No TB...Lots of Music...And Pastor's Day!

I haven’t been exposed to TB! No Pris, that’s not you this time. It’s Tuberculosis. On Tuesday, I had the orientation meeting for Medical Explorers, and I had to get a TB Skin Test. They inject a little bit of the virus under your skin, and if you’ve ever been exposed to it, then your body will have antibodies still roaming around, so the spot where you got the injection will flare up a little bit. Sort of like a poison ivy rash, but just one bump. Well, anyway, I didn’t have it.
I went bike riding with Owen on Saturday. We went 22 miles on the trail. I hadn’t ridden but once in at least a year. I felt really sore afterwards. That night, the PHPHSO performed the Pre-Concert Performance at the Symphony. It was Liz and Joy’s last performance. It actually went fairly well. We had a fairly large crowd listening to us.
The actual Symphony performance was really good. The piano player they had as the guest artist was fairly good, but the piano wasn’t milked, and she got drowned out a lot, so you really couldn’t tell how good she really was. The second half of the performance was one of the 2 best ½ performances I’ve ever been to. They played some music written about the 1001 Tales of the Arabian Nights, by Rimsky-Korsakov. Wow.

One of the songs was totally cool. As soon as it started, I got a picture in my mind, then as the song went on, the picture grew into a tale, the last battle of a war that had gone on for many years. The "good" country was outnumbered in this last battle, yet they had to win, or all would be lost. As they arrayed for battle in a wooded area, trumpets sounded, and over a hill in front of their lines came a massive troop of enemy cavalry. (Here at this point I’ll call the "good" guys: Foodsnogites; and the "bad" guys: Santaites.) The Foodsnogites gave a great cheer to boost their morale as they prepared to withstand a charge. Then from the left came another trumpet sounding, and another troop of Santaite Cavalry came trotting down the hill. Morale in the Foodsnogite’s ranks fell, but they prepared themselves to face the enemy on their left flank and in the center. Again, a trumpet sounded, and a third troop came over a low rise on the Foodsnogite’s right flank. As the Santaites rushed down upon the Foodsnogites, a fourth trumpet sounded, this one a different tone. From behind the Foodsnogites came their reinforcements. Yet it was pitifully small. All day long the battle was fought, the country’s freedom and existence on the line. Against impossibly horrible odds, the Foodsnogites struggled valiantly. The sweat trickled down the tear and bloodstained faces.

As the day drew to a close, the Santaites gathered for one last charge against the Foodsnogites. The Foodsnogites knew that this was their last chance. They rallied together, their numbers piteously few. A peace came over them, and they knew that if they could withstand this charge, then the Santaites would be defeated, having lost too many men. The Santaites charged down upon the group of steadfast men, trying to ride them over. The first two rows of the Foodsnogites knelt with what spears remained pointed towards the Santaites. Behind them, the next two lines stood with whatever sharp weapons were left pointed out. What remaining Archers the Foodsnogites had alive stood behind the line firing the few arrows they had. The first wave of Santaite Cavalry crashed into the spears. The Foodsnogite’s General fell. The line wavered, then stood. Again and again, the Santaites tried to break through the wall of determined men, but in vain. At last, with the final vestiges of sunlight disappearing beneath the horizon, the remaining Santaites wheeled and galloped off the battlefield.

The Foodsnogites slowly relaxed and started to look around them at the carnage. As they walked through the forest, trying to find any survivors, but seeing only dead fellow soldiers lying on the ground, they started to weep. They realized the cost of victory was dear. At last they found the general, lying with an arrow in his chest, and his leg badly mangled and twisted beneath him. He tried to speak, but couldn’t find the breath. The men crowded round, trying to hear what he was saying. "We sure told ‘em, didn’t we?" Noticing the tears on the men’s faces, he spoke once more. "To cry is natural, but don’t let mourning become your life. You’ve won your country’s freedom, now what will you do with your Country?" His voice slipped off into a mumble, then he sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes and drawing his last breath. As the men buried their dead, they thought about what their General had said.
Very sad, but yet with a strange sense of wonderful Victory. They had preserved their nation, although at great cost to themselves.

Okay, I’ve got that out of my system now. We had some pretty cool lightening last night. I tried taking some pictures of it. Have you ever tried to take pictures of lightening with a slow digital camera? It’s really hard to do. But I got a couple of cool shots, with a little bit of lightening in them.

So, yesterday, the Mayor of S- declared Sunday, September 30, to be Billy H. B- Day. Billy is my pastor. He just recently stepped down from the senior pastor position at our church, and now holds the title: Pastor Emeritus. Yesterday was his Birthday, and also his 50-year anniversary for serving in the ministry. So we had a big shindig at our church. When Pastor came into the service (of course we made sure he got there late, so everyone else was already there, ready to cheer when he came in), the drummer played some sort of drum roll/cool intro beat, and then the brass section of our praise and worship team played "Hail to the Chief."

Did you know it used to be against the law in Kansas to serve Ice Cream on Cherry Pie?