"A Twisted Faith" by Gregg Olsen

Religion is a controversial topic, especially when it involves multiple affairs disguised as counseling, and then goes on to include arson and murder as well. This is what happened in Bremerton, Washington in December of 1997 when all three of these things came together in a perfect storm. The resultant trial is filled with fascinating details of what happens when too many people think they have the "answer" through the calling of God.

The story mainly concerns Nick Hacheney and his wife Dawn, who move to the area in the 1990's and join a church. There, Nick becomes a Youth Minister and self proclaimed Prophet. Everyone wants to have his opinion. He is that close to God. So close, in fact, that he virtually usurps the authority of the church and makes it his own.

Branching out to counseling married couples comes at the suggestion of the congregants, and Nick readily accepts. Only he seems more interested in the wives than in saving marraiges.

The church doctrine is unusual as well, calling upon the congregation to spend freely using credit cards. After all, according to Nick, God wants them to have it all, in the here and now. Why wait for the next world when all of Gods treaures can be yours today?

With a doctrine like this you just know that disaster waits in the wings. And when it arrives on December 26, 1997 in the form of a deadly arson that takes the life of the minister's wife, things begin to surface that eventually encompass most of the town. Questions arise as to how a town could become so easily subverted by so few.

An intriquing read that brings more questions than answers, this book exemplifies the culture in which we live. It is a culture of want and greed that allows us all to fall victim to the self proclaimed "truths" that others are willing to sell us, and we are all too ready to buy into.

The Frogs Are Back In Town

It's that time of year again when you can listen to the song of the frog. This little fellow was on my porch with some friends last night when I surprised him. An old poem, or short rhyme that I used to know says a lot about these little guys. Let's see if I can remember it;

The frog he sits, almost.
When he hops, he flies, almost.
And when he sits,
he sits on what he ain't got, almost.

It's no secret that I love amphibious creatures. They are pretty gentle, with the exception of crocodiles and alligators, of course. But frogs and turtles have long been my freinds. Hardly a year goes by that I don't grab a turtle off the centerline of the road. Not knowing which way they are headed I usually take them home, where I release them after playing a bit. I also like to show them to any kids in the neighborhood that might be interested. So far this year, no turtles, just frogs.

It's also the time of year for that time honored sport of "gigging" frogs. For those who are unfamiliar with this sport, it simply involves going out and grabbing some frogs as they try to leap away. When you catch some you put them in a croker sack, if you're playing strictly by the rules. But even a simple handkerchief will suffice for this fun, catch and release game of wits between a human and an amphibian.

We did that today at my son's place with my grandaughters. Another family tradition, I suppose. No pictures because the game is just too fast paced and packed with action. We did got one for them to hold, but not too tightly. Hopefully the lesson is not lost, that in life, sometimes you have to be prepared to let go. As I teach them I am learning so much from my grandkids, and that amazes me.

Forty Two

It has been 42 years since Robert Kennedy was killed in Los Angeles. He was 42 years old. So much has been written about that night and his subsequent death that there is little to add.

I was 13 and a half when Kennedy was shot. Coming, as it did, on the heels of Martin Luther King's murder, 8 weeks earlier, it was one of those events that leaves you changed in some measure. There is a loss of confidence and security in all that surrounds you.

In the years between 1962, when I received my first transistor radio, and the end of the decade, I got most of my news and music through a flesh colored apparatus known then as the "earphone." They came with the radio. And every night when I went to bed I put the radio beneath my pillow and the "earphone" in my ear. With the lights out and the music on I traveled far and wide in search of that indefineable "something." And sometimes I'd get it. The night of June 4th was one of those nights.

Just past 3 AM in the early morning hours of June 5th, I was listening to WMCA Radio 56 (560 on the AM dial) when the news broke that Robert Kennedy had been shot at the Ambassador Hotel in L.A. No one was awake. Even back then I was a lousy sleeper, frequently keeping the radio turned on beneath my pillow all night, waking at intervals to check on the news, or search for a favorite song.

Roaming the dial from one end to the next at nighttime brought in some extraordinary places. I would jot down the names of the cities and the names of the stations. Addressing the postcards to the stations in such faraway places as Colorado, I would inform them that I had received their signals in New York City and at what time. I usually got back a postcard thanking me for listening. I had dozens of these and considered myself somewhat akin to the early radio listeners and the crystal headsets they wore.

But this event was so astounding, so mesmerizing. In the dark everything is magnified, senses are enlarged and the mind's eye gives sharp focus to the words being spoken. It was that way this night as I lay there listening to the reports coming in.

All through the next day I watched and waited with the rest of the world to see if Robert Kennedy would pull through. There was no way I was going to sleep that next night. This was a drama that had to be seen through until the end. And that end came sometime around 4:30 AM when Joeseph Mankiewicz tearfully announced the death of Robert Kennedy. The rest is history.

