David L. Roper's Blog

To Be or Not To Be

I am trying to decide whether to continue this site for another year or not. If you are reading this and would like to see the blog continue, please click on “Leave a Reply” below and type “Yes.” I need to make a decision in the next few days. I do appreciate those who have indicated you read what I write – and those who have left comments. Thanks for your encouragement. David R

Mr. Coyote’s New Boots

A Romanian folk-tale retold

Long ago, when coyotes and rabbits were friends, Mr. Hare needed a pair of boots. Winter was approaching and his feet were bare. So he wrapped two gold coins in a handkerchief, stuck them in his pocket, and started to the store.

As he walked along, he met Mr. Coyote, who was walking in the same direction. “Hello, my friend,” he said.

“Hello, my friend,” Mr. Coyote replied.

“That’s a beautiful pair of boots you have on,” said Mr. Hare.

“Thank you,” said Mr. Coyote proudly. “They cost me two gold coins.”

“That is what I have,” said Mr. Hare, patting his pocket. “I am going to buy a pair of boots just like that.”

As they walked along, it grew dark. “We should stop at Mr. Bear’s inn for the night,” said Mr. Coyote.

“Oh, no,” said Mr. Hare. “I only have two gold coins and I need both of them to buy boots.”

“Don’t worry,” said Mr. Coyote. “You are my friend and I will pay for everything.”

When they got to Mr. Bear’s inn, Mr. Coyote ordered a feast. Mr. Hare barely touched his food because he was worried about the cost, but Mr. Coyote ate and ate. Mr. Coyote ate everything on the table and ordered second servings.

When they finished, Mr. Bear said, “That will be two gold coins for the food and for your rooms for the night.”

Mr. Coyote started patting his pockets as though looking for money. Finally he turned to Mr. Hare with a sly look on his face and said, “My friend, I seem to have left my money at home. I am embarrassed, but I guess you will have to pay.”

“But I cannot,” answered Mr. Hare. “I must have my two gold coins to buy boots for the winter.”

“Don’t worry, my friend,” said Mr. Coyote. “I will pay you back before winter. And I will even give you extra.” By this time, Mr. Hare was not sure whether Mr. Coyote was his friend or not.

As he was trying to decide what to do, Mr. Bear began to growl. Frightened, Mr. Hare pulled out his handkerchief to wipe his face. The two gold coins fell out and rolled across the floor.

Mr. Bear snatched up the coins. “Thank you,” he growled. Then he laughed loudly.

Mr. Bear showed them to their rooms. As he left, he said, “I hope you both sleep well.”

But Mr. Hare did not sleep at all. If he had no boots, his feet would freeze in the winter. He had no more money and he did not trust Mr. Coyote to repay him. What was he to do?

Then he had an idea. He tiptoed into the next room where Mr. Coyote was sleeping. There, against the wall, were Mr. Coyote’s new boots. He tried them on and they fit perfectly. He began to laugh.

Mr. Coyote opened his eyes sleepily. “Good morning, my friend,” said Mr. Hare. “You do not have to worry about paying me back, because I am taking your new boots that cost two gold coins. Now we are even.” With that, he ran out the door.

By this time, Mr. Coyote was fully awake. “Wait, my friend!” he shouted as he chased Mr. Hare down the road. “Come back with my new boots!”

For what happened next, we must rely on the word of others. Mr. Coyote was seen chasing Mr. Hare over the hills, through the villages, and through the fields. He was seen chasing Mr. Hare all that fall, through the winter, through spring and summer, and into the next fall.

Each time Mr. Coyote was seen, he was thinner than before. Always he was shouting, “Give me back my boots!” And always, Mr. Hare was ahead of him, laughing.

So, the next time you see a coyote chasing a rabbit, it is simply Mr. Coyote trying to get back his new boots.

(Originally published in Red River Kids, Spring 2009)

Europe on 5-10 Nervous Breakdowns a Day (42)

DAY 52 – SUNDAY, JUNE 16, 1974 – BUT WHY DID THEY ARREST MY DAUGHTER?

I was still awake when we stopped at Jakarta, Indonesia. Debbie and I got off to stretch our legs. It was hot and humid. That would be the last warm weather we would experience for a while. It was already wintertime in Sydney.

