We live out in the middle of nowhere. Our driveway is over a mile from the nearest intersection on a road that dead ends another half mile past us. There are two houses down there but both are empty. Most days the traffic past our house is our neighbor on the corner giving his dog and his granddaughter a truck ride and the nice ladies who deliver our mail and newspaper. No ones comes out here trying to sell stuff. We are so isolated from civilization that the Jehovah Witnesses and the Morman missionaries don't stop by. I miss those guys. When we lived in town they used to stop by once in a while. I always enjoyed the shocked look on their faces when I said: "Come on in fellas and have a seat. Let's talk for a spell". I imagine the more naive ones thought they had hooked a fish. The more experienced ones knew they had just discovered how a fly feels when it gets entangled in a spider web. Being a gentleman I always let them start first and give their rote presentation. It was a bitter disappointment when I found that a few had nothing more. When they finished their first salvo I got out my Bible and Strong's Concordance. Yes Watson, the game was afoot. I understand your point Mr. Jehovah Witness but what about this scripture? Seems to me it contradicts your position. How about this passage? Have you considered this? At that point the meek are looking for the door, the stupid are trying to argue with me, and the intelligent are hoping someone else stops by so they can leave. It was fun with the Mormans until one of them got frustrated and told me I was a DEVIL. After they left I got no more Mormans stopping at our house. I could sit on the front porch and watch them working their way down the block. When they got to our house they would look at their papers, look at our address and move on to the next house. It was sad, I had been shunned.

Yesterday was a very special day. I was doing my usual nothing. Being retired, having an injured shoulder and winter can lead to some significant down time. Then there was a knock at the door. It wasn't those pesky religious folks or a salesman. It was the best surprise I had gotten in months. It was my dear friend from Florida, Mike Blythe and the most loyal Chicago Cub fan in the world Pat Johnson. I had the privilege of being able to help Mike work on his rental property in Henderson over the summer. Mike and I started working together at the Mary Davis Home in 1977 and stay there working for the next 11 years. Mike helped make it the best work experience of my life. We had a similar approach to detention and programming and did our best to be the voices of sanity in what is often an insane system. Mike thinks I am the nicest guy in the world and I know he is the guy who saved my sanity. When you work in locked facilities it is not the inmates who drive you nuts it is the people you work with every day. He made sure I was never the only one arguing for a fair and balanced approach to incarceration. Pat was the best clerical person I ever worked with. Her only flaw is being a Cub fan. I ascribed to the disease model. It is not Pat's fault. She was bitten by a bug or something and it infected her with the hope that someday the Cubs will win the World Series. I have confidence I will not live that long. Mike and Pat thank you so much for stopping by. I hope to see you both again soon.