrassment. I hated it. But who was I to object. I was just a pathetic little twerp who only answered yes or no to the questions of teachers and strangers. Oh, I would also say, “I don’t know.” I needed to know someone before a conversation would develop. I didn’t say much, but I felt much.

There was also Bible Quizzing. It was a strange little competition where teams say in chairs and jumped up as soon as they knew the answers. I thought it was amazing, and then I learned it was over an assigned passage. Somewhat easier, but not simple! When a junior I was begged to be on a quiz team because each team had to have at least one boy or girl. I joined, but did little more than sit on the bench. The girls of Central carried our team.

YFC improved my view of religion. I liked the clubs and Pete, our director, was a great guy. At this point in life I had little concern for other parts of the world. The biggest world I knew was right around me. Religion was getting better and I did want to know why so many kids seemed to love God. Didn’t they see what I saw? I hung on because of the believers around me.

Through Youth For Christ I met kids from around the city. On Saturday nights the YFC clubs fathered for a rally. The crowds weren’t exclusively teens, but mostly teens. It was typical of most religious gatherings of the time. There was some music, an offering, a special number and then the preaching. The alter call did nothing for my sense of Christian security. I was even more confused about who I was and especially what I was. It was on Saturday nights that I began making several decisions to follow Christ — almost weekly. Sometimes I went forward and when I didn’t do that, I prayed the “sinners prayer” in my seat. I wanted to cover myself with quality fire insurance just in case.

THE RED BIBLE chapter 33

(Parenthetically Speaking…

Digging back into ones mind over 50 years later is not the most reliable thing to do. These are my memories, Hopefully the good and sometimes humorous ones. It’s about growing up Christian and growing up blessed.)

While I am grateful for the friendships developed in Youth For Christ, they had a particular practice that unnerved me. I doubt the practice was required and maybe not even encouraged, but it seemed to be encouraged by example. I was still very unsure about being identified as a Christian. I certainly never spoke of faith nor got into any religious debates.  I suspect that with my Friday night football boys, they might have laughed had they heard me talk about church. One the other hand, going to church was no frowned upon in the 50’s. It was common for many.

YFC kids carried a red Bible. I thought it signified they were part of YFC and that they were Christian. I doubt most people knew what is meant. It was certainly easier to carry a red Bible on top of your books than to stand on a soapbox like one was at Mars Hill with the apostle Paul.

I delayed getting one until I felt like I just didn’t fit in without it. I wanted a red Bible, but I was nervous about carrying it around school.  I bought it, thumbed through it to begin to get adjusted to understanding and reading the book. I knew the books of the Bible and participated in a lot of sword drills (seeing who could find a selected verse in the Bible first). There were things I really wanted to know. I wasn’t sure I would be able to find out the answers I was seeking, but I set out to try.

I was attracted to some of the old Bible stories I learned as a kid. I was very interested in the people of the Old Testament. I was fascinated the by the life of King David. All I really knew was of David and Goliath, and that he grew up to be King and did a bad thing with Bathsheba. I passed over that story initially as just a story. I could see nothing significant about it. In retrospect, why did God love David? He was a good kid, but he certainly screwed up as an adult. He committed adultery. He plotted to kill a man. When that was accomplished he married the wife to hide his sin. A son raped his stepsister and their David appeared to ignore the matter. Tamar was the full sister of Absalum, and he was so angry that David did not have Tamnon stoned, as was the law, he plotted to kill his stepbrother. After killing Amnon  Absaloms anger continued to burn hot which lead to his plot to take the throne from his father. This was one messed up family and yet God loved David.  Maybe God loved me after all.

I was benefitting form reading my Bible, but most of the time around school I felt like I was as phony as a three-dollar bill, and my florescent red Bible screamed phony. I was embarrassed at times. I only brought it on YFC days. I didn’t want to walk into club and not have a red Bible. I know I would not have been the only one without a one, but I was exceptionally responsive to peer pressure — even unstated pressure. I wanted to fit in.

The red Bible was like a badge of honor proclaiming that I was part of YFC. It was a badge and I felt like a liar wearing it. Not that I didn’t go to the club. I did, but was I a person of faith? However, that never stopped me from carrying it even though embarrassed. I was never embarrassed to be seen with the gang. In fact, I wanted to be seen with them. I thought they were a great group. I just wanted to believe something important and have a confidence that these friends had. I wanted out of my shell, but stayed put for a while. I was like the turtle more than ostrich. I wasn’t exactly sticking my head in the sand to avoid seeing. I was watching all right, watching and taking notes mentally from the safety of my shell. I would hesitant to reach out for fear I would be rejected. I liked confident people and wanted to be one. 

I wish I still had my red Bible. Don't know where it went.