The world has changed in dramatic ways since those days. The ways in which we receive our news 24/7 has brought the world closer in some measure. But I will always remember, and even long for, the days when I got my news through the "office" beneath my pillow, flesh colored "earphones" in place, searching for the next "big thing."

The Girls Are Back In Town

Two of our grandaughters are in town for the next five weeks. They're staying with their Dad, our son, Shane at his place near here. That's Trinity on the left and Aliyah on the right. So don't be surprised if you see them on here.

Grandchildren are a wonderful treat. They just give you love, for the simple reason that you are a Grandparent. They accept you as you are and never question whether you love them, even after not seeing them for a year, though in this case it's only been six months. But at their age, that's a lifetime. So we're looking forward to taking them on some adventures while they're here and maybe spoiling them just a little bit. No telling where we might turn up.

Grandparenting gives you that second chance to do it right, and pick the fights worth fighting, while letting all the unimportant things go. Every parent has made mistakes, and we whip ourselves for those mistakes. Grandchildren are natures way of letting you ease up on some of that guilt. When you realize that you have learned something after all these years it can be very gratifying.

Stand By - Albert Is Working On It

My computer has caught the cyber version of AIDS. So we're busy working on it. Hopefully things will be up and running shortly. This is being posted from my wife's virus free computer. Albert is working on the other one.

The Local Zoological Garden

There's a place near us that Sue and I visited last Sunday in preparation for the Invasion Of the Grandkids next weekend. We're lining up stuff for them to do. So we took a look at this place up in Troutman, about 15 miles from us, that has a petting zoo and a Western type exhibit. That's me negotiating a family rate with one of the owners. He didn't commit himself to a deal however, being more of the silent type. I wonder if that was a pistol in his pocket or if he was just glad to see me?

Now this little baby is one of the things I like about the place. You get to play with the tigers. This little fellow has paws the size of my head. He's all tuckered out from the last group of kids that came through and played with him. Man, what a job! So we'll be taking a trip there soon with the grandkids. I'll let you know how it goes. And we'll have to remember and ask the kids to take it easy on that poor tiger cub.

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

It's been 43 years since the hot June day in 1967 when "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" came to America for the first time. The album had been out in England since May 1st, and some of the local DJ's had gotten copies from friends there. Late at night during the month of May, some of them were playing a few of the "cuts" before the American release date.

I had been standing outside Crawford's, a home furnishing store on the corner of East 14th Street and Kings Highway, that had a small record department. They sat across the street from Benhoff's Sporting Goods, which is where I normally purchased my records. But Crawford's had something that Benhoff's lacked- an outside speaker. And they weren't afraid to use it. In this case they were blasting "A Little Help From My Friends" for several days prior to the release of Sgt. Pepper. I would stand in front of their window, looking at all the bric a brac, listening to Ringo intone "...what do you see when you turn out the lights? I can't tell you but I know it's mine."

I bought the album across the street at Benhoff's for $2.57 in mono. The stereo version was $3.17 at that time. I took that album home and wore the grooves off of it!

The album seems a bit dated now. Playing it all the way through takes some patience and an understanding of the times. 1967 was a pivotal year for music in several ways. The Beatles had been locked into that rigid "pop radio" sound of 2 minutes 30 seconds give or take some, just as everyone else had been for so many years. Bored with touring, they announced the end of touring as a band in the fall of 1966. They would, instead, work in the studio to create new sounds. Working from December 1966 until April of 1967, with only 8 track equipment, they created an album that would revolutionize the way people thought of, and made, music.

The album was a smash, setting records (no pun intended) in every category. Music would never again be confined, as it had been, within time constraints and "permissable" uses of sound. This was the precursor to The Who's "Tommy" and Pink Floyds "concept" albums of the 1970's.

And the cover was, well, let's put it this way- the "normal" album cover of the time depicted a singer, or group, in a cute pose under the title. The cover of Sgt. Pepper was filled with imagery and symbolism. It was an intriquing work of art conceived by Peter Blake at the suggestion of John Lennon and Paul McCartney. They envisioned an imaginary band, Sgt. Pepper's, having just completed a concert in a park, with the crowd standing behind them. Peter Blake then asked for a list of notable people that they would like in the collage. John chose Jesus, Ghandi and Hitler. Ringo didn't care and George wanted all Hindu Gurus.

The end result featured Charlie Chaplin, WC Fields, Marilyn Monroe, Marlon Brando, a host of others too long to enumerate and even the wax figures of The Beatles from Madame Tussauds. Originally Mae West turned down the offer to be on the cover, replying to Brian Epstein's letter "...what would I be doing in a Lonely Hearts Club?" Only a personal letter from the Fab Four was able to change her mind.

The album went on to change the course of music, both in the way we listen to it, and the way in which we perceive it visually. It broke bounds and made a place for itself in the history of recorded music.