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On Christmas break 1959, my parents signed me up for ski lessons at a Mom N’ Pop ski area north of Lake San Isabel called “Broden’s”. It consisted of a rope tow and about one half mile of a straight down hill slope. There I went all bundled up like Ralphie in the classic “A Christmas Story”. I had wooden skis, lace up boots, cable bindings and goggles that looked like something out of a sci/fi movie. We loaded up in a bus at the YMCA and headed on our adventure. I don’t remember much about the instruction we got.…

You never know when generosity will strike. Today I had to take my once very familiar one hour, sixty-one mile, drive to Greeley. I was heading to a memorial service for a very fine man, Bill Rusher. I had known Bill since I was just out of the 6th grade. We met at my first year of church camp in 1961. He grew up on a ranch outside of Ordway, Colorado. We spent five years going to camp together and then reconnected at Phillips University. When I went to interview at FCC Greeley in March of 2017, I noticed a…

It is a common belief that it is “More Blessed to Give then to Receive”. I have found that it is also easier. Many years ago a very wise and insightful elder at the church I was serving in Pueblo said to me, “Mark, why are you so resistent to letting me give you a hug”? I had no answer in that moment, her question haunted me. It was not long after that, that I said to her “Lolita I will try to be better at letting you give me a hug”. Clearly, I learned that receiving made me feel…

Some of my stories write themselves. Others are more like trying to climb a Colorado “Fourteener”. This one in particular has taken two weeks to come together. It’s not an overly complicated narrative but it penetrates deep into one of the more painful and special journeys I have ever shared. Brad and I and about 1,200 other undergraduate students shared our college years in the late 60’s at Phillips University. I was from Colorado and Brad from Kansas. We moved in similar circles. We shared a number of common friends and played a lot of intramurals against each other. Brad…

I have a new roommate. “Estralla” has taken up residence at our home. We are part of the emerging demographic that welcomes 30–something young men into our basement (and his dog). Zach, our first grandson has become the third member of our household for the time being. It’s a win—win for all of us. He runs his very successful handyman business from here. If we were an assisted living home Zach would be the maintenance man, part time cook, entertainment director and human duct tape. Depending on his day’s work sometimes Estralla hangs out with us. She is a delight.…

In 1981 I became the Assistant Minister at Central Christian Church in Pueblo. Thus began another experience of doing something I said I would never do. I backed into ministry, sort of an experiment in looking for a loophole. People often ask me how did you choose to become a pastor? My simple answer is— it’s sort of like the sculptor who is asked how he is going to carve an elephant out of a block of marble. “I just chip away everything that does not look like an elephant and what is left is an elephant”. When I was…

Sometime in the early 80’s I discovered the joy of walking. I began a regimen of daily walks that were usually about 4-6 miles. When we moved to the San Luis Valley in 1986 we lived on an acreage west of town. We soon found a four—mile walk from our home to the Rio Grande River that took us and our amazing dog Smiley there and back. For every mile I did Smiley would run two. I logged the walks on a monthly basis figuring I walked about 80 miles a month on that route, through all four seasons. That’s…

You fail Boomer 101 if you can not name both the actor and the movie that made that line famous—Paul Newman “Cool Hand Luke” 1967. I must have heard and used that reference more times than I can count. Now to an encounter in a barber shop in Montreal. My first memories of a striped barber pole goes back to “Slicks” barber shop in the basement of the Star Journal and Chieftain newspaper in Pueblo. It was a man’s world. Three chairs, the smells of smell—good stuff, and not a girl in sight. I was on my way to manhood.…

Well, I am settling in after an 8000 mile 19 state trek. I found the logistics of trying to write while dealing with the daily moving too much to take on. I certainly have enough stories to keep me going for a few weeks. Today I want to talk about stepping on the soil of the state of Maine for our 50th state in 41 years of travel together. Truly, I had never heard of Eastport before Holland American highlighted it as our next to last stop on our journey through the Maritime Islands of Canada, and then back to…

I am nearly half way through my 36 day road trip and I think it is time to check in. I am writing from upstate New York where we have enjoyed a joyous time in New England. Truly, I had no idea how much I would enjoy this part of the world. Today we are treated to a VIP experience at the Saratoga Race Track, courtesy of our son in—law Dale. Tomorrow we get to worship with a former organist at South Broadway CC, who is the music director at St Peter’s in Albany. Can’t wait to see Dan again.…