The Continental Oops

Being a private investigator is mostly as glamorous as Sam Spade’s office. What clients bring you are problems, and there is not normally anything glorified about them or about the things you need to do in order to satisfy the client. Every once in a great while, however, a case comes along that at least brings something humorous to the equation.

We had been hired by her husband (they were separated) to find out what a woman was doing when she was neglecting her kids. Back in those days, kids from a broken marriage generally went with “Mom.” This woman, though, did no laundry except for one day’s underwear for herself. She bought no food, she cooked no meals, she just went out with (and sometimes brought home) “gentlemen friends.” The ten-year-old son took money from her purse and bought and fixed sparse meals for himself and his siblings.

We needed to “get the goods” on her and document her neglect and behavior in order for the father to gain custody of the kids. He was paying for the apartment (for the kids’ sake), so he had a key. We photographed piles of dirty laundry in her bedroom, and filth throughout the apartment. (At least the older boy was ensuring his younger brother and sister ate and went to school.) What we were lacking was proof of her philandering. She was good at hiding her assignations.

We knew, though, that she was loaning out her bedroom to a friend who also was cheating on her own husband. She wasn’t talking. On one of our trips to the apartment, we placed a short-range FM “bug” in the headboard of the bed. Our intent was that, the next time the friend used it, we might hear something we could use as leverage. We spent several nights listening to no more than someone moving around the room. One early afternoon, when “Mom” was at work and the kids at school, we went in to replace the battery in the bug. Having done so, and while we were in there, we heard a man and woman enter the apartment. They’d come for some “afternoon delight!” Like in a comedy movie, we both hid in the bedroom’s closet. It wasn’t a long performance; they were all over each other from the time the apartment door closed. (Now, while we couldn’t see anything, we could hear everything.) The pertinent part was after they’d finished. He apparently laid back and said, “God must’ve taken a vitamin pill before he created you!” (We snickered only internally.)

The next day, we approached the woman at work – she was a waitress – and tried to find out where “Mom” was having her dalliances. The waitress stonewalled us…until I said, “Does this sound familiar? ‘God must’ve taken a vitamin pill before he created you’?” (We told her we had it on tape, but we didn’t.) After the blood returned to her face, she told us everything we needed to know.

With the evidence we subsequently collected, the father was able to get custody of the kids.

We made one final trip to the apartment to retrieve the useless bug.

Be Content

When I was drafted, back in ‘66, it was only the second time I had been away from home, the first being two weeks at Boy Scout camp.  Overall, it was scary but I adapted, as did just about everyone from all walks of life: from teacher to mechanic to hobo to street thug.

After training, my first deployment (my only one) was to South Korea.  The Korean War had been over for 15 years but, as devastated as they were, recovery was just beginning.

On the coal-powered train from Seoul to Taegu (now Daegu), I made up my mind: Korea and I were stuck with each other for the next year or more, so I’d look for the best in every situation.  Immediately, I looked and saw how lush the cabbage fields were, with cabbages the size of medicine balls, bigger than basketballs!  Over time, though the people mostly put up with us—and if they could profit they would—they were generally a hard-working, good humored people, from the farmers to the storekeepers, salon workers.  Rather than “get away” to Tokyo, I spent my leave that summer with a Korean family who took a weekend trip to Bulkuksa Temple outside of Gyeonju.

“Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content” (Philippians 4:11, NKJV).

I’m reading a mystery where the two investigators couldn’t be different:  While each is cerebral, one seems to be content in whatever circumstance they find themselves, while the other finds the surroundings, food, and people are somehow beneath him. Guess which is most at peace?

READING AND WRITING — AND READING

Since I was a little tyke I have loved to read.  I had been doing so, with my mother’s help, since I was a toddler.  McCall’s Magazine, Little Golden Books, and on to Hardy Boys, Mickey Spillane, Brett Halliday—you get the picture  All of the Sherlock Holmes stories, of course.  I got to reading so fast that I could “see” the action in real-time, like in a movie.  And I was reading up to three grown-up books in an afternoon.

