PLAYING PEEK-A-BOO WITH A 60 YEAR OLD

Eleas seems to take to me.

Today when I walked into the small house, Eleas was hiding behind the table so he could scare me! I did the pretend thing and he was happy, ducking again behind the table!

Every birthday Eleas ages ten years and he's had six birthdays so far. Physically he is now over sixty years old and soon to die. Stroke or heart-attack; he's an old man. They give him about two months more.

Unique? Eleas is actually one in billions!

Yes, Eleas and his family attend church each Sunday.

Today we brought him his Christmas present; a small battery powered plastic race car, with a roaring sound and a quick get-away! Just what he liked. Running around the room chasing the car with his high squeaky voice.

Indeed they love their little old man and covet the six years he's been with them.

What a privilege to be Santa to this little old man!

Peek-a-boo Eleas!

DANIEL WASN'T AT THE PARTY

Everyone was at the orphanage enjoying their late Christmas Eve dinner and gifts. Kids talking, and laughing. Turkey dinner with all the trimmings, and a bunch of gifts to follow ... you can't beat that!

Daniel, thirteen, was the exception. It was obvious he didn't want to be there. During the singing he stared into space. He passed on the meal as he sat at the table, one hand holding his head looking down at the table.

A teen-age self-pity party? Maybe.

Daniel's mother was never in the picture but he has a father; it was his father that angrily placed him in the orphanage.

He mixes well with the other kids and is doing well in school.

However, almost a year has gone by and Daniel has never heard from his father.

He keeps hoping.

It wasn't hard to figure out what was going on in his world. Angry, frustrated, hurt, disappointed.

Joy to the world?

There was anything but joy in Daniel's world.

As I looked at him leaning on the table, I was reminded that; indeed life isn't fair ... even on Christmas eve. Daniel deserved better.

I'll talk to him later, when his anger simmers down.

CHRISTMAS DREAMS

Maria is looking at her first Christmas tree. She and her family are "dirt" poor. A bright little Walmart Christmas tree with mini-lights brought big smiles to Maria's mother, brothers and sisters. Just a dazzling little tree, sitting on the table lighting up the stark, cold room. No Christmas tree decorations and no gifts under the tree ... just the tree and kids; and happy dreams.

Yes I know the tree celebration and December has pagan roots. I know that Christmas and the Holidays are a secular bonanza. The small child in the manger scene below the tree has become plastic. Jesus has been squeezed out of His own Birthday. (I wonder if Jesus wanted us to celebrate His Birthday why He didn't give us the dates? ... I'm an Easter man myself!)

Having said that; I know, to a child, the Christmas tree has an entirely different meaning. The colorful tree simply frames a happy fantasy. Dreams. Dreams of what could be. Happy time. Mysterious gifts.

Down the muddy road, a short distance, is where the Gonzalo family lives.

Luis was hit by a car. Major injuries and in a coma for three months. He's now crippled and unable to support his family of six. Mom sells little candies at the school. The family's one room house rests on a shelf of dirt dug from the side of a canyon. Several beds; dirt floor. Cardboard and plastic roof. It was hard to find a place to set their Christmas tree. Electricity comes from a long lamp cord connected to a power line on the road above.

Merry Christmas? Not quite.

Happy New Year? ... we hope so. (Please pray for that little family)

The kids were so happy with their bright sparkling little tree.

We climbed back up to the road. Climbing a long line of tire stairs ... leaving the family with money for food and some candies. (We'll bring them some blankets and gifts tomorrow.)

This season there are dreams of what could be. However in too many cases there are dreams of what ... could have been.

If people only knew.

Luis's girl looks at the tree through their door.

AWAY FROM THE MANGER A CRIB WAS HIS BED

In Tijuana this time of year, almost everyone, rich or poor even very poor will have a Nativity Scene. Large ones, small ones; most indoors and a few outdoors.

I was looking at a large outdoor manger scene last week; just checking it out. The whole crew was there, but baby Jesus was missing; nowhere to be found.

