Waiting...

from years ago at the Broad Art Museum, Michigan State University, Lansing, MI.

Writing an Introduction

For most people I sense that writing is a lost art form. Few people I know take the time to write notecards or letters. I suppose it is the sign of our times. Most people in our culture do not write. 

I write everyday. I keep journals. And I will write letters and notecards to people. I feel bad when a week or two goes by and I haven't written to someone. 

Recently I took the first real steps towards something I have been thinking about for some time now. The thing is a book. It is a book for my children and grandchildren. I want to present them with the stories of my life. Getting started has not been easy, just like trying to explain here what I am trying to do is not easy. In a sense the stories of my family have been lost as our collective memories fade. What I wish to do is write the stories of my memories and where I can, share the stories of our family. My hope is that another generation will not pass without having some small account of our family written down. 

I have made some progress in a few areas but have struggled recently with introducing what I am doing to family who will read this. Hopefully. I have written four to five different drafts and came up with another today. I felt I would share it here.

In mid-July of 2018 I read John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley. It is a thoughtful telling of an older Steinbeck traveling across the country to reconnect with America. He had written about American but hadn’t really been in America for many years. He kept himself to the east and west coasts. It was a good book to read.

He reflects on the thoughts of another writer, Thomas Wolfe. Wolfe died in 1939. He was just thirty-nine years old (the same age as my father when he died). His first novel, Look Homeward, Angel was published in 1929. The book is a part of my library and I directed a production of a play adapted from the novel in 1984. His book You Can’t Go Home Again was published posthumously in 1940. Steinbeck agrees with Wolfe’s thoughts by writing “You can’t go home again because home has ceased to exist except in the mothballs of memory.”

In wrapping up Travels with Charley Steinbeck says, “In the beginning of this record I tried to explore the nature of journeys, how they are things in themselves, each one an individual and not two alike.” I agree.

I seem to be continually wishing to be on a journey and what Steinbeck wrote is something I wish to remember. Just like someone cannot go home again to that place that once was, one could not recreate a journey that has already been taken. The destination may be the same but the people and the experience will be different.

It doesn't really introduce the stories, but it might open a curtain behind which the memories lie. It might set one's mind to wondering what did happen back then. If not, then it gave me the opportunity to think on the thoughts of Wolfe and Steinbeck and that is not entirely a bad thing. 

Postings from The Lake District - I

Some time has passed since I shared a photograph from the Frist Center for the Visual Arts. Life goes on and as many people are, I too have been busy. A few months ago I decided to take my desire to strike out on an adventure seriously and packed my cameras and my bag for England. I joined an old friend and together we spent a week in Cumbria; in the Lake District to be more precise.

Time has been such that I have been prevented to settling down to review the photos I took. But today I felt that more time had gone by than I wanted and decided to sit down and begin work on my next 20 photos... book.. Here is the beginning.

This photograph looks as though it could have been taken anywhere. Not the case. This particular tableau is found in the garden at Hill Top Farm in Near Sawrey. Hill Top was the home of Beatrix Potter and this setting pays homage to her precocious creation, Peter Rabbit. 

The evening following my visit to Hill Top, I wrote to my wife telling her that I could see us settling into a quiet life of retirement in Near Sawrey. In that small hamlet, I imagine a life of reading, writing, puttering in the garden, walks in the countryside and sharing an evening of conversation with friends at the Tower Bank Arms.

A man can dream. 

An Afternoon at the Frist

a rainy weekend

perfect day for kandinsky

tea and cakes and talk

New Years Day 2015

The first cup has been poured from the French press and I have made my way upstairs to begin to write.

The new year has dawned and with it all the hopes and dreams that have piled up, waiting for this day. What the year holds will only be discovered in the the course of time. The hope is that it begins well, then perhaps it will end well. At the very least, having looked ahead, we have increased the odds for happy endings. The glorious reality though is that it is all in God’s hands. It is as it says in Proverbs 16:9, “The mind of man plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.”

And so it is with me this new year. 

In this morning’s local paper appeared an article written by Professor Edward Fischer, an anthropologist at Vanderbilt University. In the article titled “Resolve to have experiences, not Rolexes,” he encourages the reader to:

• Place a higher value on a sense of purpose in life;
• Put aside the dream of things in setting priorities, and focus on improving relationships and experiences; and
• Do not be defined by things.

These are not new ideals. Like myself, many people now look at life as more than a collection of things. We look at life asking, what can we do to live as full a life as possible, not how full we can make the home in which we live. We search for ways to spend our money so that it leaves us with a sense of accomplishment and a wonderful memory, and not with something else to gather dust on a shelf. We wish to discover that thing, or things in our life that defines who we are and answers the question, “this is why I lived.”

As a spiritual person, as a Christian, I know that the greatest task I can undertake is to live my life for God! Submitting myself to His will, to have it revealed to me day-by-day as I walk in relationship with Him, is the greatest purpose for my life. Through this, all other aspects of my life are defined, refined, and given meaning.

Will I continue to make my plans? Certainly. I have goals: books to read, words to write, places to travel to, parts to play and songs to sing. More importantly, I have people to love! These things are the color of life. The purpose of life, “my determined purpose is to be my utmost for His highest - my best for His glory.*”

In the new year, amid all the plans, all the hopes, dreams and desires is this - live my life for and closer to my Lord!

May the Lord bless you in this New Year and through all of your days!

~ Greg

* My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers, 1 January 

Sunflower

"Looking into the Center of the Sun"

copyright Greg Grimsley Creative

In Leiper's Fork

Southwest of Nashville lies the small town of Leiper's Fork. The Fork, as it is called by the locals, is a great place for music, for food, for art and for photos.

When It Rained

Yesterday morning I was sitting in my truck waiting for the rain to let up. It was a heavy rain. The kind of rain that makes rivers on the streets and small ponds in low areas. As I watched the rivers run and ponds fill, I was reminded of a time long ago at my grandparent's house.

Their house was a small house on Matthews Avenue in Sikeston, Missouri. As a child there would be two to three (perhaps more) weekends a year that our family would visit there. On the street outside the front of their house, the road dipped. In this lower area was a storm drain that seemed to always be clogged. When it rained, the water would flow from the east and west into this recess in the street, forming a sizable pond.

Once the rain stopped, I would run outside to stomp and splash in the water. I'd find twigs and float them, as though they were boats. Seven or eight twigs and I'd have an armada. As I grew older and could ride a bike, I'd run a bike through the pond. The faster you hit the water the higher the spray would fly. That was the goal; high and far-reaching spray.

I miss those days. I miss being a kid.

If Only...

I suppose I am willing become a bit more transparent at times with this space. It is easy to do, knowing that not many people read it. That makes it safe.

One of the few things that I set my mind and spirit to this year, that I have actually fulfilled, it to write in my journal every day. And while I have not intention of sharing all that I write there, far far from it, I do find that occasionally there is something there that I may use here. They are not stories or dreams, but reflect on life and how I am feeling at specific times. 

As I have noted in the past, I have a deep sense of wanderlust. As I once told my daughter, "wanderlust can be a cruel trait to live with." It creates an ongoing sense of unsettledness. For me it means an almost constant desire to be somewhere else doing something else instead of being content where I am at with what I am doing. I truly wish I knew what causes this feeling. Why must I seemingly always be in search of something other than what I have, when what I have is pretty good? 

The other day I wrote:

"It seems I am having a day of bemoaning my life; the same old where I am and what I am doing versus where I wish to be and what I wish to do. I won't bother with the details; we've been here many times before. But as I am I writing about this the thought occurred to me, I dream about it but I don't do anything about it. I am not taking specific actions to make any of my dreams into my reality. Yes, I save money to take trips, and in part, that is a specific action I suppose. Though, it is difficult to get excited about it at times.

"In the broad sense, I suppose I am not much different that most everyone else; in that, we live our lives day in and day out and there really isn't that much remarkable about it. At least I think that is how most people live. And I suppose I just get used to the reality that that this pretty much the way life is supposed to be. We're not meant to be on adventures, or living a life full of excitement twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. We probably couldn't handle it and, in time, that too would become boring. Though, being back in missions and being back in England would fit the bill for adventure and excitement in some respects. 

"I guess I am just in that thoughtful place where I don't want to live many more days, or reach the end of my days and find that the words I use to describe my life are 'if only.' I want my days, however many more God intends for me to have, to be something more. I am not searching for the profound, but for something that will occasionally bookend the stream of days in and days out with a 'Wow! Now that was something.'"

Journal Entry: Saturday, 9 August

I woke up too early this morning with my thoughts on _______ and his _______.

_______ is the second friend I have lost to cancer within a year. First there was ______. Now _______. Then yesterday I learned that my friend _______ _______, who has been fighting stomach cancer for over a year, has been admitted to hospital so that he can fed intravenously. These past two weeks he has been in intense pain and has been unable to eat much at all.

_______ is another who we can take encouragement from. He has a thirst for life and refuses to give up or give in.

When I consider these things, I do not have any desire to shout and wave my fist at God demanding an answer to why things like this happen. I don't. We are but temporary residents in a fallen world, and in this world tragic things will come to good people. Our duty, our course, our race, is to live a life that points others to Christ -- to inspire others to live life in such a way that inspires.

When I consider my friends, the two who have run their races and the one who is still running, I am inspired! I have learned something, many things, from all three of these gentlemen that I wish to carry forward as I continue to live out my days. If I can do that, the quality and richness of my days will be increased.

Lord, I thank You and praise You for absent friends and those friends whose company I am blessed to still cherish.

Once Upon A Time

There once was a time when, 
all I could dream of was
to go the beach.
To walk along the shore.
To sit on the deck,
or the balcony, and
listen to the surf.
To stare off into infinity
for hours at a time.

I would dream of 
what it would be like 
to live on the beach.

There once was a time when,
all I could dream of was
the Magic Kingdom, Epcot,
Hollywood Studios and 
the Animal Kingdom.
To walk along the lanes 
and the out of the way paths.
To sit on a bench, or perhaps 
at a table, and 
listen to the parks.
To listen to my heart
and be a child once more.

I would dream of
what it would be like
to live near the parks.

Now, all I seem to dream of 
is to be back in England.
To walk on the streets of London, or in the parks
(Hyde, Kensington, Green, St. James),
along well-worn, aged streets.
To sit at a table in
the Covent Garden, 
listening to classical music.
To be only a few hours away
from the southwest coast, 
or the City of Light.
Always surrounded by, and 
listening to the sounds of the city.

I dream of
what it would be like
to live in England (again).

A field near the Ambion Wood along the

Ashby de la Zouch Canal

Margins X

"Between the impossible and the impractical is where imagination lives."
                                                                                        ~ Unknown

"Now Why Don't He Write?"

I have spent the weekend searching for a quote that I wanted to use in the resuscitation of this blog. It was something John Lennon said as he came out of retirement for the release of his Double Fantasy album. I didn’t find it. But it spoke about how he spent five years raising his son, baking bread, and so forth. He spoke of how he survived the chaos of his past and he is doing fine. He asked how we were doing. Did we make it as well?

Since I couldn’t find the exact quote, I’ll borrow a line from the film Dances with Wolves. Finding a sun bleached skeleton on the prairie, the disgusting Timmons says, “I’ll bet someone back east is going, ‘Now why don’t he write?’”

Over these past few months I could have been that sun bleached skeleton. I haven’t written and I have offered no explanation as to why.

____________________

Writing for me is highly personal. Most of what I write is contained in a number of journals that I have kept through the years. I have a few other notebooks that I’ll make notes in and one for recording quotes that I have read or heard that mean something to me. But writing for public consumption does not come easy. Here are three contributing factors. 

One. My grammar is not always the best. In school I excelled in creative writing, where style and form were subservient to content. Yet when grammar, sentence structure, and all that other ilk were required, I’d see my grades decline. Then, and now, I write the way I wish to write and it doesn’t really bother me if how I write is proper or improper. Two. While what I write is interesting to me, it may not be to others. I began this knowing that it would have a very limited audience. So at times I wonder why should I bother.  Not many people are reading it. Three. I set for myself an unrealistic goal of publishing something every week. It was brutal keeping up and placed unneeded stress on me. Needing to find relief with the busyness of life, this was an easy thing to set aside.

Now, I find that I miss it. I enjoyed sharing little facets of my life. Living in a time when our oral histories are lost as generations pass and memories fade, writing here (and in my other places) is a way to preserve some that history; for my children, my grandchildren, and anyone else who may be interested. 

