I had a beautiful child’s Bible that I received for Confirmation and I loved it and read it, looked at the pictures inside, and the cover had Jesus sitting under a tree and had children in His lap and surrounding Him, and a little Cross on the end of its zipper chain.

But one day I left it at home and when I returned from school the other children in the house had taken a pair of sowing shears to it and cut it to pieces! So I gathered it up and took it to mum and told her that they cut up my Bible, and I was crying, and she told me to “SHUT UP! You are always complaining about something!” And that was the end of that matter!

One of the things that I got into a lot of trouble for was after Great-Grand had given me all these framed photos of Jesus and Angels and Saints to hang on my bedroom wall beside my bed. And I liked to sleep with a picture of Jesus at night, but when Mum found out they were taken away for a rummage sale! It was because I was such a horrid child by sleeping with a picture of Jesus tucked in my little arms at night, so I quite deserved it!

During my childhood the Charismatic Renewal was sweeping through the Churches and around the world and miracles were happening and people were getting renewed and happier in their Faith, and the Gifts of the Holy Spirit were being brought to the forefront, and traditional Churches were being filled with joyful music and expressive worship, and people falling under the power when God’s presence would show up during Mass and even Liturgies in other similar to Roman Catholic Churches, and even Baptists and other Evangelical Churches were experiencing the “Acts of the Apostles” experiences and it was no longer something for a few Church elite! Or just something we only read about in the Bible and Church History that was currently going on! But it was all real right now!

So during Church I used to sit up front with my chums and one Sunday morning they sat down with me and said that they had gotten the Baptism of the Holy Spirit like the adults had been getting, and that all I had to do was lift my hands and ask the Father in Jesus’ name for the Baptism of the Holy Spirit… So I did and He gave the experience to me and it was the most wonderful and euphoric thing as little boy that I had ever experienced; and though the Charismatic Renewal and lift of our hands during Mass and worship meetings, and I received the Baptism of the Holy Spirit like so many were in those days!

At family prayer that night and from then on I would get beaten often and told things like “You went to Church to get the Holy Ghost but came home with a demon!” So from then on and until I went away to college, I would often get beaten, even without any warning, and while I was being beaten I would be told that I had a demon and Mum would keep yelling and screeching in my face while sitting on my chest, saying, “Get out of him Satan!” and “You can’t have him Satan!” And I was no longer allowed to have friends or sit with the other young people in Church. But all the while my childhood had become a greater living Hell than ever before, people outside of our home were always commenting on how kind and loving a young man that I was! Had they known what Hell I was living through at home those same people would’ve never believed it! Would you? That those things were regularly going on, in the house I grew up in? Do you believe it happened? Do you believe that up ‘til now, still, I am “A Man of Sorrows, acquainted with Grief”?

The woman is a liar!

I stopped in on a little personal walking tour into that little 35 West Main Community Centre and after looking around and have spent so much money of late, found an artistic post card to mail my charming, kind adopted mum as a possible ‘Get Well’ card, and the price on the card read that it was only $2.25! And I suspected that with tax my wallet might contain that amount without once again disturbing my bank card, needing to sit down at home and count up my balance amount before I used it for anymore purchases that week; but when I asked the woman who seemed both a little nervous of my presence in her shop of crafts and gifts of the natural, earthy, ethnic kind… how much that tax would be on this $2.25 card as I had already spent so much this week celebrating my forty-seventh birthday… for my “Birthday Month”, she told me that it did not read $2.25 but that that lovely little artistic and possible ‘Get Well’ card for my charming and kind adopted mum, was actually $2.75 and that I was very much quite wrong in thinking that it read $2.25 in its printing, and even must now not be able to afford it with my little sum of funds within my weeks depleting wallet? And she patronizingly and as if I were an ignorant child of a man, sent me away both empty-handed as well as offended!

I like to walk about learning the city as I have so many times learned other cities! And I like to window and otherwise shop all about at all of the quaint places and markets, even those that I could never afford, as a real person to purchase any of their wares and goods at. Exploring is educational! Exploring enlarges a man or woman’s soul and even increases their mind’s view!

