Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 23, 2006
The History Of Portland's Processed Meat Industry According to a Considerably Ignorant Historian
There is potential here for some confusion. This is a work of complete fiction. It was a writing assignment for my small group writing class. The names of the characters in this work have not been changed since they probably don't exist anyway.
It would be cool if they did though.
The Seattle Sausage Eatery is conveniently located next to the Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital & Medical Center in downtown Portland, Oregon. The diner is considered by many to be a historical and political landmark as much as it is a "quality eating establishment."
Being misunderstood as a Seattle-based chain the owner of the diner can often be overheard explaining to inquisitive patrons that, “no we aren't’ a chain and no we aren’t based out of Seattle.” What the owner categorically fails to mention is why the diner has Seattle in the name at all. It's possible that the owner's abrupt reply inhibits further investigation but the answer to that question has yet to be acquired. It's been said that even the owner’s closest friends have failed to pry any light on the subject from his odd disposition of secrecy.
Regardless of any mystery that has surrounded this ill-named diner in the past it remains to be the lunch hour hot spot for some of Portland’s finest doctors, nurses & blue wristband wearing patience.
It has often been stated that should anyone ever experience the mildest symptoms of a flu, cold or fever and didn’t want to go through all the fuss of scheduling an appointment, one could simply walk into the Seattle Sausage and casually mention, while waiting to be seated, any or all symptoms that happened to ail them and they would promptly receive a quick physical, a prescription, an ear full of advice and a hot dog while they waited for their physician to complete his or her lunch diner assessment.
It has been rumored that the minimum employee requirement at the diner is a PHD from no particular medical center in the country, but preferably one on the east coast, and should the need arise, any given bus boy could perform CPR, the Heimlich and deliver a child all while prepping the next table for another sausage loving patron to occupy.
In addition to it’s presumably untouchable polish sausage, the average Portlander is well acquainted with the fact that the Seattle Sausage is home to the “legendary” Piping Pickle Platter. It’s reputation solidified by the words of Slew Himmerman, the acclaimed Portland Herald food critic, as being “the best damn pickle platter I have ever tasted in my entire life.”
The weight of such appraisal was cemented in the readers minds based on rumors that Slew made his assessment in the middle of some financially difficult times, an encounter with a late blooming chicken pocks episode and a relationship with his wife that was characterized by a never ending notion of contempt giving their marriage the same type of feel you might find in the relationship a tax evading citizen would have with an IRS agent that showed up at his doorstep on a Sunday afternoon. In fact they say, at the time of the tasting, that after cramming the remains of the pickle platter into his mouth, Slew rushed home to proclaim to a confused and, no doubt, embarrassed wife that he had found a “new love in his life” and that his mistress was green, short and stubby and came in his choice of simmering sauce.
From that moment on the Seattle Sausage's fate was sealed in stone. Over the course of the next 14 years from 1977 to 1991 the Seattle Sausage Eatery played a role in the mounting and execution of, what a newspaper columnist would later describe as, “pivotal events in Portland’s meat loving history.” From the birthing of the “healthy processed meat initiative” that was a response to the growing health food craze descriptive of the early 90s to the increasingly volatile state of the Polish and German communities, the small diner’s gravity could be felt throughout the Portland area.
In 1978 it was said that the socioeconomic unrest surrounding the meat industry reached an all time high. Some likened it to the unrest that eventually led to the Civil War in 1861.
Roughly 90% of the hot dog stands in the city were owned and operated by German immigrants who had made there way to the US in the 30s & 40s. After several unsuccessful attempts at breaking into the cabbage and squash markets that proved lucrative during the time for the Romanians, the Germans quickly turned to the meat industry understanding that while squash took a decidedly minimal role in their native land’s eating habits – bratwursts and other obscure forms of meat played a dominant role in not only their nations menu of choice but incorporated the well known German beer industry as well.
In just under 3 years the German dominated bratwurst market went from being a Thursday evening afterthought to claiming the title of “Sexiest Lunch Food in America” according to the Gourmet Magazine’s weekly newsletter. Evolving from meat on a stick served at carnivals to playing a dominant role in the parties and social get-togethers of the rich and famous. Many economic commentators and analysts sited the bratwurst market as being the fastest growing market in US history surpassed only by the technology industries that took flight in the later part of the 20th century.