I am not a person who makes resolutions at the New Year. This isn’t to say that I don’t set goals, I do. Example. I know I need to lose weight. But saying I am going to join a gym and go three times a week so that I can lose such and such amount of weight does  not work for me. Yes, I need to exercise. Still I know that this level of commitment is not a real priority for me. What does work is a daily awareness to eat better and eat less. Where and when possible, I will exercise. 

I set a goal to wake up at 5:30 each weekday morning and spend time in prayer and Bible study. This is happening and it is making a great difference in how I go through my day. I am happier, focused and energized to face the day ahead. I am ashamed that I didn’t do this years ago. 

I have set a goal to read more this year. On 31 December I set out twelve books I plan to read this year (see reading tab). Mixed into those twelve is Thoreau’s Walden and an assortment of literary anthologies that I’ll read from occasionally.  

Somewhere in mix of that is going on I’ll manage to draw a bit and work on my photography.

I’ll endeavor to live in each day, with a glance every now and then towards the future.

Then, there is this. It crossed my mind Friday that I need to return to this space from time to time to share a story. I am not going to change the format. It isn’t moving in a different direction. I will only write when it suits me and I am feeling inspired to do so and it will not be weekly. It will simply be me sharing a thought, a memory, a quote, a dream, a photograph, or an experience with my family and friends.

Thank you for sticking with me. I apologize for the absence, but hope you understand.

~ g

In England's Green & Pleasant Land

It is not often that I wake from my night’s sleep and remember even a portion of what I dreamt. This happened earlier this week.

This past Wednesday I woke up remembered dreaming that my wife and I were back living and working at The King’s Lodge; the Youth With A Mission base that we served at in the late 90’s. It was not The King’s Lodge as I remember it for the structure was somewhat different and definitely larger. Yet, it was The King’s Lodge nonetheless and we were settled into a small flat in the back of the building. This was how it was when we lived there.

I did not want to wake from that dream. But I did. I shared my remembrance with Gerrie and started preparing to go to work. My mind was filled with thoughts of England and how much I truly miss being there. In these moments of shaving, dressing, having breakfast, I was drawn to William Blake’s poem “Jerusalem.”

And did those feet in ancient time,

Walk upon England’s mountains green:

And was the holy Lamb of God,

On England’s pleasant pastures seen!

And did the Countenance Divine,

Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

And was Jerusalem builded here,

Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold;

Bring me my Arrows of desire:

Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!

Bring me my Chariot of fire!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,

Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:

Till we have built Jerusalem,

In England’s green & pleasant land.

Passersby - Part II

As followers of Christ we are called to pray. 

It’s easy for my wife and I to pray for our family and friends. We pray for their happiness, their health, their protection and their provision. Each day, in our home, we thank God for His many blessings and how He has provided for us. We praise Him for the fellowship of our church and for the blessing we enjoy of living in a place where we can worship freely. We do this daily and it is an easy thing to do. We're praying into our lives, our families lives and our friends lives. Easy. 

This is good, but it is not enough. I believe that our prayers must be bigger than ourselves. The Lord calls us to look outside; to pray bigger. As someone who has been on the mission field, and who harbors hope of one day serving again, I have asked the Lord to place a country or a people on my heart to pray for. This past week I experienced a revelation of sorts in this. I believe I now have a people and place that I can pray for.

But, what of that stranger in front of me or that person selling papers on the corner? What about the couple sitting two tables away in a restaurant or the young person who walked in late to church? I know I can’t change the circumstances of a people an ocean away or of those I see each day. But I do know who can. 

When I see someone I can remember that video. I can try to understand that this person  is going through his or her life with their triumphs and sorrows. Though I may never speak to them I can be sensitive in the knowledge that they are carrying something that is defining them at that moment. It may be good or it may be bad. Either way, they are living their life. And in that moment of seeing them they have become a part of mine. 

It is up to me to decide what to do. Do I continue to pass them by? Can I continue to pass them by? I think not. 

Though I physically move on, spiritually I have stopped. For that moment I can lift that person up in prayer with all they are carrying. I won’t know what to pray. I don’t need to know. In my prayer I just need to place that person before Christ and simply say, “Lord, please take care of whatever this person is going through. Make Your presence known to them and give them peace.”

It may not seem like much, but when my Savior gets involved, it is a lot!

Passersby - Part I

Henry David Thoreau wrote in Walden, “Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eyes for an instant?”

"A Couple in Green Park, London"

photo ©2013 Gerrie Grimsley

My wife introduced me to something quite profound this week. It was a video that concluded by asking:  

“If you could stand in someone else’s shoes

Hear what they hear

See what they see

Feel what they feel

Would you treat them differently?”

It was profound and it was disturbing. 

Suddenly I was aware of how little attention I pay to what is happening around me. I make my way through my days concerned with beginning and ending well. And somewhere in between perhaps I have done something worthy of the life that God gave me for that day. Sadly, this is not always the case. Not even close. 

I am wrapped up in my life and in the lives of my family and close friends. I live in my world and have my hopes and dreams. The stranger in front of me or the person on the corner trying to sell a paper; they live different lives. They are not part of mine. So I pass them by without a thought. 

This isn’t right.

What is going on in their lives? What are their joys? What are their sorrows? What hopes do they have? What dreams? Where do they want to be or what do they want to be doing five, ten, or fifteen years from now? Why are they smiling? What caused their eyes to be downcast? Do they love? Are they loved? Is there someone out there searching for them? Are they remembered or have they been forgotten? Is there life comfortable or do they struggle? What will they do today? Will they even be here tomorrow? 

So many questions and in each one lives a story of mankind.

“So if you’re walking down the street sometime

And spot some hollow ancient eyes,

Please don’t just pass ‘em by and stare

As if you didn’t care, say, ‘Hello in there, hello.’”

~ John Prine

   Hello in There

Margins IX

The Chicago Sun-Times recently fired its entire photography department stating that it had to "restructure the way we manage multimedia." It is a sad, but honest commentary in this age where print journalism in the form of newspapers struggle to maintain subscribers. In making this move, the Sun-Times closed a chapter in the book of John H. White.

White is a Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist, having received his prize in 1982 for his "consistently excellent work on a variety of subjects." When asked about moving forward, he replied, "I will not curse the darkness. I will light candles. I will live by my three "F" words: faith, focus and flight. I'll be faithful to life, my purpose in life, my assignment from life. Stay focused on what's really important, what counts."

"I will light candles." Inspiring.

Using Time Wisely

Use Time Wisely. These were three words that I became familiar with early on in life. Every six weeks or so, I’d see those words and looking out to the right of them, I usually found a check mark. The dreaded report card! The check mark, of course, meant that I needed to improve in that area. 

If only that little mark meant that I had mastered using my time wisely for that six week. It never made sense to me. And, in the interest of complete transparency, I was also familiar with the words, Pays attention in class. I imagine my teachers would say that I was daydreaming. I excelled in those areas.

I would like to think that I have gotten better at these things over the years. There are still those occasions though when it would appear that I have lapsed back into adolescent habits. I am still prone to dream; always have been and always will be.

But of late my quest for the simplistic life has been fraught with pitfalls. I seem to stay either too busy or too tired to do much in the area of creativity. The desire is there. The ideas are there. What is missing is the time and the wherewithal to get down to the business of drawing, creating something in the garage (though I like to think of it as a multi-purpose studio), taking and working on photographs, and yes, writing. I think about it. I think about it a lot. I just haven’t taken many of the “next steps” needed to turn my thinking into action.

Then I began to think about it. What if I outlined a schedule for my evenings? I have a good idea on what things I want to do. I have sift through the many things I could do and narrowed them down to the things I wish to do; those things being draw, create art with my photography and write. Oh, and still find time to read every night. So armed with this desire and knowing my goals I have outlined the next nine weeks of Monday through Fridays. Sprinkle a few hours in class on Mondays and in choir rehearsals on Wednesdays, and I think I may have something that works.

The challenge now is to make it work. Keep the focus narrow. Work through these nine weeks. Then, we’ll look at the next nine weeks.

Nine weeks? That is the number of weeks I’ll be in class. Just in case you wondered.

Use time wisely. I remember, though I can’t count, the times that I had to apologize for that being checked on my report cards. And I suppose that these for paragraphs are my apology for not being more faithful in writing here. Honestly, sometimes I just don’t know what to write. I don’t feel inspired or creative. But other times I simply don’t make the time to set down and work at it.

Maybe I would do well to remember something my dad told me years ago. I can’t recall his exact words, but they could be summed in this. He said, “Writing is a discipline and you have to be disciplined. Make time to write and when that time comes, you set down to write. You may not have anything to write, but you set down in front of your typewriter anyway and stare at the blank sheet of paper.”

