Me
My husband, Bob Schulenberg, likes to laugh. From the time he was just a little kid, it seems that in a crowd of smiling people, there would always be one, who had to laugh, because somehow, a smile just did really express his true feelings about whatever was said, or what someone did. He really finds it hard not to laugh if something is the least bit funny. This was one of the things that I liked the most about Bob right from the start. He has a great sense of humor, and is a teaser from way back. I can’t say that his sisters always liked that aspect of their oldest brother, but it was a part of their childhood, nevertheless. Like so many boys, Bob’s humor as a young boy was not always shared by his sisters, who thought he really should just leave them alone.
From cartoons, as a little boy and even into the early years of our marriage, to “The Three Stooges” and “Laurel and Hardy”, to comedies of today, television has been a source of entertainment bringing much laughter for Bob. He can be sitting in a room all by himself, and suddenly he just bursts out in loud laughter, because something on the show struck him as very funny. Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m sure the rest of us would have thought it funny too, but it is just so funny to hear Bob burst out laughing in the other room, when you have no idea what is so funny. That makes no difference really, because it is what is funny to him that matters, not what is funny to those around him.
Bob has always been the kind of person who finds humor all around him. And looking back at all the pictures of him as a kid, I can see that is true. Not to mention, that I have heard all the stories of Bob’s antics…especially the ones his sisters didn’t find very funny. From chasing his sister, Jennifer Parmely with spiders…which he still tries to do these days too, but then thinks better of the plan…mostly because he wants to live, to goofing of with his sister, Brenda Schulenberg, during family pictures, to the point where his dad just about had to knock them silly, Bob is known for stirring things up a bit…not is a bad way, but as a boy, it was a way that his sisters didn’t always appreciate. Of course, I think they would all agree now, that he has always been a comical guy.
They say, laughter is the best medicine, and for Bob, I think it has always been something that has made his life…and mine…a happy one. Life has it’s ups and downs. No one can get by with no sadness in their life. Those things are what makes the need for laughter such a big need, and Bob has always found humor in the simple things around him. It is probably the one biggest asset that he has. I have been blessed to be married to him all these years, so I can say that in our house, never a day goes by without a bit…or a lot…of laughter. Even if we don’t always know exactly what is so funny.
How can time pass so quickly…in the twinkling of an eye really, and yet in looking back on the years, they seem so many. Seven years seems like such a long time, but not when you are looking back to the moment you lost your dad…or any other loved one for that matter. When I look back now, it feels like just yesterday, and yet each year as the twelfth of December rolls around, I find myself thinking about just how long seven years is…or any number of years since my dad has been gone. Somehow in my head…or maybe my heart…I never thought I would live even one day without my dad in it. I thought he would always be there to offer guidance, to share laughter and even tears with. In his wisdom, he has taught me so much. He could make sense out of a situation where I found only anger and frustration, and he always dealt with these situations with kindness. He was slow to anger…something many people, including me, could learn from. Now, I have lived seven years without my dad…but not completely without him.
In reality, Dad is with me every day, because words are alive. I still hear his voice, carrying words of wisdom to me at just the moment I need them. In my memory, those words and the sound of his voice live on. I can hear his laughter ringing out after he has just managed to pull one over on me. Dad was always one to look for the positive in every situation. He loved to laugh and tease his kids and grandkids, and we loved it too. Life in our house was full of laughter, and often overly excited kids…much to Mom’s dismay at times, because while Mom was trying to get a couple of things done, Dad had situated himself beside the doorway to the living room in the kitchen, and one of the little kids was running back and forth trying to get by Dad before he could get them. The child was delighted and this game and the laughter was loud and constant. Dad was just as delighted as the kids, because he was, after all, a kid at heart…and always would be.