It was only a matter of time before the Germans’ took over the struggling Polish sausage market as well. Sure enough it didn’t take long for the entrepreneurial genius of the Germans to effect and eventually dominate not only the Polish sausage industry but the hot dog industry as well which, up to that point, had been controled by Oscar Mayer Wiener, an American owned company which successfully aided and secured the hot dog’s image as being America’s consumable icon of choice.
It’s unclear how long the German’s would have held the title of “Heiß Hund Könige” (Hot Dog Kings) had the Seattle Sausage not opened its doors in 1977 by an extremely secretive but undeniably brilliant gentlemen by the name of Jeeves Hazle who, most agreed, possessed many of the same physical traits as the sausages he served. Many of Portland’s children decided that if indeed man could trace his origins back to the primate, Jeeves could just as easily track his ancestry back to a meat processing plant somewhere in the northern part of New Hampshire.
Regardless of Jeeves Hazle’s questionable origin, no one could deny his ability to infiltrate and upset the German meat market of the late 70s. For the better part of six months the Seattle Sausage provided what most considered a superior product. It was agreed however that the marginally better sausages weren’t enough to over throw the shear convenience the hot dog stands provided simply by the fact that they existed on just about every corner of Portland. The Seattle Sausage’s dominance was solidified however on the eve of the summer of 1979 when Jeeves unveiled the Piping Pickle Platter. It was served in hot, medium or mild and came with a side of mustard, ranch or an unidentifiable red sauce that, when asked about, would be described by the owner as “my own special recipe of something a little tasty taste.”
The platter was described as the pickle that broke the carts wheel, as it was an all but academic fact that a good Piping Pickle Platter could never be prepared and served properly from a cart - much to the chagrin of the Germans.
The Seattle Sausage had proven it’s commanding dominance as a sausage serving powerhouse for the better part of two decades and the German meat industry had been turned on it’s head. While some of the German populace decided to remain in the hot dog stand business, most left it in favor of their beer-brewing heritage and opened up pubs and brewery’s all over town. Ironically Jeeves Hazle would later befriend his German, business owning associates at the annual Oktoberfest held by the city and the semiannual bear and bratwurst conferences held at the convention center.
It’s been rumored that Jeeves and some well-to-do German capitalists have been working on an exciting new development involving a bratwurst/polish hybrid and Jeeves’ "tasty taste" red sauce that, if proven successful, will once again succeed in revolutionizing the way Portlanders consume their processed meat-based lunch time specials.
It would be cool if they did though.
The Seattle Sausage Eatery is conveniently located next to the Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital & Medical Center in downtown Portland, Oregon. The diner is considered by many to be a historical and political landmark as much as it is a "quality eating establishment."
Being misunderstood as a Seattle-based chain the owner of the diner can often be overheard explaining to inquisitive patrons that, “no we aren't’ a chain and no we aren’t based out of Seattle.” What the owner categorically fails to mention is why the diner has Seattle in the name at all. It's possible that the owner's abrupt reply inhibits further investigation but the answer to that question has yet to be acquired. It's been said that even the owner’s closest friends have failed to pry any light on the subject from his odd disposition of secrecy.
Regardless of any mystery that has surrounded this ill-named diner in the past it remains to be the lunch hour hot spot for some of Portland’s finest doctors, nurses & blue wristband wearing patience.
It has often been stated that should anyone ever experience the mildest symptoms of a flu, cold or fever and didn’t want to go through all the fuss of scheduling an appointment, one could simply walk into the Seattle Sausage and casually mention, while waiting to be seated, any or all symptoms that happened to ail them and they would promptly receive a quick physical, a prescription, an ear full of advice and a hot dog while they waited for their physician to complete his or her lunch diner assessment.
It has been rumored that the minimum employee requirement at the diner is a PHD from no particular medical center in the country, but preferably one on the east coast, and should the need arise, any given bus boy could perform CPR, the Heimlich and deliver a child all while prepping the next table for another sausage loving patron to occupy.