I walked that way today after passing Balaban’s where the roasted bunny rabbit dinner is the special being sold to it patrons today! And remembered that I can no longer enjoy that dinner special as I once before had when my friend Jack Austin from Boston who is with the Symphony Opera House on Grand Avenue near Lindell Boulevard were dining there, before I was informed that tasty Roasted Bunny Rabbit Dinner Specials are not Kosher! Which I did not know at all until I was told but somehow feel guilty now and ever since as if I should’ve already known? How could I’ve not’ve known that dining on that tasty Roasted Bunny Rabbit Dinner Special at Balaban’s on Euclid Avenue is the same as and as sinful as dining on one’s very own household pet cat according to any Torah following Jew or Yahweh and His Son-loving Kosher Christian aware of all things godly and righteous!

But that woman who owns or manages that earth-friendly shop at the Community Building at 35 West Main, that woman who was afraid of me as if I were a dangerous man or possible shoplifter, and she being alone did patronize me! And changed the price on the only thing that I might afford to purchase to show her that I was a valid man only shopping and enjoying the city’s attributes as I was learning them touring about that day to see what there was for me to learn and to behold to expand my soul and increase my mind’s view with and through my casual but diligent walk-about, and she refused to sell me that little artistic card for the price so plainly printed on it’s corner where prices are usually placed on cards, and I almost even felt a little mocked by the shop keeper or manager, though she did say a kindly “Happy Birthday!” to me though she refused me the little artist’s card, and sent me away empty-handed and even a little bit offended… I think? I was certainly empty-handed! And I still want to think that my emotions do still feel a little bit offended by that woman? That woman who would not sell me a card for $2.25 that read on its printed corner price “$2.25” but she claimed that that was “$2.75” instead and did not sell me the little artistic card!

Today I walked down and over and down that street to that area of the city and to the corner where that shop is so that I could note in my journal book that I carry most places with me now so that I can write in between being in front of my computer blogging, writing, informing, educating as I do. And though that woman who lied about the price of that little artist’s card may think that I do not matter, am dangerous or ignorant and have no soul within my being, or am a shiftless shop-lifter, when I write, blog, tell, educate, inform, it is then, if at no other time, I do matter! And even if to that woman shop-keeper or manager, of my $2.25 plus Tax does not count or matter to purchase that artistic card, and even if she seemed a bit mocking and patronizing to me, when I get in front of my computer and write, blog, teach and inform; I know that at least then I matter, have a soul in my being and count!

But don’t worry anyone, I am not so bothered or upset. I just like to blog and write and tell about my experiences, and I never lie! I might tell a fictional story someday that is created from mine and other’s real-life experiences like Earnest Hemingway, James Joyce or Gertrude Stein did; but I would never lie!

Aye, did I ever tell you about the loud smoking lesbian upstairs above me that moved in and replaced the nice quiet Seventh Day Adventist man who was in the Army Reserve or something like that? She seems kind of crude to me sometimes and sometimes she seems to want to be my friend but her noise and smoking offends me and causes me some personal suffering and inconvenience… so I can never be her real friend nor can she be mine? I get disturbed by loud racket early or late when I want to sleep or think or read a book. And her smoking, which should be done on the front stoop with the other smelly smokers that have moved into our old apartment house with shared environmental air running throughout top to bottom and side to side, triggers laboured breathing, Asthma and awful dry coughs that eventually dredge up fits of blood! And though she and the other smokers that moved in all know this about myself and the other non-smokers in our old apartment house and that they agreed not to smoke in our shared environmental air but out on the front stoop, they have all taken to smoking within the house so as not to be inconvenienced by stepping out onto the front stoop to light up there! And now we asthmatics are suffering hugely and with awful coughing fits, even through the night and the crude, smelly smokers all know this and have banded together in their stubbornness insisting that we non-smokers grow up and face the real world and that smokers have rights too! But where I am from lesbians were nicer and kinder and more considerate!
And all this kind [of] lesbian behaviour is all new and unsettling to me! And even being polite to me in passing in the vestibule does not make up for my new breathing problems or developing asthma attacks! Would it for you aye? I do not take being murdered kindly!

Bringing about the Golden Age of Empedocles again, and by the good, and by good love and by noble deeds bringing it about! And by the immortals who are our prophets, and are now thereby and herewith are our ‘gods’… For did He not say in His Psalms to them, “You are Gods!”? And then He did also say, “And the Scriptures can never be broken!” For the same Yahweh (God of gods, Lord of lords, Creator and Redeeming Saviour) who spoke forth His Word in the beginning ever lives to prove it, manifest it and has sealed it in blood! “For who is the LORD and who is His Son that we may [mightily] worship [and serve] them?”

By their artful whims, speaking of the artists and the poets and the prophets, and by their fancy do they rule us, but by their love for humankind do they rule even better! And for anyone to rule correctly, ruling by love is even better!

