"From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won"

There are certain things in life you do only once. Death, for example, you do only once. Or, building your own raft out of logs, chicken wire and garbage and taking said raft down a very shallow river in eastern Kentucky. That is also something you do only once.

The plan was flawless really... from a certain insane point of view. The raft was constructed and tested, our cooler was packed and we were ready to go where none or maybe few people have gone before. Our journey began on the banks of the Cumberland River. There were a few kayaks floating down near our launch site with perplexed locals at the helm. I immediately went out knee deep into the water and started shouting, "USA! USA! USA!" and pumping my fist in the air. They immediately started cheering and joined right in, "USA USA USA!" You wouldn't believe how easy it is to start a USA chant, you should really try it sometime. After that rousing display, we boarded the raft. It was me, Jesse, Don (The dominator), UBS man, David Frank, Joe a short termer, and Ryan. We piled on the raft and to our surprise, it floated! I know what you're thinking, "USA, USA, USA!" But don't get too excited. We traveled about 50 yards and then ran aground on the shallow river bottom. We then noticed that the river was only about 6 inches deep on average for the entire 5 mile stretch we intended to do. So, we picked up the raft, which weighed about 300 pounds, and carried this stupid thing over the shallow water. We carried this horrid boat from hell for 5 miles on and off, over slick river boulders and ankle twisting crevasses on the river bottom. I threw my paddle into the water and said to Jesse, "this is by far your worst idea ever."

We achieved our goal of 5 miles in a little over 5 hours. We were exhausted and threw ourselves up on the grassy bank near the Cumberland Falls. We had run out of water and food and were all cut up from our bulky, awkward monstrosity. We headed for home, but not before a stop at the Big Boy's in London, KY. We looked quite near homeless. Don was donning his "USA 2002" cut off sleeveless t-shirt with a picture of the American flag. UBS was soaked. I had my "Michigan lottery: fame and fortune, it could happen to you" shirt on. Jesse and Ryan had dirty shirts from the work truck and damp swimming suits on because the rest of their clothes were wet, and Frank reeked and had no shoes on. It was rough. Regardless, we were all starving so we feasted on burgers and all was well in the world again.

Our vessel was named "Sarah 2" in honor of Ross and Sarah and their engagement. Top THAT engagement gift son!

Anyways, Cheers.

Alas, that these final days should be mine.

First, let me make a revision on the previous post. CAP has removed the Perfect Storm video from the website. Don't ask me why... maybe it was my reference to us as a "poverty eliminating machine." Who can say. As official PR person for the Perfect Storm, let it be known that we do not mind it's removal. For the perfect storm is so perfect that its essence cannot be captured by any conventional recording device nor can it be captured by the man who seeks to exploit its limitless successes. That being said, on to more important business.

The beaver remains at large and has not been seen since it got caught in the snare. It is now caught, escaped, at large, expected dead, probably armed and still dangerous.

Now, dear reader, let me take you back to the cold month of January. Due to the icy winter and the very curvy roads here in eastern Kentucky, we had several "snow days" this past winter where we could not go to work or drive cars. We were locked in these quiet, snowy hollers with only our imagination to keep us busy. These days would often end with Jesse and I having sore arses after sledding on lasagna pans down the bumpy hills. Needless to say, we were bored out of our minds. As a result, Ross, Jesse and I started to build a raft. A home made raft made of fallen timbers and twine. Initially, we were planning on having a CAP formal dance in February. Ross, Jesse and I were going to traverse the lake at camp and meet our dates on the opposite shore. We were going to use our house flag as a mast and blast "The Final Countdown" on loudspeakers as we made our voyage. The attire would be blue speedos and we would break a bottle of PBR on our mighty vessel's bow before we embarked. But, then we were all called to Tennessee on disaster relief (where I met the Mennonites) and we forgot about the raft. As winter thawed and we could take up other pursuits, the raft fell into memory.

Until now. Jesse, Joe (a short term volunteer from Tennessee) and I have resurrected this forgotten project and now intend to embark on our final mission. We will attempt to conquer the Cumberland River on our mighty vessel. We will have 7 passengers on our tiny craft: me, Don, UBS man, Joe, Ryan, Jesse, and David Frank. The journey will be epic, the water cold, and the result unknown. I should mention that the Cumberland Falls are on the Cumberland river. Hopefully we can strategically avoid the falls (no pun intended).