I looked all over for baby Jesus.

Mary and Joseph were looking intently at where Jesus would have been ... and should have been. The three wise men were extending their gifts to Him but He, little Jesus, just wasn't there.

Lights on, everyone on stage but the star of the whole thing was missing.

It was an unusual sight; a complete display without its purpose.

A Nativity Scene with it's purpose missing. A Church with it's purpose missing. A Christian America with it's purpose missing. A world with it's purpose missing.

Indeed a disoriented people haven't found who's missing.

I wonder how long ago Jesus left Christmas ... even more interesting, how long has it been since we Christians have discovered Jesus was missing from His own Birthday party?

Ho! Ho! Ho! Good old secular Santa in his red suit covers the world with his gifts, different sizes and shapes ... however, Santa himself is missing the greatest gift of all; God's Gift that keeps on giving!

OLD DOGS AND NEW TRICKS?

Can we teach the old dog new tricks? don't think so ... have you ever studied an old dog? He just lays there, muzzle on the ground staring into space. On occasion he may wag his tail if he has the energy. The old dog's been everywhere heard everything, seen everything and done everything that a dog can do.

Now he's old; a faithful dog, but an old dog. Good old Rover.

The old boy has sniffed and re-sniffed every smell; he's pee-ed and re-pee-ed on any and all vertical objects in his canine world; of course fathered tons of puppies ... but now that's all a faded memory.

Yep, he had tons of romances when he had his balls; now they hang as useless decorations.

He's old.

Cats no longer interest him.

He's even forgotten where he hid his bones. Soon he'll forget what bones were.

There's a quiet, canine moment when a "been there and done that" fatigue falls upon him.

However if you want to drive the old boy nuts, bring an energetic bouncing little puppy into the picture! A nutty puppy that wants to have some fun with the old fur-bag.

With this old dog, I think we can conclude zero interest ... in learning new tricks.

A DIFFERENT KIND OF KID

Because I have worked in Mexico and South America for so many years, the unusual is no longer unusual. The other day I was thinking of the Mexican work ethic. The Tijuana kid's view of physical labor is totally different than our U.S. kid's work ethic. Kids here grow up learning to work. Work and chores are part of their life; starting at the age of ... very young.

If you don't work, you don't eat; it's as simple as that!

Whatever our job is, it seems there are always kids willing to help. Many know just what to do with-out asking ... they just pitch right in and do it ... even if it's cleaning up vomit or a diarrhea mess. They're cool.

The other day we were jostling up the long and winding dirt road to the Ijido area. It's a punishing ride for both the vehicle and the passengers.

The road is a collection of impressive pot-holes with a little bit of road around them.

So often, on the dirt roads of Tijuana, we will see kids with shovels working to fill in the potholes, and hoping, as you pass by, that you might give them a tip or cola for their effort.

Young independent business men trying their best to scrape up a little cash for the day.

"We haven't any money today ... what'll we do?"

Work! (What a novel idea!)

This time I thought to bring up my camera and snap a photograph of this young worker.

Yep, he got a tip!

This was one happy "road-worker!"

CHARLIE BROWN, WHERE ARE YOU?

Christmas means different things to different people. To the secular world around us, Christmas is a colorful, fun filled party ... especially when you get ‘high' enough to enjoy it ... to the business man it's simply $s. To the true Christian it's a Birthday Celebration, God's Gift day. As mature Christians we see it so differently ... but as kids, well we have an exciting immature view.

I've always enjoyed the season of Christmas, as well as the true meaning of Christmas ... but Easter's my day!) As a kid the Christmas tree with all of it's colorful ornaments meant so much. I even believed in Fat Old Santa ... until I realized there were so many fat Santa's and not one could possibly get down our small stove pipe with any presents. (At least none did.)

As kids, though very poor, we always had a Christmas tree of sorts; being poor our trees were bought late and often visibly handicapped, and shortly after Christmas they would get bald. However we always had a gift for my sister and I ... not many, but at least one gift.

We were poor.

That's why my heart goes out to our kids in Mexico. They want a tree so bad, but this year money is tight to non-existent.

Brandon, ten years old, saved up his money, and went to the "dollar store" yesterday, where he bought a plastic one for $5. This bargain one I'll have to see. (The family is thrilled about their Christmas tree.)

Abraham, in part of his conversation said the dog ate their plastic Christmas tree last year and financially the family isn't doing well, so they won't be getting one this year.

Joshua and his brothers and sisters might be fortunate to make a Christmas dinner of tamales on their outside stove. How they would love a tree. (Some families use bushes, now that's creative.)

I could list family after family where the kids would love to have, and decorate, their own little tree.

But this year food will have to be the priority. We'll be doing good if we can even buy food and tarps for families.

Reality makes a real Christmas tree impossible ... a small Chinese plastic tree ... maybe.

While a tree is nice, it isn't essential; food is.

While gifts are nice, believe it or not the kids would rather have a tree to decorate.

Anyone have an extra Christmas tree? ... even a Charlie Brown Christmas tree?

FACT, FICTION ... OR LIES!

All of us exaggerate. Well, I guess that statement is an exaggeration in itself. Better said, most of us exaggerate from time to time.

It's hard not to fall into exaggeration when we are passionately trying to put our point across.

On occasion a lie may even slip our lips.

Best example of the use and abuse of exaggeration is our politicians and how often they twist and exaggerate to put their point across.

Exaggeration isn't quite lying, but it comes close. Of course we know politicians don't lie, they simply "miss-speak!"

Take our politicians reckless and often irresponsible use of statistics, surveys, polls and studies ... the constant drum-beat of...

"America says... " or "Our people demand that..." or "The latest poll indicates... " or "Statistics say..." or ... "ad nauseam."

For some reason "statistics, polls and studies," are a trinity of sacred words; never expected to be questioned ... and these so called "statistics" carry a powerful punch of authority!

Our politicians toss these figures around like "divine" set of loaded dice on the dirty table of deception.

Without doubt there are those who are Believers in our system ... but just as surely, there are the millions of us who are rapidly becoming unbelievers ... those of us who dare to doubt!

A MITE SHORT OF IRRESPONSIBLE?

Another painful question. Is trusting God responsible?

I see the two stories of the widow giving her two mites; all she owned, as a lesson on truly trusting God. (Ex. Mrk.12:41+)

We like this story; it's food for thought. But taking it literally? We don't think so. Sacrificial giving is ... well ... simply irresponsible. Few of us dare look honestly at the story ... Jesus can't mean this to be an example ... better a concept of extremes. Can we dare make a doctrine of this?

Most of us find this story to be somewhere between a stumbling block and a hook. Rightly so.

Giving to the point of jeopardizing my way of life or effecting my lifestyle ... or worse yet, jeopardizing my security?? Oh no!

The widow simply proved her trust in God. This begs another question; is trusting God irresponsible? To many of us those questions are irritating ... instead of the Word of God we are prone to grab the word of good old Ben Franklin; "God helps those who help themselves!" Trusting Ben makes sense, unfortunately trusting God doesn't. True or not?

"Trust and Obey" ... near impossible for most of us. We don't mind singing the hymn, but don't ask us to actually do it! How many of the hymns we sing, do we actually believe?

Bill was a good friend of mine, I knew him to be very wealthy.

He was a Christian and a big giver to his Church and charities. He too often came to me with a pitch for investing in a good charity. He tended to obligate me. "Just ten dollars a month for a year..."

Now I was a Youth Worker on a Church salary just above food-stamps. I was giving over 10% to our Church and also giving to a variety of missionaries and of course giving in Mexico. I could barely afford gas money.

But here comes Bill pushing another of his charities.

One day I got tired of this obligating me bit, and pulled him aside presenting him with a deal. "Bill, I'll make a deal with you. I'll give everything I have; my savings, my life insurance ... EVERYTHING, to the charity of your choice, IF you will give EVERYTHING you have to the same charity!"

He paused, looked at me and gave a wry little smile ... he simply said "I'm not that mature yet." I knew I didn't risk anything with that deal. Bill was a good Christian man, a generous giver but not nearly a sacrificial giver. He wasn't in danger of effecting his lifestyle. No way. Did he give me the right answer? He was truthful.

We have 13,000 people starving in the horn of Africa. I have families actually starving in Mexico. There are dirt poor people in the world (And they're not in America!)

Big givers where are you?

Challenge, try making an "irresponsible" gift to the poorer than you, and see if you can't double your profit. (In the Kingdom.)

THE ANIMATED PASTOR VON

While I visiting Hawaii a few months ago, I spent some time with my buddy Tom Finley, Children’s Ministry Director at Kauai Christian Fellowship, one of the largest Churches in Kauai. I did a handful of simple stories for him to use on his web site.

The guy is outrageously creative.

He showed me what he had done with these short stories. I was impressed, not only with the cartooned stories but with the technology of today.

Just for fun, you might want to check out the following videos, and hear (and see) the old man some stories as an animated cartoon.

• Tales from Pastor Von: Faith
• Tales from Pastor Von: Learning
• Tales from Pastor Von: Consequences
• Tales from Pastor Von: Courage
• Tales from Pastor Von: Fools

Cheers!

P.S. I've also had these videos placed on the Missionary Adventures section of my web site.

BEING HELPED AS I GO DOWN THE STAIRS

Going downhill? Getting older? The golden years? Ah, the winter years. There are many terms for aging. Each of them adding a little description to what the process is to be.

I was reminded yesterday.

In Tijuana, as I was going down eleven steep rickety stairs a couple of kids scrambled up the stairs to help me; one on either side, 'helping me'. "Be careful von," one said. With each step I was feeling a growing conflict of emotions. "The strong champion of the poor, Pastor von" being helped by the poor. I was actually angered by someone trying to help me. 'Von.' becoming old and frail ... and having to be helped. I envied the past and now I was angered at the present and the coming future.

Fighting the reality of ... stairs down.

The resident pride of an old "independent" man fights against the love and thoughtfulness of others ... simply trying to be of help.

The poor that I'm there to help, are now helping me! Somehow this isn't right.

As I stepped slowly and carefully down the steps; these two strong feelings were struggling. Feelings that were in conflict with one another.

Winning the struggle was, and had to be, a genuine appreciation for the love and respect these kids had for me, and thankfulness for their concern ... and willingness to help a man getting old.

To be honest, to me helping others feels good ... being helped doesn't ... somewhere on these downhill steps, is a lesson I have to learn ... to accept.

WITH GOD WE EACH, WE ALL, HAVE A VALUE

I find it rewarding teaching in Tijuana's prison for teens. Here at the CMI I actually have a "captive" audience.

As my group of incarcerated teens quieted down and looked on ... I took a dollar bill from my pocket, Immediately getting their attention. Money! A U.S. dollar! I took the dollar bill; held it up and talked about the value of this fragile piece of special paper.

"What could you buy with this dollar?" I asked.

Then I surprised the kids by knifing it with a small knife I had hidden in my pocket; then I threw the bill down to the floor and stomped on it;

All eyes were following me.

I picked my dollar up and spit on it; placing the dollar bill against the wall I hit it hard; then crumpled it in my fist, after crumpling it, I tore a portion of my dollar ... each occasion I abused my dollar, I stopped and asked my young bunch of criminals ... "does this dollar still have a value?"

The answer was always "yes".

I told the boys "you see, the value of this dollar was set by the dollar maker. No matter how I abuse it ... it holds it's value."

"God made you, and you are of many times more value than this little paper dollar."

The lesson was needed.

Throughout these boy's lives they had been abused. Their parent or parents have abused them. Police abuse them. In the prison the guards abused them. Their gang have abused them. I've seen the abuse of these kids with my own eyes. Indeed, there is a lot of abuse in the world of the Tijuana poor. The name of the game is abuse. You give and you take!

