CHAPTER 7

JAKE

My plan to distance myself from Mary Gold didn’t go as I intended, just the opposite as a matter of fact.  The next day I woke up from an afternoon nap just in time to see Mary Gold get home from work.  I needed to get on my motorcycle and leave before Mary Gold could change clothes and come outside.  I drank a glass of water, brushed my teeth quick, combed my hair, threw on my shoes, and dashed out of the back door.  I snuck around front where my cycle was parked.

Mary Gold was sitting on her front steps wearing jeans and a T-shirt.  She was putting on shoes and socks, stopping to wiggle all of her right hand’s fingers at me.  I waved back and started my bike.  As I maneuvered my motorcycle down the driveway, I noticed Mary Gold watching me with something like longing in her countenance.  

I was just going to leave without asking her if she wanted to come since she didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going.  But she looked a little lonely. That was her problem, so I tried to ignore her. I made a left turn onto the road and went about fifty feet when my cycle suddenly turned into Mary’s driveway.  What was it doing? Did I turn it that way?

“Wanna go for a ride?” I heard myself ask.

“Sure,” she said, smiling brightly as she bounced toward me and climbed on behind me.  She placed her hands in the bad spot again, just above my hips and it tickled.

“Mary, remember? Don’t put your hands there,” I said.

“Sorry,” she said, then purposely wiggled her fingers into my sides causing extreme ticklishness to occur.  I squirmed and shot off of my seat as she giggled.

“Mary, don’t do that!” I said, laughing despite myself.  “Look Mary, now you’re gonna make me not trust you to hold on to me.  You don’t want to make the guy driving a motorcycle jumpy, do you?”

“No, I’m sorry,” she said, looking at me all wide eyed and innocent.

She could have gotten away with murder as a kid. Yet I would bet anything that she was the sweetest, most well behaved child ever. Maybe.

“You better not,” I said, staring her down.

She bit her lower lip, trying to suppress a grin.  I wondered if she knew how adorable she looked, like a living, breathing precious moment’s figurine. I felt the corners of my mouth twitch, and bit down on my tongue before I exposed my own grin.

“Cross my heart,” she said, making an x across her chest with a finger.

I took Mary Gold to see more flowers. This time it was Noelridge Park. She walked around in admiration of the colorful plants, and I strolled along admiring her. So why was there a part of me that wanted to distance myself from this captivating beauty? It must have been good reasoning. The side me that was infatuated with her could bring trouble. When she had checked out every garden bed, we found a bench and sat.

“There’s something I’d like to discuss quick, if you don’t mind,” I said.

“Sure, what’s up?” she replied.

“I love what a straight shooter you are with things.  It makes for good communication,” I told her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I’ll be honest,” I said.  “After our conversation last night, before we parted ways, I was a little freaked out.”

“How come?” she asked, frowning.

“It just troubled me a bit that the subject of marriage came up with a gal I had only known for half of a day.”

Much to my relief, she laughed.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I guess I’m just neurotic. It just seems like in the dating world these days that in general guys seem to think they should be able to take a girl to bed after a few dates.  I just feel the need to be upfront about how that is not going to be the case with me.  Do you know what I mean?  I don’t want a guy to invest or waste even one day of time or money dating me without him knowing full well that he will not be getting sex until we are married. I will only marry a Godly man, or I’ll choose to be a spinster if necessary.”

Mary Gold seemed so incredibly wholesome to me, that even hearing her say the word sex made me a little uncomfortable. Could I be a Godly enough man for Mary Gold?  I thought of all the flaws in my character and felt unworthy.

“I admire that,” I told her.

Mary Gold shrugged. “Thanks.”

“I really like spending time with you,” I said.

“And I, you,” she said.

“So, would you be okay if we were just friends, then?” I asked.

Her smile seemed almost forced as she said, “That’s the way it should be.”

“Well, good,” I said, dumbly.

“So does this mean you’re not taking me out to dinner?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll still take you to dinner,” I said.  “Friends have dinner together, don’t they? Then maybe you can buy me dinner.”

“I’d be glad to,” she with a coy smile, causing my forehead to form a puzzled frown.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

“No,” she replied matter of fact.

I looked at her a little surprised, my puzzled frown deepening. She giggled and gave me a poke in the ribs with a sharp fingernail.  Being highly ticklish, I jolted. Although laughing, I barked, “Stop it!”

She ignored my demand, and went for second stab. I grabbed her hand and held it. Now we both became still, and our grins morphed into a serious gaze as our eyes locked. Were we really gonna be just friends? What was this strange attraction we found ourselves in? What were the obstacles? She swallowed, licked her lower lip. “What did you want to ask me?”

I let go of her hand as if it were hot. I looked at her moist lips for a second too long. I recalled my experience with Heather Louise Baumgartner, and our church’s strong admonition that we court, and ultimately marry from within. Perceiving that Mary Gold’s church was also very conservative, I paused. “Mary, doesn’t your church require that you only marry a fellow believer, a fellow member?”

“Yes,” she replied, and then tilted her head as if to ask, what’s your point?

“Well, we can never be more than friends then,” I told her.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t belong to your church,” I said with a little bit of a sarcastic chuckle.

“Not yet.”

“Not ever,” I blurted, irritation rising with at her presumption.

“I beg to differ.”

This reply should have caused my irritation to increase. But she had such a pleased look on her face, even kind of silly. My irritation actually left, and I felt myself smile as I simply said, “Is that right?”

“Yes,” she answered with a single nod and then a quick lick of her upper lip. Was she trying to look adorable, or did she just come naturally? The sun made her auburn hair shine, and her green, gold flecked eyes sparkle. But I was strong willed, holding onto my good judgement rather than my desire.

“I beg to differ. Would you care to explain?”

“Well, I feel like we’ve established the beginning of a friendship, don’t you?”

“I do.”

She smiled coyly, biting her lower lip. When I said I do, it instantly reminded me of a marriage vow. I perceived that she was thinking the same thing. I arched an eyebrow and said, “What?”

“What, what?”

“Never mind,” I said. “So we’re friends, that doesn’t mean I’ll become a member of your church.”

“I beg to differ.”

“What, are we in a comedy routine, or something? Tell me why being friends with you will cause me to become a member of your church.”

“It’s simple. We will have plenty of conversations as friends and neighbors. I can tell you are a seeker of truth. I’m passionate about God and His inspired Word, the Bible. So wahla!”

“Well, I’m here to tell you that it isn’t that simple. Yes, I suppose I am a seeker to understand my existence and the meaning of life. But I’ve already ruled out one phase, and that’s dogmatic, legalistic, religion with their fire and brimstone God that punishes with eternal torment just for not believing in him, or bowing down to him. Been there, done that!

“I don’t believe in that God either,” she replied.

“I thought you said you are a Bible believer.”

“I am, absolutely.”

“Well, I’m no Bible scholar, but I’ve been through it, and heard countless sermons about hell with all the time I spent in church as a youth. I know for a fact that it says the wicked will be destroyed with eternal punishment.”

“Punishment, not punishing,” she replied. Then she quoted a dozen scriptures. She recited which book of the Bible, along with chapters and verses, just from memory. In a nutshell, she proved that the wicked die eternally, and the hellfire at the end of time ends when all the wickedness is burned up.

In other words, hell is an event, not place. The world was destroyed by flood the first time. It will be by fire the last time. Then the Lord will make all things new, and it will be perfect. See the last two chapters of the book of Revelation.

We were so engrossed in our discussion, we both had been leaning forward, elbows on our knees, slightly turned toward each other. When Mary Gold concluded our Bible study with no Bibles, she leaned back on the bench, and crossed one leg over the other. There were holes in the knees of her jeans. As I gazed at the lovely kneecap protruding from the denim, I figured the tear in the material was acquired by much prayer.

Despite this thought, I spontaneously clutched her knee with the tips of my fingers and thumb. She shrieked, and then began a little jig on the bench, squirming, wiggling, and grabbing at my hand to free it from her ticklish knee. I cackled maliciously, increasing my grip.

“Please, stop,” she both laughed and whined.

“Do you promise not to tickle my ribs me anymore?”

“Sort… of,” she gasped. I increased the grip a little more. “Yes, yes, please, yes!”

I let go, and her cute face scrunched hideously as she jammed fingers into my arm pits.

“Yeeeeeeee!!!!!” I bellowed. My ribs weren’t the only ticklish spot on me. I grabbed both of her wrists as she giggled. I scolded her as I let go, “You promised!”

“I promised not to tickle you here,” she said as a finger darted toward my ribs. Even though she stopped short, I jolted.

I grabbed the wrist attached to the offending hand and pulled her toward me. Both of us were grinning, our faces inches apart, I muttered, “I oughta…”

I paused, almost kissing her. But she spoke, and my boldness dissipated. “You oughta come to church with me.”

“Okay,” I heard myself say. Even as I inwardly kicked myself, I asked. “When?”

“Saturday at nine,” she said. “You can ride with me.”

“Saturday? Are you Jewish?”

“I’m a Christian. A Seventh Day Adventist to be specific.”

“So why Saturday?”

“It’s the Biblical Sabbath of creation, and the fourth commandment of the ten instituted at Mount Sinai.”

“But all Christians keep Sunday.”

“I beg to differ. There are Seventh Day Baptists, The Church of God Seventh Day, and The Worldwide Church of God, just to name a few of the most prominent.”

Another Bible study ensued from Mary Gold’s uncanny memory and intellect. She almost had me convinced. The next day, I consulted a pastor at a Cedar Rapids church similar to the one I grew up in. When I ran the Sabbath question by him, he assured me that the Sabbath was changed to Sunday in honor of the resurrection.

I’d like to tell you that I went boldly back to Mary Gold with my findings. But I also inquired about an eternally burning hell. His argument was flimsy compared to Mary’s belief with only a fraction of scripture to support it. The passages he did use had already been refuted by Mary the previous day. I didn’t want to argue with him, but ironically, I wanted to set Mary Gold straight about the Sabbath, even though she seemed more astute than the pastor I talked to.

“We keep Sunday in honor of the resurrection,” I told her as we took seats on my grandparent’s back deck. Then I frowned at myself. Who’s we? I hadn’t been to church in months.

“Is that right?” Mary Gold asked. “What led you to this conclusion?”

I told her about my visit with the pastor just an hour earlier.

“Can you excuse me for a minute?” she said, and then ran clumsily through the yard and over to her house, lifting her yellow sundress up past her knees as she did so. She was wearing flat sandals and one flew off causing her to stumble. She placed it back on her foot, deciding to just walk briskly. She returned with a well-worn Bible and handed it to me. “Can you show me just one text he shared with you where the Sabbath was changed?”

“Um, he, ah…” I began, and just stared at her.

“Can I show you something?” Mary Gold asked as she opened her Bible to the book of Acts. She showed me several verses where the apostles went to synagogue on the Sabbath. “Why did the apostles still keep the Sabbath instituted at creation if it was changed because of the resurrection? Jesus had already ascended to heaven.”

