They Don’t Call It the “Wild” West for Nothing

Buffalo Bill Cody, Annie Oakley, Jessie James… all names that instantly flash into your mind images of the Wild West. Oh, how things have changed.

As we made our way through Wyoming, we decided to rest our horses and camp our stage coach at the local watering hole. That’s Western code for spending the night in the R.V. in the Sheridan, Wyoming Wal-Mart parking lot. Not only did they have a Super Wal-Mart where you can get a couple of onions and a case of oil all in the same store, they also were holding the county fair.

So we loaded up the kids, headed to the outskirts of town, and parked the good ole’ R.V. amongst the sea of 4x4 pickup trucks to experience the real west. Boy, were we in for a treat.

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Sure there was everything that you would expect at a Western County fair… carnival rides, cowboys on horses, a NASCAR display, and of course a Tee-Pee.

What we didn’t expect was the western version of Marilyn Manson and his girlfriend going to a Rave. Poor Jessie, Annie, and Buffalo Bill, they are probably rolling over in their graves

But hey, we had a good time!

By Mike

Mamma, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Pastors

Everyone has dreams that have never become reality. For me, my dream since I was a little boy was to be a military pilot. I came close a couple of times, but in the end it never panned out… partly because of things that I couldn’t control… partly because of choices that I made.

Deep inside of me that dream has never died, so when I get a chance to get close to that dream I take it. As we were driving through Rapid City, South Dakota, I noticed a sign for the South Dakota Air and Space Museum. Fortunately, Kathy is very flexible so we took a little detour.

While Mikey, John, and I visited the museum and took a tour of Ellsworth Air Force Base, Kathy and Nicole found a strip mall and of all things stopped into a little skin care shop owned by a Jamaican woman named Angelique. What a Jamaican woman is doing in Rapid City, South Dakota is a story for another day, but Kathy and Nicole enjoyed their visit… but I digress.

Although the museum was simple and relatively small, the boys and I had a blast. We saw General Eisenhower’s personal B-25 from World War II, a B-52 Superfortress, a B-1 Lancer, and a variety of other aircraft. And although I’ll never be a Military Pilot, at least I look good standing beside a T-38… and that has to be worth something.

As I consider the whole idea of unfulfilled dreams, it seems to me that you can respond to them in one of two ways. One way is to get depressed and discouraged… angry at God… angry at others… angry at yourself… and basically live a lousy life. The other way is to realize that God is ultimately in control… that he has a plan… it may not be one that you want… it may not be one that you like… but ultimately it with be the best for you… the best for others… and it will bring to him.

Well I’m a pastor and not a pilot… at least they both start with the letter “p”… and while I would love to have flown for the military, I know I’m doing what God wants me to do. And besides what other job can you have that lets you take eight weeks off to drive across the country with your family?

The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps. Proverbs 16:9 (ESV)

By Mike

Buffalos or Global Thermonuclear War? Show Me the Nukes!

I know that it sounds kind of twisted, but one of the things that I had been really looking forward to on this trip was visiting a nuclear missile silo. Yeah, I know… it is kind of like looking forward to visiting the Orlando Police station on a trip to Walt Disney World… but hey everybody is entitled to being a little deranged.

Believe it or not, there is a National Landmark – run by the National Parks Service – which is comprised of a decommissioned Minuteman II nuclear missile silo and its associated launch control center. During the Cold War the United States installed 150 Minuteman II nuclear missile silos in South Western South Dakota along with several other states.

Each silo contained one missile which – along with nine other silos – was controlled by a central launch control center located a few miles away. The silo sites, which were approximately one acre square and surrounded by an eight foot fence topped with barbwire, sat out in the middle of the South Dakota countryside. Some of them – like Delta 9 which is the one we saw – were located right alongside the interstate.

At first glance, the silo site looks nothing more than a flat concrete patio with a large hunk of steel and concrete sitting in the center of it. In reality the hunk of steel and concrete is the 60 ton silo cover which – just prior to a missile launch - is literally “thrown” 100 feet away by a massive underground hydraulic system.