Cheers for now.

















By the way, Sox/Cubs this weekend. Good GuysWear Black. Holler at you boys.





(AP Photo/Jerry Lai) - Jim
(AP Photo/Brian Kersey) - Ozzie

Perfect Storm revisited

This is a video portrayal of the perfect storm at our first job, Shirley's home. It is an encapsulated summary of the essence of the...

PERFECT STORM!



http://christianapp.org/

Thank you and good night.

Cheers.

Captain's log: the war has begun

Last Friday, I was at work minding my own business. I went to check my voice mail at the truck to get a drink and get out of the sun for a minute. I had one message. It was from a frantic David Frank. It sounded something like this:

"Andy, Beaver here, come quick, we got it, at the camp, beaver Andy, Beaver! Beaver!....(Inaudible screeching) Beaver!"

I called him back to hear the following story from Frank.

Frank: "Well, I was on a hike with the camp counselors at orientation. We heard some rustling down in the bush and discovered that the beaver had been caught, at last! It was caught in a trap set by one of the maintenance guys and it was angry fierce, thrashing about. It was about 4 feet long including the tail and was rather unfriendly looking."
So, Frank went back to inform the maintenance man (who shall remain nameless, we will call him Kurt) who set the trap. Kurt called up a buddy of his who quickly brought over a 38 revolver. He got a twinkle in his eyes, a crooked smile, and said, "Let's roll." They paddled over to the other side of the lake where the beaver was. Frank's little heart was beating like a small boy's on a Christmas morning. Maybe a boy who has recently tried to kiss a girl for the first time in a Thai restaurant parking lot. At any rate, he was excited.

When they arrived at the site, to their great depression, the beaver had escaped, chewed through 2 trees and shook the trap! Heartbreak.

The beaver is now caught, injured, escaped, at large, and presumed dangerous.

Beaver: 1
Us: 0

Cheers.



"For I go gathering Christian men
From sunken paving and ford and fen,
To die in a battle, God knows when,
By God, but I know why.

"And now two blasts, the hunting sign,
Because we turn to bay;
But I will not blow the three blasts,
Till we be lost or they.

And now I blow the hunting sign,
Charge some by rule and rod;
But when I blow the battle sign,
Charge all and go to God."

excerpts from G. K. Chesterton's Ballad of the White Horse

This act of aggression cannot stand, man.

Every time I go to mass at St. Claire's in Berea, I'm always incredibly annoyed by the congregation's continuous battle between saying the word "God" and the word "His" or "He". There are certain diocese it seems that have some kind of odd aversion to referring to God as He. If such a rift has been caused over one word, just imagine what the Church has endured over far more complex and far-reaching theological matters through the centuries.

Anywho, I found a passage in a Peter Kreeft book, "Catholic Christianity" that portrays my feelings on the subject exactly.

"'Man' does not mean 'males', or 'males more than females'. Despite this fact, many publishers today strictly censor the traditionally inclusive use of 'man' or 'he' -- a use we find until the 1960s in all English translations of the Bible, all the documents of the Church, and all the great secular books in the history of Western civilization.
This censorship is usually insisted on out of respect for the strong feelings of a small minority of influential feminists, and perhaps in guilt and reparation for the many real injustices done in the past by men to women.
Traditional language is maintained in this book, not out of any desire to exclude women or to deny the full equality between men and women (full equality is a biblical principle, by the way), but because of the conviction that past injustices against women are not atoned for by future injustices against language.
In the English language, the word 'man' does double duty; it means two things, 'humans' and 'male humans'. For English has only one word ('man') where many other languages have two. In Latin for instance, homo means 'human being' and vir means 'male human being'. In Greek, anthropos and aner make the same distinction. When English writers said 'God and man' they did not mean 'God and males'.
Why not say 'God and humanity' then? Because 'God and man' not only sounds better than 'God and humanity', but it means something different. 'Man' is a concrete term, like 'God'; but 'humanity' is an abstract word like 'divinity'.