“I… Um… don’t know.”

“Do you know when the tradition of Sunday keeping began?”

“Obviously I don’t.”

“It became prominent in the 4^th century when the Roman Emperor Constantine made Christianity a legal religion. It was during this time that many pagan rites were brought into the church of Rome. The biggest was paganism’s venerable day of the Sun. Human reasoning over Biblical truth prevailed. With the change, instead of worshiping the sun god, they supposedly were honoring the Son of God.”

“Does it really matter what day we keep though? God made all the days of the week.”

“Well, the way I see it. The fourth commandment is the one out the ten that recognizes God as the Creator. It’s the one He made Holy. He did not make any of the other six Holy. God does not change, so no human being has the right to change it for Him. The book of Daniel 7:25 even predicted this would happen around six hundred years before Christ walked the earth.”

“So why did God let it happen?”

“Man has free will,” Mary Gold said with a shrug. “And unfortunately sinful natures. Throughout the Bible, notice that it’s usually only a minority that truly follow God. Jesus warns of this very thing in Matthew 7:13 and 14.”

This was all too much information for my feeble brain. But I was intrigued. Thankfully, I put my pride aside, and with the guidance of the Holy Spirit, I began to absorb the truths Mary Gold shared with me. I also let her take me to church.

I was about to take my first step starting at Lake Produce, because Leonard “Lenny” Lake attended Mary Gold’s church. I was about to meet him for the first unforgettable time.

(For an in-depth study of the Biblical doctrines brought up, please check out Amazing Facts ministry. They have excellent Bible study guides. Or you can simply watch insightful videos they have posted on YouTube.)

CHAPTER 6

I went home and put the wheel on Mary Gold’s car. I read for a couple hours, had lunch, took a little nap, and decided to go for a motorcycle ride. When I returned home around four, Grandma informed me that Mary had been over at a quarter after three, very thankful and wondering how much she owed. Grandma told her that Ned didn’t charge us anything, but she insisted that she wanted to give me ten dollars. Then Grandma pulled a ten dollar bill out of her purse.

“Grandma!” I said. “You didn’t take it?!”

“No, dear, this is mine. You deserve it for being so kind, though.”

“No, Grandma, thanks. That’s alright.”

“Here, take it.”

“No, Grandma.”

“Take it, use it to buy gas.”

“Oh, alright, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

I sort of had a rule, after two refusals always accept on the third insist. If it was Mary, though, I would have overruled her insistence no matter how long it took.

After supper, I decided to go on another motorcycle ride. I had it parked in front of the house and when I was saddling up, Mary came across the yard carrying a plate of cookies.

“Hi,” she said, smiling shyly.

“Hi,” I said cheerfully. I felt my heart rate increase, and I was surprised at how I was both delighted and a little frightened to speak with her again.

“I tried to give your grandmother some money to give to you for helping me, but she said that you would be insulted.”

“I would have,” I replied as I stopped myself from winking.

“Would you be insulted if I offered you a batch of chocolate chip cookies? They’re right out of the oven.”

“Not at all, you’d be a girl after my own heart,” I blurted, suddenly feeling like I was being too forward. She blushed and looked a little uncomfortable.

“Let’s go get some milk and have some,” I said quickly.

“Oh, I probably better go,” she said even quicker.

“Ah, come on,” I said, doing my best to give a friendly, yet charming smile.

Her shy smile slowly returned. “Okay.”

Over the next twenty minutes I found out quite a bit about her. She turned twenty years of age back in May. She worked around thirty hours a week at Peterson’s. She was taking nursing classes, and she wanted to work in a nursing home because she had a special place in her heart for the elderly. She grew up in the country near the Amana Colonies, although on an acreage rather than a farm like me. Her father and mother divorced about six years ago. And lastly, she was a devout Christian. After we shared the basics with each other, she stood abruptly.

“Well, I better let you get going,” she said. “I didn’t mean to get running at the mouth.”

I stood. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She frowned. “When I came over, you were getting on your motorcycle.”

“Oh, I was just going for a ride, no place in particular. Would you wanna go for a ride with me?” I asked, casually.

“Really?” she asked, her eyes getting wide with surprise.

“Sure.”

Her face filled with delight and she put a hand on her chest almost a little breathless. I felt quite pleased with myself.

“I’ve never had a motorcycle ride,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to.”

“You’ve never had a motorcycle ride?”

“Never even sat on one,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m glad you’re going with me,” I said. “One thing though. Do you ever wear pants?”

She glanced down at her dress. It was the same one that she had on this morning.

“Oh sure,” she said. “I’ll go home and change. I’ll be quick.”

“No hurry,” I said, but she was out the door so fast I don’t know if she even heard me.

MARY GOLD

I sprinted home in anticipation.  Jake had just asked me to go on a motorcycle ride with him! I needed to change clothes fast.  I didn’t want to keep him waiting. My mind was reeling; it was churning in a confusing combination of excited and panicked. I shouldn’t have felt worried; I didn’t stand a chance with a man that gorgeous. But why was he so nice to me? He seemed like such a gentleman. And so far, I hadn’t seen him with any girls.  He was always coming and going on his motorcycle by himself.

Even though I was in a hurry, once I changed into jeans and a T-shirt, I knelt and prayed. I was and still am a Christian, and I take my faith very seriously. I made a promise to God that I would save myself for marriage no matter what. By this vow, I meant to be celibate.

However, my stance seemed in vain. Guys weren’t exactly beating down the door to ask me out. I’d never had a guy try to kiss me, let alone, well, you know. In high school guys not only didn’t ask me to homecoming and prom, they teased and made fun of me because I wore long skirts or dresses most of the time.

As I prayed, I asked that God would be with Jake and me on the ride, leading and guiding our conversation. After closing the prayer, I hurriedly grabbed a pair of socks, snagged my sneakers, and dashed out of the door. I ran across the Krause’s lawn barefoot as Jake sat on his motorcycle waiting for me.

“Sorry,” I almost shouted.

Jake laughed, and I hoped that it was more of the laugh with you than at you.

“You apologize a lot when there’s no need,” he said.

“Sorry. I mean, you’re probably right,” I said.

I sat on the Krause’s front steps to put on my socks and shoes. I cringed when I realized in my haste I had grabbed multicolored knee highs, instead of the plain white gym socks I had intended. What was I, a teeny bopper?

When I stood up, Jake was staring at me as if in a trance. At first, I was thinking that he thought I was quite the loser. Like I might say, wait minute, I forgot my teddy bear. But then we had this moment where time seemed to stand still as we looked into each other’s eyes. It was in this moment that I perceived that the attraction was mutual. Maybe.

“Ready?” Jake asked, snapping us back to reality.

“Sure,” I replied.

He fired up the bike, and I climbed on behind him. I placed my hands on Jake’s waist just above his hips. He tensed then squirmed a little bit.

“Mary?” he said.

“Yes?”

“I’m pretty ticklish.  Could you either hold on fully around my waist or hold on to the sissy bar?” he asked.

“Oh, sure,” I replied.

I know this sounds prudish, but fully around the waist seemed too intimate for a first date. I mean ride. So I tried the sissy bar instead. But before we even left the driveway, I could tell the sissy bar wasn’t nearly as secure as around the waist.

“Jake, would you mind if I held on around your waist?” I asked.

“Not at all, it’s safer,” he said. “Also, you can wear these.”

He handed me sunglasses, and I put them on and he put some on.  He took us on a road that curved along with the river.  There was water on one side of the road and trees on the other.  As we cruised along with me blissfully clinging to his back side, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to cuddle with this man.  Not only that, what if he fathered my children one day?  A girl can dream, can’t she?  That simple joy ride was one of the most exhilarating moments of my life. It’s one of those special memories a person loves to visit it the mind’s eye.

JAKE

Mary Gold came bounding out of her front door, wearing faded blue jeans and a pink T-shirt that said life is good in blue and yellow lettering.  She had a pair of tennis shoes in one hand and rainbow colored socks in the other.  She came loping across the lawn looking like she could stumble and fall with each step; it made me both cringe and chuckle.

She sat on the steps.  As she covered her feet with the striped socks, I recalled something my brother once told me about the physical differences between guys and gals.

“It starts with the feet,” my brother Justin said.  “Female feet are so much better than males that not only do they paint their toenails, they accentuate them with high heels.  It only goes up and even better from there.  Shoot, I even want to hide my ugly, big feet with the knobby toes, pubic-like hair and callouses.”

 Mary Gold sucked on her lower lip as she tied her shoes.  It had a hypnotic effect on me. When she stood, the sunlight glistened on her moist lip.  It looked so soft, luscious, and sensual.  When our eyes met, there was an unspoken communication that passed between us about mutual attraction. Yet there was still guardedness on both of our demeanors.

When we were on the motorcycle getting ready to leave, she placed her hands on my sides, just above the hips.  I had never given a female a ride on my cycle before.  Heather Louise Baumgartner’s parents forbid her to ride on one.  Anyway, I’m rather ticklish when you touch my sides.  So I asked her to either wrap her arms around my waist or hold on to the sissy bar.  I was disappointed when she chose the sissy bar, and then smiled to myself when she changed her mind before we even left the driveway.

Even though we were just on a joy ride, I had a destination in mind.  Since she and her sister were both named after flowers, and there were also plenty of flowers around her house, I had a sneaking suspicion that Mary Gold liked flowers.  I took her to Ellis Park by the Cedar River, where I knew that there was a huge flower garden.  Much to my delight she absolutely loved it!

“Look at those roses!” she said, making her wind tangled hair into a ponytail with her hand and sniffing.

As I watched her, I realized that I was holding my breath.  What was it about Mary Gold that had me so captivated?   I wasn’t like this with Heather Louise Baumgartner.  Yet if Mary and Heather were walking down opposite sides of the street, dressed identically, nine out of ten guys would look at Heather over Mary Gold.

Mary was graceful, yet slightly clumsy. She was girlish, yet had a maturity beyond her years.  She was cute and beautiful, but kind of nerdy.  She seemed so nervous and insecure.  But in reality she had a faith that could move mountains.  She had a peace and a trust in Christ that could calm a tempest.

Mary Gold and I sat on a bench at the flower garden and talked for almost two hours. Any awkwardness from having newly met and being attracted to each other was gone, at least temporarily. Our conversation mostly centered on our childhoods, and concluded with God and religion. Our core beliefs were the same, but in that moment, it actually troubled me. You see, I had become disgruntled with the church I grew up in and saw it as a group of legalistic Pharisees.

Not only was I ostracized by the Baumgartner family, my own parents seemed to side with them. While they claimed love and forgiveness, they couldn’t hide their disappointment with me, and even went before the congregation and apologized for my behavior because I refused. Being eighteen, I told them I was no longer going to attend. This actually seemed to please them, which was ironic after all the years of being required to attend twice a week and sometimes three.