This short lesson was simple. No matter how you have been treated, you still have a value with God. He made you and he set your value.

You, as a person, have a great value!

Oh, and by the way; the person you yourself injure or kill, has a value with God his maker too. And you will give an account of what you did ... to the property of Almighty God.

Don't ever forget the lesson of this little old beat up dollar bill.

POVERTY?

It's apparent that the over-whelming cloud of millions of poor, obscures the guilt of personal responsibility. Statistics of over two or three people seem to lose their humanity; returning to what they are ... simply statistics; comforting black and white numbers and zeros. Numbers left in the world of text.

Erasing healthy guilt and bringing us to a comfortable conclusion, because I can't do everything ... I can do nothing.

Some statistics bothered me as I read the October issue of Time Magazine. The growth of American poverty. Is it 15% now? In the article it says that an American family of four is at poverty level if they make less than $22,000.00 a year.

Poverty? $22,000.00 plus food-stamps? Poverty?

I know poverty. I know what it looks like. I know what it smells like. (As a kid I knew what it felt like.)

I work 100 yards on the south side of America. Tijuana; where a family of four, six or eight might make $5,000.00 a year and no food stamps. Most make much less.

Thanksgiving is coming to America in a matter of days. Thanksgiving is an appropriate Holiday for America ... indeed America has been blessed of God. We need to be grateful and most of us are.

To set aside a day to thank God is good... but to set aside a day to gorge ourselves in the name of gratefulness isn't ... not when my neighbors are eating two meals a day and buying tortillas five or six at a time.

All over the world there is hunger, except at my table!

To thank God is good ... to share, even better.

Taking this Thanksgiving Holiday for a teaching day ... teaching the family not only THANKS, but GIVING too!

Indeed we have the privilege of giving! PTL!

HALLOWEEN

Tonight, the dark night of death and danger.

It's Halloween, when America's obsession with dark and death comes alive. The lovely houses along the street are decorated with spider webs, tomb stones, witches, skulls and bones of the dead.

"Honey, isn't it fun noodling through the graveyard to get to the doorway?"

This is the night concerned mothers are frantically checking the Internet to find where the local sex-offenders live ... "Now kids, watch the bushes, a pedophile may jump out and grab you."

Tonight "trick or treat-ers" are hitting the best houses for a "freebie" a chocolate bite of the good life. The pros already have the spots picked out from last year. (Good example of the rich giving to the poor!)

Concerned mothers in my neighborhood are out before dusk holding the hands of their children, ranging in age from six to eighteen. Mama knows best when it comes to a dangerous night like this. A car could hit my eighteen year old, he's a real clutz!

The costumes are cute too. . thanks to Walmart and Target the kids are out in colorful costume. The little devils, witches and monsters in appropriate costumes.

Many of them with little bags for the freebies, others, more optimistic, carry a couple of grocery bags each.

Driving home I saw a "retired police" car cruising the streets looking for ... any suspicious male in the neighborhood.

We are safe, safe, safe here!

Mama, what's that? Oh honey, that's a man's ribcage when he isn't in it. Mama, does daddy have one?

Honey, keep walking!

So the night of America's romance with the dark of demons, devils, witches and death continues on. . will we ever get enough of darkness? ... sorry Halloween-ers, but my day is Easter! Easter Sunday morning is coming and light trumps darkness. PTL !

JULIO, WITH THE THICK GLASSES

Julio, about eleven, would come in with forty or fifty other boys every third Thursday and take his shower. Each time he would hand me those thick glasses ... "Hold these for me von ..." I would give him some shampoo and shower him down. Then give him his towel and glasses. His glasses kept getting worse, until they were literally held together with tape and rubber-bands. The big thick glasses would sort of hang over his nose. He had to sit in a front desk in school to even see the black-board.

Julio wasn't doing well at school.