Let us therefore rule by our love for humankind, being kind and gentle, let us therefore rule over them! And let us all therefore allow one, true God to rule all of us by His true love! There are those who know Him as well as our hearts!

I was thinking about George Elliot one day and how that I owned her picture once in my Bohemian life, and she hang above that kitchen sick there where I lived with so many friends coming and going and seeming did they all to love me for my good soul then when I was shining it all around the place! And her picture did hang above my kitchen sink and so much that said something and meant things hanging about the place and the many books as well as all of my friends then who seemed to love me, in the Golden Age of Empedocles! The respect that we had for her and for others and for those who ruled our minds was right and was good for that age and for that season and for that epoch of human growth and for personal understanding as the arts are meant to bring about, leading us always, ultimately to God! Aye?

But now I only own an old barn picture here above this old sink and on this wall, in this old rural place in my travelling mind missing home and homesick for that place, those people and those times! And because this is not the Golden Age that I must once again strive for, leaving all of this behind to seek to gain it, and to find it, and knocking on the door of every memory until I once again find it, gain it, obtain it? And I hope against hope for the Golden Age of Empedocles! To live it again and not just daily remember it? Often praying for it? Daily am I praying for it! Seeking to recreate it! To go there, but not just in my mind, wandering about there searching through all of my old memories of when I actually did live there and dreamed new dreams across the Golden Gate that both leads to it or foolishly away from it! Thinking that I could’ve taken it away with me everywhere I go; and I was wrong!

For I used to live and sleep in the Golden City hearing the fog horns through the night telling of the evening and early morning fog, being comforted by the sound as any child that is being cared for by their mother through those tender moments of her love for them! But this is not that Golden Age and we all must once again strive for it once again and this time it seems not so easily as before? More diligent must the striving seem to be this second time around to once again and to again and once again obtain it again?!
I used to live and sleep in the Golden City but now I survive and now I scrimp to eat and now I live in a lesser world! I remember when Oscar Wilde and those like him ruled, and he from the inside of my living room ante chamber on the foyer door!

For someone has even said something akin to this when they said,

“IMAGINATION
Is the glue that holds our
Personality,
Intellect and
Spirituality together.”

And to posses that is to see past what is, what was, and to see what things for all of us and for humanity can be!

I did once live in a supernatural way (and now simply live in a miraculous way) and as an immortal was ruling from my own ‘Mount Olympus’! But known to most mortals only as “Nobhill”!

But that area of ‘them’ was not very far away from there wear I lived, and I have been asked about ‘them’ as if I lived down there with them simply because I lived in the Golden City, as if I was among ‘them’? But I was not about that but about “the City that is above that is free”! I choose to be free and not overcome! I choose! I choose! I chose!

And that area of ‘them’ was not far away, but I kept ‘them’ at the proverbial ‘distance’ with my hand outstretched saying to ‘them’, “Let me be! Let me be! Let me be me only and no one else and none of you! Let me be! Let me be me and no one else!” It as then that I was familiar with so many by having for my own amusement my own Sunday afternoon artists saloon like the infamous Gertrude Stein of Paris and like the Sylvia Beach and their poet, artists and writers turned then Bohemian to create and to pursue! But I always restrained myself like Solomon son of David and king, and in his Ecclesiastes! And my own restraints were also holy enough to keep me from leaving what was mine to wander lost as ‘they’ are! ‘They’, striving past their art into loneliness!
For all without God in their bosom are without Him most sad, most lonely and most without hope! And there is no fulfillment ever to be found while seeking to be lost!

And it was then that I had my own salon filled with poets! Even with “expatriates”!
And someday I may tell you all about, or more about all of my famous or little famous Bohemian artists, actors, writers and other so called “expatriated” friends of long ago?

And now returning to tell more about the ‘them’ that were of international reputation and gave the city its renown reputation for hedonism and no self-control, and about the ‘them’ that many around the world secretly envy for their unbridled carnal desires and lifestyles; For in my manners I knew ‘them’, But I kept ‘them’ all at my distance and only looked upon them in their ‘Natural Habitat’ bosomed together as they were, and with my hand outstretched to only be their friend, and I will tell you why? The reason why is that there is a reason why God places each and everyone of us in His Garden of Good and of Evil… so that we will choose the good and reject the evil! The Garden of God is the proving area and the testing place, to prove to Him and we love Him and test whether we will have an eternal place in Him? And to romp about from one carnal act to another surely is to fail the test! But go ahead if you want to and fill your hearts with those things that will wear you out as well as His patience! For God asks for so little from us! He only asks for us to become reconciled to Him by passing through the sacred blood generously spilled all about the place for us and for our damaged lives and for our broken hearts lost here in the shambles of what we thought we wanted? And now to be healed!

