Guitar Restoration

I was leaving work one day about 12 or so years ago and on the way I came across a sign for a Garage Sale, so I stopped. Near the end of the driveway as I was leaving I saw a guitar case. I lifted the lid a little and saw an old guitar with no strings, it was missing a front pickup, and no apparent means to attach the strings to the guitar body. "If you want it you can have it" a guy sitting near the edge of the garage door spoke out. I stared at it for a moment; all of my "junk genes" were screaming at me to pick it up. Trying not to look like a scavenger I picked it up and put it in my car.

Convinced that I was never going to use this for more than a wall decoration or a door stop I put it under the bed for a few years. I then placed it in the bedroom closet for a few more years, then into the basement after that. I thought that perhaps other guitar players might be interested (not so much interest) but honestly it was not much to look at and the idea of it ever being used again seemed unlikely.

I was cleaning in the basement looking for some cassette tapes...(I know I am hopeless). I was looking for a particular Christmas tape downstairs in the closet and there it was, the case that held the old guitar. I pulled it down and looked at it and wondered if it would ever hold tune again, if not maybe I could hang it on the wall in my office downstairs and just look at it. I am not much for having things around that just don't work anymore if I determine it is worthless I will toss it out. I just wasn't sure about this guitar.

I thought I would take it to the guitar shop and get a professional opinion, he never really touched it or expressed much interest and said he would give me $20 for it. If I bought a new guitar from him he would give me $40. I thought for 40 dollars I would just hang it on the wall and tell my lame old story about the junk guitar and the rummage sale.

Still not convinced that it was junk I looked up the guitar on the internet to look for parts...I was very pleasantly surprised...(the story will unfold).

Lucky Me

I am not sure who has ever played in the lottery but as of today the jackpot is over $500,000,000. That is over a half a billion dollars. I asked a cashier at a gas station near Shiocton, WI if people were buying lottery tickets and she replied that the machines have been humming. Well the winning numbers will be picked tonight and someones dreams may come true.

I had a certain something happen to me the other day that proved to me that I am in fact I am a "lucky" guy. I am not sure I believe in what everyone seems to view as luck; but if I did I would have gone right out and bought myself a lottery ticket.  I recently purchased a new gas grill for...grilling I guess...anyway as I was putting the grill together I opened a bag that contained the ignitor switch and the battery that would provide the power for the ignitor to spark. I know it all sounds complicated but when I push a button I hear a click and then a whoosh and then the grill is lit.

So as I am about to slip the battery into the ignitor case I noticed that the battery had a unique name brand label; the label had three large sevens on it. Wow my first thought was this is gonna be a great grill, my second thought was that today might be a good day to get a lottery ticket. Now please bear in mind I have never purchased a ticket. If I had done so I would likely have done it wrong, and all my earnings would have gone to someone else. I decided to save my money and apply it toward the purchase of a gas tank and gas; which nearly requires a loan from the bank...or winning the lottery...what was I thinking?

A Giant Thank You To The Choir

Sis. Anna Julson and the Lighthouse Choir. Very powerful singers.

Life is full of choices and changes. Recently my life had a major change; I left the only church that I have ever called home, and now go to church in a city about 45 minutes away. I was a minister at Lighthouse Pentecostal Church in Wausau, and now I am an Assistant Pastor (again, but this time) at Riverside Apostolic Church in Marshfield. There was an opportunity to pastor in a city about an hour north of here, but I had to follow my heart, so I am at Riverside.

I had been going to church in Wausau for literally almost my entire life over 40 years at least. I have led worship, given sermons and Wednesday night Bible studies, taught home Bibles studies, served on the church board a few times, taught Sunday school, and nearly every other thing a person could do to serve in a church. One thing I really, really enjoyed about church was singing in the choir, I was the oldest member and the most out of shape but I love to sing.

So when I left the choir all of the members gave me a love offering as a goodbye gift. It was a sacrifice of love and I truly appreciate, and will always remember the choir.

The other day I went into the music store to get some picks and one of those wall hangers for my guitar to keep it off the floor and out of harms way; when I saw "it". I walked up to this beautiful guitar and I knew I wanted it. Without picking it up I gently strummed the stings with one of my finger nails while it hung there, to hear if it had a bright sound; and it did. It sang to me. I made my other purchases and quickly walked out of the store, I did not need to raid my savings account or take on credit card debt so I left. I ran away from the temptation.

But after I was on the other side of town I realized that this would be the perfect way to spend my gift from the choir. Every time I would play my new guitar I would know exactly how I got it, and the sacrifices that others made for me to have it. The guitar was on sale (in a big way) so it turned out perfect.

A giant thank you to the choir; you are amazing and very generous.

A Really Fine...Beer

Yes this month we are celebrating Root Beer with a recipe from our Peanuts cook book. If you simply follow the recipe you could be basking in the glow of a warm summer afternoon, and refreshing yourself with a fancy glass of root beer that has an exotic little cherry that has the potential to make you feel like one of the rich and famous. Oh snap!

I remember the rather short summers with the long afternoons; I never had a video game system like my kids; not even a Vic-20. Remember those old Commodore Vic-20, and C64 computers that had the game cartridges to play games or else you had to have the little cassette player to load a game and if you had all day you could program the computer by keyboard in C64 basic language? The C64 had the fancy disk drive with floppy disk that allowed you to load games with fancy graphics like Tank or Pong.

I got all of that cool stuff for my kids, They were spoiled!!!

( I walked to school uphill for...you get the picture)

My preferred choices of summertime fun were the swimming pool, climbing a tree, going fishing, or riding a bike. Pretty simple lifestyle really. Oh, and lets not forget, I never had a care in the world; my parents did all the worrying for me, I had wonderful dad, and have precious mother. Truly a wonderful childhood.


But a recipe like this could have made the good old days even better. Give it a try. After all Snoopy dreamed about it.

Victorious Over Fear

In 1964 President Eisenhower went to visit Winston Churchill; Mr Churchill the former Prime Minister was dying. The former President Eisenhower sat next to the bed of the dying man for a long time remembering his fearless leadership. Great Britain's bold leader was never taken hostage by fear, even in the face of almost certain defeat by the German war machine. While lying on his bed Churchill laboriously managed to raise his hand and flash the victory symbol to Eisenhower, the same symbol that had given courage to his countrymen during the very difficult years of World War II; that symbol of victory was the sign of faith over fear. Eisenhower holding back tears rose to his feet stood at attention and saluted the former Prime Minister and left the room.

Life is full of difficulties but we do not have to be imprisoned by fear. Never give up, keep moving forward one step, one day, one trial, and ultimately one victory at a time.

When you walk to the edge of all the light you have, and take the first step into the darkness of the unknown, you must believe that one of two things will happen:

There will be something solid to stand upon, or you will be taught how to fly.

                                                             Patrick Overton, Author of "Rebuilding the Front Porch Of America"

Car Poop The Pedestrian Predicament

The other day Mary and I were in the car with my grand-daughter Olivia. We were sitting in a parking lot when she noticed a rather disturbing event; she blurted out "That car just pooped". I knew right away what she meant but Mary was a little slower; I laughed, but Olivia only giggled a little and looked at me for an explanation. I told her that it was only a chunk of ice that fell off the car, it wasn't really poop. She seemed very relieved and we all laughed together. Too funny.

My Crandon Breakfast (a tribute to Grandma and Grandpa Kincaid)

My Grandma and Grandpa Kincaid lived in Crandon Wisconsin; what sweet people and wonderful memories.

I did something this morning I hardly ever do; I pan fried bacon. It is not that I never do it it just happens so seldom around here, generally my wife who loves bacon, will fry some or microwave some and eat but we usually don't buy it. My daughter in law Leah works at Nueskes and will gift us some every once in a while. Bacon is sort of a Mary thing, don't get me wrong I like it but not enough to buy very much of it.

Love Birds

Last week I was making some meat loaf for some older friends from church who are not well, and I bought bacon. I checked the freezer and we had some in a small bag but I thought I might need more to wrap around the loaf with, so bought a package of bacon, and never used it. Well this morning I found the bacon and fried up the package, and when I was done the pan had bacon grease and some bacon scraps in the pan so I thought I would fry some eggs. As I am frying them I thought of Grandma and Grandpa Kincaid and all of those mornings she would fry up bacon and then fry up some eggs for me. We would go up on weekends and stay at the Jennie house; it was a house that my parents bought from Al Gish (??? or Greskusky???, I am sure I got that wrong) Jenny (his mom???) used to live there and I think she died there as well; there are a lot of ghost stories about that house. Well anyway I was always up first, so I would walk across the yard between the two houses. As a pre-teen it was exciting to get grandma and grandpa all to myself; it would be very exciting now to spend time with them...someday on a beautiful heavenly morning.

Grandmas and Grandpas house in Crandon...it's gone now.

Grandma would fry the bacon, and then, fry the eggs, that way you would get eggs that were sort of dirty looking. It seemed they just tasted better that way. Grandpa would start talking about politics and religion; the two things that got him most fired up. The bad guys were the Republicans and the Pope. Too funny, I can almost hear it all as I write. Any way my Crandon breakfast consisted of bacon, dirty bacon grease eggs (with just a little crusty brown ring around the edges because the pan was too hot...just like grandma), coffee, and toast. Some of the toast for sopping up the yolk and some for the open faced toasted egg sandwich (because egg whites all by themselves are sort of boring) and one more slice for toast and jelly as dessert. It was awesome.

Not Loving Me Back

Here it is the day after Thanksgiving the day I love best (pretty much), but it is not loving me back...ugh. Honest, I did not go crazy, just a little stupid. I woke up in the night, and popped some Tums and drank some aloe juice and went back to bed; Thanksgiving was not loving me back. But I did totally enjoy "Turkey Whatchmacallit" for lunch...yum. I am grateful and thankful for feeling better...yes, yes I am.

Erethizon Dorsatum...The Misunderstood Rodant

I know we have seen pictures or heard stories about the dogs that have taken on the porcupine and lost, the poor animal has a muzzle full of quills and will no doubt be yelping until the quills are extracted. Many times the porcupine is branded as a cruel monster, but in reality they are pretty quiet and mind there own business.


Anyone who takes on the porcupine in a tussle loses, from bears to berry bushes everyone comes up a loser, except one; the fisher (no it is not a man with tackle box). A fisher is a fairly large weasel who is able to attack the nose and face of the porcupine and inflict fatal damage. If a porcupine ever finds himself needing to defend himself, he will remain still and turn his back and tail toward the danger the enemy poses. He will raise up his bristles and his quill studded tail to protect himself and his tender belly and underside with up to 30,000 barbed quills. Now that is a lot of pain; poor puppy...(i'll bet you never do that again). One morning my dad and I were bird hunting near Sugar Bush Hill in Forest County and came across a porcupine, and he did exactly what I described; we ran up to him and the quills began to spread and raise. My dad then touched his tail and back with the gun barrel and you could really see how the blanket of quills on his back would rise and fall in each area that the gun barrel touched as he was trying to defend himself. Truly a wonder of creation. 


This photo was taken in Forest County just west of Crandon. This porcupine was foraging for food in the fall and did not seem to be alarmed or threatened by me taking his picture. Porcupines like most other rodents are vegetarian so they eat bark, bushes, needles and buds They are sloppy eaters so if you are ever walking in the woods and see chips and shavings under a tree it could be that a porcupine was upstairs having lunch. 


With winter upon us the places that they live in are easy to find. Porcupines live in small caves and hollow trees and logs, they always travel the same trail, so there will be a path in the snow, and the scat will smell like concentrated urine. 


Happy Thanksgiving! I am thankful for porcupines, and the fact that I have I have never had a face full of quills.

Honkey Man (revisited)

Last night after I had fallen to sleep I heard this soft but slowly swelling sound interrupting my sleep; it was after midnight. The car horn! I jumped up ran out to the garage and gave the steering wheel a jerk and the sound stopped. So I went back to bed and really hoped that it would not happen again, after all I have been driving the car for days and not one beep. I was awakened again by my wife telling me it was happening again, but even before she spoke I could hear the droning of the car horn slowly building to a scream as I was being dragged from a restless sleep by the sound; for crying out loud it is after 3 AM.

So with a little encouragement I took matters into my own hands and fixed my car today. It was cold so I used my heater to warm up the garage. I unplugged the SRS airbag fuse, no deployment, so waited to work up more courage. I took a star tipped screwdriver and loosened the screws (there was quite a bit of horn honking while I did this) and removed the airbag unit. The quarter was lodged all right but I got it out. No more warm fuzzy nostalgia for me. I put everything back together and it all turned out fine, so I replaced the fuse and turned on the ignition and the airbag light went off. Now the car is fixed. Mary is happy, which makes my life a little more manageable, and I wont need to give the mechanic $130.00 after all, so I am happy as well.

Honkey Man

The craziest thing happened to me yesterday. I was sitting in my car while I was waiting for Mary to go inside the school to get our grand-daughter from pre-school. I get sort of restless waiting in situations like that so I decided that I was going to sort through the change that I keep in my cup holder; a little boring maybe but safe, or so I thought.

First I started looking for wheat pennies, and found none. Then I started checking for the dates on nickels, dimes and quarters, and really found nothing very interesting except for a 1978 quarter. I got a little nostalgic as I recalled a few of the things that happened that year; 1978 was the year that I got married to my first (and current) wife, Mary. So I slid the quarter into the crack between the steering wheel and the part of the steering wheel that actually honks the horn; a perfect fit...NOT. The quarter slipped down in inside the steering wheel and it makes noise when I drive: no big deal right...NOT.

I went to Wal-Mart after we picked up Olivia but on the way we stopped at a stop light and you guessed, the horn started to honk; loud and long. I could not get it to stop until I turned the wheel to make the turn. So I got on the interstate and was headed to Wal-Mart, at least the horn stopped blowing. As I was pulling into the parking lot there was a little confusion (there always is at Wal-Mart) as to who was turning where and who had the right of way, but no big deal, until my horn went off again. Loud and extra long.

I am slapping the steering wheel trying to get the horn to stop, while motioning to other drivers that something was wrong with my car, and hoping at the same time that I would not activate the air bag and ruin my otherwise handsome face with a broken nose. I parked the car, the horn shut off and went into the store. All the way home it honked whenever it felt like honking; Help me Jesus!

It still is not fixed and the horn still goes off at times when you turn the wheel, and the dealership said it would only cost about $130.00 to fix; all because I wanted to save a quarter.

I am glad that summer is done, I would not want to be stopped at a stop sign behind a motorcycle gang, and have the horn go off.

Assinins, MI and the Indian Cemetary

This 1881 orphanage complex, now in ruins, once housed 900 orphans and other children whose parents could not support them. Only about half were Indians.

A photo we took at the cemetary

Assinins was the last mission Father Frederic Baraga, the "snowshoe priest" from Slovenia, established before becoming bishop of the Upper Peninsula. He came here in 1843 and used the mission he built as a base for missionary work elsewhere on the Keweenaw Peninsula, often reached by snowshoeing.

Father Baraga came to the area at the request of Chief Assinins, who was the first to be baptized here. The little school here was built under Father Baraga's direction; the nails used seem to be the ones he arranged to get from Europe. The partly rebuilt school was one element of what The school was the first element of what became an extensive mission center. Its biggest building was an orphanage, more benign and not so destructive to Indian children's sense of themselves and their culture as some, to hear local people talk about it. Many orphanage children were non-Indians, too. If one parent died, the other might have to leave the children at an orphanage for extended periods of time while the parent worked elsewhere.

Today Assinins consists of some homes and the cemetery along the high road that parallels U.S. 41, the mission school, the Most Holy Name of Jesus Church, and a former convent that serves as its parish hall. Mass is at 6 p.m. Saturday and 11:30 a.m. Sunday. A crucifix and white statues of Father Baraga and an Ojibwa man and girl can be seen from the highway.

Orphanage photo and story are from "Hunts' Guide to Michigan's Upper Peninsula".      http://hunts-upguide.com/assinins.html

The Glacial Plain "Nessie"

Here is a photo that I took on the Wisconsin River in Portage County, just west of the interstate. I was at a boat landing under the new Hwy. 10 overpass when I saw what I thought was a piece of shredded rubber from a tire. But it just didn't look right so I started walking over to get a better look, the closer I got the funnier it looked. I was not in my "stealthy, sneak up on something" mode so I was just walking normally, when what I thought was rubber began to move.

It all happened very fast, it moved slightly at first and then bolted toward the water. My camera was in my hand so I started snapping pictures. I am guessing that the snake was about 3 ft maybe. At that moment I was not sure what it was. After I got home and cropped the picture It was plain to see that It was a snake. I am still not certain what kind of snake it is. Perhaps the Wisconsin River has it's own "Nessie".

A New Photo of my Dad

I found a photo of my Dad I had never seen before. The photo was actually published in a small newspaper produced on an Indian Reservation up north. I never knew this photo existed; it is a newspaper scan so it is not very clear, and the captions speak for themselves. My Dad and my aunt Ruth are on the far left. I knew that he was a student at an Indian school but did not know he was a dancer. He later graduated from the Crandon High School where he was Class Vice President and Valedictorian.

I miss you Dad.

Bob Played the Bagpipe

The other day Mary and I were in Manitowoc, and decided to stop by the lake, take in the view, and enjoy some fresh air. It was a beautiful day; the sky was clear and the temperature was in the low 60s; it was a beautiful day to slack off. We stopped at a lakeside scenic overlook, rolled down the windows and turned off the car. It was at that moment I heard the sound that is the brunt of comedy sketches; but I loved it. I love live entertainment. Bob was playing the bagpipe. This was live music and he was the real deal.

One of the only other vehicles in the parking lot was a semi-tractor and trailer; I thought to myself this is so crazy, a bag pipe playing, over the road truck driver. I took some pictures from a distance but as I listened to Bob, the bagpipe playing trucker, I knew I wanted to hear his story. So I walked over and struck up a conversation. He was a great guy, taking his lunch break.

One day Bob was invited to a chili dinner by a neighbor who was part of a group of Irish bagpipers. Bob was very interested that first year and loved the music, being Irish himself he thought it struck a chord inside. When the invitation came again for the annual event, he accepted and took a deeper interest. When lessons came up during the dinner as a possibility, Bob jumped at the opportunity. The instructor told Bob that it might take two years to get "good" at the bagpipe; but after seven months Bob was already passing up his teacher.

Bob has been playing now for a little over two years now and is in a Bagpipe marching band that has it's home in Milwaukee (somewhere). The band will be playing and marching in Door County in a little town called Fish Creek (I think) on the 17th of October. When they are done with the parade route they will very likely continue marching until they find a local pub.

Bob showed me how the bagpipe works; all 4 of the reed locations, where and how to tune a bagpipe, and how to inflate and deflate the bag. When you practice you do not need to play the bag, you can practice with a finger piece that makes a sound all by itself; it is much less distracting to the neighbors than playing the whole instrument.

 I know that I am a nerdy sort of person, but I was fascinated and amazed that this guy would take up bagpiping after he was 50 something years old. I was inspired by Bob. Bob has a neighbor who also plays the bagpipe, but not in the same band that Bob plays in however. Can you believe that there is more than one band of bagpipers in the same city? Bob is an Irish bagpiper; but there are others that are Scottish bagpipers; that is so cool. But I never knew. I am sure there are lots of things I don't know...I don't know what they are, yet, but I am sure they are out there, and I am going to find out what it is that I don't know. Know what I mean?

Bob Rocks on the Bagpipe!

Suits On A Mission

Nick, Ben, Dave, Seth, Dan, Tim, Tim Sr.

Our fearless leader Dan, he even looks fearless

Dave, Nick, Dan, Ben, Tim, Tim, and Seth (L to R)

A couple of weeks ago some men from church rode from Wausau to Green Bay on the Mountain Bay Trail. It was the 2nd year that Lighthouse raised monies for Sheaves For Christ; this year $1700 was raised in pledges and donations. Sheaves For Christ is a means by which youth groups across the country raise money for missionaries and ministries overseas, as well ministries right here in the good old U.S of A.

The concept of Suits on a mission came up as sort of a dare between two guys in church. Dan had determined that he was going to ride the trail for SFC, and another brother dared Dan to ride the trail in a suit and in less than 8 hours for $500. The Mountain Bay Trail is about 85 miles long and nicely kept but that meant a speed of at least 10mph for the entire trip which really is much harder than it might seem, because you need to take a break. So Suits on a Mission was birthed out of a challenge. Dan did ride the trail last year with a few minutes to spare, but this year it took a little longer; about 3 hours longer.

Seth came with the "whole armor of God" including sword, as his suit. Seth wore his sword and rode his own bike until they all got to Hatley at which point he was stripped of both; he also deserved a gold medal for riding the worst bikes on the trail and still making it the whole trip; he just would not give up. Dan and Ben dressed a little more traditionally wearing honest to goodness suits. Nick and Dave are pro bike riders they set the pace and left the others in the dust...by hours. Tim and Ben have been riding all summer and were up for the challenge and did great. Tim did ask his dad if he would like to ride and Tim Sr. accepted the challenge making the trip look possible for other 50+ year old guys like me.

Great job guys.

A. I. M. P. Ants In My Pants

Range Line Road

We have had a very rainy past couple of days in central Wisconsin; yesterday it rained over 3 inches by us, and up to several inches in other areas to the west of us. So much so, that they called off area schools to our west. Mary and I went for a ride this afternoon and thought we would go down to a couple of large ponds where we like to go birding south of where we live. We drove down and discovered that the small streams were swollen and overflowing into the woods. Some of the gravel roads had been under water and badly deteriorated.

We went to the first pond on Smokey Hill Road, approaching from the south and discovered that the road was covered with water and the wind had blown some "stuff onto the road; it looked too dangerous to proceed so we turned around and went back the way we came. The second pond was on Range Line Road as we headed north we saw the sign indicating the road was closed; we figured as much but we just wanted to check it out and take some pics with the phone; my camera was at home. So we turned the car around.

As I was maneuvering a turn around Mary asked what that black stuff was on the water. I parked the car and got out . The substance was sort of spongy looking, black, and sort of oily or something weird like that. I looked closely so as not to get my feet wet and discovered that they were ants; thousands of them, maybe millions, it made my skin crawl. Mary got out of the car looked and was a little disturbed by them as well so she jumped back into the car; but I wanted to look around a little more. I took a couple of pictures; oh yeah I saw a small fire snake as well and took it's pic.

This was only one of the clusters of tiny black ants.

All of the sudden my leg felt itchy, and I scratched it. When I looked down at my pants there were hundreds of ants crawling up my pant legs looking for higher ground. I slapped my pant legs and brushed all of the ants off and started to walk away from them, but when I looked down again there were dozens more crawling up my pant legs. I frantically slapped them off. By now I am getting a little terror stricken. I wanted to scream like a little girl but held back the urge, then I realized where they were coming from;

THEY ARE CRAWLING OUT OF MY SHOES; OH GOD SAVE ME!

So what happened next was kind of embarrassing. I kicked off my shoes and shook out the ants; I looked down the road, a couple cars were approaching, but were still a little ways down the road so did what any self-respecting panic stricken person would do. I took off my pants on the road shook out all of the ants and tried to get my trousers back on before I was arrested for being indecent; (we did have a police car pull over and turn around after we passed him on the way home; he followed us for about 5 minutes) I threw my shows down hard on the road and scratched around inside my shoes until I was sure all of the ants were out and put them back on, got into the car, and sped away as the two vehicles came near.

 I was attacked by the Empire of the Ants. MOMMY!