Month: July 2018

by Ira Paine, Posted on

By the time they sat down at the long table in the middle of the cook shack, the cook stood by them, ready to pour strong, black coffee for them both.  ‘Pie’s comin’ up.'”
               –C. Wayne Winkle (Frank Brannon-Reluctant Marshal)

Mornin’ to yuh, Pard.  Trust yuh had a good week, and a safe Fourth of July.  Coffee’s hot, strong and ready to pour.  Ahhh, needed that this mornin’.  I’ll have to tell yuh, now don’t be downcast when I give yuh the news.  My sweety made her first pie at the new house this week.  Nope, ’tweren’t apple or cherry, nor even butterscotch, but it sure was tasty–lime meringue.  Too bad you didn’t stop by earlier.
     Slept in some this mornin’, pard, and tryin’ to get the cobwebs out of my head.  Maybe another cup of that coffee will help get the broom movin’ up there.  I was ponderin’ some yesterday.  We were out with the grandkids pickin’ blueberries.  My they were tasty, but what I was thinkin’ is that so many folk are just too busy to enjoy what the Lord has givin’ them.  I might be wrong, but I’m a-thinkin’ that it just might be a human trait not to count your blessin’s until one day yuh look around and find those blessin’s gone.  Won’t be long the oldest grandkid will be gone from the house.  In fact, who knows if we’ll be together again pickin’ blueberries.  I was countin’ my blessin’s for sure.  My daughter and I was up in the bushes together have a grand time chattin’.
     Maybe we ought to take time each day, to just ponder the blessin’s of the day.  If yur busy, just write it on your daily calendar.  Think I’m goin’ to start doin’ it.  Coffee is finally makin’ the ol’ gizzard smile.  An’ can yuh guess what the wife is doin’?  Sorry, yu’ll be gone before it’s baked, but blueberry is on the menu for breakfast.  Ahhh, the blessin’s of life–thank you, Lord.
     A thought just struck me.  I’ve et at several cookshacks and camps over the years and cayn’t remember one cook that ever came by and poured my coffee.  Was at one once where the cook brought out coffee on a silver set.  Yep, it seemed like someone at the table thought they were almighty important.  Silver coffeepot on a silver tray, the cook poured it right in the cup for him.  I wondered if he wasn’t goin’ to produce a silver straw.  Oh well, that’s the life for some…
     Yuh take care this week, y’hear!  Check that cinch!

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on

To each of us is given a life.  To live with honor and to pass on having left our mark, it is only essential that we do our part, that we leave our children strong.  Nothing exists long when its time is past.  Wealth is important only to the small of mind.  The important thing is to do the best one can with what one has.”
              –Louis L’Amour  (Hondo)

