Would you believe I recently went frog hunting in the middle of the night? In a rural area using septic tanks, it's not uncommon to find a tiny frog using the toilet bowl for a swimming pool. Usually, they can't climb the sides and are easy to catch. This little guy was apparently more dexterous. I first saw him, out of the corner of my eye, at bedtime. He had partially climbed the bathroom wall and I made a futile attempt to catch him. I hoped I'd eventually succeed before Fraulein spotted him, as I didn't want to be a helpless witness to any feline safari. When I got up in the middle of the night to answer Nature's call, I turned the bathroom light on and saw the mini-frog perched on the edge of the toilet bowl. It was easy to catch him there and I carried him, squirming mightily in my closed hand, to the back door. When I opened my hand he clung fiercely to a finger, not wanting to let go. I wasn't very optimistic about his future but it was certainly better odds than being loose in the house. I'm really not sure Fraulein would have been a threat. She majors in sleeping, eating, lap-sitting and welcoming visitors. However, what she does, she does well.

We had some big time excitement for our little town. It was especially big for me as it happened over my fence. Since our property was declared a commercial zone when the town incorporated, I have a variety of neighbors. Adjoining my place on one side is a storage yard for trucks and other heavy equipment. That evening, I heard fire sirens, but that's not uncommon as we live on a busy street between two fire districts. Then Save (not sure of the spelling, but it's pronounced Sah'vey), the Fijian caregiver for the neighbor on the other side of my lot, rang the doorbell and pointed to our truck/storage neighbor where an impressive ball of fire was rising above the intervening oak trees. Then I heard the first explosion of propane tanks. Save offered help, should I need it. Next, the neighbor further up the road came running to see if I was O.K., soon followed by Tracy and Ashleigh from our church, who had seen the fire from town and were checking on me. The neighbors from across the street joined the fire watchers, as well as Robert who had been in Auburn. What a heart warming experience to have all that concern on my behalf. The fire, which destroyed several trucks and a mobile home, took an hour to extinguish. It was considerate, however, sending the dense black smoke from burning tires high over my place headed toward the hills. There wasn't even a lingering smoky odor. Through all of this, Colleen was on her way home to Folsom. She looked in her rear view mirror and noted there was a big fire "somewhere." Colleen, like me, is directionally deprived. Had Ed been with her, he would have known exactly where it was.

When I send the Email copies of 2nd Wind, the mailing list is in three sections. Last month I had a problem sending the first list (A thru Jakel). I, being electronically challenged, sent a blank page twice before I succeeded in getting the August copy on its way. I learned that is one way to get letters from my readers. Nephew Steven wrote, "the third time's a charm they say ... when I first looked at my email and saw three 2nd winds, I thought '... my goodness... must be hurricane season'." His brother, Larry, after receiving the first dud, commented that he didn't care for the new format: white electronics on white.

There were quite a few shared memories of homemade root beer. I was most amused at Alice Herman's. "Mother used to put the root beer into just plain canning jars; we never were grand enough for bottles with corks. One summer it got warmer than we anticipated, only before ours blew (like your batch) my Dad discovered it really did have quite a kick to it. Unfortunately he made the mistake of mentioning it to my Mother. I can still remember her standing at the sink righteously pouring bottle after bottle down the drain with the Carrie Nation expression on her face.  And my Dad saying, 'Now, Ethel, couldn't we maybe save just a few bottles?'  Poor man, licked before he got started."

We have a new church pianist. Her name is Chi-Hsin. I'm not sure of the pronunciation, but it looks to me like "She Sin". I asked Sarge, a minister friend, if it was appropriate to have a church pianist with that name…in jest, of course. Sarge replied that he thought she would be right at home among all the rest of us. Sarge, who celebrates his 85th birthday this month, knows human nature.

Sometimes, parts of 2nd Wind are written at inappropriate times; the middle of a restless night or interrupting a monotonous "must" task. My brain is like the root beer. When it erupts, it has to find an outlet. If I have an idea and let it fizz out, it never returns intact.

HAPPY 32ND BIRTHDAY TO 2ND WIND, and I hope I hear a few "And many mo-o-o-re's."

            Love,    Darlys

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    A minister decided a visual demonstration would add emphasis to his Sunday sermon. Four worms were placed into four separate jars. The first worm was put into a container of alcohol. The second worm was put into a container of cigarette smoke. The third worm was put into a container of chocolate syrup. The fourth worm was put into a container of good clean soil. At the conclusion of the sermon, the Minister reported the following results: The first worm in alcohol - Dead. The second worm in cigarette smoke - Dead. Third worm in chocolate syrup - Dead. Fourth worm in good clean soil - Alive. So the Minister asked the congregation - What can you learn from this demonstration? A little old woman in the back quickly raised her hand and said, "As long as you drink, smoke and eat chocolate, you won't have worms!

(If you have Email. you've probably seen this one. I add it for the many readers who aren't on-line. It's too good for them to miss.)
    Little Freddy was walking down a dirt road after church one Sunday afternoon when he came to a crossroads where he met small Susie coming from the other direction. She said, "Hello," He answered, "Hi. Where ya goin'?" Susie replied, "I'm going home from Sunday School" Said Freddy," I'm goin' home from church. Which church do you go to?" Susie answered, "I go to the Baptist church back down the road. What about you?" "I go to the Catholic church back at the top of the hill," answered Freddy. They discovered they were both headed the same way so they started walking together. They came to a low spot where spring rains had partially flooded the road so there was no way that they could get across to the other side without getting wet. "If I get my new Sunday dress wet my Mom'll be really mad." said the little girl. Freddy agreed, "My Mom'll tan my hide if I get my new suit wet." Then Susie said, " Guess we could pull off our clothes and hold them over our heads while we wade across." Freddy nodded in agreement So they both undressed and waded across to the other side without getting their clothes wet. They were standing there in the sun waiting to drip dry before putting their clothes back on when Freddy finally remarked, "You know, I never realized before how much difference there is between a Baptist and a Catholic."

    At one point during a game, the coach called one of his 10-year-old football players aside and asked, "Do you understand what cooperation is? What a team is?" The little boy nodded in the affirmative. "Do you understand that what matters is not whether we win or lose, but how we play together as a team?" The little boy nodded yes. "So," the coach continued, "I'm sure you know, when a penalty is called you shouldn't argue, curse, attack the referee, or call him a blind dumbbell. Do you understand all that?" Again the little boy nodded. The coach continued, "And when I call you off the field so that another boy gets a chance to play, it's not good sportsmanship to call your coach a lame-brained dunce?'' Again the little boy nodded. "Good," said the coach. "Now go over there and explain all that to your mother."

(Don't delete the following because it looks weird. Believe it or not you can read it. Apologies to those of you for which English is a second language.)
    I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg, The Phaonmneal Pweor of the Hmuan Mnid Aoccdrnig to rscheearch taem at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in awrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Such a cdonition is arppoiately cllaed Typoglycemia. Amzanig huh? Yaeh and yuo awlyas thought slpeling was ipmorantt.

(I've heard versions of this as long as I can remember, but it's worth repetition.)
    Luella, the church gossip, and self-appointed monitor of the church's morals, kept sticking her nose into other people's business. Several members did not approve of her extra curricular activities, but feared her enough to maintain their silence. She made a mistake, however, when she accused George, a new member, of being an alcoholic after she saw his old pickup parked in front of the town's only bar one afternoon. She emphatically told George and several others that everyone seeing it there would know what he was doing. George, a man of few words, stared at her for a moment and just turned and walked away. He didn't explain, defend, or deny. He said nothing. Later that evening, George quietly parked his pickup in front of Luella's house...walked home....and left it there all night. (Reminds me of my George.)

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9/5/2005 Postscript:
    Alice writes the captions above each month's 2nd Wind.
    This month's "Neither Hell nor High Water" is all too appropriate considering the problems brought on by Hurricane Katrina. If you believe in a God, now is the time to pray for the victims and survivors, as well as to unselfishly offer anything you can in funds and talent. If you do not believe in a higher power, then it's all the more important we do our share, because it would all be up to us.
    I have had it with all the finger pointing. I don't believe the response would have been any different regardless of who was in the White House. Face it! We were complacent and unprepared, and no doubt have been for all the years since those levees were built. Nor do I believe the response had anything to do with race. We simply weren't ready. Let's all grow up, stop passing the buck and learn to be less self-absorbed. The best advice for this situation is over 2000 years old: "Love thy neighbor as thyself," and that great teacher wasn't referring to just the family next door.
    So ends the gospel, according to Darlys.