And “holiness” is having learned how to, after coming into the new state, to never dine at any table set with the “forbidden fruit” of the way things used to be!

And regarding ‘them’ in my manners of friendliness and acceptance of others, I knew ‘them’ there in that place; but it was not for me to be mastered and slowed from my dreams and goals! And I refuse to be mastered by another! And I rebel against being bound by anything! By any ‘habit’! And by any empty promise! Of any kind!

And when they wanted to tell me how to be and where to look like the shadows where they were and not, but when they were in their alleys did I see ‘them’ late and into the night? As they roamed about doing those things unseemly and in the late night city parks? And their days are filled with calls for “Freedom!” while that wave their rainbow coloured flags in the light? And their nights are spent in the city alleys and parks and men’s rooms? And they are all people created in God’s holy image who “cannot sleep until they have caused some mischief somewhere”? And I am called “judgmental” because I think that it would be too tiresome to follow their endless-appearing-habits, and that path instead of the better one that I have found!

But I want another thing than that, and something that I understand and that always grips my mind in peace! A thing that is my own and that owns me in happier degrees! And in measures all meant to be eternal!

But I wanted another thing, and something that was only my own, and not the way that never reads, sees, thinks, or knows the kindness of the bleeder! Who bleeds eternally and even weeps!

And now, all do bleed!
And now, all do weep!

And all of them plead when the darkness comes and when the morning time is right, and it truly ripe! For there is that day for all of us, when for our final ages, we might think! And then we will know!

And realize that from our very veins we are all human and do bleed from them! And do weep, and for God do we plead and cry out, “Yeshua, Save us from our loneliness!”
(“For deep crieth unto deep!”)
And He is ever near, just nearby, and in our veins when we weep and when we bleed! And whether or not we might know this, even when we feel unsafe to render hope or to ask for it for ourselves? But when we do, He is there! He is with all those who finally weep! For He is never too far from anyone of us! And He is never too far to hear, to answer and to heal!

And now that I have told you all of this I must now return to Olympus’s “Hill”!

(Edited 11.23.08)

I remember the dream that I would have of walking up the gravel drive into the realm of the country ranch that belonged to Gramps and Grand, but now they are gone and those living there now somehow grafted themselves on in between when Gramps passed on and Grand was still living there but all alone and in need of caretakers, but as also since passed on as well. And those grafters are still there but do not legally own it at all. And they that is where they are home based as well, supplying illicit drugs the city that is nearby about an hour’s drive away, with all their friends and ‘family’ always coming and going, and all the quaintness of the previous persons who actually owned and built the place has all bee dismantled and no longer inviting to the eye, unless one is abusing serious drugs and in the grafting business. Being in the tree-filled country-side everything was so green and inviting and peaceful to experience and to behold. But people involved in murder, grafting, identity theft, and the illicit drug trade, whether manufacturing or just transporting, live in a grey realm where beauty is only the next drug high, which they now only live for and work hard to continuously maintain. And at all costs! Even yours!

First one family of grafters moved in as caretakers and remained to manufacture illicit drugs there in the nearby city… and if I were there now living in the little cottage once provided for me there on that property, the grafters would murder me by poisoning to get me out of the way and to keep their little illegal business on track, providing illicit drugs for them and smuggling the rest to keep them is abundant personal supply to the nearest city and on across the state lines by all these seemingly innocent family “Road Trips”.
Some of it gets frozen into the ice that is in the soda pop ice chest and handed over to the people at their destination when they finally arrive there, and the reason their vehicles are always being worked on is become some of the drugs are transported in various parts and sections of the vehicles, to the nearby city and across the states. And there are those who are ‘Bus Pirates” transporting illicit drugs through their trips across the states on Trailways and Greyhound and other bus lines, which is so much easier than trying to smuggle through our aero-lines! Getting on and off planes with illicit substances is so much harder now than it used to be… don’t you know? Which is a good thing aye?!

Over the years when I would have that reoccurring dream of walking into the property on this beautiful gravel, not your usual, boring, dusty dry, white chalky gravel, but this kind that is produced by river and creek beds and in little byway country streams. Being all smoothed out like the proverbial imagery of the Philosopher’s Stone, and by time and worn care. In the dream then when I finally arrived up the drive onto the property while in that reoccurring dream I would always have this sense that I was finally home.

