Chess

 

Chess

 

It was my dad who introduced me to chess. I was ten when he brought out the chess board and began teaching me the names, positions and moves of each piece. I was fascinated. Little did I know it would be the one game that would last a lifetime.

 

Not long ago I watched The Queen’s Gambit, a Netflix mini-series. It was a good movie that reignited my interest in chess. I have played the game on and off again ever since my father taught me. There were seasons when I didn’t even think about chess. But whenever I heard the word, I was eager to dust off the board and find a playing partner.

 

For years I collected chess sets. I was into unique pieces that brought character to the game. An onyx set from Mexico and another set made of olive wood from Israel were among my favorites. Also, a small magnetic set I bought in Germany many years ago. Most of my collection I have either given away or lost in moving back and forth to Montana.

 

Recently my oldest son challenged me to a game via the Internet. He found the app Social Chess that supports online games. Quite different playing chess on my iPhone. I am technically as well as strategically challenged. Each player is allowed up to three days to make a move. That may seem like an extravagant amount of time, but it works well with our busy schedules. By the way, I won the first game.

 

Here’s a little wisdom about chess for those who are unfamiliar with the game:

 

“No one has ever won a game of chess by only taking forward moves. Sometimes you have to move backwards to take better steps forward. That’s life.”

 

“Chess says everything about husband and wife. The King has to take things one step at a time, while the Queen can do whatever she wants.”

 

Your move!

 

It Is Well

 

It Is Well

 

Not long ago I had the privilege of praying for a man who was seriously injured in a car accident. He and his whole family were on vacation when this tragedy happened. Not only were many of his extended family injured, but his wife also died at the accident scene. Unable to attend his wife’s funeral, he was facing several difficult surgeries.

 

When I asked if I could pray, he said yes. Then he looked me in the eye and said: “I am thankful for all that God has done for me even in this loss. It is well with my soul.” Here was a broken man who had every right to be angry at God for allowing this to happen. Instead, with tear filled eyes, he could say it is well with his soul.

 

After our time of prayer, we talked about the tragedy of the man who penned the hymn It Is Well With My Soul. A businessman who in the mid 1800’s lost his son in the Great Chicago fire, his business nearly ruined by economic downturn, and not long after lost four daughters when the ship his wife was on collided with another ship at sea. Instead of anger and cursing God after such a loss, he wrote the lyrics that later became solace and hope for all who walk through the valley of death.

 

Here are the words of a grieving man praising God:

 

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know it is well,

 It is well with my soul.

 

“Even when I walk through the dark valley of death, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me. Your rod and staff protect and comfort me.” Psalms 23

 

Kool Aid

 

Kool Aid

 

Remember those hot summer days as a child when there was need for shade and a cold drink to refresh? As a child I relished those times when my mother ripped open a package of Kool Aid, and poured it into a pitcher filled with ice. Just the bright color of flavored sugar set my taste buds astir. A cooling refreshment at its best.

 

Kool Aid was invented by a man named Edwin Perkins in his mother’s kitchen in Hastings, Nebraska in 1927. First called Fruit Smack it became an instant hit as the perfect summer drink for kids. To this day that city has an annual Kool-Aid  Days celebration in August.

 

This  popular summer drink took a turn for the worse back in late 1978 when cult leader Jim Jones laced grape Kool Aid with cyanide poison. The whole commune of  918 people, 304 of them children, were tricked into drinking it. All died a horrible death. Since then, Kool Aid fell out of popularity.

 

In our day “drinking the Kool Aid” has taken on the connotation of being suckered into an idea, a cause, or a particular point of view that distorts the truth. Unwittingly persuaded to join the crowd, enticed by the persuasion of a personality, a cause, promise of a better life or just the sweet taste on something new.

 

I believe there are many Kool Aid stands run by politicians, government officials and social media who are selling sugar laced lies and distortions to entice our nation into anarchy. This past week is a good example. What actually happened and what we were told happened was laced with poisonous distortions.

 

Caveat Emptor (let the drinker beware). We are being encouraged to sip the Kool-Aid that is destroying our nation!

 

 

 

RRXing

 

RRXing

 

The tracks cut a swath right through the north end of town. If I want to go anywhere, I have to cross over them. It makes no difference if I’m in a hurry or have time to burn, I have to factor in the possibility of waiting for a train to go by. There are over twenty trains a day carrying coal to the West coast or bringing import cars from Asia to the Midwest. Whatever the cargo, I still have to put my foot on the brake and wait.

 

The other day, sitting at the tracks daydreaming, a remembrance came to mind. As a kid I always took the bus to school. Whether it was nice or storming, the yellow bus was my mode of transportation. On the way to school, the bus had to cross several railroad tracks. It would stop, put out the sidearm with its red stop sign, open the door and out would jump a boy or girl whose job it was to flag the bus safely across the tracks. The bus crossed over, picked up the flagger and be off to school.

 

I wanted to be a flagger. That person had to be an older student. One trained to look both ways on the tracks making sure it was safe for the bus full of kids to cross. The flagger wore a white sash with an attached chrome badge. I wanted to be one. It was something about the white sash, the badge and the responsibility of looking both ways and waving the bus through that made my heart go wild. Finally I got to be one.

 

I was startled out of my memory by the guy behind me honking his horn. The arm barrier was up, the lights stopped flashing and the bell stopped ringing. Time to move on over the tracks and say good by to the memory of times past.

 

These days you don’t see kids jumping off the bus and waving it across the tracks. No more sashes, badges or respect. Today, what parent would allow his child to do such a dangerous and foolish thing? Bravery and honor out the window as our kids are protected from harm’s way. The daring days of youth gone forever.

 

I only wish I had kept my white sash and badge. I could wear them in the privacy of my truck, looking both ways as I bounce across the tracks.