So on we go. Bring on the blank sheets of paper; or in keeping with the times, a blank Pages document.

Life Goes On

It has been one month since I last wrote. It is time to begin writing again.

____________________

We’re back from England and after two weeks of struggling with a combination of jet lag and head cold, things are beginning to get back to normal. It has been a few busy weeks at work but I was able to look forward to this weekend and the promise of settling into a routine once more. At my age routines are good.

Gerrie was traveling this weekend. She was up to Michigan for a class reunion. This means I had time on my hands to take care of things that I generally push aside while we’re home together; which is most of the time. Coming home from England and feeling somewhat inspired, I had hoped to work in the yard. But a good amount of rain changed those plans. The same way it changed plans to go to a baseball game with friends. Oh well, I suppose the rain is good thing.

Changing my plans, I came upstairs and started going through things in the office. I went through old files and reorganized some things, and, discarded more than a few things. It is all a part of my ongoing desire to simplify; to downsize. Yet when it comes to discarding items, it is easier to part with some things and harder with others.

Finding some things that were difficult to part with is what prompted me to stop and write.

I have, for many years, harbored a deep desire to relocate to Central Florida. For those who me well, they know that I love Walt Disney World and I would go there as often as possible. More recently the frequency of my trips has declined so we can travel and see other things. Still, I always wish to be there more than I am. So a few years ago I began to investigate a move. I thought, “You’re still young enough to find good employment and with a few changes and modifications in lifestyle, you can make a go of it.” Though Gerrie doesn’t share the same passion for Disney that I do, she was supportive of the idea. The planning and savings commenced.

I called and emailed a number of Chambers of Commerce in the Central Florida area and began collecting all manner of information about relocating. I started reading, looking at different areas to live, investigated job possibility and costs of living, and started making a plan. I had us on a twenty-four month plan; twenty-four months to save, organize, downsize, and so forth. Those twenty-four months concluded this past January 1st. 

We’re still here.

This morning I found the files with all the notes, the brochures and magazines that I had gathered. As I opened the file and placed the contents on my desk I had a moment of pause. My first thought was to gather everything together and put them back where I found them. That is when the thought stuck me, “Life goes on Greg.” With that, I gathered the pile and placed it in my recycle bin.

It wasn’t easy. To do that was like admitting that this particular dream was over. And perhaps it is. But, perhaps it is, only for awhile. Perhaps some day I will realize this dream and live out my twilight years spending time in my “happy place.” But it isn’t for these years. 

Putting these things out for recycle may mean that this is over. But, it doesn’t mean that the dreaming itself comes to an end. Oh no! I am a dreamer! I make no apologies for that. As long as there is life in this old body I will continue to dream. I will continue to dream about the places I wish to visit and the things I wish to see. I will continue to dream, and to pray, that God may one day call me back out into the mission field and that I will be brave enough and bold enough say, “God, here I am, I am Yours.” I will dream about all the wonderful times that still await Gerrie and I, the love we will share and the memories we will make. And yes, I will continue to dream of a day when I can walk down Main Street U.S.A. any day that I’d like. 

So, life goes on, but I will continue to dream.

This Blog Has Been Temporarily Delayed

Dear Readers:

I have really tried to be faithful in my commitment to myself when it comes to posting to my blog every Sunday. So far, it has worked. And I made a sincere effort to have something there this past Sunday. I had a nice post I was working on titled Traveling Light. 

Sadly, time has gotten away from me. I have changed employment and have been spending a good deal of time and energy making that transition. It is going great! Thank you for asking. At the same time, I had two free-lance projects that I committed to; one is done and one is nearly done. Add to that, that we are traveling to England in a few days and there is the whole packing adventure.

I say all this because the few of you who read these weekly missives are important to me and I apologize for the lack of content during the past few weeks and the next few weeks ahead. But you have my promise! When I return and settle down, I'll have things back on a regular track. Friends, this excites me! 

I told my wife the other day that when we come home from England, I'll come home knowing how to say 'no'. I'll also come home knowing how to say yes to all the very exciting things that lay ahead. Spring is here (though it hasn't felt that way here lately) and that means rebirth. I am ready for it!

See you soon. Take care. And may God Bless You!

Greg