Underneath the silo cover sits a six story tall Minuteman II nuclear missile – two of which contain more destructive power than ALL of the bombs dropped in World War II – by all combatants – including both the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

As I stood staring at the “dummy” missile, I was amazed that there - in the midst of God’s amazing creation that we call the Badlands – sat a single missile that could completely destroy and entire city and its entire population, on the other side of the planet in a little more than 30 minutes.

But the silo and the missile are only part of the story. What is equally amazing are the men and women who - around the clock for nearly 50 years – guarded, maintained, and ultimately stood ready to launch the missiles at a moment’s notice.

Although we didn’t get to visit the launch control center (you had to make a reservation for the tour about three months in advance) we were able to watch a video that told its story. Each launch control center consisted of a couple of common single story buildings surrounded by a barbed wire fence. The buildings housed the small group of personnel who performed routine missile maintenance and security. And while it looked relatively benign on the surface, it was what was underneath that made it deadly.

Thirty-five feet below the buildings sat the missile launch center. Within the center – two Air Force officers sat twelve feet apart – monitoring the ten missiles under their control and waiting for the launch command from the President of the United States. Upon receiving the appropriate launch authorization codes, each would remove a key from a safe, insert the keys in the appropriate switch, and turn them within 2 seconds of one another. Simultaneously, this same procedure would be occurring in another launch control center by two other Air Force officers. The moment that all four keys turned, ten missiles would scream into the South Dakota sky… signaling the beginning of World War III.

A little over a decade ago, the United States – in accordance with the START II treaty – removed all 150 Minuteman II missiles from South Dakota. The missiles were destroyed and the silos either imploded or filled with concrete. However, in their place – throughout North Dakota, Wyoming, and Montana – sit 400 Minuteman III nuclear missiles… each containing not one, but rather three nuclear warheads with far greater destructive power than the Minuteman IIs… each waiting to be launched at a moment’s notice.

At the same time, throughout the world, other nations – some friendly to the United States, others not so friendly – already possess or are currently seeking the same destructive power.

As I stared into the silo, the reality of the fact that you and I are not guaranteed tomorrow was once again reinforced into my mind. Our lives can be ended in a flash by a nuclear missile or more likely by a single distraction while driving a car, a bunch of cells dividing uncontrollably, or by a tiny clogged artery. It would all be pretty depressing if it wasn’t for a single fact…

For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 6:23 (NIV)

By Mike

The Badlands - Aptly Named

Unforgiving, formidable, harsh, stark, majestic, colorful, unbelievable, endless, unadulterated, simply amazing! One misstep and while you’re saying “hello” to Jesus, your family is peering over the edge of a cliff wondering what happened!
Our family enjoyed some time exploring the amazing rock formations of the Badlands in South Dakota.

Climbing them, we found the rock to be loose and gravelly at times; in other places it was like soft clay. Rolling hills with muted hues of orange, maroon and yellow melted together like a series of rainbows and stood in stark contrast to the gigantic red, rigid cliffs.

We had a great time climbing on the rocks, admiring fields of beautiful wildflowers and watching the prairie dogs play.

After leaving the Badlands, we made our way to Custer State Park in the Black Hills of South Dakota. It was a beautiful park full of lakes, streams, mountains and wildlife. Much of our time here was spent relaxing at the campsite (except for the biking adventure which is detailed in Nicole’s blog entry). On our last day here, we took a scenic drive during which we encountered antelope, mule deer, and burros.

The climax of it all was when we were accosted by a herd of bison which created quite a traffic jam. They say you are supposed to stay 25 yards away from them… what are you supposed to do when they walk up to your window?

Mount Rushmore was our next stop. There we learned that Washington represents the birth of our nation, Jefferson - it’s growth, Roosevelt - it’s protection, and Lincoln - it’s preservation. We also learned that each park’s trail rating (i.e. easy, moderate, or strenuous) is RELATIVE! The President’s Trail at Mount Rushmore was supposed to be “strenuous” and it was “easy”. The bike trail at Custer was supposed to be “moderate” and it was “strenuous” (note – please refer to Nicole’s blog entry – which was accurate except that there were actually two monstrous hills, not just one, but I thought it was best not to remind her).

South Dakota was an amazing state. It is well worth a visit.

By Kathy

The Bike Ride from Heck (Mom and Dad don’t let me swear)

Yesterday was the worst day of my life going bike riding.

It was good at first, but later on we had to go up this big, big rock hill. Then we had to go in rocky creeks – about four or five. So when we got to the lake nobody could more. Dad’s chest hurt. Mom was turning red. Me, Mikey, and John just couldn’t move.

So then we go in the lake. The water was freezing. It took me about 15 minutes to get my whole body in.

Then we ate and everything, so now it is time to go.

We had two choices. One was to go the way we came – down which was about a ½ hour but all rock and stuff. The other way was about an hour but smoother. So mom chooses the long and smooth way. But the boys went the other way. I had to go with mom and dad, so we gave the boys the keys because they would be at the R.V. first.

So me, mom, and dad go the other way. Everything at the beginning is straight, but then we come up to this big hill. I was crying and dad was pushing me up the hill. We took a sip of water, but then I started gagging. So then we finally made it and the rest was down hill.

That is a day I can never forget.

By Nicole

It Happened Again, Only Worse!

(Note: This blog was started on Monday, July 7 and is being completed on Saturday, July 12 – it has been tough to get an internet connection.)

As I write this, Kathy, the kids, and I are sitting in our broken down R.V. alongside route 94 just north of Minneapolis. After receiving a clean bill of health from a couple of guys named Jim Bob and Guido (their names were changed to protect the guilty) at the tire store in Grove City, we were confident that all of our tires were good enough to take us the next 7,000 miles. Well, they weren’t.

While driving at 60 mph in heavy traffic, we had a blowout. Of course, my carefully refined driving skills and superhero quick reflexes managed to get us safely to the side of the road where we promptly called our roadside assistance company ($80 well spent). They immediately dispatched a guy named Monty from Wisconsin – yes I said from Wisconsin!

So here we sit, waiting for next 1 ½ hours for my main man Monty…

Since we had nothing better to do for the next 90 minutes and considering that the R.V. made a pretty big target for the sleep deprived tractor trailer drivers passing by, I figured it would be in the best interest of the Leonzo’s physical safety to stand off to the side of the rear of the R.V. so that we could dive out of the way in the event of an impending collision. After about five minutes of standing in the high weeds and sucking down diesel fumes, the brilliant idea of getting out some of our folding chairs came to mind. So I grabbed a couple of chairs, set them up in the weeds and provided some much needed comfort for Kathy and Mikey.

Little did I know that the trusty Minnesota Department of Transportation and Highway Patrol were monitoring our every action through a traffic camera positioned at an overpass about 500 yards away. It didn’t take long for a MDOT Roadside Assistance truck to pull up. The rescue man was quick to inform us (in a very kind way I might add) that we were a bunch of idiots and that the safest place was in the R.V. He said something like, “If you stand back here, you WILL die” and then told us to get in the R.V., sit on the passenger side and buckle our seat belts. I guess that way if we got hit at least they could identify the bodies. After ensuring that we were “safe” he went on his way and we continued to wait for Monty.

Well Monty finally arrived. His equipment… an old pickup truck with a cap and a flashing yellow light, two small bottle jacks, a couple of 2x4s, an air compressor, and an overflowing tool box. Being a “President’s Member” of Camping World’s Roadside Assistance Plan, I had a little bit higher expectations… perhaps a real tow truck with a real jack (is that too much to ask?)

So with traffic flying by, Monty examined the situation. Yes, the outside, rear tire on the passenger side was indeed blown. That was bad news, but to make matters worse the two interior rear tires were also flat. Yes, we had three flat tires (and only one spare). Even preachers know that is not good.

Monty’s plan… put the spare on the outside passenger side and then drive really, really slowly to the exit which was about ½ mile away. Mike’s plan… drive the R.V. into one of Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes, collect the insurance money, and take the family on a cruise. Of course with my luck, the ship would probably sink.

So Monty went to work… well sort of. He tried jacking up the R.V. but the jack kept sinking in the soft sand along the side of the road. Monty needed wood blocks to support the jack… he didn’t have them. Fortunately we did… so with traffic blowing by, I drug out our 2x12’s that we use to level the R.V. Then he needed another tool – he didn’t have it - but I did. This went on for about 45 minutes with me helping Monty (wasn’t he supposed to be helping me) until we finally got the R.V. jacked up and the spare tire installed.

Slowly we limped along with Monty following along - his little yellow light “protecting” us from the juggernaut of traffic screaming by – until we arrived at a Goodyear Tire Center at the top of the exit ramp. It was at this point that Monty informed me that although the tire change was covered by my roadside assistance plan, I still owed him $55… for what I don’t know, but I paid it so that I could simply get on with my life.

End of story… NOT! Of course Goodyear didn’t have the tires that we needed, but they can get them for next morning! They’re GOODYEAR! You would think that they would have some stinking R.V. tires! Oh well, what can you do? So we limped over to the Sam’s Club parking lot to stay for the night.

Then it hit me! Sam’s Club has a tire center… I’m a member… and God really does love me! So in I went in, hoping and praying that they might have four 225/R16 tires in stock and be able to install them before they closed at 7 p.m. (it was 6 p.m. at the time).

It is at this point that I must say, “God is so good!” They not only had four in stock… they had twelve in stock and Derrik and Eric – the Sam’s Club tire guys – said they would work a little overtime to put them on. Yes, that was really their names – kind of made me think of that television show with Bob Newhart – “Hi, I’m Larry, this is my brother Larry, and this is my other brother Larry.”

So with four new tires on the rear of the R.V. (I figured I wouldn’t take any chances and replaced them all) our five hours in Flat Tire Purgatory had come to an end.

By Mike

(Epilogue – So what happened to make three tires go flat? In Eric and Derrik’s expert opinion, when the guys in Grove City were checking the air pressure on the interior tires - which they struggled to do I might add – they ended up damaging the value stems. Over time, both value stems failed and the interior tires went flat – which we didn’t know because the outside tires were holding all of the weight. Eventually, after all of the driving from Grove City to Minnesota the one outside tire couldn’t take all of the weight and it blew out. The moral of the story – buy a new R.V.)

It’s Been Nearly Fifteen Years, But it Seemed Like Yesterday

I can remember the day like it is was yesterday. I was eleven years old and I missed my very first day of seventh grade at Lower Paxton Junior High School.

The reason for my absence? A football injury. Yes, it is true… after an illustrious career as the pee wee quarterback for the Holy Name of Jesus Jets, I decided to hang up my cleats but still had the love of football coursing through my veins. So just as the summer was ending, I decided to play a little tackle football with the neighborhood kids… in the street (yeah, nobody said that I was the brightest bulb in the pack). What started out as a bad idea ended even worse as I was tackled into the cinders and embedded a small quarry full of stones into my knee. After an agonizing hour with my pediatrician playing want-to-be orthopedic surgeon, my mom took me to a real surgeon who removed the stones, sewed me up, put me on crutches and told me that I could go to school on day two.

It was on that day that God put one of my best friends into my life – Kurt Kastel. Kurt and another great friend – John Coyle – were assigned to help me carry my books and navigate the maze of hallways that Central Dauphin School District tried to pass off as an educational institution.

Over the next six years, Kurt, John and I would create a lifetime of memories. Then came college and we all went our separate ways. Occasionally we would hook up, but it has been nearly fifteen years since I last saw Kurt. That was until this past weekend.

Fortunately our trip took us through Minnesota – where Kurt and his wonderful, beautiful, and incredibly talented wife Gina live.

They were kind enough to allow us to spend two days with them at their lake house in Pine City. We parked the RV at the greatest lakeside campground in the country – Gina’s mom and dad’s front yard!

We had a fantastic time of eating, tubing, and just catching up. It was as if we had just seen each other last week.

Thank God for good friends.

By Mike