As American as Apple Pie

We Love NYC.

This Macy's Parade feels a tad different because we walked up and down Broadway last summer, marveling at the crowds, the buildings and the pulsing of life in the Big Apple.

Was blown away by Taylor Swifts performance of Welcome to New York, seriously catching tune and words. Is she charmed or what?

I am sixty four and nearing one half. Running the numbers of an eventual semi retirement. About to celebrate 25 years living in the Phoenix east Valley. I dreamt of planting churches, and I did, and dreamt of owning a home with our own name on the contract, and we have owned three and have somehow miraculously made near 300 straight house payments on those three homes. We really enjoy our current home of 11 years with our new kitchen, tile all over the house, and a new master bath.

Somehow we have saved money, somehow Laura is approaching a semi decent pension, and the most iffy of them all, perhaps we will collect some social security, though its been shoveled to lots of people for lots of reasons. We hope so.

Health is good, but the big question mark? How long do I have, is not far from my planning.

What I love about the corny American celebration of the Macy's parade is the fact that a new group of teens gets to march, sing and perform each year and we celebrate our memories, our myths, and our music.

I love my tiny family. I love my wife. I love all the stuff she is cooking. A whole turkey this year, the annual southern corn bread dressing, the broccoli salad, a fruity dessert, shoe peg corn cassarole.

Thank you Creator and Redeemer that my faith is still alive and has taken on such an earthy and real character since my days of theological purity and fussing have melted into the goodness of an undeserved and passionate acceptance by the Father.

Have a great day, you dear family, you few and faithful readers of my six plus year old Not Whistling Dixie.