My Dream Career – Abandoned!

Anyone who knows me knows I am nuts about cars. Annoys my wife when we’re out walking and an impulsive comment about some vehicle or other that catches my eye passes my lips. It’s hard not to do that after a lifetime fixation on ‘cars.’

It all started when I was 9-yrs.old and in Grade IV.  We lived ‘up north’ where we never saw cars. Then, we moved for a few months into our great grandmother’s former home when she moved to a nursing home (as they called them then). The house was on one of the main drags of the town so there was a constant parade of cars going by. This was in the mid-fifties when colour and chrome were really beginning to take hold. First there were two-tones and then even three-tones. Car colour choices nowadays are so poor compared to the variety of solid and pastel hues available then. 

Maybe my love of vehicles did predate all this as I remember we were already at the time collecting Matchbox and sometimes Corgi miniatures. The latter were of better quality – they might have ‘shock absorbers’ and ‘glass’ in their windows. Dinky toys were too expensive, and also too big to correspond with the others when we wanted to play with them in our make-believe scenarios of streets we drew on the backside of our kitchen table ‘oilcloth’ tablespread!

I began to draw cars. Something in me even made me design something for the future – a ’57 Plymouth to be exact. My grandfather had a Dodge at the time so I was a bit partial to the Mopar line, as it came to be called. Then, it was the new Forward Look. Remember the two sideways overlapping vees? I must say, my memory of the drawing was that it was not that far off of what did come out for 1957.

I also became very good at recognizing car makes and models, including by year. I remember my uncle Darcy Loewen and his brother Don’s amazement at how I would name off the cars we met on the road as we drove along when they helped us move from the south to a new home in Loon Straits when I was 10-yrs. old. This is something I still keep abreast of somewhat, although with so many more choices nowadays, and so little difference between so many, it’s harder to do. Car makes were much more distinctive in those days.

My car drawing continued. I also began to collect pictures of cars from newspapers and magazine ads and paste them into scrapbooks, which were a popular form of collecting at the time. Somewhere between that time and when we moved to Winnipeg in 1963, or maybe it was only then, I began to collect pictures and arrange them by year and make of car.

My brother and I then also began to build car models, another common hobby at the time. We had made friends with a couple of Kehler brothers in Selkirk whose father worked for Manitoba Hydro in Grand Rapids, where we had once lived, and they introduced us to AMT models. They were the real thing. You could ‘customize’ them with included optional parts. We began painting our models too.

Moving to Winnipeg brought other opportunities. Shopping for models became easier, especially as we first lived very near the new discount Topps store in Polo Park, now long gone. I began to use my allowance and other income to buy car magazines such as Car & Drive and Motor Trend, especially the fall issues featuring the whole line-up of new cars of the coming year. The big bonus was the annual car show, then held in the Winnipeg arena. We three older boys went regularly and collected as many glossy brochures as we could. The dealers who advertised were not too concerned about such in those days, although they did sometimes begin to look askance at us young kids walking off with bags full of their promotional materials! I guess we did not look like potential customers – at least not any time soon!

I must admit I then became even more obsessive about collecting and arranging these pictures in my scrapbooks. If I could not get a photo of a certain model I sometimes drew one to enhance the completeness of my catalogues. I also continued to draw cars of my own imagination, even naming them by my own made-up make and model line names.

Now, if you have not gathered by now – my interest in cars was about the body design, the art and creativity of that, not so much the mechanical. To be sure, when I later got automobiles of my own I did learn to do basic maintenance and minor repairs – oil and filter changes, light bulb replacements. My brother-in-law Dave, who taught me much of this, even thought I was somewhat obsessive about the upkeep of my cars. Of course, when computers entered the auto world, much of that changed. As the engine space become more compact and condensed, oil and filter changes sometimes became more difficult too. Now that I live in a condo, all of that is out of the question. But I am getting ahead of myself.

The big change occurred about this time. I was graduating high school and moving into college. I had even applied to a nearby auto dealer for a salesman job when I graduated college, but that never happened. I had also by this time subscribed to my favourite magazine, Car and Driver. It had the most interesting and somewhat subjective features and columns. I looked forward to its arrival in the mail every month. However, my faith values nagged at me. I concluded that designing cars was really a somewhat frivolous career for someone with my beliefs.  It was all about planned obsolescence and appeal to the senses, even to pride. Now, homes were another matter. They were more necessary. I could justify using my creative aptitude as an architect.  So, I chose to abandon my dream career of being a car designer. It was not taken from me. I even knew already by that time that California was the place to go to study this.  

