G. G. Jackson (1918-2007)

A good friend of mine recently passed away. Mr. G. G. ("Jack") Jackson was the longtime Postmaster at Bob Jones University. When I enrolled as a freshman at BJU in the fall of 1967 (yes, that's forty years ago!), I was told that the BJU Post Office was a good place to get a job on campus. So I walked in and asked for Mr. Jackson. When I told him my name, the first thing he said to me was, "You must be Ottis and Julie's boy." I was flabbergasted that anyone would know my dad and mom, but a number of people actually did know my folks from the days when the college was located in Cleveland, Tennessee. And so it went from there.

I worked at the BJU Post Office during my student days, and after I became a faculty member in 1972, I continued on at the Post Office during the summers and during Christmas vacations. Mr. Jackson had the reputation of being a no-nonsense boss. If one of the student employees took too long to complete a mail delivery on the campus, his favorite question was: "Where have you been, to Spartanburg and back?" Spartanburg is about twenty miles east of Greenville.

During the summer, especially on some of those hot and humid South Carolina afternoons (before the Post Office was air conditioned), Mr. Jackson would sometimes talk about the early days of the school in Cleveland, Tennessee. That was when he knew my mom and dad before they got married. My mom started teaching at Bob Jones in 1942, and my dad showed up after World War II in 1946. Mr. Jackson would also talk about his years in the United States Navy during World War II. He, like my father-in-law Roy Crane, was part of that "Greatest Generation" who defended the United States in difficult times. Generally, Mr. Jackson didn't bring up the subject, but he was willing to share his experiences with those of us who worked with him.

When Mr. Jackson was not working at the Post Office, he loved to work in his garden. The vegetables from his garden were just about the best that anyone was able to produce anywhere on the campus. I really believe that he used his time in the garden as a way to relax a bit and get away from the rigors of the Post Office. It was a joy to visit with him while he was at work in his garden.

I cannot conclude these comments without paying tribute to Mrs. Iris Jackson. I also worked with Mrs. Jackson for many summers, particularly in keeping student and faculty lists correct, as well as assigning box numbers. I could share many humorous stories about Mrs. Jackson, but I think I will just say that she has always been a wonderful friend to my family, especially my children. She and Mr. Jackson have been very special to me because they have been a "living link" to my own parents. I will miss him.

Japanese Square Watermelons

Just when you thought you had seen it all, the Japanese come up with something different. This is from a BBC post about Japanese square watermelons:

Japan has again shown off one of its greatest innovations - square watermelons. For years consumers struggled to fit the large round fruit in their refrigerators. And then there was the problem of trying to cut the fruit when it kept rolling around.

But 20 years ago a forward-thinking farmer on Japan's south-western island of Shikoku solved the problem. The farmer, from Zentsuji in Kagawa prefecture, came up with the idea of making a cube-shaped watermelon which could easily be packed and stored.

To make it happen, farmers grew the melons in glass boxes and the fruit then naturally assumed the same shape. Today the cuboid watermelons are hand-picked and shipped all over Japan.

But the fruit, on sale in a selection of department stores and upmarket supermarkets, appeals mainly to the wealthy and fashion-conscious of Tokyo and Osaka, Japan's two major cities. Each melon sells for 10,000 yen, equivalent to about $83. It is almost double, or even triple, that of a normal watermelon.

"I can't buy it, it is too expensive," said a woman browsing at a department store in the southern city of Takamatsu.

So the next time you think there is nothing new under the sun, just think of Japanese square watermelons.

Pillsbury Begins Its 51st Year

Pillsbury Baptist Bible College started classes on Monday, August 27. This is Pillsbury's 51st year of operation as a Baptist Bible college. Although Pillsbury had been a military academy for a number of decades before 1957, it was Dr. Richard V. Clearwaters (longtime pastor of Fourth Baptist Church in Minneapolis) who was perhaps the "guiding light" in the transition of Pillsbury from a military academy to a Baptist Bible college. After serving as president of the college its first year, Dr. Clearwaters and the Pillsbury Board hired Dr. Monroe Parker as president in 1958. He had been on the evangelistic circuit for some years.

Although I did not meet Dr. Parker until the last few years of his life, I have a "secondary" connection to him. He was an administrator at Bob Jones College during the 1930s and 1940s when the school was located in Cleveland, Tennessee. Both of my parents were there at the time, and they knew Dr. Parker well. Monroe Parker stayed on at Pillsbury until 1965, when he returned to an evangelistic ministry across the United States.

Pillsbury has honored the memory of Dr. Parker by designating our opening evangelistic services as the "Monroe Parker Evangelistic Meetings." We bring in a prominent speaker to encourage our students and faculty. This year's speaker was Dr. Jerry Sivnksty, whose home is in Starr, South Carolina. Jerry has preached here in past years, and he is one of our favorites on campus. He grew up in the coal mining area of West Virginia—come to think of it, there isn't much of West Virginia that isn't a coal mining area.

In addition to his southern accent, Jerry's family spoke Lithuanian at home, so he had a few "speech problems" when he enrolled in Bob Jones University during the 1960s. Bob Pratt and Joyce Parks, longtime members of the speech faculty at BJU, at first discouraged Jerry from going into evangelism. But when he said that he felt God's call to do so, they did everything they could to help him. Jerry is a perfect example of someone who overcomes a few obstacles to do what God called him to do.

That's what Pillsbury is all about, by the way. The faculty and staff want to do everything we can to help students find God's will for their lives and to help prepare them to do it. Please pray for our students, faculty, and staff duirng this new school year.

Fat Cats!

Sometime back, I wrote about how some veterinarians in England were prescribing Ritalin for cats who had "personality" issues. A recent article in the London Times indicates that there are a lot of fat cats in England and that apparently the issue of obese cats is a "growing" problem. Here's an excerpt from that article:

"Fat cats in Britain are beginning to suffer the same diseases as their owners. A growing number are having type 2 diabetes diagnosed, as obesity and lack of exercise take their toll.

A pioneering study at the University of Edinburgh has found that one in every 230 cats in Britain is diabetic. Although there is no baseline for comparison, the evidence suggests that the rates of feline diabetes are rising rapidly. A study in America in the 1970s found only a fifth as many cases.