While it hurt at the time, hindsight is better than foresight. The simple truth was that I not only exercised poor judgement by having a condom while courting Heather, I also got caught in a most humiliating fashion.

But while there was a congregation of people that viewed me as a trouble making pervert, my own parents included, there was a group of people that saw me as a bold hero. That would be my brother and my male peers. Thankfully, no one outside of the small community I called my hometown knew of the fiasco, including my grandpa and grandma Krause.

I changed the subject with Mary Gold, pointing to an amazingly colorful sky. She and I then watched the beautiful lavender and pink colors of the sunset in silent awe.  It was a nice balm after a mostly pleasant, but by times tense conversation.  I couldn’t shake feeling kind of bad, though. She was so positive and upbeat while I was rather negative about my fellow man and religion.

It was mostly dark when we arrived back at home. I parked my motorcycle and walked her to her door.

“Thanks for the ride. It was really fun,” Mary Gold said, smiling sweetly.

“Thank you,” I said. “You’ve really got a grip on spiritual things.  You inspire me.”

She truly was an inspiration. There was something warm and sparkly about Mary that was different from the icy cold demeanor of Miss Baumgartner. To Heather’s credit, she was just reflecting the attitude of her family, not to mention the church we grew up in.

Right then it occurred to me. If Heather reflected the overall attitude of our church, just maybe, Mary Gold reflected hers. Or maybe hormones were clogging my reason.

Mary Gold’s face was aglow with her beautiful big green eyes shining in the moon light.

“Thank you. You inspire me, too,” she said.

“I do?  I feel kind of bad for how negative I was by times.”

“It’s understandable, considering what you’ve told me about your church experience.”

I didn’t even tell her about “The Great Condom Fiasco.” Man, how could I ever explain that to this angel?

“Would you want to go out for dinner Friday or Saturday night?” I heard myself ask.

 To my surprise and disappointment, the radiant smile and glow from her eyes disappeared. They were replaced with something like fear and regret.

MARY GOLD

He asked me out on a date! For some reason I wasn’t at all prepared for this. I guess I showed it because his face fell seconds after mine.

“Yes, I’d love to,” I said, touching his arm, trying to redeem the awkwardness that had just transpired.

“Great,” he said uncertainly. “How about Saturday?”

“Saturday evening?”

“Yes.”

“This coming Saturday evening?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds great then!” I said with a big smile.

He relaxed a little. “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I replied. “Thanks again.”

“Thank you,” he said, then turned and walked away.

My heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest as I thought about my promise to God and vow of chastity.

“Jake,” I heard myself say.

He stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“I have something that I need to tell you,” I said walking toward him.

“Okay,” he said, looking at me with those warm eyes in a handsome face with granite like features. At this moment I had a glimpse of understanding on how a woman could be intimate with a man she just met. I pinched the bridge of my nose, closed my eyes, and said a little prayer.

JAKE

Mary pinched her nose and bowed her head. She seemed to be in some sort of anguish. I was completely dumbfounded, yet concerned.

“Mary, are you okay?”

She looked at me with an expression similar to the face she wore when my grandmother asked me to help her change her flat tire.

“I’m a virgin,” Mary blurted. “And I plan on staying that way until I’m married.”

I was taken by surprise, yet I could feel myself smile on the inside. Mary could be so bumbling and inadequate.  I think most guys couldn’t get away from her fast enough, but I was rapidly thinking that she was the perfect woman for me.  But my feelings for her were happening so incredibly fast that I was also frightened.  Like Mary Gold, I could feel inadequate.  And to be honest, I didn’t know how to respond to what she had just told me, so I tried to joke.

“I see,” I said with a serious face. “Let’s cancel then. I figured if I took you to dinner you’d sleep with me.”

Her eyes widened with shock. “Well, I think it would be best if we canceled,” she said. “Goodnight, Mr. Weston.”

She turned abruptly, and began to walk away.  I grabbed her hand, and thankfully, she didn’t resist. “Mary, wait,” I said. “I’m a virgin, too.”

Mary’s eyes were wide again, but this time with curiosity.

“You are?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m all about waiting for marriage. I didn’t mean to make a joke of what you told me. I’ve never met anyone as straightforward as you so I didn’t know how to respond.”

“A great lo…” she began to say, and then bit her lip. Was she about to call me a great loser or great looking? She continued. “I mean, you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

I told her about Heather Louise Baumgartner.

“You two sounded pretty serious.  How’d you break up so suddenly?” Mary asked.

The great condom fiasco!  I felt ashamed and was glad it was dark in case my face reddened.

“Can I tell you some other time?  It’s pretty difficult to explain.”

“Of course,” she said.

“It’s hard to believe that we’ve only known each other for only half of a day,” I said.

Mary laughed, “I know, we’ve sure covered a lot of ground. Some of it is pretty awkward stuff.”

I nodded. “We still on for dinner then?”

“Yes, as long as you sleep with me afterward,” she said.

I felt my eyebrows raise and then form a frown as she laughed. “Gotcha.”

I laughed and my hand went to the side of her face.  What was my hand thinking?!  It acted without my approval.  I pulled it away as she looked at me with something like longing.

“Goodnight,” I said.

“Goodnight,” she said.

She turned and moved toward her door.  I turned and started walking to my grandparents’ house.  I paused and stole a quick look her way; she looked my way at the same time.  I felt caught as I smiled and waved.  She smiled and waved back, then disappeared into her house.

When I was home and in bed, reality set in and it freaked me out.  I couldn’t get to sleep. Did the subject of marriage actually come up with a girl I had known for approximately twelve hours?  As much as she intrigued me, I needed to distance myself from Mary Gold.

I already wasted two years of my life, vainly waiting for a ceremony and vows before experiencing intimacy. What was it my brother asked me? You wouldn’t by a car without a test drive, would you? Of course, that question was what motivated me into the condemn fiasco.

On the other hand, I shouldn’t be courting strict religious women anymore, anyhow. I believed in God, but I was rapidly embracing a new age philosophy that viewed sex as an avenue to spiritual growth and fulfillment. Or you could say I was being deceived by the world and the lusts of the flesh.  

But as I lay bed, reasoning with myself rather than God, I decided that Mary Gold was not for me. As intriguing as she was, I WAS NOT going to wait another two plus years to experience sexual gratification with an alluring woman. I would still take Mary Gold out to dinner, per my agreement. But then I would do all that I could to avoid her.

CHAPTER 5

Despite having a gorgeous girlfriend for two years, I’m actually rather shy and tongue tied when meeting attractive females. Although I saw Mary Gold numerous times over the first couple of months living with my grandparents, I couldn’t bring myself to confront her with the charm and wit I thought I had lurking inside me. As neighbors though, we occasionally waved at each other from a distance.

It was a lovely morning in late August when I actually talked with Mary Gold for the first time.  On August 27^th to be exact, and 8:40 a.m. to be precise. My hours at UPS were from 4:30am until around 8:00am, give or take. So on the morning of August 27^th, I was at my grandparents’ house in my room, freshly showered, when I saw Mary Gold walk past my window. Ten seconds later I heard the doorbell. I cracked open my bedroom door to eavesdrop.

“Why, hello, Mary,” I heard my grandmother say.

“Good morning, Maria. Is Fred home?” I heard a sweet, melodic voice ask.

“No, honey, he’s off having coffee with his buddies.  Is something wrong?”

“Oh, I was about to leave for work and discovered that I have a flat tire. I was hoping Fred would show me how to change it, but I guess I’ll have to figure something else out.”

“Wait!” my grandmother replied emphatically. “My grandson’s here.  Let me get him.”

“Oh no, Maria! That’s okay,” Mary Gold said with almost panic in her voice. The sweet melody gone.

My grandmother ignored her plea.

“Jake!” she hollered.

“Maria, please, I’ll manage,” Mary Gold pleaded.

My heart was pounding and I couldn’t move at first as I wondered why she seemed desperate that I not help her. I tried to muster self-confidence by thinking, you were once the boyfriend of the drop dead gorgeous Heather Louise Baumgartner. Then panic returned when I realized Heather probably now considered me a disgusting pervert. But why feel this way? Mary Gold didn’t know my history. Besides, cute as she was, with a nice figure to boot, she seemed to be kind of a clumsy nerd.

“Jacob.”

“Yes, Ma’am?” I replied.

“Could you come here, please?”

I took a deep breath and made my way down the hall.

“Really, Maria, I’ll be fine,” Mary Gold said in a low tone.

I came around the corner, and Mary Gold and I locked eyes close up for the first time. Her large, pretty, naturally long lashed eyes were an amazing green with gold flecks. Actually they still are. But lovely as her windows to the soul were, they looked troubled.

“Jake, you’ve met Mary, haven’t you?” Grandma asked.

I shook my head dumbly.

“Jake, this is Mary Horner and she lives next door. Mary, this is my grandson Jake.  He’s been staying with us this summer.”

I gave Mary Gold my most charming, friendly smile and extended my hand.

“Nice to meet you, Mary,” I told her.

Her face relaxed some and she showed me her perfectly white, slightly crooked teeth that were framed with luscious lips that were neither thick nor thin. Her hand was so soft and delicate that I couldn’t imagine a tire iron in it.

Grandma placed a hand on my shoulder. “Dear, Mary has a flat tire on her car.  Do you think you could help her?”

“Sure, I’d be glad to,” I replied.

Mary’s pained expression returned and she nervously rolled her ankles, which to me looked precarious with the two inch heels she wore.  She was also wearing a light blue and purple dress, that looked like it would be a dirt magnet for someone about to remove a tire.

“Sorry,” she told me with such deep regret you might have thought she ran over my dog.  However, I was confident that my dog Rowdy was safe on my parent’s farm.

I placed a reassuring hand on her upper arm. “No worries.  I’m glad to help.  Let’s go have a look.”

She lead me to her driveway and pointed to the rear driver side tire which was completely flat.

“Where do you work?” I asked.

“Peterson’s at Westdale Mall.”

“What time do you have to be there?”

“Well, nine,” she replied, shrugging. “But, a person can’t help it if they have a flat.”

I looked at my watch and saw it was a quarter till nine. My grandparents lived about five, at the most, ten minutes from the mall.

“I tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t I give you a ride to work? Then I can take your tire off and take it up to get it fixed. It probably has a nail in it or something. My grandpa has a friend with an auto repair shop just a few blocks away.”

My gaze turned from the tire to her. She was looking at me like I had just told her that I killed her dog. I later found out that she didn’t have a dog.

“Oh no,” she said touching my forearm. “I really don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s no bother.”

“No, really, I mean.”

“I insist. Look, I’ll be bothered if you don’t let me help you.”

Now she looked about to cry. Hopefully with gratitude.

“Okay,” she said, meekly, forcing a smile, and running a hand through her silky, auburn hair.

In my junky old truck, she looked a bit out of place. She was dressed so nice and she was just so feminine. I kept my truck clean, though, even if it had seen better days. On the drive to the mall, our conversation mostly consisted of her either apologizing or thanking me. Once there, I asked her what time I should pick her up.

