Atomic Monster Cafe: In The Halcyon Days...

...of my departed youth...I attended GRSBM - Grand Rapids School of the Bible and Music - majoring in missionary aviation.

GRSBM no longer exists, but they do still have reunions every couple of years.

There was one last month, which I did not attend, but put me in a nostalgic mood thinking back on that time.

Over the course of three challenging years, I earned my commercial pilot's license with an instrument rating for fixed wing, single engine, land aircraft...

...but far more important, received a solid education in the Word of God.

For a number of reasons I never made it to the mission field, and all that aviation training - while fascinating and exciting, not to mention expensive - was of little use...

...in my subsequent Info Technology career.

The Bible education, on the other hand, has proven immensely valuable through the years.

Though guilty of knowing more Bible truth than I've lived, yet I've returned time and again to its pages for answers, comfort, encouragement and direction.

And why does any of this matter today?

My inconsequential personal history aside, it matters today for the same reason it matters every day:

As James enjoins, we are to "receive with meekness the engrafted Word which is able to save your souls". (James 1:21)

And as it says in Psalm 119:105, "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path."

In short, the Bible tells us how to get right with our Maker then serves as our compass in the confusing jungle called "life".

As far as I know, there are no more traditional 3 year Bible Institutes like GRSBM in existence, and these United States of America, along with all the countries to which their graduates took the gospel, are poorer for it.

In "Ode To The West Wind" by Shelley, we read these words:

"O wild west wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,

Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing..."

Suffice to say he goes on like that for 5 stanzas, but you get the idea...the wind can be wild, driving leaves and anything else in its path "like ghosts from an enchanter, fleeing..."

Appropriate imagery for this most recent All Hallows E'en...

...when the wind blew incessantly and vigorously, gusting over 50 miles per hour at times.

Consequently I ended up tying and weighting things down to keep them from blowing away, and sadly there was no "Big Frank"...

...to greet the trick or treaters.

In spite of the unpleasant weather, we still had 86 intrepid souls who braved our walk of not quite fear but you know, a little bit spooky, sort of (still working with legal on the exact name so we don't get sued for false advertising).

the tree creature was back for a limited engagement before his return to the arboreal nether regions from whence he hails

a smiling pumpkin patch greets you, but what unspeakable horrors lie ahead?

as it turns out, not any...though Jack Skellington's pretty miffed at getting booted from his gig at the front door, replaced this year by...well, you'll see

the hanging reaper, whipped around by the wind, no doubt searching for his right glove that was blown off earlier

that's the skeleton groundbreaker (Marty Feldman?) on the bottom right, overshadowed by the gaggle of ghosts to the left...

...and Willie the werewolf, firmly weighted down with rocks so he doesn't get any ideas about flying the coop

ah, the lovely Elsa and that rat fink Olaf who stole Jack Skellington's job. he looks harmless but beneath that smiling exterior beats a heart of ice, which sort of makes sense when you think about it because, you know, he's a snowman and all

and finally, the st. james infirmary duo, accompanied by the tall, green, formerly deceased purveyor of halloween treats, Gramp N. Stein. he may not be good looking, but at least he's, um, yeah...'nuff said

To my knowledge, there were no fisticuffs among the props, the trick or treaters or the proprietors of this seasonal gathering, so I'm going with "a good time was had by all".

You had a week off so I don't want to hear any grousing about the hickory golf update:

The Duffer's Lament

"'Twas a cold and gloomy gloaming,

When the links I went a-roaming,

With my sticks o' hick'ry flailin’,

Like a madman I was railin’…

As you may fear, there's more where that came from but my tender heart forbids I should inflict such suffering upon my gentle readers.

Returning to the subject at hand...

"At the greens so o'erly soggy,

And the atmosphere, too foggy!

But in spite o' dread conditions,

That at times felt like perdition...

(Please to forgive, it's a sickness, but I promise that's the last of it.)

Instead of drilling down into boring golf minutia - which may or may not cast a favorable light on my efforts - I say we focus on the beauty of God's creation.

Even though we're officially past peak now, it was still a gorgeous stroll through the countryside.

"I endured the weather stormy,

And by six the match went dormie,

Shivers icy coursed my spine,

When quoth I, The battle's mine!

(My sincere apologies, but as Uncle Eddie said, it's best if you just let him finish.)

And in truth, it wasn't a bad round...lost the 1st 2 holes, won the next 4, then lost the next 2.

So I was all square after 8, and needed a win on #9 to secure a hard fought, 1 up victory.

"But my mashie lost its moxie,

And the last three holes were poxy,

Thus I staggered off yon links,

Swearing Aye, this pastime stinks!"

(Finally, blessed relief.)

And what do you know? Unlike the lament above, this time I tamed, however briefly, the beast that masquerades as my putter and bogeyed #9, which in my world passes for a win.

So I exited the field of battle bloody but unbowed, and lived to golf another day.

Today, as it turns out, in about 2 hours.*

So let's wrap this up, shall we?

* blog publication postscript: my last outing of the year -

1st tee, 320 yard par 4

- (course is now closed) was memorable in that I had several pars and nothing worse than bogey; a first for me. not happy about the long winter layoff dead ahead, but at least this season ended on a high note.