Professor Danielle Gunn-Moore, who led the study, said: "'The lifestyle of cats, just like their owners, is changing. They are tending to eat too much, gain weight and take less exercise. Unfortunately, just like people, cats will overeat if they are offered too much tasty food, particularly if they are bored and have little else to do.'"

“'While cats would naturally exercise outside, many cats are now house-bound — perhaps because they live in a flat or because their owners feel that it is too dangerous to let them out — so they have little to do all day but eat, sleep, and gain weight.'”

Diabetes in cats, as in people, is a serious, often fatal, condition and affected cats need daily insulin injections and a special diet. They also face an increased risk of pancreatitis, urinary tract infections and other problems."

I certainly don't want to leave the impression that this is just a humorous take on obese cats. I think that it speaks fairly eloquently to the fact that we humans don't take very good care of ourselves—or our animals.

I-35W Bridge Collapse in Minneapolis

At 6:05 P.M. on Wednesday, August 1, the I-35W Bridge over the Mississippi River in Minneapolis suddenly collapsed into a heap of rubble. Minneapolis instantly become the focal point of local and national news reports. In the hours after the bridge collapse, most of the people who were on the bridge were rescued or were able to swim to safety. Remarkably, fewer than 100 people were injured, and amazingly, perhaps only a dozen or so people lost their lives. Ironically, the design of the bridge probably saved lives, even as it collapsed into the Mississippi River.

Even as we attempt to understand this tragedy, stories of heroism and courage have emerged. One of these incidents involved a school bus carrying sixty day campers. The bus came perilously close to falling into the river, which might have resulted in numerous casualties. One of the camp counselors, 20-year-old Jeremy Hernandez, quickly evacuated the bus, and all of the children were rescued. Naturally, Jeremy was interviewed by local and national media. The rescue efforts are still underway, but the currents in the Mississippi River have made the rescue effort difficult.

The I-35W Bridge was finished forty years ago and was opened for use in the fall of 1967. You can see the bridge under construction in this 1967 photo. But why did the bridge collapse? Over the next several weeks and months, many investigations will undoubtedly take place. Although there has already been a great deal of speculation about the cause of the collapse, no one can know for sure at this juncture. Even though most of the commentary and news reporting about this tragedy has been respectful, it is most unfortunate that a few media types and politicians have begun politicizing the bridge collapse even before all of the victims have been recovered from the river.

I would be the first to acknowledge that the political climate in this country has been become very polarized in recent years, but one would think that self-proclaimed experts would restrain themselves from waxing eloquent at least until after we find out what happened to the I-35W Bridge over the Mississippi River in Minneapolis. Perhaps that's asking too much, but one can always hope.

Sixtieth Anniversary

As regular readers of this blog will remember, my father-in-law (Roy Crane) passed away this year on February 19. He died just a few months short of his 84th birthday. Had he lived until this week, he and my mother-in-law (Vera Crane) would have celebrated their 60th anniversary.

They were married in Michigan on August 2, 1947, after my father-in-law had returned from serving in the US Army during World War II. After attending one year at Olivet Nazarene College, he enrolled at Bob Jones University in Greenville, SC. He graduated in 1951 and then stayed on a year to get a teaching certificate. My wife Nancy and her sister Darlene were born in Greenville while their folks were living in Greenville.

Roy and Vera returned to Roseville, Michigan, in 1952. There they raised their family of seven children, and Nancy's mom still lives in the same house that the Cranes bought about 45 years ago. When they first moved to that house, it was located along Eleven Mile Road. About 35 years ago, Interstate 696 replaced Eleven Mile Road. The house had to be moved back and then relocated on a new foundation. The westbound service drive for I-696 runs right in front of the house.

We spoke with Mom yesterday, and we reminisced about the many good years that she shared with Dad. We are so glad that she is still with us. We pray that she will be around for years to come.

Enjoying Life in Michigan's Upper Peninsula

Nancy and I (along with Tricia, Peyton, and Oscar) are enjoying a some beautiful days at the family cottage on Piatt Lake, located near Whitefish Bay and fifty miles north of the Mackinaw Bridge. The bridge was completed in 1957, exactly fifty years ago. As you approach the bridge, which is part of Interstate-75, it is pretty overwhelming, as you can see from the photos to the left.

The bridge is approximately five miles long, including the approaches, and it has four lanes. What can be somewhat unnerving is that the left-hand lane going north and south is not solid pavement. The left lane is a metal grid, and you can actually see the water 450 feet below you in the Straits of Mackinac. The reason for this is that the bridge has to be able to withstand the wind currents and have some "give and take." It was very elaborately designed back in the 1950s. The bridge connects the Lower Peninsula and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

Today (July 24) is also our 37th wedding anniversary, so it is a good time to reminisce about getting married back in 1970. We spent our honeymoon up here at the cottage. Nathan and Andrea Crane (our nephew and his wife) have recently purchased and renovated the cottage.

During our honeymoon we visited the Soo Locks over in Sault Ste. Marie as well as taking a boat trip to view the Pictured Rocks along the southern shore of Lake Superior. We drove down to St. Ignace and took the ferry boat across to Mackinaw Island. In addition to the historical sights such as Fort Mackinaw and other related buildings, the island is home to several dozen fudge shops. Incidentally, there are no cars on the island. One either walks, rides a bike, or rides in a horse-drawn carriage.

But your trip to the Upper Peninsula is not complete without a trip to see Tahqhamenon Falls. There are the Upper Falls (pictured here), as well as the Lower Falls. The river actually has a copper cast to it because of the minerals deposits that the river flows through on its way to Lake Superior. There is a five-mile trail connecting the Upper and Lower Falls, but most people just drive from the one area to the other.

All in all, it's been a wonderful time this week. Watching our grandkids swimming and having a big time reminds us of thirty years ago when we would bring our own gang up here summer after summer. Nancy's dad took great delight in his role of "King of the Raft" by throwing the kids off the raft. And Nancy's mom made great pies out of the blueberries the kids would pick. Nancy often reminded the kids about the children's classic story Blueberries for Sal, which was set in New England. But we leave Friday and return to Owatonna where we begin in-service training for the fall semester at Pillsbury.

The Detroit Tigers

On Tuesday evening this week, three of my sons (Daniel, Darrell, and Andy) attended a baseball game between the Detroit Tigers and the Minnesota Twins. This has become somewhat of an annual ritual for the McGuire boys and their dad. Although the game was played at the Metrodome in Minneapolis, we were all rooting for the Tigers. And the Tigers won the game 1-0. Of course, many of our fellow Minnesotans do root for the Twins, so when our two respective teams are playing each other, we just have be nice. In fact, Tricia's husband Harlan is a diehard Twins fan, so we just talk about other stuff when the Tigers and the Twins are playing each other.

We often form allegiances for our home team based on childhood memories and experiences. Although the Tigers now play in Comerica Park (photo above courtesy of Ryan Southen), when I was growing up in Plymouth, Michigan, during the 1960s we went to games at Tiger Stadium (pictured on the right). As a junior high kid, I would sit with my dad in the upper deck bleachers out in centerfield. As I recall, it cost 50 or 75 cents to get into the bleachers. I knew that it was asking too much to sit in the box seats behind home plate; those tickets cost $3.50 in the early 1960s.

When Nancy and I were first dating nearly forty years ago, we did sit in the box seats—the price had skyrocketed up to $4.50 a seat. We did see Mickey Mantle play during his last season with the Yankees. And did I tell you that we Tiger fans were NOT Yankee fans in those days? Indeed, when the Tigers defeated the Yankees in the 2006 playoffs, there were a lot of older Tiger fans who remembered the days when the Yankees seemed to be unstoppable. But much has changed since those days.

I must say that I am glad to continue the tradition that my dad started with me. Going to the ballpark with your boys (even though they are now in their twenties) is a lot of fun. It creates some good memories. I hope they will do the same with their children. In the interim, GO TIGERS!

Owatonna, Minnesota: A Great Place to Live

Nancy and I have often discussed the fact that Owatonna, Minnesota, has been a wonderful small town (population 22,000) in which to raise our children, as well giving us the opportunity to minister at Pillsbury Baptist Bible College and Grace Baptist Church. As you may have learned from reading some of my earlier posts, we moved to Owatonna with our first five children in 1984, and twenty-three years later our two Owatonna sons (Matt and Andy) are in their twenties. Our family has come of age here in Owatonna, and now we are blessed with having our grandchildren living in Owatonna as well.

The "culture" of Owatonna is relatively conservative, but we welcome innovation. Owatonna is home to impressive architecture (see the Louis Sullivan bank above) and a number of new businesses in recent years. Probably the most well-known Owatonna landmark along Interstate-35 is our local Cabela's store. Folks interested in the great outdoors flock to Cabela's to purchase all kinds of clothing and outdoor gear. Owatonna also has a diverse business and industrial base, which provides many work opportunities for our Pillsbury students.

If you check out Owatonna on the web, you will discover that we have a number of parks and walking trails. Central Park is the venue for a number of performing groups during the summer. I play oboe in the Owatonna Community Band, and we had a top-notch concert last evening. Local business groups donated the funds for the modern bandstand you see pictured here. We are blessed here in Owatonna with an above-average fine arts scene, with high school musicians enthusiastically performing in groups such as the Owatonna Community Band. It's very gratifying to perform music with so many who really enjoy what they're doing.










Nancy took this photo of me before last night's concert, and the photo to the right is from a concert last summer. But I leave you with a "humorous" photo that I took before the concert last night. This sign is posted on the door of each restroom below the bandshell. The wording on the sign gives the impression that whoever wrote it doesn't clearly understand the English language. I'll let you make of it what you will.

The Importance of Family

From time to time, we are reminded of the importance of our families. My mother-in-law recently visited us here in Owatonna. During the course of her visit, we took this four-generation photo. Tricia, Peyton Rose, Oscar Jonas, and Nancy are in the back row, and Nancy's mom is seated in the front. One sometimes sees five- and even six-generation photos in the local paper, but we are very happy to show off our four-generation family.

We attended a McGuire reunion in Louisville on June 2. The irony was that most of those in attendance were cousins, second cousins, and "cousins-in-law." There is only one living spouse from my father's generation of seven siblings. We must acknowledge the fact that we now live in the twenty-first century, and the future lies with our children and grandchildren. We are thankful for our children and grandchildren. And speaking of those grandchildren, here are two more photos of Har and Tricia's contributions to the cause:

A Crazy Weekend Stunt

It seems that one Kent Couch of (who lives in Bend, Oregon) wanted to do a little flying over the weekend, but he accomplished his goal a bit differently than most normal people. According to the Associated Press, he "settled down in his lawn chair with some snacks — and a parachute. Attached to his lawn chair were 105 large helium balloons."

"Nearly nine hours later, the 47-year-old gas station owner came back to earth in a farmer's field near Union, short of Idaho but about 193 miles from home." "'When you're a little kid and you're holding a helium balloon, it has to cross your mind,'" Couch told the Bend Bulletin. "'When you're laying in the grass on a summer day, and you see the clouds, you wish you could jump on them,'" he said. "'This is as close as you can come to jumping on them. It's just like that.'"

"Couch is the latest American to emulate Larry Walters — who in 1982 rose three miles above Los Angeles in a lawn chair lifted by balloons. Walters had surprised an airline pilot, who radioed the control tower that he had just passed a guy in a lawn chair. Walters paid a $1,500 penalty for violating air traffic rules."

It's one thing to be bold and go where no one has gone before, but this guy (just like Larry Walters) is definitely messing around with the law of gravity, if not common sense. These kinds of stunts are fairly harmless unless, of course, you suddenly lose altitude! As for me, I plan to enjoy life while firmly planted on terra firma.

Pillsbury Baptist Bible College: 50th Graduation

Pillsbury Baptist Bible College held its 50th graduation ceremony on Saturday, May 5. The genesis of Pillsbury College was primarily the work of Dr. Richard V. Clearwaters, who was the long-time pastor of Fourth Baptist Church in Minneapolis. In those early years, he asked Dr. Monroe Parker (affectionately known as "Monk" to his friends) to become president.