The place would be so green and inviting and there would be a cool breeze in my hair as well as through the beautiful leaves and loving branches of trees that seem as though they have always been there since God placed them there so long, long ago? And almost seeming as though God had placed all those verdant trees all there just of my ‘Home Coming’ when I finally arrive home there someday? ‘Home’ to a reoccurring dream?

And that day did come and go when return there to move into my little bitty, small country house that from the outside looks no bigger than a child’s playhouse, in back of the main house on that rural countryside ranch. It was there that the people seemed so wonderfully welcoming of me and their relationship to the property acting as not its caretakers of almost as its owners, telling me if I could have a cat or not as a grown man in my own house there on the property that once belonged entirely to its real owners who loved it, built it and cared for it for so many years of their lives, Gramps and Grand; and the woman who was the wife and mother there, who seemed to manage everyone and everything, even those coming and going all the time, became noticeable angry with me in such an odd way when I got a cat to keep me company in the little doll-like cottage of a house, and she wanted to direct me as if I was under her charge as well, and things did become surreal and the atmosphere mean, when myself as a much older man would not give heed to her getting into my business as if I was under her charge and answered to her? Almost as if she had already taken complete ownership of me and it was all surreal?

Do you know that there are undercover narcs that infiltrate drug cartels and thug gangs and other illicit situations? And those institutions realize all of this, so in their paranoia many innocent lives are taken by the drug and crime syndicate and other lives ruined by their misguided witch hunts among their ranks and otherwise to ferret out the undercover agents, and all the while and most of the time the agents are never found out to be who they really are among the crime persons? So the innocent and the good are easy pickins’!

So they can drug and poison innocent persons, or just those in their way, even those who are unwittingly in their way? As well as those that they drug or poison, or kidnap or rob, or sell? Rat Poison and Antifreeze are very popular with these kinds of mental midgets as well as many others to get rid of the enemies, their friends, their partners, their victims, family members, narcs and those they think are narcs, or just for fun for the thrill of watching others die? Don’t you know that for really messed up people that kind of thrill is one of their favourite ones? And always doing injury to others is what they love to do!

This life is filled with God’s still intended beauty as well as with corruption and perverted things that went awry when the earth fell into Lucifer’s grasp way back at the Garden of Eden. That is why there is good and evil, and good that looks evil to our modern thinking, and evil that looks good to most all of humanity now! For without God in our lives we of all creation most miserable! And without the Born Again experience we cannot have the spiritual sight to see things in holiness, nor can we have the mind of Christ to help bring the world and all of creation back to God! And we then just keep doing things our own way, thinking its all the right way and right thing to do; while all the while making things in our lives and around us and in the world at larger worse and worse all the time. And when corruption becomes corrupt, all redemption may be lost?

Without true repentance and falling onto our knees before the Lord Jesus in prayer, and following Him through the water of the river Jordon, there or wherever our river Jordon just happens to be, and made new creations in Him; we can never do things correctly in God’s kind of righteousness. “God’s ways are not our ways!” And only the truly Born Again can even get a glimpse into the things of God and of His Kingdom! (St. John 3)
Now that I told you that, “God’s ways are not our ways!” Speaking not to those who are Born Again (unless to rebuke those who were but have strayed off the narrow path), but to everyone who is not regenerated, and not one of those ‘Precious Bible Promises’… like so many seem to think that that verse is! People sometimes misread the Scriptures!

Do you know that many bad people who rob, murder and kidnap others do not see themselves so much as bad or evil, but simply as ‘misunderstood’? And among them many, many will have no qualms about stealing from you, or taking you life or selling you into slavery and think things like “Jesus Loves Me!” and “God understands what I must do to survive!” and that their victims are really evil ones or are naïve so they deserve what they get, and many of those bad and evil people who harm, rob and kill even think that they are “Saved” anyway, so whatever they do is all “A-Okay” with the Lord! BUT Jesus said that good people do good things and are of God and that evil people do evil things and are “of their father the Devil, who was a liar and murderer since the beginning!” I sure would not want Satan to be my eternal father from the beginning!