I also liked music; classical, big band, and marches.  I tried my hand at learning piano…my left hand, that is.  I was extremely left-handed; my right hand was totally useless—except to hold a glass of milk.

I seem to be able to write little things, like this, and do well enough, so, being a voracious reader I, like many, if not most, always felt like I had “a book inside me.”  So I tried my hand at writing the Great American Detective Novel.  

I thought of a good basic plot, listed what I’d need to know, and spent months researching (I’m good at research) all the medical and scientific aspects, and locales; I created characters and interfaced with the many appropriate agencies (who were amazingly helpful on both sides of the Atlantic).  

Turn out I’m good at “clinical.”  The writing coach I hired said I was too clinical.  Nonetheless, I wrote the entire thing.  Very accurate, very complex—just too clinical.

What the experience has taught me is how much I appreciate really good writers, the ones who bring the characters to life. 

I’m reading a novel now, “Still Life,” by Louise Penny, whose characters form the basis of the Amazon Prime mini-series “Three Pines.”  I really like the characters and the plots and the scenery.   That’s what I wanted my novel to read like.

I’ve decided that, at my age, when I’m not proofreading and editing others’ work, the reading of a well-written mystery can be as gratifying as if I’d written it myself.

Once Upon A Taxi

I was leaving my house to run some errands. It was my custom to wave at any neighbors as I passed them; even folks I never get to talk to generally wave back. There was a new family on the corner. I had never seen them to talk to, just from a distance. As I was turning the corner I saw an elderly Asian gentleman with an older woman and a child in the driveway of the home, so I waved. The old gentleman waved back and hurried in my direction, so I pulled over. The weather had turned unusually nice, so I had his window down. The old man held out a paper—it was a map of the local hospital with a door marked—and said, “I need go this hos-pi-tal.”

Thinking—if I even was—that he wanted directions, I said, “Okay,’ and found, in a moment, that my back seat now held three Japanese. I was heading not far from there anyway, so I decided to take them on over to the hospital.

We conversed a little, which is when I found out they were Japanese, and the old man conveyed that it was his son who was renting the house and that his daughter-in-law was in the hospital having a baby. During the trip, I realized, “They think I’m a taxi!” When we arrived at the entrance marked on the diagram, I pointed it out to them, telling them to exit, for safety, through the right door of my vehicle. It was then that I told them I wasn’t a taxi, but just a neighbor, a good Samaritan.

“Oh, no!” said the old man, “I think you taxi! I phone taxi! What I do?”
I told him (although he did feel for the actual taxi driver) that the taxi would “go away,” so, not to worry. They thanked me profusely, with much bowing, after they had exited my vehicle.
I was subsequently invited in to meet the new parents and the baby.

Sin or Personal Offense?

Jacob had never seen such a large tent.  It must be the size of a quarter of a football field.  Oblong tables filled the space, with plenty of room to maneuver, and something was going on at the head table.  Over the speakers, he heard, “Lastly, we come to this cake, baked by our pastor’s wife, Mrs. Duane.  Whoever has the winning bid will join us at the head table, we hope to share their purchase.  Remember, now, all proceeds go to our missions endeavors.  Who will start the bidding?

“Fifty dollars.”

“I have fifty dollars. Do I hear another bid?”

A man stood up.  “Five hundred dollars.”

“Wow!  Anyone care to outbid Martin?  Anyone?”  No hands went up and nobody spoke up.  “Sold! Martin, please come up and join us and get your cake.  Thank you for that bid!  Our volunteer servers will be bringing food to each table so we can enjoy our feast.” Jacob found a vacant seat near the front tables where he could better hear the goings-on.  He was new to the church which was hosting this picnic, and he didn’t want to miss anything being said.  He said hello to those sitting on either side of him.  As the servers began setting out dishes of, among other things,  sandwiches and vegetables, as well as pitchers of water and tea, a commotion arose at the table where the winner, Martin, had sat.

“Martin, you should be ashamed!  Bidding so high ensured you’d get this seat, but it prevented others from a chance! You did it just so you could sit with Pastor and Mrs. Duane!”  The woman who had been berating the man stormed off.  Jacob didn’t know her.  Everyone, including the servers, had frozen, shocked.

As they resumed their service, another woman, whom Jacob recognized as Constance, approached Martin, saying, “Martin, I don’t know what came over her.  Please don’t feel bad.  She’s just jealous, I guess.  You just enjoy yourself.”  She patted his hand then returned to her seat.

After everyone had been served and begun eating, Pastor Duane stood up.

“Everyone, please continue enjoying this great food.  How about a round of applause for those who prepared and served it?”  Everyone, it seemed to Jacob, applauded.

“I’d like to address what happened here.  I need, unfortunately, to address it here and now.  While Matthew 18:15 says, ‘Moreover if thy brother shall trespass against thee, go and tell him his fault between thee and him alone: if he shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother,’ this doesn’t apply here.  First of all, from her perspective, Margaret wasn’t sinned against.  So, right there, she was out of line by verbally attacking Martin.  And she did what she did publicly, so I must address it publicly, since First Timothy 5:20 says, ‘Them that sin rebuke before all, that others also may fear.’  It wasn’t a private or personal offense, it was sin evidencing itself in our midst.

We—I—don’t do this in any way as a form of retribution, but for Margaret’s good, as well as for everyone’s, so we can all be safe.”

Margaret stood.  “Oh, Pastor, I’m so ashamed at my behavior, and of what I said!  Matthew, will you forgive me?”  She looked around.  “Will you all forgive me?” 

There was what sounded like unanimous confirmation from the congregation that, yes, she was forgiven.

Martin stood.  “Of course, Margaret, I forgive you.”  He sat down.

Pastor Duane spoke again, “This is how it is supposed to work, and it did.  Margaret repented—please sit down, Margaret, and enjoy your lunch—was forgiven, and we are all good now.  She’s forgiven, so it never happened.  There is no record here or in God’s books of any wrongdoing on her part, so we go on together in that race spoken of by Paul, one step closer to Glory.

“Now, as for Constance, I’m sure her motive was just to comfort Martin, take the sting out of what was said to him, but…She also erred in public. She has no idea what Margaret’s motivation might have been, so she, too, needs to repent and ask Margaret’s–and the Lord’s–forgiveness. After all, Jeremiah, Chapter 17, verse 9 says, ‘The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?’ So how can we know the heart of another? That’s the Holy Spirit’s job.”

Constance stood, turning to Margaret. “Margaret, I’m sorry. Pastor is right. I need to put a watch over my thoughts and my lips. Please forgive me.” Margaret nodded, smiling, from her seat and gave Constance a thumbs-up.

Pastor Duane sat down, and everyone resumed eating and conversing.

Jacob marveled at seeing what he had just read for the first time this week put into action.  Yes, actually doing the Word, rather than just reading it and saying it was true, was the way to walk this out.

One Thing For Sure: It Wasn’t The Rapture

Weird.  Was it a dream?  Did I imagine that, just a few short weeks ago, the deserted sidewalks and streets of my neighborhood had become full with entire families out walking, albeit still distancing themselves from folks with whom they’d been living through what were house arrests?

Before that, the streets were deserted.  Few pedestrians, and those wore masks.  Outside.  Alone.  In the fresh air.  I even saw someone who had their pet masked up.  Not funny for the dog, I’m sure.  And there had been little traffic, because workers had told to work from home or, if they couldn’t, that they had no jobs.  Again, of those who were driving, too many, alone in their cars, were masked-up.

Today, there are a few folks out walking, mostly those walking dogs.  Where have the rest gone?  Help Wanted signs abound.  Especially at Every. Single. Restaurant.  So they can’t all be working.  In my pretty considerable sea of acquaintances, only two people have died, neither of anything even remotely related to “the virus.” So “We’re all gonna die” isn’t what happened.

Okay.  School has (sort of) begun again, but surely that can’t account for the emptiness.  One would think that having had to be online for everything would soured the kids on that avenue of “recreation.”

Weird, like I said.  Reminiscent of The Twilight Zone or The Outer Limits.

Is It Just Me?

The time and distances I drove during this “pandemic” pretty much never wavered; they remained normal.

Now that things are opening up and folks are getting back to work (except those lazy so-and-sos whom Big Brother is paying to sit home on Unemployment for another month or more), my perception is that a huge percentage of drivers are now of the sort who totally disregard speed limits, lane markings, and other vehicles. Never before have I had so many vehicles pass me doing 30 miles per hour and more over the limit (I drove professionally for decades, so I can tell), swerving between lanes and cutting off other drivers.

It also seems that the majority, now, aren’t “driving ahead,” but are only focusing a car-length or two ahead at best. I’ve never seen so many folks approach an exit, cross two lanes, and exit at the last second, only to barely exit. Have the vaccines produced in recipients the Alone On The Planet Syndrome?

One more thing — I’m limiting this rant — Do folks think that, traveling at 60 MPH, they can react to a sudden obstruction, even if warned by brake lights, in time to stop when they’re only ten feet behind the car in front of them? Perhaps the old “one car-length for every ten miles per hour” adage (which was, BTW, insufficient) isn’t taught anymore? How about the better and safer two-second rule?

I’ll say so long for now, but replies are welcomed.

The Incredible Shrinking Church

“Now, brethren, concerning the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ and our gathering together to Him, we ask you, not to be soon shaken in mind or troubled, either by spirit or by word or by letter, as if from us, as though the day of Christ had come. Let no one deceive you by any means; for that Day will not come unless the falling away comes first, and the man of sin is revealed, the son of perdition, who opposes and exalts himself above all that is called God or that is worshiped, so that he sits as God in the temple of God, showing himself that he is God. Do you not remember that when I was still with you I told you these things? And now you know what is restraining, that he may be revealed in his own time. For the mystery of lawlessness is already at work; only He who now restrains will do so until He is taken out of the way. And then the lawless one will be revealed, whom the Lord will consume with the breath of His mouth and destroy with the brightness of His coming. The coming of the lawless one is according to the working of Satan, with all power, signs, and lying wonders, and with all unrighteous deception among those who perish, because they did not receive the love of the truth, that they might be saved. And for this reason God will send them strong delusion, that they should believe the lie, that they all may be condemned who did not believe the truth but had pleasure in unrighteousness. But we are bound to give thanks to God always for you, brethren beloved by the Lord, because God from the beginning chose you for salvation through sanctification by the Spirit and belief in the truth, to which He called you by our gospel, for the obtaining of the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, brethren, stand fast and hold the traditions which you were taught, whether by word or our epistle. Now may our Lord Jesus Christ Himself, and our God and Father, who has loved us and given us everlasting consolation and good hope by grace, comfort your hearts and establish you in every good word and work.”
(2 Thessalonians 2:1-17 NKJV)

My Social Media “Fast”

Our pastor challenged the congregation to eschew social media for two weeks, so  I began at midnight, October 11, 2020.

October 14: I thought my biggest hurdle might be the lack of “real news,” as we quit watching (due to slanted reporting and downright #FakeNews) just about all except inadvertent national and local news (though we each stopped by one news site online to scan the headlines once a day).  As of this paragraph (more to follow) I realize I was wrong.  Where I feel restricted is my inability to post comments on Facebook, Twitter, or Parler regarding some of the mindless pronouncements of members of both houses of our supposed servants, the US Congress.

December 31: Left Twitter altogether.

May, 2021: Not missing Twitter. In fact, it’s like having a hornet’s nest removed from my ear.

How We Lost Normal

Good stuff: