Rides

I'm not a brave person. I don't know that I've ever done anything brave. I have done dangerous things and lots and lots of foolish things. Sometimes I did dangerous things because I didn't know any better, sometimes because I was too afraid to admit I was a coward, and sometimes because it had to be done. I've gotten off a motorcycle just about every way imaginable: high-side, low-side, over the handlebars and off the back. Every once in a while I stopped the bike before I got off. I've tried riding horses that didn't want to be ridden — and I know a couple of unique ways of dismounting. I've been punched, kicked, stomped, knocked down, and my pastor ran over me with a car. I'm not brave but I do have a high tolerance for pain.

Snakes used to scare me. My mom once beat me for what seemed like a good thirty minutes trying to get me to go into the cellar after, I think, a jar of pickles. I had seen a lizard's tail — but it could have been a snake — flash behind something down there the day before and a whipping didn't seem all that bad. I have a high tolerance for pain. I'm not scared of snakes any more, but they still creep me out. If I walk up on one unexpectedly, I exhale forcefully enough to make a distinctive sound, sort of like "ah-fhoo". Releasing my ki, I then moonwalk about six inches off the ground and proceed to chop the poor creature into multiple pieces or blast it into the next county.

I used to be afraid of heights, but I could climb to the top of any tree — maybe I figured I'd hit a limb on the way down. I could shinny up a rope, but I didn't trust ladders. Eventually I got used to stuff like that. Flying never bothered me, though otherwise I don't necessarily like being more than twenty or thirty feet off the ground, and I'd never make it as an ironworker, but I wouldn't call it a phobia.

I rode all the rides at the fair when I was a kid. I never liked the ferris wheel unless I was riding with a kissable girl. The first really cool rollercoaster I rode was at Silver Dollar City: Fire In The Hole. It was a brandnew ride when I got on in 1972. A few days ago I rode it with my fifteen-year-old granddaughter, and, even though we had ridden it about seven times in a row just before the park closed for the winter, it still made her scream when we took the first drop in the dark. It is a combination dark ride and rollercoaster, all indoors, and a cult classic.

But SDC has more rollercoasters these days. There is Thunderation, a rather modest steel coaster that goes through a tunnel and has several cars turned backward. It tops out a little under 50mph and has an 80-foot drop. Then there is Powderkeg, a launched coaster that goes from a deadstop to 53 mph in 2.8 seconds. You'll pull about 3.9g's on Powderkeg. It tops out close to 65mph and has a 110-foot drop. It is over half a mile long, has lots of curves, and is very smooth despite the acceleration. I'd call it my favorite Silver Dollar City ride. Finally, there is Wildfire. It maxes out at 3.6g's, but the top speed is a little higher than Powderkeg. It also has a 155 foot drop and I don't know how many inversions. I don't know how many inversions, despite the fact that I rode it twice last Saturday. A bunch. Upside down is not one of my favorite positions. I can handle acceleration. The drop isn't that bad, but upside down I wasn't too sure about.

It was just my granddaughter and me on the rides, and she cannot be intimidated. I was with her on her first little steel rollercoaster — which also went upside down. I can still hear her screaming that she was going to kill me for talking her into it. She's fifteen. Probably next year or the year after, she'll be riding with a boyfriend. Loops don't make any difference. We rode Powderkeg and the Giant Swing. The Swing was kind of a letdown. It's not nearly as cool as our old favorite the Orbiter at the late lamented Celebration City park.

From the Swing we went to Wildfire. I was not really looking forward to it, but I wasn't going to back out. I made sure the pockets of my cargo pants were well secured. You're in a car on Wildfire, but you can't touch the floor. The harness comes down and buckles with a couple of seatbelt-type straps. There's no question that you are locked in tight. I made it all right going up the hill and through the big drop. I saw that first loop coming, and I did the unthinkable. I shut my eyes. Like a twelve-year-old girl. I don't think I screamed. After that, the loops just kept coming, and I made it without a major heartattack. We left the park for a little while to eat a late lunch and came back to ride Thunderation backward until our backs gave out. Then we hit Powderkeg three or four more times.

Finally, after sunset, it was back for one more shot at Wildfire. My granddaughter was going to ride it by herself, thinking, I suppose, that I hadn't really enjoyed it the last time. She had seen my pained picture in the gallery. Now the crowd had thinned. As I walked toward the entrance, I thought about the harness. I checked my pockets. Lunch had been shaken down on the other rides. There was no chance I was going to lose it. "I think I'm good this time," I said. "I think I'll ride."

I was relaxed enough as I strapped in. With eyes wide-open, I took in the sometimes blurred track ahead. Every turn, every loop was just more to be enjoyed. I was completely at peace, laughing in the cool breeze, ground over my head, stars under foot.

God answers prayers, then, through the limitless array of experiences, reactions, and thoughts that come to us, both despite of and in light of what we may think of as unanswered prayers. There are always responses ... (Spoto, In Silence)

Prayer is never unanswered. It sensitizes us to the will of God. God's will is revealed to us as we pray, and, in our prayer, we find the power to embrace that will and unite our own with His. We find that His will is not something to dread. Jesus was not masochistic or stoic when He said, "Not My will, but Thine be done", and neither are we.

In fact, it is a lot like learning to love rollercoasters and thrill rides. Once you are convinced that the designers mean to create sensations rather than kill you, it is easy to relax and — ok, maybe not relax — but thoroughly enjoy the trip. Once we learn that God's intention is not to destroy us or play games with us, but rather to give us eternal, abundant life, joy, and peace, we may not be able to exactly relax, but we can certainly begin to appreciate the track we find ourselves on. Even if it's upside down in the dark.

An Encouraging Word: Bluegrass

As burned out as I have been at work, I slipped away early yesterday and took in some Bluegrass performances. Bluegrass often involves the work of families or family members -- the Monroe Brothers, the Stanley Brothers, the Louvin Brothers, the Osborne Brothers, the Whites, the Cox Family -- just to name a few. What I saw yesterday were all family bands.

The Downing Family from Catoosa, OK, is a Bluegrass Gospel group, and they are really a family -- Dad, two adult daughters, and a son-in-law, along with their banjo player, Dave Tindale. Luke Miller, the son-in-law, not only does great vocal work, but he does some decent guitar-picking in the breaks. The sisters' vocals are extraordinary. There was a CD playing before the show started, and, having never seen the band before, I did not realize there were two women in the line up -- on fiddle and mandolin as well as vocals. It was annoying me that I couldn't place the voices. I tried to get it to sound like Rhonda Vincent, Alison, or perhaps Claire Lynch but nothing quite matched. Then the band came out, the girls started singing, and I was blown away, and not for the last time.

The Downings were the middle group I saw. The first family band was the Stockdale Family out of Ohio -- a father and four sons. Calvin, the oldest of the boys (all home schooled like the Downing sisters), does most of the talking and singing along with playing the banjo. He's twenty-one and attending Hillsdale College. There's some switching off on the instruments, but the best instrumentalist in a group of very good pickers is the fiddle-playing brother -- who happens to be the Ohio State Champion in the under 18 class. Individually the boys do not have great voices but as a group they have a good, traditional sound. They also have a blast performing. Along with their wholesome sense of humor and stage presence, they put on a terrific show.

They have apparently been on the TV show "Wife Swap" in which they traded mothers with a Rap music family from Chicago. Having been informed of this, we watched as they changed headgear and launched into a bit of "Rap-grass". Afterward someone in the audience asked who wrote the rap number. Calvin explained that it was a collaboration, and, he added, "No offense to rappers, but it's pretty easy to write a rap song. For one thing we didn't have to write any music -- except our chorus."

The last group I was able to catch was the Walker Family from Palmer, Alaska. They are also known as the Redhead Express. The reason for this becomes obvious when the four teenage girls walk out on stage. The oldest daughter, Kendra, is a good guitar picker with flaming red hair and an impressive vocal range, and not just a range -- this girl is an artist. She can sing. I really was blown away, again. They also did one of the songs she has written. I'm glad they performed it before we were told the girl had written it. It's good. Dad and Mom are out there as well, and they are both excellent singers -- the father especially will do for a Bluegrass bass. With this group, the outstanding instrumentalist is again the main fiddle player. I apologize for not remembering the names better -- I think this one is Alisa. She's sixteen and doubles on the mandolin, which smokes when she takes hold of it. She seems to be an alto, but can sing much lower -- almost in a baritone range, as she did on a bluegrassed version of the Ernest Tubb classic "Thanks A Lot". This number included a touch of comedy with her younger sister, age thirteen, who pushed her way into the song with her big upright bass. Kendra may be the star, but if you see this group and don't fall in love with Alisa, have somebody live check your pulse.

The eighteen-year-old daughter plays the banjo, provides great harmony with her sisters, and is sort of a clown, reminding me a little of the part June Carter played in the Carter Family. She does something that not everyone can do, managing to bring the audience into the performance.

Even more laughs came with the youngest members of the family, three boys, came out on stage and did "Man of Constant Sorrows" in O, Brother Where Art Thou fake beards, hats, and bib overalls. Unlike Clooney, these boys, from probably age five to eight, did all their own singing.

I caught bits and pieces of a couple of other bands, the Gold Heart Sisters and the Next Best Thing. Both sounded very good, and I regretted that I was unable to enjoy their whole show.

What I saw were people who think like me -- not just because they love Bluegrass, but because they believe in family, in Christian principles, and in the wonder of life. Other than the Walkers, I don't know how many of these groups are singing Bluegrass for a living, but they are singing for life, to bring joy into the lives of others. Almost everyone except the parents in all the groups I saw were under thirty-five, most were under twenty-one.

It's easy to think all young people are like the ones who make the evening news, or who are portrayed in movies and on television as disaffected and disturbed. We notice the ones covered in metal and tattoos -- they want us to. We sometimes fail to see the kids who are "normal". The kids I saw yesterday were well-adjusted, informed, intelligent, and talented. They were not raised under a glass dome. They will faces challenges and suffer loss and disappointments. Some already have. They will be all right. They are the true descendants of the people who built this nation, and if America falls, they will be the ones who will build again, on the old foundations.

I feel better today.