It just so happened that I decided to move provinces at the time too, going to Saskatoon to get my Bachelor of Science. My family had all moved to that province and I was also interested in a young lady whom I had dated (once!) in college who lived there, but that’s another story that ended. By this time, I had also received a call I considered from God to medicine. Not even architecture. Hence the switch to a pre-med science program. As part of this move, I tossed out all my car scrapbooks. I have not really regretted it. When I left home, all my car models somehow stayed there and I have no idea what happened to them.

I have never totally been able to shake the allure of the car though. Again, because of my values, I have never bought a real sports car, nor a luxury model, much as my human nature might like to. I do not change my cars often. Our current sedan is thirteen years old. I still occasionally draw them. I did buy more models, but not many. I still sometimes went to car shows, but more of people’s prized old and custom vehicles. I would take pictures of my favourites, not infrequently even when I spotted a cool vintage vehicle on the road or in a parking lot. I know I am not the only one who does that. There are Facebook pages for such. What I did get into collecting, although that’s now also pretty much a thing of the past, were books on cars and die-cast models when they became commonly available. The latter required no assembly and were so realistic, what with opening hoods, doors and trunks, and often even turning steering wheels in some cases. 

But even all of that somewhat bothered my desire to live a more humble and simple Christian life.  I have even at times asked elders in the faith what they thought about all this but no one seemed to think what I was doing was a big issue.  That never really satisfied me. I think we are all, in our Western affluent society, more at ease with such things than perhaps we ought to be. I think at some level I wanted them to say, yes get rid of all that too. Those are your idols. Are they? As the old saying goes, “the Spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

As my wife knows, I still pay attention to cars. My response: “Would you rather I look at other women?” 

The Story of Onesimus II. Stirrings in Ephesus

One warm bright morning Philemon shook Onesimus awake. Get up, he ordered, “I need you to come to Ephesus with me today.”

Onesimus jumped up, wide awake now. Ephesus? He had heard about this city but had never been there. 

“I have some business to conduct there,” Onesimus’ master was saying, “and I need your company to help me carry some things.” 

Onesimus was young and string so this prospect did not concern him too much. He also knew his master did not as a rule ask him to do more than he knew he was capable of. What Onesimus did not know was that he was facing at least a four-day journey. 

The master’s wife brought out some food for Onesimus to eat. He quickly splashed some water over his face from the basin kept for washing and then ate his breakfast. Meanwhile, Aphia and Philemon were filling some bags with food and skins with water. 

It seemed Onesimus’ masters had already eaten for, as soon as he was done, Philemon motioned for him to come and then helped him fasten the bags of food and water around his neck and shoulders. Philemon also carried some provisions, although not as much as his slave. Philemon also took a solid walking stick from near the door and also gave one to Onesimus. 

“We might need these before our trip is over,” he said.” When Philemon sensed all was in order, he bade his wife farewell and they set out. 

When they reached the large temple at the centre of the city Philemon indicated they needed to stop. “Stay here and keep watch,” he said, “I will go and ask the gods to give us a safe trip.”

Onesimus watched as his master haggled with one of the hawkers of incense and such near the steps up to the temple. When he judged he had made a satisfactory deal, Philemon took some incense and some fruit and went to offer it at the altar in the temple. Soon he was back on the street and the pair continued on.

There was little spoken between the two as they hurried on, as was usual between slave and master. After they had left the city, Philemon did turn back to Onesimus and observe, “There might be robbers along the road so we need to keep a sharp eye out.” Tapping the ground with his walking stick, he added, “That’s where these might come in handy.”

When they came to the next town, Laodicea, they noticed a caravan of camels and donkeys loaded down, with their drivers. As they drew nearer, it was apparent the cavalcade was stopped near the town well to give their animals a break and some water.  Some of the men among the entourage were obviously the owners of the animals, others appeared to be traders. Onesimus noticed that some of the men seemed to have swords in the folds of their robes.

“Wait here a moment,” Philemon said, and moved forward to talk to these men. 

When he returned, Philemon said, “We are in luck. Thanks be to the gods. These men said we could travel with them. It will be safer.” It might have been safer but it did slow them down too, as the caravan had to stop for water and food for its animals more often than Philemon and Onesimus would have needed to stop.

Eventually though, they did reach Ephesus.  The cities of Laodicea and especially Hierapolis, near Colossae, had fascinated Onesimus whenever he had a chance to go there. However, he was not prepared for what he now saw.  In the first place, it took hours just to wend their way through the narrow streets to their destination. At times Onesimus could see massive temples with tall statues of their gods before them.  At one point he saw a huge, high curving wall with arched porticos around its circumference. “That,” pointed out Philemon, “is the amphitheatere where great sporting and political events are held.” Onesimus had never seen anything like all this. 

Philemon stopped some passersby and got instructions to a nearby inn. It was one recommended by the caravaneers, whom they had now parted company with. 

Philemon and Onesimus were both glad to get some water to wash their faces, hands and feet before digging into the repast the innkeeper provided. They were still at table with some other guests when in walked a sturdy, handsome young man Onesimus thought looked vaguely familiar. Philemon obviously knew more.

“Epaphras!” Philemon exclaimed as he jumped to his feet and moved to greet the newcomer. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. Look at what a handsome young man you’ve become. What brings you here, if I may ask?”

“You may,” responded the guest, “I am actually working here, but maybe not for long.”

“Oh,” Philemon queried, his eyebrows raised. “Job not working out?”

“It’s not that,” Epaphras said as he moved in at the table next to Philemon. He reached in and took a piece of bread and scooped up some lentil broth from the centre.

“Mmm, not bad for an inn.” Turning to the owner who was busy in the background, Epaphras called out, “My compliments to the cook!”

“I’ll tell her,” the owner replied.

Epaphras sat up somewhat to be nearer Philemon. “I am probably going back to Colossae on a mission.”

“Mission?” asked Philemon. “You work for the government?”

“No, not that kind of mission. You see, while here, I have come to know a Jew from Palestine. He is a very intelligent and educated man but you would never know it from his behaviour. I have never met such a real man. He seems so genuine.”

“How so,” Philemon broke in.

“Well,” continued Epaphras, “he teaches about some real changes that seem to have taken place in the Jewish religion. At least the way he understands and talks about it.”

“Religion?” Philemon smiled, “Do I want to hear more?”

“That’s just the thing,” Epaphras said, and you could hear the earnest tone in his voice. “It’s not like he’s talking about a religion. He talks about a Jewish rabbi who was crucified by the Romans because the Jewish leaders thought he was causing trouble. They said he was breaking some of their sacred laws and deserved to die.”

“Ah, yes,” Philemon muse, “the Jews are very strict about their religious laws and practices, that much I know. But to kill someone?”  

“Well, apparently they did. But, and here’s where it gets really different – he came alive again and continued teaching his followers for forty days, and then disappeared.  His followers say he was God come to earth and that he then returned to heaven.”

“Now, I’ve heard everything,” Philemon said, leaning back on his elbow and taking another bit of bread and broth. “Well, Onesimus here and I are tired. We’ve just traveled from Colossae. But you know how that goes. Maybe we can talk more another time. We’re turning in. Good night Epaphras.”

Finding the New Teacher - Part III of Three

It turned out that after that last miracle in our synagogue in Capernaum, my – Jairus, that is - meeting the new teacher was not going to be easy. Seems he had got wind of the increasing hostility of our religious leaders and experts in The Law. As a result, he was staying away from our town and synagogue. He was meeting people on the hillsides and lakeshores of the Sea of Galilee. I also heard that, likely for similar reasons, he had also begun to make his teachings more veiled. The plain message of repentance and forgiveness was being replaced by stories, parables like our other rabbis also sometimes used.

I was pondering how to pursue my quest to talk with this Jesus when it happened, but not at all how I envisioned it. Our dear daughter became ill. Nothing we could do, no help that we could find, seemed to be leading to recovery. My wife and I were afraid she was going to die. 

Then it struck me. This Jesus had performed all kinds of miracles. Could he heal our daughter? Part of me wanted to drop everything and go and find him and ask him if he could do us this favour. But did I have enough faith? That always seemed to enter the picture. Was there some sin her mother or I had committed that needed forgiveness? That was another factor that had been part of some of these healing episodes. All these questions and doubts. What’s more, what would my associates think? Here were our spiritual leaders thinking this man had crossed a line that deserved death. What would happen to me if they learned I had gone to ask him for help? Would I lose my position as synagogue leader? or worse?

Meanwhile, our daughter was beginning to look like she was indeed at death’s door. I told my wife what I was thinking and she accepted my plan. I threw all caution to the wind and hurried out to find Jesus.

I did not have to go far. In the distance, I could see a large crowd gathering at the seashore. I practically ran to the edge of the crowd and then began jostling to get nearer to Jesus. People who knew me helped part the way for me to get through; some of them knew our daughter was ill and maybe they wondered if I was coming to get help. Suddenly, there he was, right in front of me. I looked into his eyes and was so overcome by his returning gaze I threw myself at his feet. It was like he was just waiting for me to state my case. I didn’t care anymore what anyone thought. I just wanted our daughter well.

“Teacher, rabbi,” I cried, “Our daughter is at the point of death. Please, please, come to our place and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.” I could see the tears well up in Jesus’ eyes as he bent over and took my hands and pulled me to my feet. Without a word, he put his arm across my back and began walking quickly with me towards our home.

The crowd was still pressing around Jesus as we tried to make our way. People were reaching out to touch him, hoping to get his attention, to be healed. Suddenly Jesus stopped. Oh no, I thought, please, hurry. Then I caught myself. How could I be so selfish. If Jesus wanted to give his attention to someone else, I was sure he knew that he could still fulfil my wishes. Just being with him was giving me that confidence. It was strange, but I was feeling calm, no longer panicky. 

Out of the corner of my eye I had seen a woman fall to the ground behind him and just brush his cloak with her outstretched hand. Jesus turned and asked, “Who touched me?” His followers, those young men who had gathered around him said, “Jesus, the crowd is so tight – everyone is touching you.” He did not let that stop him. Still, he looked around. Sensing she could not get away, the woman whom I had seen touch him came forward and fell before him. Shaking in fear, she told him her long story. Again, I saw the look and tenderness with which he reached out to her. I can only describe it as real compassion, even love. He seemed so genuinely moved by the needs of those he encountered. He gave her his hand and said, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace and be healed of your disease.”

The crowd had stopped in its movement as this happened but even before those words were out of Jesus’ mouth I saw some friends hurrying towards us. The looks on their faces told me everything. They rushed to my side and in hushed tones told me what no father wants to hear, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further,” they added. 

Before I could even begin to think of what to do now, Jesus, having obviously heard our friends, turned to me: “Do not fear,” he said, “Only believe.” Oh, how I wanted to do that.

Then he turned to the crowd. Raising his arm toward them he said, “My teaching, my work with you is done for now. Please leave me go and complete another work I have to do.” Turning to his followers he singled out three of them and signaled them to go with us. 

We hurried on in silence to our home. Already from a distance we could hear the keening of the mourners. It really struck me then. Our daughter was dead. What could Jesus do now? We were too late. If only we had not stopped earlier. Again, I dismissed such negative thoughts. Jesus had reassured me and, somehow, I still felt calm entering our home with him.

I could see he seemed a little irritated with all the commotion and noise. He looked around at all the mourners and spoke, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” Really? Did Jesus know something we didn’t? Jesus went on, “Can you please all leave?” Some of those present were laughing at Jesus, even sneering at him. “The girl is dead,” they insisted. But his look told them he meant business and they went outside. He guided my wife and I to our daughter’s side, with the three men close behind. Again, he reached down, took our daughter’s pale hand and said, “Little girl, get up.” I held my breath, but what did I see? Our daughter’s eyelids flickered, then her eyes opened wide. Seeing us all around she got up off the bed and rushed into our arms. Then she pulled herself away and took a circle around the room, stepping so lightly it was as if she was dancing. Indeed, with the smile on her face she was. 

We were astounded. I was sure she was dead when I had seen her lying there so pale and lifeless. Our friends would not have told us so if they did not think she was dead. Had this Jesus just raised her from death? Who was this man indeed? Before I could say anything, Jesus asked us to give her something to eat. Her mother quickly complied. While our daughter was happily munching away, Jesus said, “Don’t tell anyone what you have just seen.” With that, he turned and left, with his three followers close behind.

Meeting the New Teacher Again - Part II of Three

I, Jairus, am writing again. 

I had written earlier about the new teacher in our area, this man called Jesus. As a leader in the synagogue, one needs to do a bit of homework around whom we let teach in our synagogue – if we have the choice. As I said last time, we need to protect or Law from misinterpretation and our synagogue and the privileges it enjoys from being abused. You will recall that this Jesus had come to our synagogue one Sabbath by surprise, so I was caught off guard at the time. 

I had asked around and learned a bit more about where this Jesus came from. He was indeed the son of a carpenter, Joseph, and his wife Mary, from Nazareth. He had several brothers and sisters. When I asked about the origins of his family I was stunned to find out he was not a real Galilean, but that his ancestors were Judeans, from Bethlehem in fact. Indeed, when we had all had to go to our homelands when a previous governor, Quirinius of Syria had ordered that for a census – orders that came from the Emperor Augustus in Rome by the way – this family had returned there and that was where Jesus had been born. Could there be something to those rumours of his possibly being the Messiah? I did not dwell long on such thoughts though. If Jesus’ birth was indeed important in that regard, our religious leaders would have found that out already. Instead, I was already hearing about caution coming from them about this man, if not outright questioning of his apparent authority and powers.

Just the same, the stories of what the people believed to be miracles he performed kept coming in. When I actually got to talk about these with some of those directly involved, you could not deny the truth of their story and the strength of their faith in this man. Indeed, for some at least, the performance of a miracle not only changed them in the area of healing involved, it seemed to mark for them the beginning of a brand new phase of their lives. It was like they had been reborn in their outlook, their attitude to life and to our faith. Regardless of their circumstances, and many of these people were poor and came from backgrounds many in our society frowned on – even hated tax collectors and prostitutes! – they seemed somehow happier, more confident, more at peace and content. Sometimes I had wished I could feel that way, what with all the stress of my position.  

Some of them then began to say that, along with the healing, Jesus had told them their sins were forgiven. My ears had perked up at that. This was a new twist. None of our miracle workers had ever added that to their incantations. Only God could forgive sins. Everybody knew that. For a human to say that would amount to blasphemy. Indeed, some of our more prominent leaders I got to ask about this said they were beginning to think what Jesus was saying was blasphemous in these and other areas. He seemed to be making preposterous claims for himself, allying himself with God in an easy and familiar way that none of our other teachers ever dared.

I was beginning to feel pulled in two directions. Part of me said, stay away from this man, he is dangerous, don’t even let him back in your synagogue. Another part of me said, go and hear this man some more, make up your own mind about him. Well, my chance came sooner than I expected. I had heard that this Jesus and his followers were touring around Galilee, teaching and performing miracles. He had evidently even cured a leper. That was something none of our healers could do. Only the prayers of the priests, following the rules laid down by the prophet Moses – well, actually given by God - had ever accomplished that. And this man was no priest.

Then I had heard that Jesus was back at the place in Capernaum he called home. I heard that a crowd had gathered to hear him speak so I decided to chance it and go and hear what he had to say. I say ‘chance it’ because I knew by now that there were those among our leaders who were not in favour of him and might question my presence there as the local synagogue leader.

I had not even reached the door of the home – well, in fact, I could not get near for the crowd – when some sweaty young men carrying a stretcher rushed towards us. Apparently, the pale and twisted body lying on it was their friend who had become paralyzed, unable to walk. They were hoping Jesus could heal him. However, the crowd was so thick there was no way they were going to penetrate that mass of humanity. After some words between themselves and those around I noticed them go around the aide of the house and next thing I knew they were on the roof, tearing away at the straw and tiles! Then, they dropped the man on the stretcher down into the room! A hush came over the crowd and even I could hear Jesus speaking out loudly and clearly to the man. They had surely gotten his attention by that feat!

“Son, your sins are forgiven.” What? So, this Jesus did say those things! I heard some talking amongst those inside but I could not make out the words. Then I heard Jesus say, “Why do you raise such questions in your hearts? Which is easier to say to this paralyzed man, ‘Your sins are forgiven’ or ‘Stand up and take your mat and walk? So you might know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins…” then he must have turned to the man dropped through the roof again, as he followed with “I say to you, stand up, take your mat and go to your home.” Before I had much of a chance to process what I was hearing the crowd parted and a young man, his face beaming but at the same time looking puzzled, as if he did not know what had just happened, passed by us. He was carrying his mat and quickly joined by his friends who had hustled back down from the roof, stretcher and all. They were so happy, slapping him on the back and saying how happy they were, but also thanking Jahweh.

Many in the crowd too were praising Jahweh and saying things like “We have never seen anything like this!”

Some of the crowd was leaving now, among them a small group of men I recognized immediately by their dress and accent to be from Jerusalem or at least Judea. Their faces were stern and they, unlike the rest of the crowd, were not praising God, but instead were talking about how this man was blasphemous and not to be listened to. They were not only saying this to themselves but warning the crowd as they passed through it and left. Fortunately, not being local men, they did not recognize me or they might have asked me why I was there. Mind you, I could have asked them the same. Seems we are all curious about what this Jesus is saying and doing.

Now, I had heard with my own ears some of the sayings our leaders have been concerned about. To tell someone your sins are forgiven, and that you have authority to do this – that seems a bit much. And to refer to himself as the Son of Man. That is a very sacred title, not used lightly. I had never heard anyone say that about anyone I knew, or anyone else for that matter, let alone about their own self. It is only a title one reads in our holy writings.

Yes, and there it is indeed connected in some places with the one to come, the Messiah. Was Jesus really saying he was The Messiah? It hardly seemed probable. He certainly did not fit our expectations in that regard.

I was really no closer to making sense of this all when another Sabbath rolled around and Jesus showed up again in or synagogue. I noticed that some of those same men, or ones like them, that I had seen at his home a few days back, were tagging along close behind him in the crowd following him. Then I noticed that one of our citizens whose hand had become shrunk and deformed was there, right in front of Jesus it seemed. A hush descended over those assembled as everyone watched to see how Jesus would react. They did not have to wait long.

Jesus saw the man and said, “Come forward.” The man hesitated but then he stepped out in front of Jesus. Jesus turned and looked at the crowd, and I saw he looked directly at those visiting religious leaders: “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the Sabbath, to save life or to kill?” A flash of anger crossed his face as he said this, especially facing those visitors. It was replaced just as quickly by a look of deep sadness when no one dared to answer. I don’t blame them. Who would dare give an opinion in front of those leaders, those Pharisees and their friends. 

Turning back to the man, Jesus said, “Stretch out your hand.” People gasped as he did, not only that he was able to but that it now looked and moved perfectly normally. The man looked at his hand, opened and closed his fist, bent his wrist up and down. He was stunned, but then he realized, he had just been healed. He could not contain the joyful grin that spread across his face. He bowed and thanked Jesus profusely. The crowd’s response, indeed that of the man, was now considerably more muted than what I had sometimes seen and heard before. I understood. 

Jesus had placed his healing in the context of the Sabbath and according to our laws, or at least our traditions, that was work and not allowed. One could understand that with all that our other healers required of people to be healed, but with Jesus it was different. He did not seem to do any ‘work.’ He just spoke, and it happened. It was like how our scriptures talk of Jahweh at Creation – everything happened just by his word. Who was this man? Was there something divine about him?

The healed man could see that those visiting religious folk were not impressed. Had he just taken part in something wrong? Was he in trouble? They did not say anything to him, so he just turned and slipped away.

Meanwhile, I could hear those Pharisees, those teachers of the law, murmuring amongst themselves. They were talking about how Jesus was blasphemous, how he was breaking our laws, and that meant he deserved the death penalty. In fact, I heard some of them say as they rushed past me to leave, that they were going to report this to King Herod’s people.

Wow! Things were moving fast indeed. Would they really arrest this man? Charge him with these offenses under our law? I understood where they were coming from but I tell you, I was also deeply troubled. This man did not seem to be doing anything really wrong. Should it not be right to help people on the sabbath? What kind of god would prohibit that? Jesus seemed to say things with such authority. To him it all seemed so clear. I wished it was that clear to me. I resolved that before he came to our synagogue again, I would see if I could get an audience with him. I had a lot of questions. He seemed to have answers.