One of Pillsbury's 1963 graduates was Dr. Fred Moritz, and it was Dr. Moritz who was the commencement speaker last Saturday. In addition to preaching from 2 Timothy 2:15, he also reminisced about those early days at Pillsbury. Dr. Moritz currently serves as Executive Director of Baptist World Missions, which is located in Decatur, Alabama. Dr. Moritz has been a great friend of Pillsbury, and he is one of the most popular chapel speakers that we bring to the campus.

Of course, we want to honor our graduates. To the left, Nancy celebrates with senior Lynette Benda, who was one of our student teachers this past spring. We will be attending her wedding this coming weekend in Wisconsin. Below, senior Ray Miller is standing next to Jon Calcamuggio, who was part of the Color Guard. Jon is a graduate of Pillsbury who also served two tours of duty in Iraq.


All told, we had about three dozen graduates this year. Because Pillsbury is relatively "small," you get to know just about every graduate along the way. Of those three dozen graduates, nine were education majors, so I worked with them rather closely during the last year or so. We bid our graduates Godspeed, and we pray that He will direct their lives in their vocations, marriages, families, and ministries. That's what Pillsbury is all about.

The Old Main Tower at Pillsbury

On many college campuses across the country, there are buildings and other locations that students are not allowed to access on a regular basis. And then there are places that students really don't want to access under any circumstances. When I was teaching at Bob Jones University, I would hear tales from some of the security folks about some of the strange things that went on in the Art Gallery, Rodeheaver Auditorium, and Amphitorium in the middle of the night. Just the thought of walking through the Art Gallery during the wee hours sends shivers up and down my spine, what with all those paintings and sculptures looming up in the dark as you went from gallery to gallery.

Here at Pillsbury, one of the places that is generally is off-limits to students is the tower on top of Old Main, which serves as our administration building. The fact is that over the years students have surreptitiously managed to make their way up to the tower for a spectacular view of Owatonna. Although we have just finished final exams, Tuesday was "Student Appreciation Day" on the campus. Dr. Crane announced in chapel on Tuesday morning that anyone who wanted to do so could legally walk up the three flights of stairs and spend a few minutes in the tower. So a number of us did so, including me.

It was a clear day with blue skies all around, although it was quite windy when you reached the tower. We are told that the Old Main Tower is the highest point in Steele County, so one can see quite a distance from that vantage point. I used my camera phone to take several photographs. In this photograph you can see the men's residence hall, and at the lower left is the house that we lived in for twelve years between 1984 and 1996. We can tell you many interesting stories about what it was like to live on campus and in such close proximity to the men's residence hall. I suspect that there are stories that we don't even know anything about. One of the things that Nancy didn't miss when we moved out of the old house was the periodic invasions of bats that took place when one of the kids would leave a door open on summer evenings. Nancy HATES bats!

This photograph to the right is of the northwest corner of our campus, at the intersection of South Grove Avenue and East Main Street. If you look closely, you can see the back of the sign welcoming vistors to Pillsbury College.

Although I enjoyed my time at the top of Old Main in the Tower, I was glad to come back down to terra firma. I really don't care for heights all that much. And did I share with you the fact that although I have been at Pillsbury College for twenty-three years, this was the first time that I ever made the trek to the top of Old Main. There's a first time for everything.

New President at Maranatha Baptist Bible College

This afternoon, officials at Maranatha Baptist Bible College in Watertown, Wisconsin, named Dr. Chuck Phelps as the new president of Maranatha. This is great news for Maranatha specifically, as well as for those of us involved in Christian higher education. Chuck has been a youth pastor, a church planter, and a senior pastor. He serves on the boards of several Christian organizations. He and his wife Linda have five children.

I knew Chuck when he was a student at BJU back in the 1970s. As it happened, when our family moved to Owatonna (so that I could teach at Pillsbury), Chuck was the youth pastor at Grace Baptist Church. For over fifteen years, Chuck has been the pastor of Trinity Baptist Church in Concord, New Hampshire. I am very excited about Chuck becoming the president of Maranatha. He brings a strong vision for educating the next generation of young people for the Lord's service. Also, Maranatha is one of Pillsbury's "sister" schools, so we have more than a passing interest in anything that strengthens our fundamental Christian schools.

Be sure to pray for Chuck and his family as they make the transition to Maranatha over the summer.

The Thread That Runs So True

Last week Pillsbury College presented its spring play, The Thread That Runs So True. "This drama is based on the true life experiences of Jesse Stuart, an unusual educator who fought all his life for quality education in rural and mountain schools. His experiences as a beginning teacher in the Kentucky mountains inspired this play." Our students, under the direction of Mr. Ken Marsh, did a wonderful job portraying the trials and tribulations of encouraging education in the rural areas of Eastern Kentucky in the early twentieth century.

My father grew up in Eastern Kentucky and was a contemporary of Jesse Stuart. As many children did in those days, my dad attended a one-room school like the one portrayed in the play by Jesse Stuart. When my dad graduated from the eighth grade, he stayed on to help the teacher for a year. The teacher just happened to be his older sister. He then went off to attend high school in another town. Dad had to pay room and board and work his way through high school. When he finished high school, he went off to college. Like many of his siblings and cousins, Dad eventually became a teacher. I often say that education is a "disorder that runs in my family." I appreciate the fact that many members of my immediate and extended family have been involved in education.

One more note about Pillsbury's production. Our youngest son, Andy, had a role in the play. He portrayed Guy Hawkins, a rough character who always wanted to beat up the teacher and put him in his place. Eventually, Guy comes around and becomes one of Jesse Stuart's star pupils.

We are very proud of Andy. In addition to performing in the spring play, he sings in the college choir and has been one of the catchers on the Pillsbury Comet baseball team this spring. He is planning on working at a Christian camp this summer, so he will be a pretty busy young man. I forgot to mention that Andy just turned twenty. We have no more teenagers! What a blessing. Of course, our granddaughter Peyton Rose will become a teenager in just three years. The cycle will begin anew.