Those last years…when I realized that he wasn’t invincible, were hard ones for me. I wanted things to go back the way they had been, but that was not to be. The time he spent in the hospital in a coma, I could only think, ” I want to hear his voice again!” And I did hear his voice again. He knew he needed to stay then, because we needed him so badly. I spent a lot of time with him when he got home, nursing him back to health. I didn’t know then how much the extra time with him would mean to me later. It would be a time of storing up his words of wisdom, humor, and just everyday life, in my memory files, for recall when I needed them most. It would be a time of storing up pictures of him for later viewing…pictures of the hard work he put in to come back to us…pictures of his face filled with delight as he pulled one over on us…pictures to draw on later, when I needed to see him again. Now, I see him all over Mom’s house, and hear his voice, always at the moment when I need it the most. I think the time spent so closely in those last days was in some ways a time of preparation for after he went home. I am so thankful for those close times, because I miss him terribly, and 
those close days are the only consolation I have now. I know that Dad felt how much I loved him, and knew how much we would miss him. But his main concern was that we take care of our mom, which we have done to the best of our ability. That was my dad…never thinking of himself, just of those around him. I can’t believe that seven years have passed by so quickly, and I wish we could have him back. I would gladly go back in time, if I could have him back, but that cannot be, so I will look to the future, when I will see him again. Until then, he lives on in my memory. We love and miss you so much, Dad.
While Bob and I were in Texas on vacation in April of 2006, we had the wonderful opportunity to visit the USS Lexington…The Blue Ghost. This ship has a long and interesting history, and one I didn’t really know all that much about when I visited the ship. The ship we saw is not the original USS Lexington, but rather the one that replaced the original. The USS Lexington that we saw has an amazing history too…it is, in fact, a legend that was named for the American Revolution’s Battle of Lexington. On December 5, 1941, the original USS Lexington, which was one of the two largest aircraft carriers the United States had during World War II, was making its way across the Pacific in order to carry a squadron of dive bombers to defend Midway Island from an anticipated Japanese attack. The attack they anticipated did occur, but not where it had been expected. The attack was lodged on Pearl Harbor instead. The USS Lexington turned around and headed for Pearl Harbor, arriving on December 13th. That Lexington was later sunk.
In early May, the first USS Lexington returned to the South Pacific to assist the USS Yorktown to fight against the Japanese offensive in the Coral Sea. On May 7th and 8th of 1942 planes from the USS Lexington helped sink the small Japanese aircraft carrier Shoho and participated in attacks on the large carriers Shokaku and Zuikaku. But, she was a major target of Japanese carrier planes and received two torpedo and three bomb hits. Initially, it appeared that the damage control efforts were successful, but she was racked by gasoline explosions early on the afternoon of May 8th. The fires were out of control, and it was clear that the Lexington was breathing her last breath. The ship was abandoned by her crew and it sunk. It was the first US aircraft carrier to be lost in World War II.
The second Lexington began its journey into fame on February 17, 1943, and it would serve longer and set more records than any other carrier in US Naval history. Originally to be named the Cabot, the name was changed after the sinking of the original Lexington in the Coral Sea. The Lexington became a part of the Fifth Fleet at Pearl Harbor. The ship took part in nearly every major operation in the Pacific Theater, serving 21 months in combat. It was here that the Lexington became famous in her own right. The Japanese radio station, the Tokyo Rose was always spreading rumors and propaganda. The station declared the Lexington sunk at least four times, but was proven wrong at the next battle, when the Lexington returned to the fight. I guess it must have been in an effort to save face that the Tokyo Rose dubbed the Lexington The Blue Ghost, indicating that it was a ghost ship returning to haunt the Japanese again and again. All the hard work paid off in the end though. The Lexington participated in the Great Marianas Turkey Shoot, the Battle of Leyte Gulf, and the Battle of the Philippine Sea. She received the Presidential Unit Citation and 11 Battle Stars during her service in World War II, and she was the first battleship into Tokyo Harbor for the Japanese peace treaty signing.
By the time we visited the second USS Lexington, she had been a museum since October of 1992. The ship had been decommissioned in August of 1990, after serving as a training ship for naval aviators in Pensacola, Florida since 1962. She was moved to her permanent location in Corpus Christi, Texas in January of 1992. We had the wonderful opportunity to explore the ship to our hearts’ content while we were there. It was quite interesting to us. I didn’t know much about how things were on a ship, but I found myself amazed over and over again. The way the crew lived, seemed so archaic to me, but I suppose that anyone who has ever served on a ship would tell me that it was all very normal. Finding your way around seemed so difficult to me, and I know we would have been lost repeatedly, had they not marked the directions with arrows on the floor and walls. It was hard to imagine just what being on board this ship in the midst of a battle must have felt. I don’t think anyone goes to war without a measure of fear. Nevertheless, there was no going back for the men, and later, women who 
served on the Lexington. The Lexington was the first aircraft carrier to have women stationed on board. These men and women served courageously and honorably, some giving their lives on the Lexington fighting the battles that were laid out before her. Knowing the history of this great ship leaves me with an entirely new perspective about what an awesome ship it was, and it makes me glad I had the opportunity to tour the USS Lexington.