From Jakarta, it was a six-hour flight to Sydney. I read a while and then they set up a buffet in the back of the plane. People were still awake and visiting. The last reading light didn’t go off until 7:00 a.m. Sydney time. I rested a bit, but if I ever went to sleep I wasn’t aware of it.

We had breakfast about 9:30 and then I stood in a queue to clean up and shave.

I kept thinking about our church family at Macquarie studying and worshipping that morning.

At 11:15, we started descending. It would take us awhile to collect our luggage and go through quarantine and customs, but we would then call someone at the church building to come get us.

We had made a complete circuit around the earth—from Sydney to Oklahoma, to London, and then through Europe and Asia back to Sydney. Jules Verne’s hero made it around the world in eighty days, but it had taken us six months.

We were a tad apprehensive about getting back into our hectic schedules but were looking forward to being home.

My notes close as the red-tiled roofs of Sydney came into view: “I can just see our ‘rose city.’”

The end of the story?

Not quite.

When we were getting ready to leave Sydney six months earlier, the doctor wouldn’t give Cindy a smallpox shot because she had eczema. We had a note to explain this. It took a little extra time when we went through customs, but had not been a problem on our travels. Not until we got back to Sydney.

As our family was going through the line to get back into the country, an official asked us to follow him. He put us in a room and left. We sat there, wondering what was going on. Two men came in, looking very serious. They said Cindy would have to be quarantined for two weeks because we had gone through “a smallpox area.” (A case of smallpox had been reported in one of the places on our homeward trip. Hong Kong? New Delhi? London?)

The only way I know to describe the procedure they went through is to say that it was basically what I had seen on TV when people were arrested—everything except the handcuffs. The men had Cindy stand, reeled off a memorized spiel, then took her by the arm and marched her away—leaving us sitting there flabbergasted.

As far as Jo was concerned, this was the last straw. She had endured traveling for almost two months, trying to keep our clothes clean while much of the time she couldn’t understand what other people were saying. She had been desperately holding on until we got back home, back home to familiar and friendly surroundings. But just as she thought she was safe, they had taken her first-born, her beloved Cindy, away. She burst into tears and cried, “They don’t want us here! Let’s catch the next plane back to America!”

EPILOGUE

Many years earlier, when people came to Australia on ships instead of planes, they had built a large quarantine station on the North Head of Sydney Harbor. They often had to quarantine entire shiploads of people there. The station had been closed for years, but that is where they took Cindy. In addition to a cook, a maintenance man, and others, she had two nurses assigned to her. She was the only detainee there. Since Pan Am had allowed her to fly despite our having been in “a smallpox area,” they had to foot the bill. ($800.00 U.S., if I remember correctly.)

Cindy ended up enjoying the experience. She was treated like a VIP. She made her own menu. She went for long walks on the beach. She had unlimited phone privileges to talk to her friends. We took material and a sewing machine to her (handed them over the gate to the maintenance man) and she made a school uniform.

Two weeks from the time she had been detained, on a Sunday after the morning service, she was brought to our church building in a limousine. All of her friends were there to greet her. She was embarrassed by the attention, but was finally home. And our family was again united.

The rest of us were already trying to catch up after being gone six months. I put my notes in my files and got my slides developed and ready for use in my classes. I even used some of them in two sermons on “God, Man, and the Continuing Challenge.” When I did the final figuring on our expenses, as best I could tell, we had saved our work funds more than $300.00 compared to what it would have cost to fly to Oklahoma and then straight back to Sydney

Our trip had been the experience of a lifetime—with its good and not-so-good moments. I had not taught in the two Bible training schools as expected, but I had done some serious research and I had preached in England, Switzerland, Italy, Austria, and Scotland. But now it was time to get back to “real life.”

Europe on 5-10 Nervous Breakdowns a Day (41)

DAYS 50, 51 – FRIDAY, SATURDAY, JUNE 14,15, 1974 – BUT WHAT IF WE DON’T WANT TO VISIT HONG KONG?

On Friday our flight to Sydney, Australia, continued. Lots to eat, eat, eat, but not much sleep, sleep, sleep.

From Tehran to New Delhi, India, they served a hot snack. We arrived in New Delhi at 7:00 a.m. (their time). We were scheduled to be there over an hour so Jo stayed on the plane, said it would be good sleeping time. The rest of us got off. Beside the airfield were oxen pulling plows and women carrying jugs on their heads.