So I proclaim to you that no Born Again “Saved” Christian will ever harm you, murder you, rob you, molest your children, or poison you, or drug you and kidnap you and sell you into slavery, do drugs, manufacturer illicit drugs, or otherwise do any other evil deed! “For you will know those who are Mine by their good deeds! And if they do otherwise, they were never Mine!” And “Depart from Me all who do evil!”—Jesus

I do not miss the rural too very much at all and have always been as urbanite, though I think about Devonshire back home and the countryside there that I could walk about in and possibly enjoy as my ancestral home? But how could I afford ever to return there? And my present kitty would have to be placed in quarantine for some terribly lengthy amount of time. And with Briton and all of Europe changing so rapidly as it is now, would it be the same place at all that I have always known it as, or another atmosphere altogether and unhappily unwelcoming by the time I did finally manage to get myself and my kitty out that merciless quarantine time there? Would I life walking any desolate moors and the quaint pub life there or would I remain in the larger village or more urban-like areas there? Would I be safe? Or would I be forced to deal with more harm, crime, danger and trauma there as well? Some think that my doctor should prescribe drugs for my supposed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder! But no doctor I see is offering to do that and when I asked about it I am told to avoid bad people and stressful situations… like I should’ve learned my lesson by now? Wouldn’t I though have to ‘go out of the world’ altogether to avoid anymore sadness, sorrow or distress? Who can avoid any of that and still remain a living person on our planet aye? It is not time to go to Heaven for me yet!

Even if I no longer ministered wouldn’t I see daily life and harm same I anyone else does? Where can I go from corruption and dangerous persons? All that is all around us isn’t it now? I do not mean to be bleak but to ask this question? I am filled with the joy of the Lord Jesus Christ through the infilling of the Holy Spirit of God, and though my outward life does not measure up to or fit into what some of those TV Preachers tell me that my Christian life should be in much goods and personal wealth and insulation from sorrow, tribulation and distress… if only my faith was real? I possess a deep inner peace!

As Christians we are supposed to be imparting life to others, not sucking the life out of them! I don’t really know what I am talking about, but it sounds good doesn’t it aye?

But I do think about how struggling clergy people and ministries and churches that need support and do not have it campaign to raise the funds they need to keep operating and to do what their own mission statements profess that they are about and why they exist as ministries and non-profits; and struggling to do what they are organized to do is already draining on them, when they really want to be about their “Father’s business”?

When I was trying to keep my own ‘ministry vehicle’ operating so that I could keep getting about and ministering as God has called me to do, and I would let people know my need and someone or some people would pay the repair costs (sometimes I even qualified for city social funds to get the repairs made!), to keep my vehicle going. But now my ‘ministry vehicle’ is not more! Really is has gone to that “Brother Patrick” guy who helps feed the homeless and hungry downtown through Catholic Charities, and then he uses it to get out and about and do things on his day off around and out of town as well, but its no longer mine and I miss it so much that I dream that I am driving it somewhere and then wake up feeling a sense of loss and grieving a bit about not having it anymore.

I was thinking though, the last time that it needed repaired and was parked in the back, that I am in the city proper now where we have all these mass transit busses like other cities have busses and subways and other ‘people trains’, and there are cabs around town as well? So why should I keep being a ‘drain’ to others in regard to the needs and expenses of my ‘ministry vehicle’? So why it was broken down, I took it off the street and parked it in back of the house and purchased a monthly transit pass and was doing that for a few weeks and had not gotten any repairs done and there were no funds in sight to repair it this time, and I was tired of the costs and of being a ‘drain’ on others about it, to I purchased two For Sale signs and placed them on it, having never sold anything before but always simply gave vehicles and everything else away, except for a VCR that my then girlfriend made me sell years and years ago (in the 90’s), when I had purchased a new VCR (remember VCRs?); and “Brother Patrick” saw the signs, stopped by and offered to pay the price to purchase it and with his own income repairing it, he said, would be no problem for him, and I felt a sense of grief in my heart about the whole matter while he and I would talking… selling it to him anyway, and he has gotten it all nicely repaired and when I am out going somewhere walking or at a bus stop, I sometimes see him happily driving on by! Or sometimes I see him driving by right up the street and making no sad in need repair sounds, when I am simply looking out one of my windows that look out onto the street in front!

When I am downtown though, just doing all those things that I could not do when I was crippled from illness and getting worse and had not gotten healed at the healing hour at Church yet, the Trinity Sunday before last, at the downtown Cathedral; and I think that now if my life and everything I do now takes place downtown and I have nothing heavy to transport, as an urban dweller, all will be well! If I lived in New York it would be the same way for me, or Chicago, or London, or Paris, or San Francisco; wouldn’t it be so?