In times past, many people sent out Christmas cards. It was simply a part of the season. You always had to make sure you got them in the mail as early as possible, or they didn’t arrive in time for Christmas. As a young newlywed, I tried really hard to get that tradition started, but it seemed like I always got cards from people that I didn’t expect and then they didn’t get one from me, or the time to mail them was long gone before I could even wrap my mind around the fact that the Christmas season was once again upon us. Most often, it was all I could do to get my Christmas shopping done…much less send out Christmas cards. It just seemed a lost cause, and like most lost causes, it went the way of the wind early on in my marriage. With two kids to take care of, there just didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day for such an extra.
Christmas cards used to be something most people did. It was tradition, passed on from parent to child. My Aunt Jeanette Byer has always had her act together on the Christmas card thing, and every year…like clock work, I get a card from her right about this time. Yes, it came yesterday, so that is what prompted this story. When I get her card, and think about just how sweet she is to always think of me and so many other people at this time of year, I start to think that I really should send her a card back, and if I ever got that done, Aunt Jeanette would probably faint, because it has not happened at this point. I also got one from my cousin, Shirley Cameron last year, and of course, it was too late to send one back by then, but it did show me just how sweet my cousin, 
Shirley is, and it is my hope that she knows just how much I love her, even in the absence of a Christmas card.
As the years have gone by, I have started receiving fewer and fewer Christmas cards, and while it could be because I never get any sent out, I have a feeling that fewer and fewer people send them out anymore. With the closer connections we have through Facebook, and the ability to send out e-cards, I think the practice of sending out Christmas cards is quickly becoming a thing of the past. Modern technology has a way of doing that, and while modern technology is vital to our way of life, maybe it is a little bit sad to see traditions like letters and Christmas cards go by the wayside. I know my Uncle Bill Spencer would feel that way, because he loved letters. He wanted the handwriting of the individual to have as a keepsake for all time. I can understand that now, where I could not before. Every time I see Uncle Bill’s handwriting, I know it instantly. I have seen it so often that it is as much him as he is. That is a tribute to the amount of writing he did on the family history all these years.
My dad loved Christmastime. As a Christian, it marks the birth of our Lord and Saviour, so it is a day that is important to us. I know that every time I see my dad’s handwriting, it makes my heart jump a little bit. It is like a connection to him that lives on here, even though he lives in Heaven now. For that love of handwriting, I have to thank my Uncle Bill, because it was he who first pointed out its importance. I came across a Christmas card sent home to Uncle Bill, from my dad during World War II, while he was in training in Salt Lake City, Utah. 
It was among the things that my grandmother kept, and then gave back to him later on, and while the only handwriting on it is simply my dad’s name, I know that the card was among the things that were dear to his brother’s heart, because it was sent to him from his brother, Allen Spencer, who was spending Christmas far from family in 1943. I’m sure that it was a lonely time for both of them, because they were very close, and it was a way for my dad to reach out across the miles and let his brother know, that he loved him. I guess that is really what Christmas cards, or any other cards are all about. Christmas is simply a season for showing your love, whether you mail a card, write a letter, send an e-card, or make an announcement on Facebook. It’s all about showing your love.
My great grandparents, Carl and Albertine Schumacher immigrated to the United States from Germany, before they even knew each other. When they arrived, they, like most immigrants, could not speak English very well. It made communication difficult in those early years. Eventually, they learned enough English to get by, but the family still spoke German in the home. German continued to be the home language for many years. In fact, it would take a teacher at the school where their two oldest children, Anna and Albert attended, who made fun of their language, to change their home life forever. When the children came home upset about the thoughtlessness of the teacher, my great grandmother, said, “That’s it!! From now on, this family will speak only English in this house!” She did it to protect her children from further ridicule, but looking back on that time now, I think it is a bit sad that the German language that had been a part of their heritage for generation and generations, was now lost forever. I know that my great grandparents probably always remembered the language, but for their children much of it was lost, and for their children, it was completely lost.