Easter Reflections

As is the case with almost all religious holidays, the "religious" character of holidays is often overshadowed by commercialism and materialism. Easter Day is no exception, what with Easter bunnies, Easter eggs, Easter outfits, Easter candy, and the like. Even though it is the culmination of "Holy Week" within some liturgical churches, it still should be a day of great rejoicing as we commemorate the resurrection of our Lord.

Numerous composers have written profoundly beautiful music to celebrate the day, running the gamut from Bach and Handel to more contemporary Christian composers. Athough Handel's Messiah is often performed during the Christmas Season, many of the well-known and well-loved portions of Messiah are actually taken from biblical texts celebrating Easter. One of Ron Hamilton's earlier works, The Centurion, tells us the story of Easter from the perspective of one of the Roman centurions involved with our Lord's crucifixion.

Here in Owatonna, we enjoyed worshiping at Grace Baptist Church this morning. In our first service, we read several Bible passages and sang a number of hymns related to Easter. We also celebrated the Lord's Supper. Then we were treated to a nice Easter morning breakfast. During the second service, there were several special musical numbers appropriate for the day. And finally, we heard a message from God's Word that empahasized how we should be affected and influenced by Christ's resurrection.

Nancy and Tricia prepared a nice turkey dinner for Easter. We had some of our children (and our two grandchildren) over for the afternoon, because we consider family fellowship to be vitally important. Although there is probably not the same level of excitement as at Christmas, we eagerly anticipate these opportunities when our family members are able to get together for fellowship. All in all, this was a good Easter Day for our family.

April — Transition Time

In many ways, April is a time for transition. Although the weather can be tricky during April, especially up here in the Upper Midwest, the precipitation that we have is generally in the form of rain rather than snow. Just this past week here in Minnesota, we have had several days of rain. The grass is turning green and the buds are begin to come out on the trees. It won't be long before we store our snow blower and start firing up our lawnmower. Nancy has already prepared the ground around last year's new deck in order to plant flowers and the like. And we are also planning to put a coat of protective sealant on our new deck as soon as we get some warm, dry weather.

But April also represents other transitions as well. In the academic realm, these next few weeks are the last weeks of the school year. If you are a senior in high school, you are anticipating graduation from high school and perhaps planning to attend college in the fall. The last few weeks of high school can be pretty exciting, but you are also beginning to realize that there many changes in the offing. As for college seniors, what has been a four (or five, or six!) year academic journey is finally coming to a conclusion. With graduation from college comes the excitement (and sometimes a little anxiety) of figuring out what you are going to do with your life. For many college graduates, getting married or getting a job are at the top of the "to do" list.

And for those of us who teach, the end of another school year represents the culmination of sharing our academic expertise with a unique group of students. While we will teach some of those students in the coming years, other students will be graduating from college or will choose to attend another insitution. For me, the end of the school year has always been a time of great rejoicing. It is satisfying to finish up classes and bring the academic year to a close. This will mark the end of my thirty-fifth year of teaching, but with every graduation there is a little sadness as you say farewell to students whom you might not ever see again. You hope and pray that God will protect them and bless their lives. For them, in a way, their adult lives are just beginning (which is why we call graduation "commencement"), but for those of us who teach, it is a reminder that the years of our lives are continuing to add up.

Indeed, April is a time of transition.

Wonderful Christian Music

We are enjoying some wonderfully warm weather as we begin Spring Break here at Pillsbury this week. It could possibly snow again, but we certainly hope not. I remember April Fool's Day a few years ago when the weatherman predicted a few snow flurries; we did get snow flurries, but the problem was that we got four inches of snow flurries! End of weather discussion.

A week ago Sunday was Pillsbury Day at Grace Baptist Church here in Owatonna. Pillsbury's small vocal ensemble, "Singing His Praise," provided special music in the morning service. For the evening service, the Pillsbury and Grace Baptist choirs sang several numbers under the able direction of Darrell Bevis and Tom Lawson. Dr. Crane preached in the evening service, and among other points, he encouraged all of us that Pillsbury College is moving ahead. We have had a few financial bumps in the road, but we feel that God will meet the needs of our college just as He has for the last fifty years. Please pray for Pillsbury in the days ahead.

On Saturday evening, I was greatly privileged to play in a classical and sacred concert presented by Deo Cantamus, which is Latin for "We Sing For God." This group is made up of born-again Christians who present two concerts a year at Fourth Baptist Church in Plymouth, Minnesota. The group is directed by Allen Hawkins, a gifted choral conducter who is an adjunct voice professor at Crown College. This is what Al has posted on the Deo Cantamus website: "...God has blessed us in so many ways. It is my greatest joy to use the gifts and circumstances He has provided to further glorify Him. To use music as a tool for teaching and encouraging holiness is what I enjoy doing most. This takes a commitment to high standards that is often absent in the music that contemporary society promotes. It is my goal to teach and conduct in a way that encourages individuals to pursue the standards needed to perfom at a level that inspires others and glorifies God..."

Needless to say, Al is my kind of guy. The major sacred classical piece on the program was Vivaldi's Gloria, which is a wonderful choral expression of why Christians can glorify God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. The middle part of the program was sung by "Let the Children Praise," which is a children's choir that Al works with during the year. They sang a variety of numbers, including Pergolesi, Bach, and other sacred works. Finally, the Deo Cantamus Chorale concluded the evening with a selection of "Great Hymns of the Faith." This concert was professionally done, but the purpose of the group is to "sing for God."

It was refreshing to have the opportunity of playing with Deo Cantamus. If you live in the Twin Cities, their next concert will be in the fall of 2007. It will be worth your while to attend.

Small World Department

As we await the real manifestation of spring here southern Minnesota, I was reminded of the fact that in many ways we live in a small world. Although the advent of modern air travel has made the world seem smaller geographically, I am thinking of how we often interact with people who just happen to know a friend or family member. Nancy and I experienced several examples of that phenomenon in the last several days.

We ate lunch on Tuesday with friends from the Phoenix area. Our nephew, Nathan Crane, is married to daughter Andrea. It turns out that they are very good friends with missionary Ron Brewer, who was a student here at Pillsbury in the mid-1960s. As it happened, Ron Brewer spoke in Pillsbury's chapel on Thursday morning. In talking to Ron, we found out that his son and wife have been at Grace Gospel Church in Huntington, West Virginia, for the last fifteen years or so. Nancy and I taught at that church's Christian school back in 1983-1984, just before we came to Pillsbury.