When we got back on the plane, the captain announced they could not get one engine ignited. As time went by, we got periodic reports: changed a spark plug, changed an ignition wire, etc.—“but all is going well.” They started serving free booze. That’s the airlines’ cure-all for unhappy passengers. All around us, folks were getting their buzz on, feeling no pain, while I was sitting there getting grumpier and grumpier. Jo kept telling me that she wanted them to take their time, that she did not want to take off in a plane that wasn’t 100%.

Sitting there gave me time to think. A positive thought: On our long journey, none of us had a stomach or intestinal disorder which often plagues travelers abroad. I credited that happy situation with eating lots of cheese and yogurt (filling our tummies with friendly local bacteria). I suggested this to the rest of the family. They thought I was crazy.

Two hours passed. They were supposed to feed us breakfast as soon as we left New Delhi, but finally decided to feed us on the ground. Had breakfast about 10:00 a.m.

Two and a half hours passed. Three hours. We had only had an hour to change planes in Hong Kong, so we had missed that connection. But we weren’t too worried. I assumed we would spend the night in Hong Kong and catch an early flight to Sydney, arriving there Saturday afternoon instead of Saturday morning. I just hoped our luggage ended up where we ended up.

When the captain came through, Jo asked him how to contact folks in Sydney who planned to meet us Saturday morning. He said to talk to a stewardess after the plane took off. We finally left three and a half hours late. As soon as we were in the air, Jo spoke to the female “flight director.” Turns out it would have been better to have said something to her while we were on the ground. She huffed, “The captain may know his job, but he doesn’t know mine.”

They had no food on board for lunch (they were supposed to pick up food at Bangkok, Thailand, for lunch), so they started serving drinks again. No food but plenty of booze.

One good thing was that the plane wasn’t full. Our family stacked claims on five spots with adjoining empty seats where we could stretch out.

When we arrived in Bangkok, they did not let us off the plane since we were running so late. A fellow in front of us was catching a flight from Bangkok to Sydney, so I checked on switching to that plane. It was full.

They finally told us what would be happening in Hong Kong. After we arrived, the next flight to Sydney would be the same flight we were on—a day later. So we would be getting into Sydney Sunday morning instead of Saturday morning. Most of the other twenty-five or so passengers going to Sydney didn’t care. It meant a free day in Hong Kong at Pan Am’s expense. But we were disappointed—on many levels. I had tried to schedule our trip where we were not traveling at a time the saints met. Plus we were ready to get back to our friends!

We were in Bangkok about an hour, leaving between 8:00 and 9:00 p.m. It was getting dark. We finally had lunch. A Chinese meal with chopsticks—but thankfully they also gave us forks and spoons.

We arrived in Hong Kong at 10:30 p.m. Since we were leaving the airport, we had to go through the same routine as if we were coming for a month’s visit. Which means we had to take all our luggage through customs and then drag it to the hotel.

We piled into a hotel bus. The hotel was some distance away so we had a late-night tour of downtown. There are four million people in Hong Kong and it looked like all of them were in the streets. Many shops and open-air stands were still open.

 

We stayed at the Hyatt Regency Hotel, very fancy place. (The picture below shows the hotel the next day. We were on the 10th floor.)

We had two adjoining rooms. The bellboy (or whatever he is called) brought our luggage up and said he would get the door open between the rooms and get a folding bed for Angie. I had to tell him I had no change for a tip (all I had was a pound note worth $2.45 and I didn’t plan to give him that). That put a brake on service. The young man did not return and did not send anyone. I wandered around the hotel until I found someone to help us.

In the meantime, the girls were enjoying our luxurious rooms. An old movie was showing on a color TV. We had had no tea but were not all that hungry, so made do with Coke, 7-Up, and orange juice from the bar/fridge. The Cokes were priced at $3.50 each, but we found out that’s Hong Kong dollars, which are worth about 18¢ U.S. each. Since we could have bought the most expensive meals on the menu, Pan Am was getting off easy.

They finally brought a bed for Angie. Jo stayed up washing things while Cindy and Debbie washed their hair, but Angie and I turned in about 1:15 a.m. The Pan Am folks were supposed to call us on Saturday to let us know what flight we are on, how to get there, etc. I assumed it would be on Pan Am flight 812 at 8:00 p.m. Saturday. If it’s not, Jo will be to bury.

Saturday: This was supposed to be the morning we arrived in Sydney. I awoke early. I was bathed (with hair washed) and shaved by 7:00 a.m. I read my Bible waiting for someone else to wake up. No one did. I went back to bed and slept some. No one else stirred until 11:00.

We had a late breakfast served in our hotel room and then the girls and I prepared to go out.

When we got outside, we were immediately overwhelmed by (1) the mobs of PEOPLE and (2) humidity you could cut with a knife. We walked around the block, looking at things, but then went back to our rooms. We all had “funny heads.”

We left our rooms again about 4:00, going downstairs for lunch. I had a salad and Angie had chicken while the rest had hamburgers. Debbie and Angie bought little Chinese dollars at the gift shop. Jo and Angi took a quick look outside . . .

. . . and then went upstairs to get ready to go while Cindy, Debbie, and I ventured out again.

We were out about an hour and a half this time. Again, we were swamped by people. Cindy reckoned it was not fair that the Chinese were small while Debbie thought it wasn’t fair that they all had built-in tans.

The open-air restaurants were interesting . . .

. . . —as were the large signs. Even though the streets are a normal width, the signs from each side of the street overlap each other in the middle. Biggest signs I’ve ever seen.

I couldn’t get Debbie or Cindy to take a rickshaw ride so I could get their pictures. (If Angie had been with us, she would have ridden one!)

We walked to the water. Discovered that we were on the mainland, looking across at the main island of Hong Kong. We saw various motorized junks, plus one in full sail.

 

We returned to the rooms and completed our preparations to leave. With the heat and late lunch, we weren’t very hungry, so just drank more Coke and juice for our evening meal.

They picked up our luggage at 7:45. We went downstairs at 8:00 and got on the bus at 8:15. But then, at 8:30, a man came out to the bus and announced for various room numbers to come back inside. One of the numbers announced was mine.

When I got back to the counter, they presented me a bill for $42.00 HK—said Pan Am paid for meals but not for items taken from the bar/fridge. They had not told us this. (Many on our flight were called back in; none of us had been told “the rules of the game.”)

I argued that we could have eaten two super-expensive meals instead of snacking from the fridge, so we had saved Pan Am money. To no avail. I went out to the bus, got some English money Jo had stashed away, returned, got the money changed, and paid them.

While I was doing this, they were telling a young fellow from Sydney that he had to pay for a meal he ate when we first arrived at the hotel. We had visited with him on the plane and I knew he only had $5.00—for a taxi in case his parents weren’t waiting for him in Sydney—so I joined in the battle. After all, Pan Am had not fed us our evening meal on the plane. We managed to get him off.

I was about to walk away when they presented me with another bill for $33.00 HK—for the girls’ room. I hit the ceiling (in a nice way, of course). The assistant manager was still there from the previous discussion and he finally agreed to let it go. But there was no way they were going to refund the money I had already paid. I didn’t ask to be there and it still cost me over $8.00 U.S.!

When we finally got to the airport, there was a dispute regarding the truck carrying our baggage. Two Chinese men kept arguing while several passengers climbed on the truck and handed our luggage down to us.

Our plane finally took off at 10:30ish. They fed us a sandwich snack. I tried to rest, but everyone else was wide-awake and chattering, so I gave up. At some point, Saturday became Sunday.

Europe on 5-10 Nervous Breakdowns a Day (40)

DAYS 48, 49 – WEDNESDAY & THURSDAY, JUNE 12, 13, 1974 ­– ON OUR WAY BACK TO AUSTRALIA!

Wednesday morning, we were up at 7:00. We finished packing and caught the bus to the train station. Notice how casual I am about that—carrying bags, using public transport, etc. We were old experienced travelers. When we got to the station, we found an express to London leaving at 9:18. We were at Euston Station about 10:50 and in our rooms at Harley House Hotel by 11:30. Just as we were getting the hang of traveling, it was time to leave. I told Jo this and suggested we could extend our visit another week or two. She didn’t think it was funny.

In the evening, we would be attending midweek services at Wembley (and picking up the luggage we left there), but there were still a few things I wanted to see in London before we left. Jo and the older girls wanted to shop, so it would be just Angie and me.

One place I wanted to visit was Finsbury Square, the location of the old Scotch Baptist Church on Windmill Street. It didn’t look far on the map, so Angie and I started walking. It took over an hour to reach the square. On the way we passed through London’s meat market and a bombed-out site still not rebuilt.

 

Finsbury Square was almost totally destroyed in the war so most of the buildings are new. Not only that, they renamed most of the streets, so there is no longer a Windmill Street.

While I was asking about Windmill Street, A man said that we were in “Wesley country.” A block from the square is John Wesley’s home and chapel.

Across from that is the original “non-conformist” cemetery in London (i.e. a cemetery for people not members of the Church of England) where many of the Wesleys are buried. Other notables are buried there, including John Bunyan (Pilgrim’s Progress) and Daniel Defoe (Robinson Crusoe).

Angie and I found the closest underground station and returned to Russell Square, arriving back at our rooms about 2:00.

After lunch, Jo headed out to get her hair done while Angie and I made one last walking trip—to the nearby British Museum (Debbie and Cindy stayed in their room to rest). I was so tired that I only lasted an hour and a half in the museum. I enjoyed the Roman exhibit and sketches by Michelangelo, but I didn’t have the stamina to locate bits and pieces relating to Biblical archeology.

We were back in the hotel by 4:30. Jo had redone her hair after returning from the hairdresser. The only hairdressers were a 70-year-old man and woman and she wasn’t happy with how they had fixed her hair.

I got out some food for tea, including the familiar block of cheese. Jo told me that while she and Cindy and Debbie were shopping that morning, the girls had made up a song:

Cheese in the morning,

Cheese in the evening,

Cheese at suppertime.

(Anybody remember “Sugartime” by the McGuire Sisters?) I had Debbie go to the shop to get yogurt.

At 6:00ish we caught the train to Wembley. When we reached the church building Judy Barker was there. I spoke to the adult class on “No Little Things.” Afterward, two members helped us get the stuff we had stored at the building to the Wembley Park station. We were back in our hotel about 9:30. Jo did a lot of shifting in the cases, getting everything ready to go. We got to bed about midnight.

Thursday morning, we were up at 6:30. Ate breakfast at 7:30—first good breakfast we had in a week. A little after 8:00, I called a taxi. The driver managed to pack all of us and our luggage into his vehicle. I told him to take us to the Pan Am Terminal in Victoria. We were let out at the door of the terminal and our bags were taken to the counter where we checked in. We took the next Pan Am bus to the airport.

We were scheduled to leave London at 11:10 a.m. on Pan Am flight 002 to Hong Kong. We were at the airport two hours early. Not taking any chances this time!

The plane was scheduled to stop at major cities across Europe and Asia: Frankfurt, Istanbul, Beirut, etc. Our watches would be losing time all the way. We were supposed to arrive in Hong Kong 8:00 p.m. Friday (their time). In Hong Kong, we would change planes for our last leg, arriving in Sydney Saturday morning. As best I could figure, the trip would take 34–35 hours, not counting the time from the Sydney airport to our house! Made me tired to think about it.

We finally started. Each time we stopped at a city we were on the ground forty-five minutes to an hour. It seemed like we were on the ground more than we were in the air. Between each stop, they evidently felt they had to feed us. A summary of the first part of our flight:

From London to Frankfurt, Germany: They served us pastries and tea.

From Frankfurt to Istanbul, Turkey: On the way we had lunch.

In Istanbul we got off the plane. This was the first time we were body-searched, but after that, it happened every time we got off the plane.

From Istanbul to Beirut, Lebanon: We had pastries and tea. Again we got off the plane. Saw a few in Arab dress.

 

From Beirut to Tehran, Iran: Had supper/tea—very, very late. Our family didn’t get off the plane. Too tired. Not many on the plane so we all found places to lie down.

Sometime between Istanbul and Tehran, it changed from Thursday to Friday.

Europe on 5-10 Nervous Breakdowns a Day (39)

DAYS 46, 47 – MONDAY & TUESDAY, JUNE 10, 11, 1974 – “WANNA PLAY DOLLS?”

We were going to spend two more days in Birmingham, using it as our base for area visits.  On Monday we were going to visit Windsor Castle.  We rode five different trains to get to there.

We arrived at Windsor about 12:45.  When you come out of the station, a wall of the castle is to the left.

A flag over the castle announced that the Queen was in residence.

Two things in the castle were of special interest.  First was Queen Mary’s Dollhouse.  When I heard the term, I pictured a fancy dollhouse for a young princess to play with.  But it was designed for display, a present from the English people to Queen Mary to help with her charities.

The dollhouse is a replica of a king’s palace, all in miniature.  It has running water, electric lights, locks that lock, a lift (elevator) that works, etc.  The parts were made by great craftsmen in England.  The library has a complete set of tiny books, with stories written by England’s writers.  The paintings in the house were painted by England’s finest painters.  The ceilings were painted by great artists.  The garden was landscaped by an expert in that field.  The pictures below are of various rooms.

The second thing of special interest, at least to me, was a collection of manuscripts, including sketches by great artists.  Many of the drawings were by da Vinci.

After spending time in the castle, we headed for Eton, which is across the Thames (Windsor and Eton are twin cities, separated only by the river).

We bought some ice cream on a stick to finish our lunch.  As we passed a used-book shop, Angie dropped her stick.  A prim-and-proper woman popped out the door and shook her finger at Angie.  “You dirty girl, are you the one who dropped this lolly stick on the footpath?”  She pointed to a police station across the street.  “Do you know what the police will do to you if you don’t mend your ways?”  She then had Angie move the stick—about a foot into the gutter.

We walked on down the street to Eton College.

The most interesting sight was a teacher in full gown zooming by on a bicycle.  We walked back to the train station and caught the train—heading first to London, then back to Birmingham.

Alan wanted me to pick up an offset-press piece in London. Turned out the man couldn’t deliver it until 7:00.  It was only 5:15, but I told Alan we would wait.

I called Pan Am to check on our flight out of London on Thursday (we were learning!).  The man I talked to said our flight would arrive in Sydney at 7:00 a.m., an hour and forty minutes earlier than I had told everyone!  There was no way I could contact anyone (yes, kids, this was before instant communication via email and the like).  No one would be there to meet us.

We saw a photo booth and Angie thought she had to try it.  She was confused about what to do, so the first three pictures show the top of her head and the fourth shows a panic-stricken face.  I bought that set.  Cindy and Debbie then helped her get a proper set of pics, which she kept.

The man came with the offset-press part at 6:45. Alan met us at the Birmingham station and took us to the building where he tried out the piece.  He then took us to our room.  The ladies had decided to stay in the next day, so Alan was just going to take me to nearby spots of interest.

Tuesday was my and Jo’s 20th anniversary.  She is the still the best thing that’s happened me, next to the Lord.  I’m afraid though that she didn’t know what she was saying when she vowed, “Whither thou goest, I will go.”

Allan showed up at 12:00 and took me to nearby Lichfield, birthplace of Samuel Johnson, writer of the first Dictionary of the English Language.

We parked in a market place where a number of Christians were martyred or mistreated.

On the return trip to Birmingham, we stopped at an old Roman site.  England is full of these reminders of Roman occupation.

Back in Birmingham, Alan took me to the home of Francis Asbury, “the father of Methodism” in the U.S., who fell out with James O’Kelly.  O’Kelly then started one of the early restoration attempts in the U.S.

I bought some Kentucky Fried Chicken to celebrate our anniversary and Alan took me back to our motel room.  We were leaving for London in the morning, so the rest of the evening was spent getting ready.  We intended to get to bed early but stomachs full of chicken plus excitement about heading back to Australia plus an overly-warm room made it hard to go to sleep.  Five restless people in one small room are too many!

Story Time With Poppy

Just a note to let you know about a new Facebook page: Story Time With Poppy (“Poppy” –  that’s what my grandchildren call me). Here’s the link to that page:  facebook.com/storytimewithpoppy. This page will highlight my writing for children. I would appreciate your checking it out. Thanks!

Europe on 5-10 Nervous Breakdowns a Day (38)

DAYS 44, 45 – SATURDAY & SUNDAY, JUNE 8, 9, 1974 – “WHY DID I PICK SUCH A CONTROVERSIAL SUBJECT?”

On Saturday, I had decided to do some adventuring on our Britrail pass—take off and see Chester and Wigan which are prominent in British restoration history. Jo hadn’t felt well yesterday and the cold weather hadn’t helped, so she decided not to go. Angi stayed with her. Cindy and Debbie weren’t excited by my itinerary, but decided it was better than doing nothing.

We arrived at Wigan about 12:00. I started with the church building on Rodney Street. At one time, this was the largest church of Christ in England. A group of kids were getting ready for a Sunday school outing. Also members from several congregations had gathered for study session, so I had a brief visit with them, including some I had met in Corby.

We caught a train about 2:20 and arrived in Chester around 3:40. After I found what I was looking for, we checked out the city. Chester was originally a Roman city.

Like York, it has walls entirely around the old city—two miles in length, but older than those in York. We walked to where the Roman ruins are.

Among other ruins, an old amphitheater has been partially unearthed plus other ruins.

 

I will use slides of this when teaching Revelation to show the extent of the Roman Empire—how invincible it looked when John wrote Revelation, at a time when the Empire was directing its forces to destroy Christianity.

It was almost 9:00 before we got back to the motel room. Most of the day had bored my poor daughters, but I was fairly happy with what I had accomplished. But the next day was Sunday. I wrote: “I speak three times tomorrow plus answering questions. I hope I’m not too tired.”

Sunday morning, we were up before 8:00. Alan came by to pick us up at 9:15. Classes started at 9:45. I taught a small adult class.

They had rented an overhead projector and painted a wall to use as a screen. During the worship hour, I presented a sermon using transparencies on “No Energy Crisis Here.” (I had decided to capitalize on “hot topics” of the day. This was basically a lesson on the power of the gospel.)

They had a speaker set-up in their building over which they played Scripture readings and religious songs before and after the services. That evening before the service, one of the young men stuck a cassette in the player. When I came into the auditorium, wild secular music was bouncing off the walls. I told the young lad how inappropriate that was. He did not appreciate it.

We had several visitors that night. The movie The Exorcist was another “hot topic” so, using the overhead projector, I spoke on “The Exorcist.” During the question-and-answer session that followed, the unhappy young man peppered me with weird questions. Then two others brought up every strange episode that had made the news (including alleged UFOs). Alan thought it went okay, but I doubt that the visitors were edified and brought closer to the Lord.

Europe on 5-10 Nervous Breakdowns a Day (37)

DAYS 42, 43 – THURSDAY & FRIDAY, JUNE 6, 7, 1974 – “SHAKESPEARE FOR A DOLLAR, ALEX.”

Alan insisted on taking us around Thursday morning. Birmingham is an industrial city, the second largest city in Great Britain—about two million people. There is little to see, but we bought some groceries (we discovered milk that has been zapped so thoroughly [irradiated] that it requires no refrigeration—perfect to keep in our motel room!).

It rained off and on all day, the first rain Birmingham had had in months. As much rain as we’ve had on our travels, we may need to hire out as rainmakers. Maybe it’s because the tired missionary shuffle is so much like an Indian rain dance.

Alan decided he would make our visit “a campaign.” For some reason, he labeled my sermons “Christianity in Australia.”

Thursday evening, I spoke on “The Challenge to Believe in the 20th Century.” Afterward, there was a question-and-answer session (which had also been news to me).

On Friday, the family went to Stratford-Upon-Avon using buses and trains.

We didn’t get there until about 1:30. When we got off the train, we followed the crowd, found the main road, and finally found the information center. It’s a small town so everything is within walking distance.

To Shakespeare’s birthplace.

 

The old buildings are wattle-and-daub. Heavy timbers formed the skeleton. Then the spaces were filled in with interwoven willow branches and finally covered with mud or clay. In more modern times, they have been plastered over.

To a park with a statue of Shakespeare and some of his characters. (In two of the pictures below, Angie is looking at Hamlet and rubbing the belly of Falstaff.)

Nearby was a theatre where “King John” was being performed. Other sites included where Shakespeare went to school and where he is buried.

 

We walked to Anne Hathaway’s cottage (where Shakespeare’s wife lived with her family before she married). It’s a couple of miles out of town.

The cottage was lived in up to sixty years ago. It has a thatched roof, but we saw several occupied houses with that kind of roof. (One thatched roof had a TV antenna—the old meets the new!)

My brother Coy and his wife Sharlotte would have loved this. They are the “theater” and “Shakespearian” people in our family.

We didn’t make it back to our motel room in Birmingham until 9:00. A long day, but we had been to Shakespeare-land!

Europe on 5-10 Nervous Breakdowns a Day (36)

DAYS 39–41 – MONDAY–WEDNESDAY, JUNE 3–5, 1974 – ON THE ROAD AGAIN

On Monday, we were in Edinburgh and Glasgow.  I did some research on the British restoration movement. Other than that, the most exciting thing that happened on day 39 was a game of Rook (Angie won).

On Tuesday, we left Scotland and traveled to Liverpool. It’s about 1¼ million people, third largest city in England. I mainly remember it because of our find-a-place-to-stay episode.

As usual, Debbie and I set forth, leaving the others and our luggage at the station. But the first direction we went had little to choose from. The only hotel that appeared to be in our price range wanted £3.00 for each of us. That would be $37.50 for nothing special.

We headed the other direction. On the other side of the station, we came across a row of scruffy-looking hotels. Interesting dialogues took place inside. Some examples:

Me (after going upstairs to inspect the rooms): “How much?”

Woman, mumbled something about £2.75 each, but then said, “I’ll have ask my husband.”

She calls her husband who is upstairs. When he comes down, she repeats the question.

Man: “£3.00 each.”

Me: “That’s too much. We have already seen rooms twice as good for £3.00.”

I start to leave, but the man looks like he is willing to negotiate. So I say, “We generally pay £2.00 to £2.50 each.”

Woman (horrified look on her face): “I couldn’t even serve breakfast for that price!”

Another place:  I had decided to ask prices before I walked upstairs to look at rooms. Me: “How much?”

Old woman: “Eh?”

Me: “HOW MUCH?”

Woman: “Have you asked anywhere else? . . . How much did they ask?”

Me: “£3.00 . . . BUT THAT WAS TOO MUCH.”

Woman (horrified): “No one along here will put you up for less than £5.50!”

Man standing behind the woman: “HE MEANS APIECE.”

Woman begins to ramble on about how great her rooms are. She totters upstairs with us and shows us a small room with a double bed and a twin bed (the latter unmade). She starts talking business: “You can stay for £2.50 each, including breakfast. That’s £12.50 . . . . On second thought, I won’t charge for the little girl. That’s £10.00 . . . but you will have to pay the V.A.T . . . . No, I’ll pay that myself. £10.00 straight!”

Me: “sounds pretty good, but before I decide, I’d like to see the other room.”

Woman: “What other room?”

I finally did business in another hotel with a slovenly women, probably in her late 40s or early 50s who looked like hard nights had caught up with her. She was unbelievably vague. At one point she said £2.50 for each and at another point wondered whether she should charge for the little girl. Finally, she gave us keys to go up and check the rooms (she didn’t go; said she was bushed). When I came down, I said, “And that will be £10.00?” She looked surprised but nodded and said, “All right.”

It had taken Deb and me more than an hour to find over-night accommodations. All this time our poor family was waiting at the station wondering if we had been shanghaied.

That evening, we went to a movie. This was the first family movie we had found near where we were staying: The Great Race (a “U” rating in Great Britain).

Wednesday morning, my contact in Liverpool, Raymond Hill, met me to take me to places related to the British restoration movement. He is a man in his 50s, distinguished looking with a cultured British voice. He had been a teacher and administrator in a technical college until he went into full-time church work ten years earlier. After lunch at the Hills, Raymond took us to the train station to catch the 3:20 to Birmingham.

As we were getting on the train, a porter ducked under my guard and grabbed my luggage. He helped us find a 2nd class compartment, which I appreciated, so, as he left, I slipped a 10p piece (25¢) into his palm. Except that, after he was gone, Jo asked why I had given him a 50p piece ($1.25!). Sigh.

We got into Birmingham at 5:00ish. My contact was Alan Daniell whom I met at the ACC lectures. When he picked us up, he said I was scheduled to speak to their teachers at 6:30 (first I had heard about it). I spoke on visual aids to seven or eight teachers.

After the session with the teachers, Alan took us to where we would be staying. A nice motel in the northern part of the city. Biggest problem was that it was not near anything we could walk to: shops, train station, etc. But it would do until we left for London. Counting that night, we had slept in eight different cities in nine nights! To say that our family was tired of traveling is an understatement.