When I was in school, I fell in love with the German language, and took it in school for four years. It was so interesting to me to speak the German language, but the biggest problem was that I had no one to speak it with at home. I can see how speaking one language in the home and another at school could have become a problem for my grandmother and great uncle. It would be hard for them to learn English when German was spoken in the home. I know that the opposite made it very hard for me. The only time I got to speak German was the hour I had class each day. It would be especially confusing for younger children. Nevertheless, I think it could be done, and would have been beneficial for all of the children.
Over the years, I have been an advocate for English being our countries official language, and I still feel that way, but I also think it is great when people can speak more than one language. In my opinion, it is rude to speak another language in the company of people who cannot speak it back, because they invariably get the feeling that you are talking about them, and perhaps you are. Even if you aren’t, they will always believe you were. That is why I think it is important to consider those around you when choosing to speak a language that is not the common one to the area you are in. Of course, when you are not in a conversation with those around you, like in a grocery store, it’s a different thing. I think people should pass their heritage, culture, and language down to children and grandchildren, because it will never be something they regret giving them, but it is also important to embrace their new home when they immigrate, because that is where you will live, work, and socialize from then on.
On a trip to Tennessee and the surrounding area in April of 2003, Bob and I had the opportunity to visit Lookout Mountain, which is located near Chattanooga, in southwestern Tennessee. The drive up was stunning, and everything we saw there from Ruby Falls, to the Incline Railway, and Rock City proved to hold amazing views as well. From the top of the mountain, you can see seven states…Tennessee, Kentucky, North Carolina, South Carolina, Virginia, Georgia, and Alabama. The view across that area is spectacular. When we travel, we love to go sight seeing, so this area fit right into our idea of a great place to visit. looking back now, I’m sure that time constraints played a part in my missing out on some of the amazing historical value of the area I was visiting, and to me, that is really a shame, because so much took place there, and I didn’t even know it.
I suppose I should have known the history of the area, but apparently I wasn’t as up on my Civil War and Indian history as I am now. I really wish I had known or had at least taken more time reading the many signs in the area, because I could have figured out what a great area we were in. During the Nickajack Expedition which occurred in the 18th century, Lookout Mountain would become a last stand for the Chickamauga Cherokee, who were followers of Chief Dragging Canoe, who opposed the peace treaty between Native Americans and the American settlers. The peace treaty was signed in 1777. Most of the Chickamauga Cherokee agreed to the treaty, but a small band followed Chief Dragging Canoe, and they went to battle in the late summer through the fall of 1794. The final battle, and the point that Chief Dragging Canoe’s warriors would lose the fight took place on Lookout Mountain. The Indians were no match for the military might of the army, and after wounding only 3 of the militia, the villages of Nickajack Town and Running Water Town were destroyed, leaving seventy Cherokee dead.
The Civil War battle that made Lookout mountain famous took place on November 24, 1863 and was a part of the Chattanooga Campaign. Major General Joseph Hooker defeated the Confederate forces who were under the command of Major General Carter Stevenson. Lookout mountain has an excellent view of the Tennessee River, making it a perfect stronghold. It also held a perfect view of the Union supply lines, so if the Confederate army wanted to starve out the Union army, they needed Lookout Mountain, and if the Union army wanted to keep their supply lines clear, they needed Lookout Mountain. One of the hardest places to fight a battle is a mountain…at least for the side who is at the bottom of the mountain. They are far too visible to fight the battle easily. So, after calling for reinforcements, Major General Joseph Hooker went into battle. It was a must win situation. If they lost the Union soldiers would be starved into surrender.
Looking back now on our visit makes everything we saw seem much more interesting. In my memory files, I can pull out the different views of our visit to Lookout Mountain, and I can visualize the exact view the Confederate soldiers had, and knowing that there was virtually no place to hide, I can’t help but wonder how the Union soldiers managed to win that battle. I suppose that it was partly the numbers of soldiers, with 
the Union having more than 1,000 more, but more importantly, I think it was the fact that they surrounded the Confederate soldiers, leaving them with too many sides to cover. Our trip to Lookout Mountain, Ruby Falls, and Rock City has taken on a whole new meaning for me. I wish I had known it then. I would have really enjoyed that stroll through history. The great thing is that my pictures, memories, and a little look at history can take me back to visit again.
When Bob and I arrived at the nursing home where his mother lives, she immediately asked us if we had our guns. We usually go with the flow when talking to her, because with Alzheimer’s Disease, you just never know what she will say. She gets an idea into her head, and she goes with it. Things like telling us she cooked dinner, or asking what time she has to be to school are common topics, but she hasn’t talked about guns very much, so I wasn’t really sure what direction this conversation was going to take. When I told her we didn’t have our guns, she gave me a sideways glance, and I knew this was a serious conversation. She then told me that when “those guys” get here, we are going to start shooting at them. I told her that it was against the law to shoot at people, and she informed me that it wasn’t if they shot at us first. You just can’t argue with that logic, so we tried to change the subject. She was having none of it.
She told us that we needed to close all the windows and turn off all the lights before “those guys” got here…and 
that when the shooting started…it was going to be really bad. It was very clear to me that she was anticipating a real shoot out. It isn’t very often that she is impossible to move off of a conversation and on to something else, so we knew that we were going to have to play this one out. I told her that no one told us that we were supposed to bring our gun, and once again, I received a sideways glance that told me that she really did not approve of our severe lack of preparation for this upcoming battle. I’m not sure how I was supposed to know that we needed to bring our gun, but I can say that since she had informed us that “the boys” called and told her about “those guys” who were coming to have this shoot out, It seems to me that she had a definite advantage over us. If “the boys” took the time to call her, maybe they should have called us too, since it was to be our job to protect Mom from “those guys” after all. Shouldn’t we have been told this responsibility was coming before “those guys” were on their way…with guns!!
When we took Mom into the dining room for dinner…again trying to get her mind off of the upcoming battle, she still would not be moved. She made Bob close the blinds in the room, in case “those guys” showed up 
before she was done eating. When Bob told her that he was pretty sure they wouldn’t be there before we could get done, she didn’t look very convinced. Bob had to tell her that as soon as she was done eating, we would go out of the dining room and sit in a room with no windows, so she would be safe. She ate her dinner quickly and without any arguments, and when she was done, we went into the TV room. We were sure that it was a protected room without any problems, but she immediately noticed that the blinds across that room were open too, so we had to close those as well. We assured her that she was safe now. Then she said that pretty soon, they would be getting ready to call out the numbers. Suddenly, it became crystal clear that the shoot out was over, and…we were on to Bingo.
When my sister, Cheryl Masterson, my mom, Collene Spencer, and I went back to Wisconsin this past summer, the goal was to connect and re-connect with cousins in the area. One cousin we got to re-connect with was our cousin Pam Wendling. Pam and Cheryl were each others oldest friends as well. Born just over six months apart and living just on the other side of a back yard fence from each other, their lives were constantly intermingled for five years, during which time the girls became very close. Our move, and the miles between Superior, Wisconsin and Casper, Wyoming would separate them, and would prove to be a very hard time on the little girls. It’s hard to have a companion you have known all your life, move away. And for little girls of only five years, I’m sure this change would seem sudden, even if they were told of its coming ahead of time. It is hard enough for adults to understand why people move away, and even harder when you explain it to little kids.
Over the years, our parents got the two families together as much as the miles would allow, but after we all grew up and married, busy lives on both sides would keep us from seeing very much of Pam and her brothers, Bill and Jim. You just don’t realize how quickly the time flies by, and before you know it, years have passed since you last saw each other…much less spoke on the phone. I don’t think we realized just how much we missed that contact, until Pam and her husband, Mike Wendling came to Casper for a visit. It was then that we knew that we needed to make the trip back to Wisconsin to visit all of the family we have there. It was such a lovely trip, and we enjoyed the time we got to spend with all of those cherished individuals
Pam then shared with us, her baby scrapbook…put together for her by her mom, our Aunt Doris Spencer. In it, we saw those cherished moments shared between to little girls who lived on opposite sides of a back yard fence. We reminisced about the many trips we had taken to visit each others families. I remembered the excitement of their anticipated visit, and how much we enjoyed the time spent with our cousins. Pam has always been someone I looked up to. She…like my older sister, Cheryl, always seems so sophisticated and so pretty. I always wished I could have possessed those qualities, and maybe people would say I do, but I just 
never felt that way. Pam has been a elementary school teacher for many years, and in fact, will be retiring in January, when this semester ends. She and her husband, Mike are planning to take some time to head to sunny Mexico and get away from the cold winters that occur around Lake Superior. While we are very happy for them in their new ventures, we also hope that their new found freedom will allow them to make a few more trips to Wyoming to visit their cousins, who don’t want to wait so long to see them again. Today is Pam’s birthday. Happy birthday Pam!! Have a great day!! We love you!!
With the Indian Summer we had this year, came a late fall…which collided with winter the other day. Usually winter snow and leaves still on the trees, spells disaster for the trees, but not this time. The weather had cooled down enough to where many if the trees were bare, and those that weren’t, had a lot less leaves than last year when we got an early storm that broke many of our trees. This frigid cold weather, and the subsiquent storm, brought snow that was much more of the powder variety, and maybe that’s why the few trees that had leaves on them were able to stand against the snow.
The thing that makes this storm so unusual is that with most snow storms here, the leaves have either been raked up and disposed of, or they are under the snow. Not so this storm. Because we had an abundance of leaves still lingering on the trees, the wind that followed the storm, deposited them on top of the snow on the ground.
As I was looking out the window this morning, I noticed that there was a trail of leaves running across my lawn. The snow was slightly melted around them, creating…well, leaf tracks. I know that makes no sense, and that most likely, an animal walked across our yard, leaving the tracks. The problem with that thought is that the tracks really didn’t go anywhere. If an animal had gone across the yard, it was either very careful to back track in the same foot prints it had made, or it left the yard by some way that I couldn’t see. All I could see was leaves in every one of the imprints. As far as I’m concerned, those are leaf tracks.
You can think what you like, and you can even wonder what goofy thing I will think of next. I can’t say, because I don’t set out to dream this up, it just hits me that way. I have deer in my yard all the time, as well as cats, dogs, and even raccoons, so it could be that one of those made the tracks, but I like the idea of leaf tracks. It lends a little bit of something special to the scene I saw.
It’s funny that the snow can melt in such a way as to create something that really can’t happen and makes no sense anyway, but it does. Maybe it had the help of the leaves laying across it in such a way that it looked like a trail, or maybe it’s all in my imagination, but either way, I like the effect. There they are, leaf tracks surrounded by snow diamonds. It’s such a pretty sight, and it puts a smile on my face in an otherwise dreary day. Maybe my analogy is silly, but sometimes we need a little silliness in our lives and I think leaf tracks works perfectly. So the next time you see leaves on top of the snow, look carefully to see if any of them left their tracks across the snow, and you too might be pleasantly surprised by leaf tracks.
Driving home the other day, I started thinking about being in charge of such a machine as the automobile. At 15 years of age, most kids start learning to control this machine, and in a very short time, they are good at it. With the turn of a wheel and the press of a foot on a pedal, the car moves and the driver is in control. With careful and responsible use, the car can be maneuvered safely down life’s roads…and while driving it, we give little or no thought to just how amazing that is. A car is no small thing, and trucks are even bigger, and yet they are driven around by people who are pretty much one tenth of their size…sometimes less than that. Am I the only one who thinks about that?
Before the invention of the automobile, people did control wagons and horse drawn carriages, but the horse had some say in what happened…at least to the extent that it wouldn’t usually go running off a cliff. And maybe 
it wasn’t a good thing to have the horse involved exactly, because it could fight against the driver…unlike the automobile. Nevertheless, to have a machine that you have to control or it will go out of control, and to think that kids as young as fifteen are controlling that vehicle, is amazing and even mind boggling to me. And yet, it is being safely done every day.
I’m not sure just why it sometimes hits me that driving a car every day is amazing, but it does. And when my kids and grandkids started driving, it seemed even more strange to me. How could they possibly know how to handle such a machine? They couldn’t possibly be ready or capable of such a thing, but the reality is that just like me, they were ready for it. There are approximately 30,000,000 drivers in the United States today, and if even a third of them are kids, there are about 10,000,000 kids driving their cars, and most generally keeping them in their own lane and on the road. I don’t say that driving a car is the safest way to travel, because like it 
or not, that honor belongs to the airlines. Many people wouldn’t agree, but the numbers don’t lie.
I know my thoughts sometimes seem a little odd, but the next time you get behind the wheel, contemplate for a moment just how amazing it is that you operate a piece of machinery that is about ten times your size and you do it while giving it almost no thought at all. I guess that our minds grasp many things, and driving a car doesn’t seem to be a particularly difficult one, since it is something we master at a relatively young age. A vehicle is a complicated piece of machinery with many things to master, but we have been doing it for a long time…truly amazing.