On Wednesday night, the BJU Drama Team gave their presentation at Grace Gospel Church here in Owatonna. As I chatted with one of the members of the team, Seth Armstrong, we realized that he had been on the same Mexico missions team that Cynthia has traveled with for several years. Also, Seth is from the same California church that one of our Pillsbury students used to attend. The leaders of the drama team are Isaac and Jill Crockett. Isaac's dad, Leigh Crockett, was our brother-in-law Joe's BJU roommate back in the 1970s.

Finally, it's Opera Week at BJU. This year's presentation is Verdi's masterpiece Rigoletto. As it happens, I was a freshman at BJU in the spring of 1968, and the opera that year was Rigoletto. I had the privilege of playing oboe in the opera orchestra for the performance. In an interview with the arts writer for the Greenville News on Sunday, Dr. Dwight Gustafson reminisced about that performance. He had returned from completing his doctorate at Florida State University in the fall of 1967, so he was getting back into his conducting role at BJU. I consider myself so fortunate to have sat under his tutelage in the BJU orchestra for over fifteen years. A couple of notes [no pun intended!] about the 1968 performance: the title role was sung by a 26-year-old tenor named Sherrill Milnes, who became one of the great tenors of the later twentieth century. And my favorite memory from that performance is that Dr. Gustafson's wife Gwen was the understudy for the soprano lead in Rigoletto, namely Gilda. I don't remember who sang the soprano role during the final performance, but I do remember that Gwen Gustafson was absolutely terrific as the understudy!

As I say in the sidebar to this blog, "The lines are fallen unto [us] in pleasant places." (Psalm 16:6). Nancy and I have been married for nearly thirty-seven years, and we have seven wonderful children and two GREAT grandchildren. We thank the Lord for our family and for our friends, because they have enriched our lives. And God has given us great contentment as he has led us from place to place and ministry to ministry. There is no greater blessing than being in the center of God's will. I trust that you know what God's will is for your life and that you are in the place of His appointment.

2007 Missions Conference at Pillsbury

The 2007 Missions Conference at Pillsbury College ended earlier today. In the opinion of many of those who were in attendance, it was one of the best conferences that we have had in recent years. Phil Hunt, who has been a missionary in Zambia for about fifteen years, was the keynote speaker. He preached powerfully, with two of his messages being based on Philippians 1:21: "For me to live [is] Christ, and to die [is] gain." Rev. Hunt observed that many Christians act as if the verse says, "For me to live is gain, and to die is Christ." We must realize that our lives are in God's hands and that we must be willing to sacrifice our lives to God's service. We could live for many years, or we could die "prematurely." Either way, God will use us as he sees fit.

Several of the speakers recalled the words of Nate Saint, one of five young men killed in Ecuador by Auca Indians in 1956. In one of Nate Saint's journals, he had made the observation that, "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose." I would have to say that was the "unofficial" theme of this year's conference. It was a great week at Pillsbury.

Tribute to Roy Crane (1923-2007)

My father-in-law, Roy Crane, passed away at the age of 83 on Monday, February 19. He had been in poor health for the last several years, but he died from acute toxic shock after being transported to the hospital by ambulance. He is survived by my mother-in-law, Vera Crane, who is in her later 70s. She had been my father-in-law's primary health care provider in recent years. My mother-in-law did not want to see her husband placed in a nursing home or in an assisted care facility, so she provided the love and attention that only a wife of nearly sixty years could give. She transported her husband to the doctor's office and took him to see their children and grandchildren on special occasions. Although we will miss him greatly, he is now with his Father in heaven, and he is a far better place.

Nancy's dad was born in Farmington, Michigan, and he grew up in Mt. Clemens, Michigan. His folks later bought a farm in southern Indiana, but he did not live there. Roy enlisted in the U.S. Army on December 8, 1941, the day after Pearl Harbor was attacked. He served in India, Burma, and China under General Stilwell. After the war, he married Vera Abbey on August 2, 1947.

He attended Olivet Nazarene College for a year, and then he enrolled at Bob Jones University in Greenville, South Carolina, where he graduated in 1951. Roy and Vera returned to Roseville, Michigan, where they lived together for over fifty years and raised a family of seven children. Dad taught math and driver's education in the St. Clair Shores School District. He was also very active in his church, serving as a deacon and moderator several times over the years. And one of his favorite things was to take the family up to the family cottage in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. All of us enjoyed going to Piatt Lake, where Grandpa Crane took great delight in being "King of the Raft." We have many great memories of the days we spent at the cottage.

My father-in-law was a repesentative what Tom Brokaw has called the "Greatest Generation." I concur with Tom Brokaw. It was most fitting that there was a military honor guard at the cemetery. When the two soldiers folded the American flag that had been draped over the casket and presented it to my mother-in-law, it was an emotional moment indeed. Dad had fought to defend this country, and he was rightly honored at the time of his death. Several of his grandchildren have volunteered to serve their country in the military. He was proud of their willingness to do so.

My wife Nancy is the oldest of the seven children. The Cranes also have thirty-eight grandchildren and fifteen great-grandchildren. At the funeral service on (which was held on Saturday, February 24), 37 of the 38 grandchildren were present, along with 14 of the 15 great-grandchildren. In my personal remarks during the funeral service, I pointed out the rows of grandchildren and great-grandchildren and stated that they represented my father-in-law's "greatest legacy." Faith Baptist Church in Warren, Michigan, provided a lunch for the members of the family, and we were able to take several photos of those who were present. This photo includes the grandchildren, the great-grandchildren, and Grandma Crane sitting right in the middle. When she came up to take her seat, the kids cheered and applauded her. That WAS an emotional moment.


















The last time that Grandpa and Grandma Crane visited us here in Minnesota was when Andy graduated from high school in 2005. They flew from Detroit to Minneapolis on Northwest Airlines. Although it was a little difficult on Grandpa Crane, he and Grandma managed just fine. We took Grandpa to church and to the graduation ceremony for Andy. He also enjoyed the graduation open house. It just so happened that the next day was Grandpa's 82nd birthday, so we had a party for him. You can see him here blowing out the candles on his cake, along with the help of his great-granddaughter Peyton Rose Vasquez.


