One bath day, I asked him for his glasses, and took them with me across the border and went to Lens-Crafters to buy Julio another pair, but the clerk said he would have to see an optometrist first. I told the clerk, he lived in Tijuana and a little of what Spectrum was doing with poor kids and Lens-Crafter's made an exception making him a new, heavy duty pair ... free!

The following week I found him and gave him his brand new pair of glasses.

He gave me a wide smile; now he could see!

A few days later he was near tears as he showed me what was left of his new pair of glasses. The gang ripped the glasses off Julio and threw them on the cement basket-ball court, grinding the thick lenses against the cement with their shoes scratching the new lenses and then twisted and pulled the glasses apart.

Again, I took the remains to Lens-Crafters. I told them the story ... and once more they made me another pair that was even stronger ... for free.

Three pairs of destroyed glasses later the gang no longer bothered the near blind boy.

He was accepted.

As it is.

SOLUTION TO POVERTY?

The conclusion of many of our visitors to the Mexican areas of poverty we take them into ... when they actually see blatant poverty ... the sight is ugly and the solution seems overwhelming!

After many questions, their defense becomes apparent; "because I can't do everything I can do nothing" and they comfortably retreat from all responsibility.

A cold intelligent mind has a way of trumping ... emotions like compassion and kindness!

In my book this is simply an intellectual cop-out! Sometimes the only way to fill that impossible gap of need, is by doing a lot of smaller "some-things" and forgetting the overwhelming "every-things" . While I may have no solution for tomorrow, Compassion calls on me to make their day ... today!

Is that wrong?

Today I met a poor scrawny dog in Mexico. Nothing but skin, bones and fleas. Hungry, hungry! I called her over and fed her some dog food ... boy did she gulp it down! And it's true I couldn't really help her, BUT I sure made her day! The motive for feeding this pathetic dog, is called compassion ... just being kind!

Have you ever felt compassion? Are you a kind person? Questions few people will honestly answer. (For good reason.)

Some of my academic friends when visiting my world, and they mean so well, tell me..."Von, It's far better to teach a man to fish, than give him a fish meal." It sounds so intelligent. . .so academic . . . so right. Until I remind the scholar there is no water around.

His intelligent response? OH! You see at this point we are all they have.

I'VE GOT A SECRET!

I remember when I first went into the prison for Tijuana's kids, to teach them about God's Word; I carried the Bible. Walked into the big room. The kid's response was immediate and, well ... bad. Very bad!

I was evidently seen as another one of the many eager evangelists hot to "save" everyone following a loud and long message.

A literal "captive audience."

I thought and thought and finally decided to use the Indiana Jones approach. I have about 30 years worth of exotic artifacts hanging around ... why not use them!!

First you have to get the kids attention and respect, what better way then bring the Amazon jungle and tiger stories to them.

I remember walking into the cage full of these teenage "tigers" with a Bible, shrunken head, and a few BIG bugs. And, boy I had a following immediately! Even the guards were open.

I imagine through the years many missionaries thought I was weird collecting all of these artifacts, but they have been worth their weight in gold.

One afternoon I drove to the Tijuana dump to see some of my friends, driving around and through the trash I locate six or seven friends. These people are dirty, sweating and look tough. I forgot I had several artifacts on my back seat to use in a missionary study later that night.

Well, my friends spotted these weird objects and before long we had about twenty workers surrounding my little Volkswagen Van, they were fascinated ... the items soon disappeared going all direction, while I'm yelling "Be Careful!!"

But these big tough guys tenderly held the artifacts in their large dirty, hands'

These adults, even those I didn't know, became friendly and like children wanting to know all about the objects.

That afternoon I made many new friends at the dump. Artifacts bring a unique opportunity to share stories and the Gospel.

Oh, and I didn't lose one artifact! They brought ‘em all back.

When people believe you ... they tend to believe your message,

PLEASE GOD, HEAL VON

The kids in Barrio Pedrigal asked Hortensia where I was, as I hadn't been down in their neighborhood for a week. She told them that I was at home sick with a cough. Pedrigal is a small poor and dirty neighborhood; we could add dangerous too, lots of drugs; lots of tough teens.

The kids there have a real love for me.

Ten year old Brandon was evidently concerned about me being sick. He nor his family are "religious" but he knew about praying.

Yesterday was a rainy, cold day ... Brandon put on his jacket and went out looking for a church to pray in. He walked the muddy road about a mile and found a big Catholic Church. He opened the door, stepped inside ... the church was empty ... Brandon walked slowly to the front of this awesome room, got on his knees and prayed for me to get well.

Later he told Hortensia about his prayer, she smiled and had chance to share with him about praying to God and that you don't need to be in church building to talk to God.

How humbling to have a little boy with that much love, pray for you the best way he knew how.

CACTUS "MEDIUM RARE"

Barbecued cactus. That's what was on the plate the little girl was holding up to me, the darkness fooled me, I thought it was Carne Asada (thin barbecued steak). How could they afford this much steak, I thought.

As I took a bite, I realized it was hot barbecued cactus. This sample was enough.

I was outside the house "in the kitchen" with the family. Mother was busy cooking more "Nopales Asada" on their makeshift stove. The little stove was fueled by wood and cardboard found around the area. The kids each had a plate and were sitting on things in the dark near the stove. The meal tonight for all six kids, mom and dad was simply cactus ... with some lemon juice on top.

It's OK if you grow up on it, if you didn't ... well, I'll pass with a sample.

I noticed a well worn broomstick laying near their big plastic tub full of cold soapy water and clothing. The broomstick had the top of a plastic cola bottle wired to the end, forming a small plastic funnel. This was the plunger mother uses to wash the clothing in her plastic tub.

It was late and I carefully climbed up four old shaking wooden stairs and another three tire stairs buried in the dirt, soon I was on the road walking to my car. It was very dark.

Slowly driving up the dirt road, my lights reveled a young man with his kids walking toward me. "Hey von" He yelled. "my boy is covered with sores, can you help me?" I stopped, got out with my flashlight, and went for my medicine bag. Inside I found a tube of medicine. Scabies is quite common among poor and dirty people. The older boy stripped his little brother down and I slathered the cream over the sores. They thanked me; one of the boys paused to hug me, and the family continued on down the road disappearing in the darkness.

TIME WAS ...

Three bucks an hour was good pay in my day. I worked for Convair Aircraft Corp as a mechanic for most of fifteen years. We built military jets and passenger jets. Convair airliners were great airliners. From the 240's to the 880's and 990's.

The 990 was a sleek jet, labeled, at the time, the world's fastest jetliner, but, uh. oh ... engineering failed! The 990 was sold to a speck they couldn't deliver. To modify those already sold cost the Company millions. Busted!

Convair, a privately owned Corporation, was failing. Heads rolled! Quickly, pink-slips were handed out. Workers went out the door in droves. Convair started cutting to the bone! From the top on down; every supervisor went down in rank. I remember well, supervisors had red buttons, we workers had yellow buttons.

Soon us old timers were working with our X-supervisors who now had yellow buttons. Yep, cut to the bone.

And then, I got my pink slip and also went out the door.

Things are different in the private sector. With no income, things radically change! Workers leave, and dead-beat Supervisors are put to work. Adjustments from top down! No more fat!

But that's the private sector where work gets accomplished.

Now lets look at the public sector (Government). Let's compare.

I'm amazed at how desperate the Government is for MORE revenue. Just another "hit" America ... another "hit!"

PLEASE, NO ADDITIONAL REVENUE TO FEED OUR BLOATED STARVING GOVERNMENT BUREAUCRACY! The public sector is fat! No more drugs for this out of control addict! Let them whine.

"Can" the dead-beats and move on.

With no income, the Government would be FORCED TO FACE THEIR PROBLEM ... not our problem. Forced to cut their redundancy, corruption and incompetence.

Giving the Government more $'s, simply justifies the present system.

Unfortunately, if worse comes to worse, they can print their own money ... and that's more than we can do.