    “Therefore, fear the LORD and worship Him in sincerity and truth…. choose for yourselves today the one you will worship….  As for me and my family, we will worship Yahweh.”
              –Joshua 24:14-15 (HCSB)
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One of the “heroes” that I most respect is Robinson Risner.  I am in awe of his service to our country.  Most likely you have never heard of him–shame.  You need to read his story, “The Passing of the Night”.
    Risner was shot down while flying over North Vietnam in 1965 and was a prisoner of war (POW) until 1973.  The beatings, torture and struggles he went through were unbelievable, yet he survived.  There were struggles of body, mind, and spirit while he was in prison.  One of the worst times for him was when he was put in darkness.  He completely lost track of time.  He said that he was not afraid of darkness but this time it would not leave.  He wrote, “It was as if I had an animal on my back.  Absolute panic had set in.  The fact that I could not control this thing driving me or get rid of it caused me to be even more panic-stricken.  I could not understand it, and I could not get rid of it.”
    The only light he received was at a certain time of the day, for two hours the reflection of the sun came through a rathole and would shine on the end of his bunk.  “I prayed.  I ran.  I exercised.  I hollered and I cried, but I did not capitulate.  I was hanging on like a man hanging on to a cliff by his fingernails.”  He said he lived one minute at a time.  He was in this condition for ten months.
    He came up with four essentials that was practiced by the POWS.  He said it had to be simple and strong.  It has to set a strong foundation and definite boundaries (hmmm, quite different than the postmodern agenda of today).
         1)  We were American fight men, fighting the enemy of freedom and of our way of life.  “As prisoners of war we did not stop fighting…  All we had was our minds, our faith, our pride, our detemination–and our ‘Yankee ingenuity.'”
         2)  The second essential was duty to our country.  “In prison we had a reappraisal of values.  We had permitted the nuts and the kooks to make honest-to-goodness partiotism a dirty word…  The flag, our President and what this country represents are things to stand up and be proud of.”
         3)  We believed the American people were behind us.  “We knew America was not perfect, but we knew it was not anything like what they [communists] wanted us to believe.  We knew it to be the best place on earth.”  The news that was given to them was always tainted, twisted with an agenda behind it.
         4)  The most important–faith in God.  Many had been too busy to put God first in their lives.  The prison cell changed that.  “We learned to feel at ease in talking about God, and we shared our doubts and faith.  We prayed for one another and spent time praying together for all kinds of things.  Our faith in God was an essential without which I for one could not have made it.”
    Risner spent most of his time in solitary confinement, since he was one of the top-ranking men there.  Seldom did he get to see another person.  An amazing story, an amazing man.  I had the opportunity to meet him once at a church service.  It was a few years before he went to be with the Lord.  One thing that you could feel coming from him was humility and courage.  I would call him–extraordinary.
    In the introduction to his book, Robinson Risner wrote, “I want to show that the smartest and the bravest rely on their faith in God and our way of life.  I hope to show how that faith has been tried by fire–and never failed.  I would like to say, ‘Don’t ever be ashamed of your faith, nor of your wonderful heritage.  Be proud of those things which made American great and which can, with our help, be even greater.'”

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on

Maybe it was a good thing that a man and his plodding horse could not see that country from the sky, as the vultures saw it.  If a man could have seen the vastness in which he was a speck the heart would have gone out of him; and if his horse could have seen it, the animal would have died.”
              –Alan LeMay  (The Searchers)

    “God sits above the circle of the earth. The people below seem like grasshoppers to him! He spreads out the heavens like a curtain and makes his tent from them.”
              –Isaiah 40:22 (NLT)
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Trust you all had a fun and safe 4th of July.  Some of you faithful readers may have noticed that I didn’t write anything yesterday.  I took a mini-vacation from writing the Echo; back today, however.
    At first glance a person looking at the above quotation from The Searchers may say that it is archaic.  But think again.  We are but a speck on this Earth and especially in God’s universe.  What are we in comparison to the stars?  What are we when we stand and look out from the grand mountain vistas or stand on the rocky shore and gaze out upon the ocean?  
    Yet the Almighty heavenly Father knows each one of us by name and can tell us everything about us, even the things we do not know about ourselves.  He can tell us what will happen to us tomorrow, if He would so choose.  He knows if you have dimples, scars, moles and even counts the hairs on your head.
    How grand are we then?  Ponder the greatness of God and how much He cares for you.
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              “Some old-fashioned things like fresh air and sunshine are hard to beat.”
                        –Laura Ingalls Wilder

I surely don’t miss the rush of the city.  The smells and sounds are far away now and only once in a while do I have to venture in.  The other day Annie said to me, “It sure is quiet.”  That is unless you walk outside and hear the chatter of the cicadas.  Julee, the youngest grandchild wanted to hear that sound when she stayed over the other night.  In fact, she wouldn’t go to bed until she went out on the deck to listen.
    We need to take time to stop and listen.  The problem is that very few actually stop, much less listen.  Just yesterday I sat outside doing my devotions, listening to one bird chirp while the rain was falling.  I listened to the sound of the rain as it fell through the leaves on the trees.  
    There is much to be said about the sounds of silence.  Take time to listen to them.  I like what Mother Teresa said, “We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness.  God is the friend of silence.  See how nature–trees, flowers, grass–grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence…  The more we receive in silent prayer, the more we can give in our active life.  We need silence.”
    Hmmm, to be effective in our active life, we must stop and listen!  Ponder that!!!!

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on

By the time I arrived at the jail, Grizz had taken the body off the pack mule he was leading.  Charlie helped him lay it out in the alley beside the jail.
    “Now, I’m a-warnin’ yuh all, this isn’t a sight that I‘ll want to think of at the dinner table.  The ravens and other varmints have been feastin’ on him for a few hours.”
    Pulling the tarp away from the body the putrid smell of dead flesh hit you square in the face.  The man had his eyes eaten out, most likely by the ravens and other spots on his face.  But what got your attention was the mess where his leg had been amputated.  
    As soon as the smell hit me I threw my arm up over my nose.  “Billington,” came the gagging voice of Charlie Gold.
    “Yuh know this stiff?” asked Grizz.
    “Cover him up!” ordered Charlie.
    “Did,” I answered.  “He was the head of the bank here in town.”
    “My land!” exclaimed Grizz.  “Hard to tell with all the varmints eatin’ on him, but looks to me like someone blasted him with a shotgun; then had his leg amputated.”
    The smell had lessened after Grizz covered him up.  “You’re a regular detective, Grizz.  That’s exactly what happened to him.  In fact, I’m the one who shot him.”
    Grizz raised his eyebrows.  “Then how come I came about findin’ him lyin’ off a the ridge northwest of Chama?”
    People were starting to come around to see what was happening.  “Mind if you take him on down to the understaker’s?” I asked of Grizz.  “Then come over to the diner and I’ll tell you what I know.”
    Grizz bent down and wrapped him up in the tarp and flung him over the horse, not bothering to tie him down and started off toward the furniture store that was also owned by the undertaker.
    “I better get the news to Denton,” said Charlie.  Looking at me he continued.  “You should be glad you weren’t here a bit earlier.  Denton has a lawyer now and he’s a doozy.  Yelling all about habeas corpus and the civil rights.  I just told him to take it to the judge.”
    I was ready to make my get-away from that place as there was still the lingering aroma of putrifying flesh.  Doc was just coming out the door as I was entering the diner.  “Doc, you might want to come back in.  Grizz found the body of Billington and as soon as he drops it off at the undertaker he’ll be along.”
    The diner was fairly full as it was the beginning of the lunch crowd.  Doc and I went to my table.  “More coffee, Doc?” I asked.
    Shaking his head no, I grabbed a cup for myself, and also put one on the table for Grizz.  Molly came over after taking food to a table.
    “What did Grizz want?” she asked.
    “He found the dead body of Billington,” I paused as I poured the two cups full.  “He’ll be along any minute.”
    Sitting down I started telling Doc the condition of the body keeping my voice low so as to not spoil the dinner of any of the customers.
    Molly came back by, reached down and took a sip of my coffee.  “Hon, why don’t you bring an open-face hot beef sandwich for me and Grizz?” I said pleadingly and smiled.
    The timing was perfect.  Grizz walked in the door as Molly walked out of the kitchen with our lunches.  One thing for sure, ol’ Grizz knew how to use a fork.
    I would take a bite, then relate the story to Grizz, who would stop enough to look at me, nod, then continue eating.  As he finished, he grabbed his bandana and wiped off his beard.  “Think there some pie in the kitchen?” he questioned.  Molly happened to be standing near, so she whirled off to the kitchen.
    “Billington, could leave a sour taste in my mouth,” said Doc.  “But if he didn’t have any morphine or laudanum he would have been in excruciating pain.  I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
    Molly brought back a piece of pie for Grizz and looked at me.  “Last piece, morning crowd ate us out,” she said and shrugged her shoulders.  “If I get time I’ll bake something for supper.”
    “Now there are at least four men out there, looking for money.  I haven’t a clue as to what they look like or who they are,” I informed Doc and Grizz.
    Wouldn’t you know it!  In through the door walked…