Nancy's dad and mom would have celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary on August 2, but her dad slipped away before that could happen. On the occasion of their 50th anniversary, we had a great celebration in Michigan. But they were quite the pair, right up to the end. Indeed, it's hard to think of Roy Crane without also thinking of Vera Crane.
















On Nancy's birthday last December 10, she was talking to her dad and mom on the phone. After chatting with her dad for a few minutes, he sang "Happy Birthday" to her over the phone. Even though he was in the twilight of his life, he remembered and recognized one of his children. As Psalm 116:15 so eloquently states, "Precious in the sight of the LORD [is] the death of his saints."

Pillsbury Comets Win Regional Tournament

The Pillsbury Comets basketball team won a dramatic come-from-behind victory on Saturday afternoon here in Owatonna. Pillsbury was the host school for the NCCAA North Central Region tournament, and the Comets were playing the North Central University Rams for the regional championship. The Comets were down 53-25 with fifteen minutes to play in the game, but they never gave up on themselves. They mangaged to tie the game in regulation, and then it took three overtimes before the Comets finally prevailed 91-86. Nancy and I were in attendance, and it was one of the most electrifying games that I have ever seen in person. You can imagine the crowd reaction when the game was over. The victory was a credit to our young men and the coaching staff.

I would like to pay tribute to Cedric Jones, the North Central coach. Even though his North Central team had just lost a heartbreaker, Coach Jones made several eloquent and gracious comments to the crowd, as well as to the Pillsbury Comets and their coach Keith Champion.

Speaking of Coach Champion, I would like to honor him for his ministry here at Pillsbury. I have known Keith for nearly ten years now, and I consider him to be a wonderful role model for his athletes. He has coached at two or three other Christian colleges, and everywhere he goes, people hold Keith in high regard. He even writes a weekly column for the Owatonna People's Press. The name of his column is "From the Sidelines," in which Keith discusses the athletic world from a Christian perspective. And before I forget to mention it, Keith received a great honor Saturday. He was named Coach of the Year in the NCCAA North Central Region. All in all, it was a wonderful weekend here at Pillsbury. We thank the Lord for His blessings in our lives. That's the bottom line of why we do what we do here at Pillsbury College.

Pillsbury College Student Teachers

Friday was the last day of classes for our student teachers here at Pillsbury College. They have six weeks of block classes before heading out for their student teaching assignments next week. We have nine seniors doing their student teaching this spring; six are elementary education majors, and three are secondary education majors. Most of the young ladies are student teaching here in Minnesota, but two of them are student teaching out-of-state, one of them in Pennsylvania and the other in Wisconsin. Miss Brenda Johnson, my colleague in the Education Division, organizes a reception for the student teachers before they leave, and you can see our student teachers at the reception in the attached photograph.

Pillsbury College is all about training young people for vocational service and ministry. We will be praying for these young ladies as they begin student teaching next week. And Lord willing, they will be "walking the line" along with the other Pillsbury seniors exactly eleven weeks today when we have graduation here at Pillsbury. Graduation is always an exciting time for the graduating seniors, and Pillsbury is no exception.

New Administrative Position at Pillsbury Baptist Bible College

Dr. Robert Crane, president of Pillsbury Baptist Bible College, made an important announcement in chapel this morning. Dr. Werner Lumm, who presently serves as Pillsbury's Academic Dean, will take on an added administrative responsibility. He will become Executive Vice President of Pillsbury. This will allow Dr. Crane to be away from the campus on a regular basis to promote the College and to interact with prospective students. Dr. Lumm has an extensive background in education, having served in a variety of academic settings previous to his arrival at Pillsbury three years ago.

It just so happened that our chapel speaker this morning was Dr. Carl Herbster, who is the pastor of Tri-City Baptist Church in Independence, Missouri. Before coming to Pillsbury, Dr. Lumm worked with Dr. Herbster as the Administrative Director of the American Association of Christian Schools. Dr. Herbster is also a good friend of the McGuire family. Several of his children went to school with our older children at Bob Jones Elementary School back in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

Please pray for Pillsbury as we continue educating young people for Christian service. Our desire is to see our graduates serve the Lord in whatever way He leads. Some will be involved in full-time Christian vocational ministry, while others will find vocational opportunities in the secular world. All of our graduates will also be prepared to minister in good local churches as well. If you know of any high school students seeking a Christian college education, please encourage them to check out Pillsbury Baptist Bible College.

Ronald Reagan (1911-2004)

Today is Ronald Reagan's birthday. He was born in 1911, as was Dr. Bob Jones, Jr. My dad was also born in 1911, just a few days after Ronald Reagan. Reagan was born in northern Illinois, and my dad was born in eastern Kentucky. I used to tell my dad that I knew three famous people who were born in 1911, but that many people didn't know who the most important person born in 1911. That was my dad!

At any rate, I am including a portion of a classic Reagan speech that he delivered in 1974. He retells the story of what happened to some of the American patriots who signed the Decalaration of Independence. In this time of great political division in our country, these words are an inspiration to me and they remind me of why we live in the greatest country in the history of the world. I trust you will be inspired and moved by Reagan's observations:



"Some years ago a writer, who happened to be an avid student of history, told me a story about that day in the little hall in Philadelphia where honorable men, hard-pressed by a King who was flouting the very law they were willing to obey, debated whether they should take the fateful step of declaring their independence from that king. I was told by this man that the story could be found in the writings of Jefferson. I confess, I never researched or made an effort to verify it. Perhaps it is only legend. But story, or legend, he described the atmosphere, the strain, the debate, and that as men for the first time faced the consequences of such an irretrievable act, the walls resounded with the dread word of treason and its price—the gallows and the headman's axe. As the day wore on the issue hung in the balance, and then, according to the story, a man rose in the small gallery. He was not a young man and was obviously calling on all the energy he could muster. Citing the grievances that had brought them to this moment he said, “Sign that parchment. They may turn every tree into a gallows, every home into a grave and yet the words of that parchment can never die. For the mechanic in his workshop, they will be words of hope, to the slave in the mines—freedom.” And he added, “If my hands were freezing in death, I would sign that parchment with my last ounce of strength. Sign, sign if the next moment the noose is around your neck, sign even if the hall is ringing with the sound of headman’s axe, for that parchment will be the textbook of freedom, the bible of the rights of man forever.” And then it is said he fell back exhausted. But 56 delegates, swept by his eloquence, signed the Declaration of Independence, a document destined to be as immortal as any work of man can be. And according to the story, when they turned to thank him for his timely oratory, he could not be found nor were there any who knew who he was or how he had come in or gone out through the locked and guarded doors.