In addition to it’s presumably untouchable polish sausage, the average Portlander is well acquainted with the fact that the Seattle Sausage is home to the “legendary” Piping Pickle Platter. It’s reputation solidified by the words of Slew Himmerman, the acclaimed Portland Herald food critic, as being “the best damn pickle platter I have ever tasted in my entire life.”
The weight of such appraisal was cemented in the readers minds based on rumors that Slew made his assessment in the middle of some financially difficult times, an encounter with a late blooming chicken pocks episode and a relationship with his wife that was characterized by a never ending notion of contempt giving their marriage the same type of feel you might find in the relationship a tax evading citizen would have with an IRS agent that showed up at his doorstep on a Sunday afternoon. In fact they say, at the time of the tasting, that after cramming the remains of the pickle platter into his mouth, Slew rushed home to proclaim to a confused and, no doubt, embarrassed wife that he had found a “new love in his life” and that his mistress was green, short and stubby and came in his choice of simmering sauce.
From that moment on the Seattle Sausage's fate was sealed in stone. Over the course of the next 14 years from 1977 to 1991 the Seattle Sausage Eatery played a role in the mounting and execution of, what a newspaper columnist would later describe as, “pivotal events in Portland’s meat loving history.” From the birthing of the “healthy processed meat initiative” that was a response to the growing health food craze descriptive of the early 90s to the increasingly volatile state of the Polish and German communities, the small diner’s gravity could be felt throughout the Portland area.
In 1978 it was said that the socioeconomic unrest surrounding the meat industry reached an all time high. Some likened it to the unrest that eventually led to the Civil War in 1861.
Roughly 90% of the hot dog stands in the city were owned and operated by German immigrants who had made there way to the US in the 30s & 40s. After several unsuccessful attempts at breaking into the cabbage and squash markets that proved lucrative during the time for the Romanians, the Germans quickly turned to the meat industry understanding that while squash took a decidedly minimal role in their native land’s eating habits – bratwursts and other obscure forms of meat played a dominant role in not only their nations menu of choice but incorporated the well known German beer industry as well.
In just under 3 years the German dominated bratwurst market went from being a Thursday evening afterthought to claiming the title of “Sexiest Lunch Food in America” according to the Gourmet Magazine’s weekly newsletter. Evolving from meat on a stick served at carnivals to playing a dominant role in the parties and social get-togethers of the rich and famous. Many economic commentators and analysts sited the bratwurst market as being the fastest growing market in US history surpassed only by the technology industries that took flight in the later part of the 20th century.
It was only a matter of time before the Germans’ took over the struggling Polish sausage market as well. Sure enough it didn’t take long for the entrepreneurial genius of the Germans to effect and eventually dominate not only the Polish sausage industry but the hot dog industry as well which, up to that point, had been controled by Oscar Mayer Wiener, an American owned company which successfully aided and secured the hot dog’s image as being America’s consumable icon of choice.
It’s unclear how long the German’s would have held the title of “Heiß Hund Könige” (Hot Dog Kings) had the Seattle Sausage not opened its doors in 1977 by an extremely secretive but undeniably brilliant gentlemen by the name of Jeeves Hazle who, most agreed, possessed many of the same physical traits as the sausages he served. Many of Portland’s children decided that if indeed man could trace his origins back to the primate, Jeeves could just as easily track his ancestry back to a meat processing plant somewhere in the northern part of New Hampshire.
Regardless of Jeeves Hazle’s questionable origin, no one could deny his ability to infiltrate and upset the German meat market of the late 70s. For the better part of six months the Seattle Sausage provided what most considered a superior product. It was agreed however that the marginally better sausages weren’t enough to over throw the shear convenience the hot dog stands provided simply by the fact that they existed on just about every corner of Portland. The Seattle Sausage’s dominance was solidified however on the eve of the summer of 1979 when Jeeves unveiled the Piping Pickle Platter. It was served in hot, medium or mild and came with a side of mustard, ranch or an unidentifiable red sauce that, when asked about, would be described by the owner as “my own special recipe of something a little tasty taste.”
The platter was described as the pickle that broke the carts wheel, as it was an all but academic fact that a good Piping Pickle Platter could never be prepared and served properly from a cart - much to the chagrin of the Germans.
The Seattle Sausage had proven it’s commanding dominance as a sausage serving powerhouse for the better part of two decades and the German meat industry had been turned on it’s head. While some of the German populace decided to remain in the hot dog stand business, most left it in favor of their beer-brewing heritage and opened up pubs and brewery’s all over town. Ironically Jeeves Hazle would later befriend his German, business owning associates at the annual Oktoberfest held by the city and the semiannual bear and bratwurst conferences held at the convention center.
It’s been rumored that Jeeves and some well-to-do German capitalists have been working on an exciting new development involving a bratwurst/polish hybrid and Jeeves’ "tasty taste" red sauce that, if proven successful, will once again succeed in revolutionizing the way Portlanders consume their processed meat-based lunch time specials.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Monday, January 16, 2006
Continued Thanks
I have to tell you guys that what has happened over the past few posts has been pretty incredible. I value your insight and thoughts, our shared journey. The value of friendship is never so clear to one until he’s faced with a cavern. A void. Something bigger than himself. Something beyond himself. Any sort of exploration takes a team to get the job done. Maybe that's why the church is so crucial.
It's really an exploration team. I’d rather think of it in those terms than a school. I never really liked school.
In some ways my interaction with you over the past couple of weeks has painted a clearer picture of the church than my Sunday morning experiences of late.
I was telling a friend that I think that sometimes the chapters of life, generally, pass by without clear marking. In retrospect it’s easier to see where you’ve been and how your life shifts over the years. But then sometimes the passing of a chapter is very clear to you right then and can be concisely marked at a specific point in time.
I’m not sure what’s next but I feel, very clearly, that I’ve passed into a new chapter. I sense that the right thing to do now is wait. So I guess that’s what I’ll do.
It's really an exploration team. I’d rather think of it in those terms than a school. I never really liked school.
In some ways my interaction with you over the past couple of weeks has painted a clearer picture of the church than my Sunday morning experiences of late.
I was telling a friend that I think that sometimes the chapters of life, generally, pass by without clear marking. In retrospect it’s easier to see where you’ve been and how your life shifts over the years. But then sometimes the passing of a chapter is very clear to you right then and can be concisely marked at a specific point in time.
I’m not sure what’s next but I feel, very clearly, that I’ve passed into a new chapter. I sense that the right thing to do now is wait. So I guess that’s what I’ll do.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
No Real Point But Worth Saying (Part 2)
I wrote this as a response to the discussion in the comment column of the previous post.
By way of clarification Ricardo: I’m not satisfied with the way I’ve painted my Christian faith. I want better. Real. True. Something more.
How’s that for ambiguous? I appreciate our conversation last night bro.
I appreciate what you guys have been commenting here as well. It’s true and good and right. Many things I’ve done before but have done poorly or incorrectly. Things I’ve done but in the wrong context or assumption. In the midst of a poor education of what I should expect this thing too look like. What God looks like.
What I was trying to paint in the previous post was the process of stepping back and reevaluating it all. Going back to square one. Sometimes people get confused by what I'm attempting to convey here. But if we tried to articulate a lot of our spiritual journey to others we would be left with blank stares. It’s our journey and no one else’s. Right? It’s unique and it’s beautiful. And it might be strange.
Kate, I appreciate what you said. In essence, there is no road map. That’s answer enough. That’s what I need to hear.
JJ & Ricardo, you’ve said something good. There are certain things that can be done to make ourselves oriented correctly. To manifest the right person in this world and to express the right characteristics to those we come in contact with. To point ourselves in the right, general direction. Maybe the rest is up to our imaginations.
Left up to our dreams.
Perhaps what lies beyond is the wilderness of our spirituality. Untamed. Scary. Certainly difficult at times. But always lively. Always rich with meaning. Always characterized by growth. Marked by the fingerprint of a God that wants us to live freely and expressively.
Its into this wilderness I want to go. Maybe I haven’t spent enough time in it. Maybe I didn’t even know it was there. No one can tell you what it looks like or even how it’ll feel. They can remind you of the compasses & tools of navigation that we’ve been given but that’s all. We have to walk it ourselves.
There is an excitement in me at the idea of potential discovery out there. In that wilderness. The potential to discover something new. Something true to me. Something that hasn’t been seen before. Maybe it’s the love God has for this creature, or he wants me to know that he laughs a lot, or that his heart burns with passion for the things I love. Perhaps he wants to introduce me to the Son I’ve heard about for so long but never really met.
So I guess I am Indiana Jones. I’m leaving for the jungle. In search of some ancient relic that was meant to be found by someone less than worthy. Someone weak and little but somehow managed to make God’s list of “The Years Smallest People Worth Dieing For.” I hope I never come back to the same place I was before. I hope I get lost out there....
...and I hope others will follow. Not in my footsteps but out their front door into the unknown & unbridled. With doubt? Yes. With faith? Absolutely.
And God keeps on smiling.
By way of clarification Ricardo: I’m not satisfied with the way I’ve painted my Christian faith. I want better. Real. True. Something more.
How’s that for ambiguous? I appreciate our conversation last night bro.
I appreciate what you guys have been commenting here as well. It’s true and good and right. Many things I’ve done before but have done poorly or incorrectly. Things I’ve done but in the wrong context or assumption. In the midst of a poor education of what I should expect this thing too look like. What God looks like.
What I was trying to paint in the previous post was the process of stepping back and reevaluating it all. Going back to square one. Sometimes people get confused by what I'm attempting to convey here. But if we tried to articulate a lot of our spiritual journey to others we would be left with blank stares. It’s our journey and no one else’s. Right? It’s unique and it’s beautiful. And it might be strange.
Kate, I appreciate what you said. In essence, there is no road map. That’s answer enough. That’s what I need to hear.
JJ & Ricardo, you’ve said something good. There are certain things that can be done to make ourselves oriented correctly. To manifest the right person in this world and to express the right characteristics to those we come in contact with. To point ourselves in the right, general direction. Maybe the rest is up to our imaginations.
Left up to our dreams.
Perhaps what lies beyond is the wilderness of our spirituality. Untamed. Scary. Certainly difficult at times. But always lively. Always rich with meaning. Always characterized by growth. Marked by the fingerprint of a God that wants us to live freely and expressively.
Its into this wilderness I want to go. Maybe I haven’t spent enough time in it. Maybe I didn’t even know it was there. No one can tell you what it looks like or even how it’ll feel. They can remind you of the compasses & tools of navigation that we’ve been given but that’s all. We have to walk it ourselves.
There is an excitement in me at the idea of potential discovery out there. In that wilderness. The potential to discover something new. Something true to me. Something that hasn’t been seen before. Maybe it’s the love God has for this creature, or he wants me to know that he laughs a lot, or that his heart burns with passion for the things I love. Perhaps he wants to introduce me to the Son I’ve heard about for so long but never really met.
So I guess I am Indiana Jones. I’m leaving for the jungle. In search of some ancient relic that was meant to be found by someone less than worthy. Someone weak and little but somehow managed to make God’s list of “The Years Smallest People Worth Dieing For.” I hope I never come back to the same place I was before. I hope I get lost out there....
...and I hope others will follow. Not in my footsteps but out their front door into the unknown & unbridled. With doubt? Yes. With faith? Absolutely.
And God keeps on smiling.
Monday, January 09, 2006
No Real Point But Worth Saying
It's funny how the direction of our lives can be dictated by such small decisions we make in those inconsequential moments isn't it? What could have been or almost was hinging on that little decision you made sometime in your past that you look back on now. Perhaps, in some cases, comprehending the gravity of that decision presently more than you did at the time.
---
I was an usher at a wedding this weekend. The groom is a great bloke from Australia. The bride was my girlfriend four years back. It was a beautiful wedding. Good to see old faces and good to make new friends. People ask me if it was strange being there for obvious reasons. I answer no, explaining that it was a long time ago and we ended it on good terms. I still consider her a good friend and a beautiful person. I like to think we're both better people for being in the relationship.
On top of that she's the one who asked me to be an usher at her wedding...it's not like I just showed up.
But in all of this I couldn't help but reflect on how at one point in time we were considering marriage, which would have effectively altered both of our lives to an uncertain degree, forever.
It's a weighty thought to be sure.
---
I'm thinking about my life and the decisions I'm making now. Wondering if they're the right ones...the wrong ones.
Have I fallen into complacency and comfort? Trading the unknown for the routine.
Do I need a calling in order to move in a direction or will it follow? Catching up to me.
Is what I dream at night what I’m supposed to be doing or are they simply dreams? How valid are our dreams? Our passions? Do we really believe that God is the fulfiller of hopes and dreams or do we believe he just gave them to us to provide a way through the drudgery?
Is God practical? Do we really believe in a pragmatic deity? The Bible doesn’t seem to think so. Blowing trumpets to crumble walls is not practical. Sorry. When did the practical thing to do become the right thing to do? Why is my life so practical? Were is faith required? I haven’t gone out on a limb for a while.
Am I supposed to draw pictures for the rest of my life. At a desk. Behind a computer. Wearing business casual. I find a certain amount of fulfillment in my work. Satisfaction. But it’s not complete.
I'm not sure I'm fully satisfied with my life as a Christian. Or my idea of God. Oh I love him. As much I can I suppose. I mean I throw mud in his face all the time. But he keeps on loving me. Causing me to stop hurling mud and love him back for a while. Until I forget about the smile on his face and start slinging mud again.
I’m not satisfied with God because I don’t know him. It's like for a long time we've been passing each other in the hall and he's been saying "How are you?" in the real, genuine sense and I've been saying "Fine, how are you?" in the half-hearted socially polite kind of way.
---
Huh. And all this from an usher. Aren’t usher’s the dumb ones? Escorting any and all warm blooded, feminine creatures that happen to get in arms length down a predetermined, white ribboned course. "Just follow the white carpet dude," is what they tell me. And forget about the footstep thing. It doesn't work.
It’s not like I was a Best Man or anything. Now those guys are deep.
Maybe I’m over thinking things. Wouldn't be the first time I suppose.
---
I was an usher at a wedding this weekend. The groom is a great bloke from Australia. The bride was my girlfriend four years back. It was a beautiful wedding. Good to see old faces and good to make new friends. People ask me if it was strange being there for obvious reasons. I answer no, explaining that it was a long time ago and we ended it on good terms. I still consider her a good friend and a beautiful person. I like to think we're both better people for being in the relationship.
On top of that she's the one who asked me to be an usher at her wedding...it's not like I just showed up.
But in all of this I couldn't help but reflect on how at one point in time we were considering marriage, which would have effectively altered both of our lives to an uncertain degree, forever.
It's a weighty thought to be sure.
---
I'm thinking about my life and the decisions I'm making now. Wondering if they're the right ones...the wrong ones.
Have I fallen into complacency and comfort? Trading the unknown for the routine.
Do I need a calling in order to move in a direction or will it follow? Catching up to me.
Is what I dream at night what I’m supposed to be doing or are they simply dreams? How valid are our dreams? Our passions? Do we really believe that God is the fulfiller of hopes and dreams or do we believe he just gave them to us to provide a way through the drudgery?
Is God practical? Do we really believe in a pragmatic deity? The Bible doesn’t seem to think so. Blowing trumpets to crumble walls is not practical. Sorry. When did the practical thing to do become the right thing to do? Why is my life so practical? Were is faith required? I haven’t gone out on a limb for a while.
Am I supposed to draw pictures for the rest of my life. At a desk. Behind a computer. Wearing business casual. I find a certain amount of fulfillment in my work. Satisfaction. But it’s not complete.
I'm not sure I'm fully satisfied with my life as a Christian. Or my idea of God. Oh I love him. As much I can I suppose. I mean I throw mud in his face all the time. But he keeps on loving me. Causing me to stop hurling mud and love him back for a while. Until I forget about the smile on his face and start slinging mud again.
I’m not satisfied with God because I don’t know him. It's like for a long time we've been passing each other in the hall and he's been saying "How are you?" in the real, genuine sense and I've been saying "Fine, how are you?" in the half-hearted socially polite kind of way.
---
Huh. And all this from an usher. Aren’t usher’s the dumb ones? Escorting any and all warm blooded, feminine creatures that happen to get in arms length down a predetermined, white ribboned course. "Just follow the white carpet dude," is what they tell me. And forget about the footstep thing. It doesn't work.
It’s not like I was a Best Man or anything. Now those guys are deep.
Maybe I’m over thinking things. Wouldn't be the first time I suppose.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
The Brilliance That Is An Unbridled Grade School Mind
You can't know where you're going until you know where you've been. At least that's what they say anyway. I found some old writings from my grade school years that were pretty humorous and/or brilliant. At least I thought so.
I don't remember writing any of this.
Time and I
By: Nathan Crutchfield
There are many things that cannot be explained in life: Where babies come from, why women go the bathroom in groups, why Bill Clinton is still in the White House. These things will probably never be answered until we get to heaven. So why try to figure out what things actually are? Somewhere in the Bible God tells man to explore his creation.
One of the biggest things man is trying to figure out is what exactly is time. There have been movies and books that have dealt with the subject. One movie described it like this; when he stepped into the time machine it would transport him either to the past or the future. The only main problem with the thing was that if a structure was built where the time machine sat it would explode (or something to that extent).
I think, as do others, that time is the 4th dimension. It's something that goes beyond height, width and depth. This of course is not only visible to the eye but also to the mind. It is hard for man (especially me) to fathom the elements of time. It's something like heaven. We can't really imagine how great it is until we get there.
There are so many theories on time that it would take days to name and explain them all. But the real question is, "Why did God create time for man when he doesn't even live in a time/space continuum himself?" I think it's because he meant it for man to be able to look back on his past and to learn from his mistakes. Let's face it, if we couldn't look back at what the mistake and consequence was we would be in deep trouble. It also gives us the opportunity to discern when events will happen, such as events from the Bible.
So even though time is kind of a strange thing, it really isn't quite as strange as it seems. So the next time you think of "time," just stop right there, because in the time it takes you to fathom what it means to you, you will have spent way too much time thinking and too little time watching football.
---
It's difficult to say why there are still discussions on time taking place today when such a brilliant piece of literature has already been written on the subject.
I was ahead of my time.
I don't remember writing any of this.
Time and I
By: Nathan Crutchfield
There are many things that cannot be explained in life: Where babies come from, why women go the bathroom in groups, why Bill Clinton is still in the White House. These things will probably never be answered until we get to heaven. So why try to figure out what things actually are? Somewhere in the Bible God tells man to explore his creation.
One of the biggest things man is trying to figure out is what exactly is time. There have been movies and books that have dealt with the subject. One movie described it like this; when he stepped into the time machine it would transport him either to the past or the future. The only main problem with the thing was that if a structure was built where the time machine sat it would explode (or something to that extent).
I think, as do others, that time is the 4th dimension. It's something that goes beyond height, width and depth. This of course is not only visible to the eye but also to the mind. It is hard for man (especially me) to fathom the elements of time. It's something like heaven. We can't really imagine how great it is until we get there.
There are so many theories on time that it would take days to name and explain them all. But the real question is, "Why did God create time for man when he doesn't even live in a time/space continuum himself?" I think it's because he meant it for man to be able to look back on his past and to learn from his mistakes. Let's face it, if we couldn't look back at what the mistake and consequence was we would be in deep trouble. It also gives us the opportunity to discern when events will happen, such as events from the Bible.
So even though time is kind of a strange thing, it really isn't quite as strange as it seems. So the next time you think of "time," just stop right there, because in the time it takes you to fathom what it means to you, you will have spent way too much time thinking and too little time watching football.
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It's difficult to say why there are still discussions on time taking place today when such a brilliant piece of literature has already been written on the subject.
I was ahead of my time.
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