“Oh, you won’t need to,” she insisted. “A girl that I work with gets done at the same time that I do so it’ll be no problem getting a ride with her.”

Two women walked in front of my truck, staring at us almost rudely. Mary smiled brightly and wiggled her fingers at them. As if a switch was flipped, big smiles appeared on their made up faces and they waved back. Mary thanked me for the millionth time and exited my truck.

Back home, I grabbed Grandpa’s floor jack, a T-bar, and a crowbar. I had the wheel off in no time. As I put the tire in the back of my truck, my grandma approached.

“I called up to Ned’s Repair and told him you’d be bringing Mary’s tire in,” she said.

“Thanks, Grandma.”

I drove the four blocks to Ned’s shop. Grandpa was there, drinking coffee with two of his friends, Fred Bryant and Ted Price. How weird, two Freds and Ted at Ned’s. Ned was under the hood of a 1973 Ford Galaxy 500 that was a gaudy yellow green in color. He took a break from what he was doing to fix the flat that I had brought in.

I glanced at Grandpa and did a double take. He was wearing a knowing smirk. Oh no, Grandpa. I mentally pleaded, don’t start saying “pretty gal isn’t she” in front of your friends. To be honest, up to that point, he hadn’t said anything to me about Mary since that first day when he snuck up on me and whispered in my ear.

“Mary had a flat, huh?” Grandpa said.

“Yeah.”

“Nice of you to help her,” he said.

I shrugged. “No big deal.”

“You put her spare on for her?”

“No.”

“How’d she get to work?”

I cleared my throat. “I took her.”

“You took her?” he said emphasizing you.

“Yes, I took her.” I emphasized I. “In my truck.”

 “Is it clean?”

“Yes, it’s clean.”

“So you took her to work,” he said leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers and placing his hands behind his head.

I didn’t reply.

“Picking her up?”

“No, she’s getting a ride with a lady that she works with.”

Thankfully, it didn’t take Ned very long to fix the tire.

“What do I owe you Ned?” I asked.

“For a man helping a damsel in distress, it’s on the house,” he said with a grin and a wink.

I looked at Grandpa and he winked. So did Fred and Ted. I rolled my eyes.

“Thanks, Ned,” I said as I grabbed the wheel and loaded it onto my truck. As I began to leave, my eye caught a bumper sticker on the Galaxy 500 Ned had been working on. It said, ‘Don’t Mess With Texas.’ I didn’t think much of it at the time. But a few weeks later, I came across, not only the car again, but this time the owner. At, of all places, Lake Produce Inc.

A fellow named Don had started the day after I did at Lake, only he was working through a temp service. He proudly declared to be from, you guessed it, Texas. Don was a couple of inches over five feet tall and suffered from short man’s disease. By this description, I mean he was about as macho acting as a guy can be. He had a major swagger when he walked, and the problem for him was that it was more comical than tough.

He was about forty give or take, mostly bald on top, and had a big comb over going with his greasing brown hair. He was actually on the skinny side, except for a belly that had him looking about six months pregnant. One more thing, Don was the most chronic, exaggerating, and ridiculous liar that I had ever met. That is until a guy named Harold started working at Lake about a year later.

Richard Parker was a gay man who also came to Lake via the same temp service as Don. He was also one of the nicest guys I had ever met, and we remained friends until his death from complications from AIDS in the mid-nineties. Back in the mid-eighties, it was rare to encounter an openly gay man in a smaller midwestern city. At least for this farm boy.

Richard was a good-looking man in his early thirties. He had thick brown hair that he kept styled in a way that reminded me of movie stars from the fifties. Richard was several inches over six feet, so you can probably imagine that he and Don were a pretty odd couple working together. Especially because it was a bit obvious that Richard was gay. Don, in full macho swagger, came right out and asked Richard if he was gay.

“Well, I am happy,” Richard replied.

This reply puzzled Don. It probably goes without saying that Don wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. He tried again. “Are you a homosexual?”

With a sultry voice, Richard asked with jest. “How’d you know? Did your gaydar kick in?”

“What’s gaydar?” Don asked with a frown, a dark line of chewing tobacco splitting his chin.

“It’s how you perceived that Richard is gay,” Lon suggested with a smirk. “You know, like radar. It takes one to know one, and you picked up on it.”

Richard and I both chuckled.

“Are you saying I’m queer?” Don squealed with outrage. “Well I’m not. I’ve been with dozens of women. Make that hundreds. Maybe over a thousand. Surely you both picked up that ole Dick here is light in the loafers.”

“Sure,” Lon shrugged. “As soon as he told us.”

This reply had Don squinting at us and scratching his head. Lon put an end to it by sending Don over to work with Mervin.

Working with Richard was uneventful. We had good, interesting conversation throughout the morning. We talked about everything from sports to movies to the many years he lived in New York City. Not surprisingly, Mervin and Don clashed, so we switched again and I was paired up with Don. Oh, happy day.

Don and I got along okay, though. I just had to listen to one ridiculous story and one exaggerated lie after another. Here are a few highlights. He was telling stories about being in the Special Forces in Vietnam. If you could see Don, you would easily know that if he was in the military, it was by the skin of his teeth, let alone being in special anything.

He told me that he once drove from Houston, Texas to Denver, Colorado in two hours. I pointed out that he would have had to have been travelling at over three hundred miles per hour. These logistics seemed to baffle him, so I let it go. So he kept blabbing.

He told me that he was once an assistant coach with the Dallas Cowboys, he was a photographer for Playboy magazine, and he was a bodyguard in Hollywood. Some of the notables he supposedly protected were Loni Anderson, Suzanne Summers, and Sally Fields.

He also survived a one hundred mile an hour, helmetless motorcycle crash with minor cuts and bruises. He was run over by a truck that was going fifty miles an hour. He was once installing a fluorescent light on a wet floor when his wife plugged it in, electrocuting him. He simply untied his melted tennis shoes and stepped out of them.

At the end of the day, when Don might have actually been tired of talking, there was a moment of silence. Out of orneriness, coupled with frustration, I winked at Lon and then stated. “Man, hand gliding would sure take a lot of guts.”

Don looked me square in the eyes and declared, “I’ve done it.”

CHAPTER 4

Mervin was silent all through lunch and I felt bad for my part in his misfortune. When we began working again, with the radio tuned to a rock station, I noticed that Mervin kept glancing at it from time to time. He seemed to be getting more and more agitated all the time. Finally, he slammed down the cup of sprouts he had just weighed and put his hands over his ears. He made something between a groan and a wail. It was high pitched and eerie. When he finished, he put together a string of profanities.

“Lon, can I move that thing?” Mervin asked, pointing at the radio.

“I suppose so,” Lon replied. “What for?”

“Aliens are coming through,” Mervin said matter of fact.

“Sure go ahead,” Lon replied, as if that was a perfectly legitimate reason.

I was a little concerned about my new workplace and my two work companions. Mervin unplugged the radio and took it to a table across the room. As he was plugging it in, Lon looked at me and rolled his eyes. I felt some relief that they both weren’t crazy. Mervin came back over and went to work as if nothing strange had just transpired.

“Aren’t the aliens still getting in?” I asked.

Mervin looked at me as if I was an absolute moron.

“The aliens are everywhere,” he said waving his arms somewhat frantically. “I just don’t want them seeping into my brain.” He tapped both index fingers against both of his temples.

“How far away does it have to be?” I asked. Lon looked at me as if to say ‘please don’t go there because I’ve been down this road before.’

“A minimum of five feet,” he said.

“What’s so special about the radio?” I asked.

He laughed and shook his head like I was just a complete and utter idiot.

“Radio waves are like their highway, man. That’s how they got here in the first place.”

“I see,” I said.

He stared at me with this sinister grin and his eyes looked bizarre, like he was possessed.

“You’re one of them,” he said in almost a whisper. I felt a chill up and down my spine.

I tried to be lighthearted, but it came across as guilty, I think.

“No, I’m not,” I said with a nervous chuckle.

The malevolent, psycho expression he wore disappeared into a somewhat fearful paranoid demeanor. Strangely this change helped me relax a little. It also seemed to put Mervin back in place, and we finished the day as if everything were normal.

The next day began the same way the previous left off, by that I mean the usual. Later, Mervin and I ended up packing alone because they were shorthanded in the tomato room.  It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, but we did have an interesting yet bizarre conversation.

“Have you ever noticed,” Mervin asked, “that no matter where you are at, there you are?”

I glanced at him as we worked side by side. He said it like you might say it looks like rain today.

“I have noticed that,” I said, “unless you happen to be two places at once.”

He stopped working and looked at me, completely serious and earnest. Then a crazy, slightly wild look came into his eyes as he smirked a little. I felt a creepy tingle in my spine.

“It happens you know,” Mervin said, sounding a bit like Hannibal Lector.

I admit I was curious, but my better sense didn’t want to go where he was going. I just nodded and kept working. Hannibal, I mean Mervin, continued to stare and I could feel his eyes boring into the side of my head. It made me wonder if psychic energy was a real thing and if I was in some sort of danger.

“I said that it happens you know,” Mervin said, sounding even more like Hannibal the Cannibal and his eyes seemed to jitter in their sockets.

“How’s that?” I ventured, reluctantly.

“I’ve actually been two places at once.”

I cleared my throat. “Have you?”

“I have,” Mervin replied rather soothingly, considering the menacing look in his eyes. He continued to stare at me and I almost yelled for help. But I also felt like I needed to reply.

“How did you do that, Mervin?” I asked, sounding like Mr. Rogers.

“That’s just it,” Hannibal/Mervin said. “I didn’t do it.”

“I thought you just said that you did?”

Hannibal/Mervin shook his head. “They did it.”

“They who?”

He shook his head and chuckled as if I was the biggest idiot on the planet.

“The aliens,” Hannibal/Mervin said.

Mervin’s face returned to normal, for him anyway, and he went back to work as if that ended the topic of conversation.

“So you were abducted?” I heard my moronic self ask.

Mervin just nodded and worked a little faster.

“How did that make you two places at once?” I asked wondering if curiosity killed more than just cats.

“When they took me, it was an out of body experience,” he said quickly and casually without even looking at me. I was relieved that the maniacal demeanor seemed to have left his multi personal self, so I pressed on.

“What exactly do you mean by out of the body?”

“I saw myself lying in bed when they took me to their Zoltar.”

“What’s a Zoltar?”

“Oh, it’s their space craft,” he said, as if I asked him what a Plymouth was and he said ‘oh a car.’

“So it’s a UFO?” 

“No,” he said with irritation. “It wasn’t an unidentified flying object. I just told you the identity. It was a Zoltar.”

“Right,” I replied, as if what we were talking about was something totally reasonable. “So how was it?”

“Good,” he said, “they treated me very well.”

Mervin didn’t say any more.  He just continued to work. I didn’t know if he didn’t want to say any more or if he wanted me to probe him for more information.

“So what was the Zoltar like?” I inquired.

“Indescribable, their technology is far superior to ours.”

“How many were there?”

“I’m not sure. I personally dealt with only three, but I could tell that there were others around.”

“Were they little green fellows?”

Mervin stopped working and glared at me, the crazy look reappearing in his eyes. I instantly regretted being flippant as well as inquisitive.

“I mean that’s how I’ve seen them depicted,” I said.

“Actually, they were very human,” he said, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Only a little more reptile like than our species.”

“Both human and reptile, how does that work?”

“They had big lizard like tails.” He paused and rubbed his thumbs back and forth across his fingers and grimaced. “Their skin was scaly and gray.”

“Were they like, male and female?”

“Actually they were asexual or androgynous.”

“What did they do with you?”

“Just a bunch of tests, not unlike getting a physical from a doctor. Plus they took a bunch of samples.”

“Samples of what?”

 “Basically fluids like blood, urine, saliva, and semen,” Mervin said, shrugging.

“Semen, how did they get your semen?” I inquired.

Mervin looked startled with the question. His face colored a bit and he began to work faster, ignoring my question. I didn’t want to press him on it and I didn’t know what to say.  We worked in silence for several minutes before he spoke.

“So do you believe me?” He wanted to know.

“I believe you’re being honest,” I said.

He stopped working and turned to face me, wearing a sarcastic smirk.

“You believe I’m being honest, but you don’t believe in aliens, do you?” he said, his Hannibal voice returning, causing the hair on my neck to prickle.

“I believe you experienced what you told me you did, Mervin,” I said sincerely.

“You know, there are countless others who have seen UFO’s and have been abducted like me. What about that?”

“Just like you, I believe people are seeing unexplainable things and experiencing them.”

“So you do believe in beings from other worlds and dimensions?” he asked.

I regretted that I couldn’t help grimacing and shrugging. He slammed his hand on the table.

“What then, if not aliens?” Mervin demanded.

My fear was instantly replaced with anger at Mervin’s crazy manipulative ways.

“Demons,” I said more forcefully than I intended. “I believe that alien activity is demonic deception.  I’m sorry, but that’s my opinion.”

I expected Mervin to respond with anger and hostility.  But he just stared at me wide eyed for a moment, and then nodded.

“I see,” he said quietly. “Well, we’re all entitled to our opinions.”

We worked in silence for a good five minutes before Mervin spoke, seemingly changing our previous topic of conversation.

“Did you and your dad get along?” he asked me.

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “My dad’s an awesome father.”

“Well, you’re lucky,” Mervin said, part maniacal and part nonchalant.

“Am I?” I asked.

“Yeah, you are,” he replied, his voice rising a bit.

“Did you get along with your dad?” I asked with some regret. 

“I got along with him just fine,” he said, brimming with hostility. “On the rare occasion he participated in my life.”

“Were he and your mother divorced?”

“No, but they probably should have been since they were little more than roommates. He treated my sister and me like we were burdens he had to endure. I think he liked the family dog better than us. At least he didn’t beat us so I guess I should be grateful.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I said.

“What, that he didn’t beat us?”

“No, no, of course not.  I meant that he wasn’t there for you.”

“When I was in high school, I went through a phase where I was really depressed and lacked direction. I asked my dad what the meaning of life was.  Without even looking away from his newspaper, do you know what he said?”

“No clue.”

“He asked, the magazine or the cereal?”

I couldn’t help laughing. Mervin didn’t crack smile, he even seemed to get a little more hostile.

“Oh, you think I’m joking?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, but you have to admit that it’s a little funny.”

“Maybe if he was joking,” Mervin said, using a profanity before each word. “But the sad reality was that he wasn’t joking.”

I think we all have had a moment or moments in our life when we couldn’t help laughing at inappropriate times, and the fact that you shouldn’t be laughing makes you laugh harder for some reason. I was facing that situation with Mervin.  I had it under control, but I was on the verge of losing it completely. Unfortunately Mervin continued to speak.

“I know that might sound trivial.  But if you add it all together, day after day growing up, it warps a guy.”

“I see,” I said, my whole torso quivering and tense from suppressed laughter when I should have been feeling, I don’t know, compassion. Then I had a saved by the bell moment. Right before Mervin and I began our strange conversation, I had just applied K-19, a fertilizer that made bean sprouts plump instead of skinny. After applying K-19, it needed to set for a time before being watered. Mervin said something that broke the damn of laughter being suppressed within my body right when the water system kicked on prematurely in the bean room.

“It leads a guy to believe,” Mervin said, whimsically, “what if the Hokey Pokey really is what it’s all about?”

“I need to shut the water off in the bean room,” I said as I dashed away, laughter spewing forth from my mouth as I quickly moved away from him. Once inside the semi darkness of the bean room, laughter came so hard and intense, my gut hurt and tears sprang from my eyes.

“Is everything alright in there?” I heard Mervin ask.

“Yeah,” I said trying to compose myself.

When I came out, my eyes must have showed evidence of the tears that had exuded from my eye sockets.

“Hey,” Mervin said with surprising compassion. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. People grew up with far worse situations than mine. It’s touching how much you care, though.”

I thought that I was all laughed out, but I convulsed a couple more times.

“Easy buddy,” Mervin said, patting and rubbing my shoulder. “There, there.”

That evening when Mary Gold and I went for a walk, I told her about my encounter with Mervin. Then we sat on a park bench and watched a beautiful sunset develop. She looked adorable as she pressed her hands between her knees, aimed her big eyes at me, and with a coy little smile told me it was exactly one month since we actually met for the first time.

A slight misfortune with her car turned out to be a blessing in disguise. For it was a flat tire that brought us together for the first time. Although awkward at first, it finally broke the ice, and put me up close and personal with the “pretty gal.” I had only been admiring her from a far up to that point.

CHAPTER 3

It is funny the different links of circumstances that make up the chain of how things end up. So because of the misunderstanding with my girlfriend’s father, I ended up not going to college and not marrying the lovely Heather Louise Baumgartner. Nor did I go to senior prom for that matter. Instead I decided to move to Cedar Rapids and work at UPS part time with the goal of one day being one of the highest paid delivery people on the road. I know people have had loftier ambitions, but there have been even more people with less initiative.

So right after I graduated high school, in June 1985, I moved in with my grandparents, my mother’s mom and dad. They lived on the west side of Cedar Rapids, only about ten minutes from my job at UPS.  I showed up in my blue 1965 Ford pickup, with my 1981 Yamaha Midnight Maxim motorcycle in the back. My grandpa, Fred Krause, was excited to have me staying with them and greeted me with enthusiasm.

Grandpa was one of my heroes. He was a World War Two veteran and had numerous interesting experiences to share. He liked to talk about not only the war but also life in general.  His stories ranged from growing up in the railroad town of Oelwein to things that happened at work. He was drafted into the Army in April 1941 and was only supposed to be in the service for a year. Then in December there was a day that would live in infamy that kept him in the army until June of 1945. He was overseas in the European theater for three years, one month, and sixteen days in an ambulance division.

“Come here, Jake,” he said grinning, pulling me into a big bear hug.

“Hi Grandpa,” I said, returning my own enthusiastic embrace. I was now considerably bigger than him and he grunted as air whistled from his lungs; I relaxed my hug.

“My word, you’re a strong young man,” he said, still smiling, his new false teeth looking large, too white, and straight gleaming out of his wrinkled face. It looked cartoonish and I began to chuckle. His smile faded a little.

“What’s so funny?” he wanted to know.

“Did you get new teeth?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied frowning. “You don’t like them?”

“They just seem kind of, ha ha, big,” I told him. “Your old ones looked so natural.”

“Oh my!” I heard my grandma, Maria, say as she patted her short brown and white hair as she entered the living room. “I didn’t think you were coming until later this afternoon.”

Grandpa pointed his bushy, frowning eyebrows at my grandmother.

“I told you these teeth looked ridiculous,” Grandpa said. “I’m taking them back.”

“You can’t take them back,” she said.

“You should keep them Grandpa,” I said.

“You do like them?” he asked, his bushy brows rising.

“Yeah, they’re funny,” I said.

His bushy brows dropped into another frown and scowl.

Grandma hugged me and I was careful to make sure my return hug was softer than the one I gave Grandpa.

“Why are you so early?” she wanted to know.

I shrugged. “I just figured I’d get here and leave myself plenty of time to get settled.”

“The house is a mess,” she declared. “I was going to clean up after lunch. Well, get your things and come in, at least your room is ready.”

Grandpa helped me carry my things in. We talked a bit while we did. Grandma’s house was immaculate as usual, despite her disclaimer. Unless you consider the book Grandpa was reading sitting nice and square on an end table a mess.

“So you’re starting at UPS Monday?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Good paying job when you’re driving there.”

“Yeah.”

“You really have to go there, you really have to move.”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t get in any accidents.”

“Yeah.”

“They’ll can ya if ya do.”

“Yeah.”

“Good pay though, when you get on full time.”

“Yeah.”

“How long you plan on staying with us?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“Huh? Oh I’m sorry Grandpa. I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought that far ahead yet. If I hate working at UPS, I might just go to college after all. Or back home and work with Dad.”

“I think you should go to college myself to become a pharmacist.  All they do is count pills. Great pay, too.”

I chuckled. “I think there’s more to being a pharmacist than just counting pills.”

He frowned and waved a hand at me. “You stay here as long as you want to, though. No sense paying for a place when we have plenty of room here. Glad to have you, too.”

“Thanks, Grandpa,” I said, giving him an affectionate smile followed by a shoulder pat.

He laughed, putting an arm around my waist and tugging a couple of times.

“You’re a good boy!” he declared.

“You guys are awesome grandparents,” I replied.

I had been unpacking for a while when I realized that I urgently needed to use the restroom. My mother had made a large batch of sun tea, and I filled one of those mini water coolers with plenty of ice and tea. By the time I loaded my truck and drove the forty five miles to my grandparents, it was gone.

My grandparents had two bathrooms. Grandma was taking a shower in the upstairs bathroom. Checking the downstairs bathroom, I was just in time to hear the exhaust fan click on. Grandpa was going to be a while and I was just gonna have to suck it up.

Shortly after I was back in my room, I noticed a white Ford Escort pull into the neighboring driveway. A slender young woman wearing a yellow sundress got out. She had shoulder length, auburn hair, and big almond shaped eyes with a button nose. She looked like a cute doll that came to life. She opened the back door to the car and bent to retrieve something. She bumped her head, stood, and rubbed it for a few seconds. Then she stooped back down, grabbed some bags, and disappeared from view as she headed toward the house.

I put away a few more things and then the young lady was back. Half of her body disappeared into the back seat of the car, then reappeared holding a banana box of which the bottom broke scattering a pile of papers. Good thing it wasn’t windy. She put her hands on her hips and frowned. Then she stepped over the pile and slipped on a bunch of papers. She went down hard on her hands and knees, and I flinched. To my surprise she got up giggling, brushed herself off, and then returned to the house.

I’m not one that believes in love at first sight, but lust at first sight most definitely. I will say this though, as I spied on the young woman who would one day be my wife, and she laughed at her misfortune, I felt something way beyond lust stir. Her wholesome beauty certainly stirred the pot.

She returned with some bags and began gathering the papers. As she bent over a little bit of cleavage appeared. I’m ashamed to acknowledge that I became enraptured with this sight. As a matter of fact, I was in such deep concentration, I didn’t hear my grandfather come bend over me and place his mouth an inch from my head.

“Pretty gal, isn’t she?” his warm breath said into my ear.

Remember that I needed to relieve myself? Well, somewhere between ten or twenty percent came out right then. Not only that, I rammed my head into the windowsill. It was hard enough and we were close enough that the young lady looked in our direction. Thankfully, she went right back to her work.

“Grandpa, what are doing sneaking up on me?” I asked in a hushed tone.

“I wasn’t sneaking,” he answered in a louder than normal voice with his old false teeth now in his mouth.

“Alright, alright,” I said, peering outside to see if the young lady heard. She didn’t seem to.

Grandpa gestured his head toward the window and grinned. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?”

I shrugged, “I suppose.”

The smile left his face. “You and that Heather gal still an item?”

“No,” I said quickly.

Thankfully, he didn’t ask me anymore about it. You know how grandparents can be. Instead he kept his focus on the present.

“You ought to get to know Mary Gold, she’s a sweetheart.

“Her name is Marigold, like the flower?” I asked.

“Well, her first name is Mary, her middle name is Gold,” he told me. “She has an older sister named Lily Rose. I guess their mother, Petunia, loves flowers.”

“Her mother’s name is Petunia!”

Grandpa laughed a deep belly laugh. “I’m just teasing. Her mother’s name is Joyce. Hey, come on and I’ll introduce you.”

“No Grandpa! No thanks, I can meet gals on my own.”

“She’s not a gal,” he said.

“She’s not? Awfully feminine looking dude.”

“I meant she’s your new neighbor.  I’m not trying to set you up or anything. Just getting you a new friend. If someday it goes beyond friend, well…”

I know Grandpa wasn’t lying to me and he was sincere. However, I know in the heat of the moment that he’d say something like, “Jake here is an eligible bachelor. You still single Mary Gold?”

“No offense Grandpa, but I just want to quietly get settled.”

He seemed kind of hurt, and I felt kind of bad, but it would have been way too awkward to go meet the “pretty gal.” He pursed his lips and nodded.

I thought I would get settled and meet her in a couple days on my own. In reality, it would be a couple of months.

CHAPTER 2

Heather Louise Baumgartner and I became a romantic item the summer between our sophomore and junior year of high school. She was, and probably still is, an exquisite beauty, at least physically. She had silky blonde hair that flowed straight and luscious past the middle of her back. She was a little on the tall side and had perfectly proportioned curves. With her breezy, outgoing personality, she could have easily been head cheerleader. Why wasn’t she? And what was she doing with an average farm boy like myself?

I had a distinct advantage over my male high school peers at winning the affections of Miss Baumgartner. Her family and my family both belonged to the same ultra-conservative church.  Why was this an advantage?     

Church was everything to her family, and she really tried to be an obedient child. So when it came to male companionship, she was expected to yoke up with a fellow church member. Of these choices, she didn’t have many options, four realistic options to be exact. Compared to her other choices, I looked like Brad Pitt.  Her parents also required her to wear ankle length skirts and blouses that went to the neck.

Although I’m average, I guess I have my good qualities. I have a very muscular physic from years of farm work and helping my dad with construction. I have wavy blonde hair and light blue eyes that are wide and appear to be caring. I have a crooked nose, thanks to my brother and I never liked the thinness of my lips. I stand six foot three in my work boots and six foot two without. Oh, and Heather always said she loved how deep and introspective I was. I guess I still am since my wife tells me the same thing.

Heather and I became genuinely close. As we worked our way through high school, we discussed going to the same college and then marriage afterwards. We were saving ourselves for marriage, in other words we were refraining from physical intimacy. We did kiss quite a bit, and began to push the limits with touching.  I looked forward to one day being betrothed to such a stunning female. Then when our senior year was mostly over, we experienced “The Great Condom Fiasco.”

I tried to clear the mystery up with her father, Myron D. Baumgartner. But he didn’t believe me, and quite honestly, I didn’t blame him. So he saw to it that my relationship with his lovely daughter came to an end. She and I never even made it to senior prom, let alone college and then marriage. So I left the rural community of Spring Valley and moved to the thriving metropolis of Cedar Rapids.

A friend of my older brother was working at UPS, and he got me on there part time with the goal of one day becoming fulltime. Not long after that, I met the woman who would not only become my wife, but help me transform my spiritual life.  In the process, she became my soul mate. Ironically, it was through my future wife that I ended up working part time at Lake Produce. One of the craziest work places that you can imagine. It would have made interesting reality TV, if reality TV existed in the late eighties. I guess this memoir will have to suffice.

When I first started working at Lake Produce, I didn’t drive a delivery truck; I worked in the sprout room. This space was the area where they grew and packed alfalfa sprouts, as well as bean sprouts in an adjoining room. There was also a tomato room where hydroponic tomatoes were grown and packed.  When I arrived at Lake after my part time shift at UPS, I wasn’t even there two minutes when I had the “leap off of the truck encounter” with Dean Benet. I didn’t tell you about the rest of the day though.

My first assignment there was to help pack sprouts. A guy named Lon Dalton was in charge of this area. He reminded me of Wolfman Jack with his bushy dark hair and beard. His helper was a hyper little guy named Mervin Newman. There was this initial presence about Mervin that was so professional looking. He always wore polo shirts or button up shirts, as well as Dockers-type pants. Plus his flame red hair was always neatly coiffed and his mustache neatly trimmed. I wondered why he was doing the menial job of packing sprouts. I eventually found out that he used to be a pharmacist, but he lost his license as a result of sampling his product. I don’t think losing his pharmacy job had to do with substance abuse alone. Forgive me, but Mervin wasn’t all there.

Lake grew bean sprouts in a completely dark ten by ten room in white plastic tubs that were about two feet by four feet around and about three feet deep. These tubs had drainage holes and were propped up by bricks so they could drain properly. After they grew not quite a week, they were ready for harvest. There was a different elevated tub filled with water and a sloped table that drains. Lon would bring a ready tub out and wash the sprouts, cleaning off the husks and the dirt. He threw the ready sprouts on the table so they could drain, dry, and be packed.

I was given the task of putting sprouts in eight ounce cups. I didn’t need to be exact. Mervin weighed them on a scale, getting them to slightly above eight ounces per cup. Then, after quite a few accumulated, I would switch and put a lid on the cup.  Mervin would put a label on them from a hand held roll. Lastly, we would box them for delivery.

Mervin was thirty years old or so.  I truly felt bad that he spent all that time in college to be a pharmacist, only to end up packing produce.  Man that guy could wear on you though. Several years later when someone told me he was on disability for mental illness, I didn’t bat an eye. As a matter of fact I nodded, because it made perfect sense.

On my first day Lon was washing bean sprouts while Mervin and I were standing side by side packing. All morning the three of us had pleasant conversation.  Although Mervin was very quirky, I had no idea he was really unstable. Around lunch time Lon and Mervin decided to go to a burger joint to get some food to bring back and eat at the picnic table behind the tomato building. Mervin drove us in his almost new Olds 98. That car was ugly as sin, but it sure was a smooth ride. We get out of the car at the burger joint.  Mervin marches to the door with me trying to catch up when Lon grabs my arm, pulling me back.

“Did you notice Mervin’s pants?” Lon asked.

I hadn’t.  Lon went on to explain. Because the sprout table was wet and Mervin was on the short side, his crotch was even with the table. Plus he was wearing tan pants, making him look even worse.  Lon suggested we try to appear to not be with him.

As we entered the restaurant Mervin was standing on the left, hands boldly on hips scanning the menu up high. Girls behind the counter were giggling and whispering. Cooks were peaking up front and then disappearing with laughter. I stole a look and had to refrain from laughter myself. It really looked like he wet himself big time. Well, I suppose he did, but I meant with his bladder, not a sprout table.

In the back seat of Mervin’s car, food in hand, I lost it. I was laughing so hard my gut hurt and tears were rolling down my cheeks. Fortunately, I managed to be fairly quiet, and Mervin was talking at Lon a mile a minute. Lon glanced at me and chuckled, causing Mervin to stop talking and glance at me in the rear view mirror, aviator sunglasses covering his eyes.

“What?” he asked with a grin, wanting to be let in on what Lon and I thought was funny.

“Nothing,” Lon replied, but chuckled a little bit more.

“Come on, what?” Mervin was no longer smiling, not liking to be left out of the loop.

Lon put a fist to his mouth and began to shake with laughter. I completely lost it now, causing Mervin to adjust his mirror to look at me and take off his sunglasses. I saw fury in his eyes, but it didn’t snap me out of laughing at all.  It made me laugh even harder. My stomach hurt. Mervin let loose a string of profanity, wanting to know what was so funny.

“Do you not realize that it looks like you wet yourself?” Lon asked, almost angrily, pointing to Lon’s crotch.

Mervin looked down and then up. He became eerily quiet and that actually extinguished the laughter. It was working after lunch when I got my first clues that Mervin was, to whatever degree, unstable.

SPOILED PRODUCE

By Johnathan Embers

PREFACE

The following tale is about coming of age and spiritual enlightenment during a peculiar romance while working for an odd produce company in the mid to late 1980’s. This is a work of fiction based off of actual characters and situations that the storyteller experienced. It is intended to be both funny and heartwarming, while also inspiring.

CHAPTER 1

FULL CIRCLE

Whoosh and a flash of flame happened simultaneously as I walked into my place of employment. It was strange how the last three years had come full circle that day for various reasons.  It was my last day working for Leonard Lake Produce Inc. It was an extremely cold day in early March, and Lenny Lake, the owner and boss was heating the back of his delivery trucks with propane and open flamed heaters. You heard me right, open flame heaters on moving trucks to keep the produce from freezing.

Lenny and Dean Benet, a driver and warehouse laborer like me, had been attempting to light a heater. If you’ve never seen one of these heaters, they have a round base that sort of looks like a bowl.  Extending up from this bowl is a two foot tube about a foot wide with a little roof that has a couple inch gap from the tube so heat can get out and do its job of warming. This particular heater that they were trying to light was missing this little roof. So I show up just in time to see Dean say “not yet” just as Lenny pushed the pilot and flicked the lighter that he held. I could smell gas from the ten feet away that I was standing.  So I wasn’t surprised when there was a whoosh of flame out of the top of the tube and Dean’s hat shot off of his head and flew toward me. I opened my hands and caught it as if he had tossed it to me. He briskly moved toward me, patting his big walrus mustache. It wasn’t burning, but I guess he didn’t know that. He quickly placed the ball cap onto his bald head, not liking his shiny dome to be exposed.

“Thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes at the current fiasco.

“No problem,” I told him as I extended my hand. “By the way, it’s been nice working with you. In case I don’t see you later.”

He grabbed my hand with both of his and pumped vigorously. “That’s right.  Today’s your last day. Yeah, it’s been real good. Good luck at UPS, don’t become a delivery snob.”

“Delivery snob?” I inquired.

“Yeah, you know, UPS is the most prestigious delivery job, isn’t it?” He said with a chuckle.

Dean was forty, give or take. He was tall and lean and had a blonde gray fringe around his mostly bald head. His gray eyes were close set and so intense he sometimes looked crazy, especially when he was expounding on government conspiracy theories. His mustache was the same color as his head hair, except for a spot in the middle that was an orange brown from nicotine. It also looked comically big on his narrow face. I always thought that he looked like somebody who could have been in Monty Python.

“I won’t become a delivery snob.  I’m just glad that I won’t have one of those in my truck,” I said, pointing at the flame thrower.

Lenny frowned at my comment, but extended a hand toward me. “I won’t be here when you get back from your route, so good luck at UPS. If things don’t work out there, let me know.”

With that Lenny shut the back door of the delivery truck so it could warm and went to his office.  Lenny wasn’t one to give compliments. No, he was one to let you know if you had the smallest screw up. So Dean and I both turned to watched him walk away, stunned at his kind gesture to me. Dean wore a far out spacey expression, like he was one the Darling boys from the Andy Griffith show. I suppose I was doing the same if I could have seen myself.

“Wow!” Dean exclaimed. “I’ve worked for Lenny over ten years, and I do believe that was the nicest thing that I’ve ever heard him say to one of his employees.”   

“It was definitely the closest thing to a compliment that I’ve ever gotten from him,” I said. “And the strange thing is in six hours I won’t be his employee anymore.”

Dean half snorted and half laughed. “Well that makes sense though; Lenny’s just looking out for Lenny. You’re one of the best workers that I’ve seen come through here and believe you me, I’ve seen plenty. He just wants you back if you’re ever available. That’s the only reason that you heard something resembling a compliment. You’re on your way out the door and you’re a good worker.”

I shrugged. “I’ll take it. Better than don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“That would even be considered nice for Lenny,” Dean said.

Lenny’s head appeared from around a corner. “Why are you still here?” he said to Dean.

“Take care buddy,” Dean said to me as he slapped me on the back. Then he wasted no time getting into his truck.

I went off to the break room. As I walked, I thought about how fitting my last work experience with Dean was. You see the very first time that I had met Dean he had just walked onto a dock level delivery truck to get a two wheel dolly off of it. The truck was running and apparently had someone in it. As I approached the back of the truck, Dean was on his way out with the dolly. He smiled at me and I believe he was about to introduce himself to me when the truck abruptly drove away from the dock. Dean’s eyes widened, looking like silver dollars on his narrow face. With the dolly still clutched in his hands, he leapt for the dock. His toes barely made contact with the surface of the dock. If I hadn’t been standing there to grab his arm and pull him to safety, he would have taken a fall off the dock. Once again the ball cap that he was wearing shot off of his head, but not getting near the air that it did with the flame thrower. He looked me in the eye with a crazed intensity I would soon become accustomed to and spoke to me for the first time.

“Man, sometimes life is just a matter of inches!” he declared.

Minutes after my mind reviewed my first encounter with Dean, I sat at a table with a steaming cup of hot chocolate and scanned the newspaper. As my eyes previewed the various headlines and articles, I noticed one that said something about six men arrested in a male prostitution sting. I turned the page and continued to scan other news, but something tugged at my brain to go back.

Apparently there was a certain park in the city that was a hot spot for gay men to meet and or hook up. And apparently six men had made arrangements to pay some other men to share in some intimacy. Five of the names meant absolutely nothing to me, but one of the names was very familiar to me indeed. Myron D. Baumgartner was charged with offering an undercover police officer money in exchange for sex. He was also charged with resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer. I reread his name and his charges. Then I read it again and again and again. I sat back in my chair and felt my mouth say Wow.

You see Myron D. Baumgartner was my high school sweetheart’s father, and he’s also the person who helped me experience the most humiliating, embarrassing, and awkward moment of my life. No, it had nothing to do with male prostitutes; it did involve something of a sexual nature however. It had to do with his daughter, me, and a condom in a toilet. I’ll share this awkward tale later, though.

What I meant about my last day at Lake Produce Incorporated coming full circle not only had to do with my Dean encounter, but also reading about Myron and his arrest. You see, he was indirectly involved in my life’s journey landing me at Lake Produce in the first place.

It was the best of times and the worst of times. Or vice versa.

A SAINT IN SIN CITY

STEVE SIMON

CHAPTER 14

NARROW IS THE GATE AND DIFFICULT IS THE WAY WHICH LEADS TO LIFE, AND THERE ARE FEW WHO FIND IT. (Matthew 7:14)

“You’re on,” I told Saul Sallie with an eager grin.

He had just suggested that we should sit down and let the Bible verify itself to prove its authenticity. I wasn’t sure if my statement was a challenge, or a desire to learn. Maybe a combination of both. But I dashed out of his front door, jogged to my car, and returned to Saul’s house with my big, brand new, beautiful Bible, complete with tabs to easily find every book. “Okay, chump, show me why you call this compilation of several thousand year old writings, The Word of God.”

Although my words indicated a spirit of doubt, I was actually in the process of becoming a man of faith. This was due to Saul, my friend and baseball teammate. Actually it was primarily due to the Holy Spirit leading me. God’s Spirit simply used Saul as an instrument. For it was Saul’s courageous stand on the Sabbath that got me seeking like never before.

At first I searched history, rather than the Bible. History told me that Constantine was the main culprit that steered most of Christendom from the Sabbath of the Bible to paganism’s venerable day of the sun. From worshipping the God of creation, on the day He blessed and made holy, to worshipping on the day that honors paganism’s sun god. Yes, I know most people do this in ignorance.

Thankfully, the God of the Bible is a patient, loving, merciful God. His mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:23). And every verse in Psalm 136 ends with ‘His mercy endures forever.’ Or just look at the life of Jesus and realize He said, “He who has seen Me, has seen the Father.” (John 14:9)

Then I studied the history of the church after it thought to change times and laws (Daniel 7:25). The Sabbath being both a time and a law. Constantine also made the church of Rome a legal religion. In the centuries that would follow it became known as the dark ages. It persecuted and executed the true Christians that refused to follow their dictates, declaring them to be heretics. Along with the attempted Sabbath change, this persecution was also prophesied in Daniel 7:25.

“You just answered part of it yourself,” Saul smiled pleasantly.

“I did?” I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“This amazing compilation of writings that all harmonize,” he said happily.

“What about the contradictions?”

“If you study the Bible thoroughly and prayerfully, there are no contradictions. Just misinterpretation and misunderstandings.”

“Okay,” I replied a bit skeptically.

  “Sixty six books written on three continents, in three different languages, over a fifteen hundred year period. Written by forty different authors whose background and education varied greatly. Lets look at 2 Timothy 3:16 for starters… Do you want to read it?”

“All scripture is given by inspiration of God,” I recited. “And is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness.”

I will leave you with what I found to be the most intriguing part of our study. It was the Old Testament prophecy’s that the historical figure of Jesus Christ fulfilled in the New Testament.

1. Predicted: Born in Bethlehem. Micah 5:2. Fulfilled: Matthew 2:1

2. Predicted: Born of a virgin. Isaiah 7:4. Fulfilled: Matthew 1:18-23

3. Predicted: David’s lineage. Jeremiah 23:5. Fulfilled: Revelation 22:16

4. Predicted: Target of a murder attempt. Jeremiah 31:15. Fulfilled Matthew 2:16-18

5. Predicted: Betrayed by a friend. Psalm 41:9. Fulfilled John 13:18, 19, 26

6. Predicted: Sold for 30 silver coins. Zechariah 11:12. Fulfilled Matthew 26:14-16

7. Predicted: Crucified. Zechariah 12:10. Fulfilled John 19:16-18, 37

8. Predicted: Lots cast for His clothes. Psalm 22:18. Fulfilled Matthew 27:35

9. Predicted: No bones broken. Psalm 34:20. Fulfilled John 19:31-36

10. Predicted: Buried in a rich man’s tomb. Isaiah 53:9. Fulfilled Matthew 27:57-60

11. Predicted: Year, day, hour of His death. Daniel 9:26, 27; Exodus 12:6 Fulfilled Matthew 27:45-50

12. Predicted: Raised the third day. Hosea 6:2. Fulfilled Acts 10:38-40

If you would like to see our study on the scriptures, or you would like to learn about Bible prophecy, please look up Amazing Facts ministry for books and study guides. Or you could simply look for Amazing Facts or Doug Batchelor on YouTube.

THE END OF PART ONE OF ‘A SAINT IN SIN CITY.’

(Writer’s note: Dear Reader, Thank you for your interest. While I am rebuilding material in my head for a part two of the preceding story, I am going to post one of the three e-books I have written. These are actually available on Amazon. I plan on posting one chapter a week of my first book that is called ‘SPOILED PRODUCE.’ This book was loosely based on my time working at a wholesale produce company in my younger days. Although many of the humorous anecdotes are based on actual events I witnessed, the overall, heartwarming story is a work of fiction. I hope you like it!)

A SAINT IN SIN CITY

SAUL SALLIE

CHAPTER 13

ENTER BY THE NARROW GATE, FOR WIDE IS THE GATE AND BROAD IS THE WAY THAT LEADS TO DESTRUCTION, AND THERE ARE MANY WHO GO IN BY IT (Matthew 7:13)

The most common question I get asked is “did you see yourself one day being at the forefront of a major spiritual and political controversy?” The simple answer is yes. When I took a stand for the law of God, I had already reached a certain level of fame, due to my baseball career. So I knew, whether I welcomed it or not, I was to be thrust on a platform to answer for my faith. The only thing I didn’t know was the duration of time, or how prominent. I realized I was putting my promising baseball career in jeopardy, but I believed whole heartedly in what Jesus said in Matthew 16:26.

When I realized the truth about the Biblical Sabbath back in 2022, the topic of the Sabbath and Sunday had become a minor political issue, overlooked by the vast majority. It came to light in November of that year when many spiritual and political leaders had convened on the environment and discussed the “green commandments” or “the climate justice ten commandments.” Prominent among these ideas was the agenda to bring about a mandatory day of rest. Since most religionists adhere to the venerable day of the sun, Sunday was chosen as the day designated for everyone to shut down and give the planet a rest.

Because I’m a prominent sports figure, I was reluctantly put in a position as a spokesperson for the genuine Sabbath. Although I felt unqualified and unworthy, I also deemed it an honor to stand up for God’s truth.

I never felt more secure in God’s arms than when I refused to pitch on the Sabbath in the World Series. I was despised by so many, who didn’t understand my position and felt I was being arrogant by bucking against Sunday laws. But it was also during this time that I felt closest to my true brothers and sisters in Christ, valuing and needing their fellowship like never before.

“Don’t you care about the planet?” I have been asked more times than I can count.

“Of course I do,” was and still is my reply.

“Then why are you rebelling against the Sunday law?” they demanded. “It’s for the good of humanity and the planet.”

That’s the evil genius of Satan. He uses something good to force people into allegiance to a false commandment. But if my accusers examined their judgements of me a little closer, they would see that my life gives the planet more of a rest than their own. At the moment, I keep two sabbaths.

The first one, ordained by God, is from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday. This I choose to keep out of love for my Creator and Savior Jesus Christ. The second one, Sunday, the first day of the week, I keep by the dictates of civil law.

This is not a sin. But due to the crime and chaos in the world, there is now talk of requiring people to digitally log onto a Sunday service if you can’t attend one in person. Some of my fellow Sabbatarians see this also as no sin as long as you still keep the fourth commandment written with God’s own finger. Maybe. But I see a big difference between not driving my car on Sunday, and, in a sense, bowing down to the god of the world.

People surprise you. I’ve already witnessed several who I believed to be firm as a rock, giving into “the man.” Why? Fear? Prosperity? Lack of faith? A form of Godliness that denies the power? (2 Timothy 3:5)

Then there was Steve Simon, a teammate of mine who was an atheist. Although we got along just fine, we had many a debate over life views that left us far from being good buddies. However, when tribulation came my way and many who I thought were friends turned on me, Steve had my back. He paid me a visit not long after I became a national pariah for refusing to pitch in the World Series on the Sabbath.

The crux of our occasional spiritual conversations over the years centered around Steve promoting and defending evolution, while I promoted and defended Creationism. When we got together one day and he admitted his life view was evolving into one similar to mine, I didn’t see it as any sort of personal victory. I saw it as a soul making its way to the Savior. You might say, I was simply an instrument God used. Steve’s own words were even humbling.

“You convinced me,” Steve blurted, not long after we sat down with cups of sparkling waters and exchanged some small talk. He was an easy going fellow, in appearance a bit of a modern hippie with long dark hair and a beard long enough he often braided it. His light brown eyes always seemed relaxed, and inviting. He is also a vegetarian and very health conscious.

“Oh yeah?” I replied with both a smile and a frown. “I told you this water was good,” I joked.

“It is, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Oh yeah?” I replied again.

“Yeah, you remember after we won the west division. Everyone went out partying, but you and me stayed in our hotel room, talked, and downed these,” he replied, grinning and holding up his bottle of sparking water.

“Oh yeah,” I replied again, as I tried to figure out what I said, and what exactly I convinced him of.

“You might not have convinced me, if you weren’t such a humble guy,” he told me.

“Oh yeah,” I replied yet again, proving what an articulate guy I am.

“Yeah, it was two things you told me, combined with the stand you took for your beliefs.”

“What two things?” I asked, forcing myself not to say ‘oh yeah’ again.

“The first had to do with evolution. When I mentioned proof that the world was millions of years old, compared to your belief that it is only six thousand. You said, God is eternal, that’s even more than millions or billions. Who knows what he used when he spoke our world into existence?”

“We’ve discussed those differences a few times,” I said with a shrug.

“You said something different with it this time.”

“Oh y… What’s that?”

“You said, if the earth has been around millions, even billions of years, think about how miraculous the times we’re living in are. Man took flight a little more than a hundred years ago. Now people are crisscrossing the planet on jets, kind of like Daniel 12:4 predicted. Not to mention the highway system. Then you have mind blowing technology, like people walking around with little computers in their pockets. And what about the population? Do you remember those stats?”

“I think so,” I replied. “The world population hit one billion for the first time in 1804. Then a mere one hundred and twenty three years later, it hit two billion in 1927. Only thirty three years after that, three billion. Only fourteen years after that, four billion. I can’t remember when it hit five, six, and seven billion.”

“But I got the point,” Steve said. “I don’t know why, but all that got me thinking about something else you brought to my mind. That Jesus, regardless of the Bible, is a real historical person. That scores of people witnessed his miracles. I can’t deny that, but I also don’t buy into the Bible.”

His eyes bore into mine, and I knew I should say something. “I see. Maybe we should sit down and let the Bible verify itself.”

“You’re on,” Steve said with a grin. I couldn’t tell if there was a challenge in his smile or an eagerness to learn.

A SAINT IN SIN CITY

MASON MAXWELL

CHAPTER 12

I KNOW THE THOUGHTS THAT I THINK TOWARD YOU, SAYS THE LORD, THOUGHTS OF PEACE AND NOT OF EVIL. (Jeremiah 29:11)

Life is a strange trip. When things were going good in my life, my faith in God was superficial. My belief was like an insurance policy. But looking back now, my policy was fraudulent. I had cleaned up the dirtier aspects of my life, and was led to feel that I was alright. I gave to charities and was considered a solid citizen.

But I rarely cracked open a Bible. My Christian faith was exercised by attending Sunday services and an occasional mid-week Bible study, hosted by the team chaplain. Then my life was turned upside down, seemingly right side up, and then upside down again.

First was the sudden, unexpected death of my wife. Then there was that crazy World Series with me the hero and Saul the goat. And by goat, I don’t mean greatest of all time. I was shown adulation for promoting a false doctrine that credited my deceased wife for helping me pitch a perfect game. On the other hand, Saul, our ace pitcher, was lambasted for not pitching on the Biblical Sabbath.

At the time, I respected him for standing up for his beliefs, while at the same time thinking he was a fanatic. But now I believe the Sabbath is not only a true doctrine, but the one commandment out of the ten that instructs us to remember. Not only remember, but to keep something holy.

Shortly after my heroics in the World Series, my life was capsized in a most humiliating manner. The impregnation of my wife’s sister by me became public knowledge and national gossip. What made this so scandalous, was the fact that she was another man’s wife at the time.

Although I thought I felt bad for Saul when he was ostracized, I didn’t lose any sleep over it. The side of me that had enjoyed being adored to his despised overruled the side of me that had empathy for him. Then I became hated myself. But it was the remorse, the anxiety, and the depression I felt in the aftermath, that led to the foot of the cross. For me, prosperity equaled shallow, and trouble equaled hunger for truth.

One part of me sought Jesus weeping and sorry for my sins. On the other hand, I had major bouts with anger, frustration, confusion, and doubts. But it was through the crucible of struggle that my eyes were opened to Biblical truth. I came to realize that no matter how materialistically successful we are, we have nothing without Christ.

I also came to realize how subtle the devil works. He leaves alone professed Christians who subconsciously think they have arrived. People who say they believe the Bible, but let tradition and human reasoning overrule Biblical truth. I was one of them, so I know how diabolically it works.

It’s been said, don’t despise what brings you to your knees. My personal question on this is, what did the person who coined this phrase go through themselves? It seems to me that personal losses tends to drive more people away from God than bring them to Him. It did me at first. But the Holy Spirit kept driving me to my knees, to my Bible, and to the council of my friend Saul. Maybe that’s it.

The Bible talks repeatedly about Christ in you. But it seems like very few people end up as human mirrors of the Savior. But I saw Christ in Saul. By that, I mean it was evident that Saul was fully surrendered to God. He experienced that death to self the Apostle Paul talks about. What a witness it was to me.

When I experienced my public disgrace, I was beyond rattled. I was constantly nervous, anxious, and dreaded being seen by anyone. A couple days after Saul was supposedly disgraced, he was as calm and filled with joy as ever. By Saul’s disgrace, I mean the appearance of disgrace by “the world”. In reality, I believe he was honored by heaven. ‘Well done good and faithful servant.’

Anyway, it led me to want that peace and joy Saul had. When I hit rock bottom, I realized that God is ultimately the only answer in life. The only way. Jesus even calls Himself that. ‘The way, the truth, and the life.’ (John 14:6) So I did what Saul did to obtain his righteous character with Bible study and prayer. More than once, I heard Saul say that prayer is the better half of study. It was working, too!

But I had one spiritual hang up that came to the forefront of my mind prominently for the first time. Hellfire. How could a God of love sentence even the most wicked to eternal torment? It was the ultimate contradiction. That brought me to my face off with Saul.

“Mace, come in, come in,” Saul greeted me as I stepped through the door of his home. He had warned me that the subject I wanted to talk about might make him mad, but he greeted me with the same joy in his countenance that I had come to expect.

We chatted briefly, and then I got to the heart of the matter. “So, we’re gonna discuss hell, right?”

“You bet,” Saul replied, his usual, affable grin leaving his face. Maybe I would see the anger he was talking about. Or maybe the irony of hell and a loving God troubled him as well.

We prayed, opened our Bibles, and Saul asked, “So, you believe the wicked, the lost, have eternal life?”

“Well, no,”  I blurted, and then felt myself frown. “I mean…”

Saul went on to compare hellfire at the end of the world to the flood in Noah’s day. He said, “I believe people will be punished according to their sins, but ultimately, it will destroy them quickly. It is also mostly reserved for Satan and his angels. Let’s read about it in Revelation chapter twenty.”

“What about where the Bible says the wicked receive everlasting punishment?” I tried.

“Punishment, not punishing,” Saul clarified. “This also another reason why understanding the state of the dead is important. Once again, what’s the point of the resurrection at Christ’s second coming, if you fly right off to heaven as soon as you die? After the final judgement, the wicked are obliterated, not eternally tormented. Let’s look at some scripture on what happens to the lost.”

We looked up: Romans 6:23, “death.” Job 21:30, “doom, or destruction.” Psalm 37:20, “perish.” Malachi 4:1, “burn up.” Psalm 37:38 “destroyed.” Psalm 37:20 “vanish away.” Psalm 37:9 “cut off.” Psalm 62:3 “slain.” Psalm 145:20 “destroy” Psalm 21:9 “devour.” 2 Peter 3:10 “melt with fervent heat, burn up.” Isaiah 47:14 “be as stubble.”  Ezekiel 18:20 “the soul that sins shall die.” Revelation 20:14 “second death.” Revelation 21:4 “no more pain.”

By the time I left Saul’s house, I happily told him, “I’m sold. When can we study prophecy?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Saul grinned.

I was about to find out that the last events of prophecy were being fulfilled right before my eyes. As a matter of fact, what was happening to Saul and the Sabbath, was all part of it. I had believed, like most Christians, Daniel and Revelation was mostly in the future. The truth is, it was mostly in history with the last events coming at us faster than I realized.

(Writer’s note: For a more in depth study of these topics, please look up ‘Amazing Facts’ ministry. They have plenty of books, resources, and study guides. You can also simply check out Amazing Facts main teacher, Doug Batchelor, on YouTube.)