"Well, as I say, whether story or legend, the signing of the document that day in Independence Hall was miracle enough. Fifty-six men, a little band so unique—we have never seen their like since—pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor. Sixteen gave their lives, most gave their fortunes and all of them preserved their sacred honor. What manner of men were they? Certainly they were not an unwashed, revolutionary rebel, nor were then adventurers in a heroic mood. Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists, 11 were merchants and tradesmen, nine were farmers. They were men who would achieve security but valued freedom more.

"And what price did they pay? John Hart was driven from the side of his desperately ill wife. After more than a year of living almost as an animal in the forest and in caves, he returned to find his wife had died and his children had vanished. He never saw them again, his property was destroyed and he died of a broken heart—but with no regret, only pride in the part he had played that day in Independence Hall. Carter Braxton of Virginia lost all his ships—they were sold to pay his debts. He died in rags. So it was with Ellery, Clymer, Hall, Walton, Gwinnett, Rutledge, Morris, Livingston, and Middleton. Nelson, learning that Cornwallis was using his home for a headquarters, personally begged Washington to fire on him and destroy his home--he died bankrupt. It has never been reported that any of these men ever expressed bitterness or renounced their action as not worth the price. Fifty-six rank-and-file, ordinary citizens had founded a nation that grew from sea to shining sea, five million farms, quiet villages, cities that never sleep—all done without an area re-development plan, urban renewal or a rural legal assistance program."

Words and thoughts to ponder.

My Oboe Odyssey: Part I

Many of us learned to play the piano or some other musical intrument when we were young, often at the behest of a parent. In my case, I had a mom who was a fine violinist and music teacher. She also taught piano, but I absolutely refused to take lessons from her, or anyone else for that matter. Fifty years later, I regret that fact, but there is nothing I can do to change that situation. Fortunately, my mom did prevail upon me to play some instrument. She often suggested that I consider the French horn, the bassoon, or the oboe. In the summer of 1961, I decided to give the oboe a shot. What a decision.

I soon discovered that many of my colleagues already had been playing clarinet, flute, trumpet, or whatever, for a year or two. And I also quickly discovered the first rule of begining oboe players: "Develop a thick skin." When a flutist or clarinetist makes a mistake, they just shrug it off. But when an oboist makes a mistake, everyone knows it. It can be very embarassing. I was most fortunate in that we had an excellent band director at Plymouth Junior High School East. His name was Mr. Larry Livingston; he had grown up playing clarinet in the "big band" era. He could be a little crazy at times, but he loved directing the band. Each spring, we had a big production called the "Band Show," and it was a fun time.

There was also the question of taking private lessons. I started out taking lessons from a high school student and then a college student, but by the time I got to high school, I was studying with Ron Odmark, the second oboist in the Detroit Symphony. He was a great guy and very easy to get along with. He taught me how to make reeds and also how to play halfway decently. I played my share of solos for the Michigan Solo and Ensemble Festival, but I never really liked having to memorize the music. But I survived.

It was also my good fortune to have a great high school band director at Plymouth High School. Mr. James Griffith (affectionately known as "Griff") was a no-nonsense graduate of the University of Michigan. We played good band literature, and I appreciated his approach. Some of my peers didn't care for him as much as I did, but that's just the way things were.

During marching band season, I did NOT play my oboe. I got to play bass drum and tenor drum instead. Of course, marching band was a lot of fun, but I was always glad to get back to concert band when the marching season was over. Mr. Griffith knew good arrangers over at U of M, so we got to play some neat pieces in marching band, as well as in concert band. All of this was good preparation for college, even though I didn't know it at the time. In future installments, I want to share some of my experiences at Interlochen's National Music Camp and at Bob Jones University.

Cats: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

When we lived in Greenville, South Carolina, we had several cats and a couple of dogs as pets. One of our dogs, affectionately known as Charlie, was a beautiful standard poodle. But he became very jealous of the kids, and we finally sold him to a couple who had no children of their own. As it stands right now, we are down to one cat, and he is pictured here:


His name is Kitty Baby. Friends of ours in Greenville named their cat Kitty Baby, so we borrowed the name from them. Kitty Baby was rescued from the dumpster at our local McDonald's in 1993. Daniel was working there at the time, and he brought Kitty Baby home in a little shoe box. I determined to take the cat to the humane society the next day, but Nancy and the kids prevailed upon me to keep their cat. I did not take Kitty Baby to the humane society, and he is still with us to this day.

I must say that Kitty Baby is pretty selective about who he will allow to hold him. For some years, he was a male chauvinist cat, and he would not go to any female members of the family. Of course, when Peyton and Oscar come over to visit, Kitty Baby goes into deep hiding. He will have nothing to do with the grandchildren. He has mellowed out in his "old age," but he still has his preferences.

The reason that I even bring up Kitty Baby was an article in London's Daily Mail. It seems that some veterinarian in Brighton, England, decided to give Prozac to a cat named Twiglet. Acording to the article, "the patient would not go out for fear of being bullied, moped around the house and sought comfort in eating. The 12-year-old grey tabby, whose weight had ballooned to 15lb, became one of the first pets in Britain to be given anti-depressant drugs, on the advice of a vet who said she had 'anger management issues'. And the results have been dramatic. Five months later, Twiglet has lost almost 7lb and is roaming around the back garden without fear." I don't know about you, but medical science seems to have branched out a good bit over the years. You can check out Twiglet and her owner here:


And I close today's lesson on pets with a couple of photos of "bad-looking" cats. Perhaps these two need a little Prozac as well: