A Work Progressing

The news today is that for almost thirty minutes the residents and tourists of Hawaii thought that a nuclear ballistic missile was entering Hawaii airspace.

Hmm, lots of tangents here. Thank God it was a mistake, part of a drill, although the message sent out stated that it was not a drill. The talking heads on TV have been all over the map, telling stories of people huddling in their garage, shaking in fear. What would you do? How can you know unless you were there?

Fortunately, or unfortunately, I do know what I would do. It happened to me.

I was in a concrete bunker on the DMZ in South Korea. Not near Seoul, but way off in the east, near Chunchon. I was manning the communications as trick chief in the wee hours of the morning. It was somewhere in the middle of January 1973.

Trick chief was not a big deal. The man with the most seniority and rank was in charge, and that was me. All I had to do was to check the incoming messages, check the security code, and process the messages in time depending upon the security codes.

By “processing”, it meant getting the message to the proper folks within a specific time. The message itself printed out the actual addresses before it actually got to the message. I was trained to install & repair the “hot-line” phone that the president would use, I wasn’t really trained on “processing messages”, but it seemed simple enough.

I had every clearance that the military issued, so it was okay for me to have eyes on paper. There was “no clearance”, then “secret clearance”, then “top secret”, and finally “top secret crypto” clearance. I was trained that was all there was.

When I was briefly trained as trick chief, I was told there was one more, “Red Rocket Flash”. It seemed to me that it was a made-up local designation, but everyone was serious about it. The other security codes had various processing times required. Red Rocket Flash was on the order of WWWIII, and had to be processed in one minute.

Actually, when I was trained, he said that “Red Rocket Flash” has always had “This is a Test”, because otherwise, it was North Koreans were about five minutes away.

Five minutes? Well, we had nuclear tipped missiles with about a 50 mile range, with the wind at the missiles back. The warhead had about a 50 mile blast radius. So technically we were at the edge of a nuclear winter if we launched. We prayed for a good wind.

Of course we never would launch first. We would wait to be told with a “Red Rocket Flash” message that stuff was happening.

That night in January I got a Red Rocket Flash message, and the first thing it said was, “This is not a test!”. Umm, a cold chill went down my spine. I immediately alerted the officer in charge, and then waited for the message.

The problem was that the five letter address code for the receiving posts was still printing out. Thousands of addresses were being printed, and that took almost 30 minutes. Every couple of minutes I had to tell the commanding officer that it was “Red Rocket Flash” but I didn’t know what the message was.

Meanwhile, everyone grabbed weapons, the armory was emptied, the missiles were rolled out, fingers on all the triggers. Every eye was turned to the north, waiting to see hordes of padded jackets flowing over the border.

For thirty minutes we pondered the end of our normal lives. What did we do? Ha! We did our jobs. What did we think? Now that’s a different thing. We thought everything, and 45 five years later I still remember thinking those things.

So the talking heads have talked about the psychological damage to those people in Hawaii. Normally I kinda go to “snowflake” statements. Umm, I can’t go there, my personal experience is that this will be remembered.

What was the Red Rocket Flash message? The Vietnam War was officially over.

There will be 1.3 million in Hawaii that will remember this day, what they did. And what they thought.

This winter’s chill factor reminds me that we have different strategies to combat the cold. I’m not a fan of heat, I probably handle cold a tad better, but not by much. My wife will come back to find that I haven’t turned on the furnace all day. I noticed it was cold, but it wasn’t so bad that I had to get up to turn up the thermostat. Buy me a blanket, and I will adjust.

Which brings me to this post. What is the most important thing that I have created? (Apart from children, which was a partnership). I have done many things, I’m not saying that I am the most creative person I know, a good friend creates two or three paintings a day, and has for years. Another throws pots and all sorts of clay creations, with astounding quality and quantity.

But there is one measure that is very hard to understand. How is the creation used and enjoyed? A painting on the wall sometimes disappears from conscious vision, then it comes back again. A good story is enjoyed, forgotten, then it comes back. A creator’s desire is that the creation will have value, but it is often forgotten.

Well, ha!, I say! Of all the things I’ve done, there is one moment of time that had me creating a cherished, and well-used item. I made a down- quilt sleeping bag. Actually, I sewed several of them.

I know, this is not earthshaking art, but using the measure appreciation, I have to say that it far exceeds anything I have ever done. Primarily, because my wife does not like a chill.

On any given outing to a restaurant, she generally will bring a coat, even during the summer, because the air-conditioning will always be directly behind her. It doesn’t take much to make her very uncomfortable. I’ve known this for years. When I introduced her to backpacking, I wanted her to be warm. I bought her down jackets, down vests, and all kinds of insulating materials. I made sure that the down sleeping bag had the most loft possible (height of the feathers). She was comfortable in the woods at night.

However, relaxing around the house, in winter, meant an $800 or $900 heating bill every month. I think we burned out at least one oven by leaving it on with the door slightly open. Now, this was years ago, so we no longer get notices that our bills are three times higher than our neighbors. What changed? I believe it was the sleeping bag quilt.

I encourage anyone with little time to investigate building a down quilt sleeping bag. I know that you can always purchase a thing, but it is expensive and you don’t have the pleasure of creation, just the pleasure of purchasing.

So here are my tips for making the best thing ever for a chilled companion. There are several websites that offer bulk fabric and good quality down feathers. The hardest items are the plans, or patterns, and the closure, or zipper.

If I were to do this today, I wouldn’t bother with either one. I love YKK large zippers for a good tight mummy bag fit, but even backpacking,, I use the bag as a quilt, so all my bags can be unzipped and laid flat. They taper at the bottom but not too much. If I had made them square it really would not have added much weight. A down quilt may shift a bit during the night but a few Velcro straps can keep it fastened in place.

So here is the deal, buy a tough but light weight cover of ripstop nylon of one color, buy another color soft liner ripstop for the inner part that is next to your skin. Both need to be down proof. The secret is to buy the baffle material to give the loft required. The higher the loft, the warmer the quilt. The worst thing you can do is to sew threw the two sheets creating tubes. You have all seen jackets and vests that make the wearer look like the Michelin Man. The sewn-threw method creates cold spots. Sleeping bags have tubes, by having baffles sewn to the top and the bottom liners. It is a lot of straight sewing with a good machine, but it can be done. It’s all in a straight line.

I laid out my material on a pool table to kept it organized while sewing. Once all the baffles are sewn, sew all the edges except the one opening for the tubes. I sear the edges with candle, then roll them for a clean sewn edge.

Now, this is a wonderful trick that I learned from the web. Get a large tent where you can set up a small table with chair. Put the sewing machine on the table. Put a shopvac or small hand vacuum in the tent. Place all the small bags of down and the baffled, empty sleeping quilt in the tent, zip up the enclosure with you wearing a breathing mask. Fill your tubes with down, and sew it shut. Then vacuum all the loose down. There will be loose down no matter how hard you try.

I did not do this with my first bag. There is still down feathers in the garage rafters above the pool table. Down simply escapes when ever it can.

Very simple to do, takes a few hours once you have all the material, takes a bit more if you want the option of a zippered mummy bag. In the end you will have a tremendously warm creation that will last for years.

The measure of appreciation? My wife uses it every night throughout the year for the last ten years. Another one is brought out for the TV every night on the couch. Animals have ripped it, chewed on it, and they have patched holes everywhere, but it is still warm and toasty, and a creation that is valued.

The clock ticked on the wall. Other rooms had converted to the digital system, but this room wasn’t important enough for an upgrade. It only had four accountants in it, doing the work of two accountants. And they only double checked figures that had already been approved. It was a dreary room with a ticking clock.

The clock ticked ten minutes to five. If studied close enough, the big hand made a half second move to the past, and then leaped to the future at twice the tick speed. Moving twice the tick speed always made Alfred a little nauseous, so he preferred not to watch the clock.

Alfred had the most seniority of the four accountants. In fact, when the clock actually makes it to five o’clock, Alfred will retire with thirty years in the company. Thirty years of being on time, and ending exactly on time. Alfred had proof, he had thirty years of time clock stamps that would prove him correct. But now, after thirty years, he wondered if he had done the right thing.

Other employees had missed a few mornings here and there, so they had stayed later to make things up. They even stayed later to go over their required time. Many employees donated time to the company as project timelines came closer.

Alfred didn’t approve of that. It offended his accountant soul.

Alfred never gave more than what he was paid for. To his credit, he never gave less. Still there was a nagging saying that Alfred had heard many times at the company. “Be sure to give your pound of flesh and you will be alright!” Alfred argued in his head that his hours were compensated by his payroll check, and that was enough.

Nine minutes to five, and Alfred got a phone call from Human Resources. They had all of the paperwork done, and would settle up accounts. The human resource person laughed a little. Settling up accounts with an accountant! She asked one curious question before hanging up. “Are you right handed, or left handed?”

Alfred responded “Left handed.” and he stared at the phone receiver for a few seconds. Alfred wondered about the type of parting gift would require knowing this. A baseball glove? He never played on the company team! Gold plated scissors? He did do scrap booking as a hobby, but no one knew this.

It was now five minutes to five and Alfred thought he heard the elevator coming up from the third floor. His pencils were all sharpened for the next occupant at his desk. He had stocked paper, staples, and sticky notes. He was a little shy in the proper amount of paper clips, but that was okay, he didn’t approve of paper clips. They bent the paper, and they didn’t always keep the papers fastened.

The elevator doors opened and three Human Resources staff exited, and began to make their way down the hall. Alfred could see them quite clearly as his desk had a view of the hall. He had seniority.

The young woman on the right side had the briefcase that held all the papers that he would be required to sign. The man in the middle had a wrapped present that looked suspiciously like a clock. Alfred hoped it didn’t tick. The man on the left carried a leather hinged case that might have a thirty year medal hanging on a ribbon. Alfred began to be upbeat.

“So Alfred, today is the day! We have your papers to sign and your account to be cleared! Congratulations on your thirty!”, the middle manager smiled with his professionally whitened teeth. The young lady presented the papers complete with yellow marked prompts for his signatures.

“Great, thank you! And now could you extend your right hand? I believe you said you were left handed so we wouldn’t want to get it wrong!” He laughed a little at his little joke.

Alfred hadn’t heard about a retirement bracelet, but he hadn’t retired before so everything was new. He pulled back his shirt sleeve and extended his hand. The man in the left opened his leather case and pulled out a large meat cleaver.

“You know, not many people manage to do thirty years without giving up a little skin here and there. And not many know that a human hand is very close to a pound of flesh. But then I thought, an accountant would have worked that all out.”

Just then the clock made its move backward to the past, followed by twice the tick speed to the future, and a swishing sound. Alfred felt a little nauseous.

On this first hour of Christmas 2017, I wish all travelers through the blogosphere the merriest of all Christmases. There have been many firsts in my life, and there are possibilities of collecting a few lasts. I would not want the year to end before thanking all of you for stopping by.

May this next new year be the most joyous, the most productive, and the most blessed of any year in the past. Cheers!

I’m currently reading a book by Don Richardson. He has several very interesting books about his life as a missionary. I am reading the book that refutes the Big Bang Theory, A Man from Another World, EA Books Publishing 2016

It is not an easy book to read, but it is presented in a very friendly fashion. Kaidan is a visitor from beyond our galaxy, and he has come to point out the error in our ways concerning our ideas on cosmology. He is from the planet Arkona, which may be in another galaxy, but we share the fact that we are all created. Shouldn’t we agree on the process? And, oh by the way, he has 24 other planets that are pretty much aligned with a better theory than the Big Bang.

So the book continues with a teaching seminar with 500 of the top terrain scientists who are almost rabidly in favor of the Big Bang. Kaidan is very kind, but he points out some embarrassing concepts that are held with no foundation in logic.

I love a good story, and if the story teaches, I’m a big time fan. There is one problem though. The book assumes that some of the basics of cosmology are understood.

What’s wrong with that assumption? What thinking person hasn’t spent some time pondering the very nature of creation? It’s the most important piece of scientific inquiry that we have. Where did we come from? Are we riding on the back of a turtle or not? Let’s sit down and reason together, come up with the answer(s).

I must admit I’m more familiar with cosmetology than cosmology. The book uses words that are mostly in English, and in most cases the words are simple, like Big Bang Theory. This tricks you into thinking that you understand. After reading two thirds of the book I can clearly state that the air is fairly thin, and what I thought I knew was… just plain simpleton crap. Now, Don comes along with his fiction based character to offer even more of the stuff that I didn’t understand in the first place.

I remember this happening once before. I picked up Bill Bryson’s book where he actually explains the Theory of Relativity. I was thrilled, I understood it for a full day. The next day I was back to being a dullard. Except this time, in Don’s book, as soon as any theory was mentioned, my eyes just glazed over.

One concept did crystallize, apparently the Big Bang Theory does not consider magnetism, because ions did not exist, and ions create magnetism. So planets had to form by gravity alone. But Kaidan’s Theory includes ions and magnetism, so planets are formed with gravity aided by magnetism.

This must be important if true. And what would it take to understand the truth? It can’t be just words, because I’ve tried that. It’s like trying to understand another language by having the speaker talk louder. It doesn’t help!

I would like to think I have the ability to finish this book. Apart from the random boredom that sometimes occurs, I have never given up on a book. I plodded through to the end with James Joyce’s Ulysses, and I learned the classic meter of Nikos Kazantkakis’ The Odyssey; A Modern Sequel. Having said that, this little two hundred page book is kicking my butt.

I can’t read it louder, but perhaps I can read it slower.

A pastor friend, or even better, a friend who is a pastor, has recommended memorizing as much scripture as possible. This is something I have been reluctant to do. Not because I do not see the value. It is mostly because I’m never certain which translation I should use. Weak rationalization- mostly I’m lazy, and at this stage in my life, I fear failure. Maybe I can start with this one verse. Psalm 3:27

I have learned that I am not satisfied unless I have exhausted the English translation of all scripture. It has been very helpful to have a study application where I can easily access multiple versions. For this example I have chosen ten different English versions. Thankfully I am mono-lingual so other languages are complete out. I suppose the Greek and Hebrew versions should be considered, but that’s why I’m looking at the ten English versions, why reinvent the wheel?

So, briefly, this is my take on Psalm 3:27

27 Withhold not good from those to whom it is due [its rightful owners], when it is in the power of your hand to do it. [Rom. 13:7; Gal. 6:10] Amplified

I like reading the Amplified because it is so… amplified. The problem that I have is the unnecessary double negative. “Withholding not” good, seems awkward, but there is a hint of what the Latin suggests. As a species we “withhold”, we are not good about sharing, we are over concerned with the survival of the fittest, and other selfish acts. That’s a fair way to begin the psalm. “Hey, remember all that “withholding”? Well, don’t do it!”

And what are we “withholding”? The answer is “good”, and “good” that is obviously known as good, and it is due! Quit being a self centered creep, and give credit (good) when it is warranted. Oh, yeah, also do it when it is in your power to do it. Like, perhaps before you die! Or before you are chained in a dungeon, or before you are muted by some disease or man.

This is pretty good advice! Let’s briefly look at the other versions.

27 Withhold not good from them to whom it is due,[+] when it is in the power of thine hand to do it. Complete Word Study

Okay, nice use of “thine”, gives more of a sense that it is “yours” to do. But how did “those” go to “them”?

27 Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thy hand to do it. Darby

Thine reduces to thy, hmm.

27 Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thine hand to do it. King James Version

The return of thine!

27 Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thy hand to do it. Webster’s Bible

Nothing new here, it’s been said before.

27 When it is in your power, don’t withhold good  from the one it belongs to. Holman Christian Standard Bible.

Wow, this is pretty straightforward. Scripture with contractions! The problem is that it starts with a phrase that “weasels”. I’ve known people that will sieze the moment, and use the excuse before they even get to the action.

27 Don’t withhold good from those to whom it is due, When it is in the power of your hand to do it.

Power of my hand? Hand tools?

27 Do not withhold good from those who need it, when  you  have the ability  to help.  Net Bible

Ah ha, helping! I like it! Everyone likes to help, well… most everyone.

27 Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due,  when it is in your power to do it. English Standard Version

27 Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, When it is in your power to do it. New American Standard Bible.

Yep, both say the same thing and I suppose I will use them to memorize. I will add this scripture to the other one that I have memorized from years ago. “Jesus wept. John 11:35

With in the framework of the laws of physics as we understand them today, we can say only that the universe came into existence when it already had an age of 10-43 seconds.

Physlink.com

I am trying very hard to understand how the entire universe had an age (no matter how small) before it was created. Is this the speed of thought of the creator? Because we are speaking of creation, the exact moment of existence. The universe had an age before it existed because the creator had to think it into existence.

Nothing can be faster than the speed of light. Oh, wait, I stand corrected. Nothing is faster than the speed of light. At the moment of creation nothing, the vast void, had to expand in order for light to progress. I like it when the answer is so clearly stated.

Apparently there are three other three other things that are faster than the speed of light, but I have enough to think about fr the moment.

God’s thinking speed, and anything faster than light. Well, okay, I am thinking a little bit about Neg. matter, and it’s existence, or not.

4 Things That Currently Break the Speed of Light Barrier | Big Think

I’ve been told that to write better, you must write more. Well, at first blush that would make sense, after all, practice makes perfect. Who said that?

There is the possibility that you can have thirty years experience, or you can have one year of experience, repeated thirty times.

To write better I should write more. Repeating the same mistakes until they are embedded as an edifice, fossilized in my core? I write more to be a better writer to write more… there is a cyclical nature to this. Riding a horse on a carousel doesn’t get you very far. Break the cyclical, create the spiral!

The endless spiral of a Mandelbrot fractal. I like the thought. A cosmic zoom of the spiral line that is actually infinite numbers of fractal spirals. The infinite measure of the coastline of any island. How is that possible when some islands are obviously larger than others?

The answer is that some infinities are larger (or smaller) than others. I find cold comfort in this statement.

I don’t know if that was seven things or not. It was a silly Buzzfeed title.

It’s the Christmas season. It’s also the Christmas shopping season. Wow, I went to Target this afternoon. Not the most pleasant experience- I survived mostly by shopping in the food section. Not a whole lot of gift shopping in the frozen meatless patty aisle. Much less competition. Everything goes well, except I forgot a couple of items. No problem, I’ll stop at CVS on the way home.

Okay, so maybe I had some stale coffee this morning. Maybe it was the mid morning two hour teeth scraping, (I have two teeth that need to be watched. I’m not watching, but somebody is!) In any case, it is possible that my morning had set my teeth on edge. Ha!

I only had to purchase two items at CVS, NyQuil and chewing gum (is there gum that isn’t chewed?). Three items may require a list, four items definitely require a list. I was good with two items.

I like purchasing items that do not require further choices. I like to order Rubens for lunch. True, I like the tasty sandwich, but I like the lack of further choices. It’s rye bread, corned beef, sauerkraut, Swiss cheese, and thousand island. If the restaurant starts to ask questions like sourdough?, mayo?, ketchup?, Velvetta? and bison burger?… well, just run away. This is all to say that NyQuil is no longer safe. There appeared to be five choices of NyQuil and none of them said ‘original’. I did the best I could.

The chewing gum was right at the counter, easy in, easy out. I stepped up to grab four packs and then placed them on the counter. Immediately I felt a tap on the shoulder, “Excuse me, there is a line!”. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know!”,so I stepped to the next counter where the customer was having items packed up.

Then I looked around, realizing that there was no line. Perhaps the woman had created one, but there was no one behind her. At least I hadn’t been a complete idiot. If I saw her, I probably thought she was looking at some of the “point of purchase” displays. No big deal, she was getting her stuff checked, and I was in the next line, waiting for the bagging to finish.

That’s when I looked up and caught the eyes of the young man who was checking out the woman. He was looking at me with apologetic eyes. I’m not sure what that is, but when you see it, you know what it is. So then I focused on what the women was saying. I probably could hear the first part, but I wasn’t paying attention. Now that the clerk and I had a silent connection, I could hear the rest of the woman’s comment. She was talking about me, and how I had the gall to cut in front of her.

I was dumbfounded. I suppose I thought the apology was sufficient. Apparently not so, I was still a topic that she had to work through. So what was it? Male dominance? White privilege? Thuggish? Just plain crude Christmas shopping behavior? After all I had just been to Target. Too many categories that overlapped.

I was so confused that I didn’t notice that she had left, and the young clerk had motioned me back to his counter. I carefully checked to see if I was cutting, but no one was there. I looked at him, and he said, “Some people have an attitude…”

Trying to find a reason that made sense, I went through some of the various possibilities. I didn’t know what it was like to be a woman, I didn’t know what it was like to be black, I didn’t know what it was like to be a single mom (if she was?)… I didn’t know anything about walking in her shoes.

But that is also the point. No one really knows another’s experience.

Ha, I’m old, confused, I have bad eyesight, and my feet hurt. My early life was filled with beatings because of how I looked, my army years were punctuated by being spit on in airports, my professional life was marked by not being qualified for the jobs that I had. But none of that is known by those standing in line at CVS. And, would it matter if it was?

My rant this afternoon is to make a choice to be kinder. We don’t know the whole story to anything, even our own lives. Forgive yourself, forgive each other. Do it for the season, learn to extend it all year.

You can wear someone else’s shoes, but it does mean they will fit, nor will they walk the same path.

I had mentioned that “Earth Abides” has been one of my favorite books. When I was in high school I frequented a very small junk store that had a fairly large collection of paperback books.

Appropriately enough, it was called Lane’s Hole in the Wall. It really had an amazing assortment of, well…crap, as my father would say. Lane collected everything, and then put a price on it for his store. Classic!

At least once a week I would stop by and look through the paperbacks. This was where I found my first battered copies of Henry Miller’s work. I also found a well worn collection of Walt Whitman. The bulk of my purchases were in science fiction. I wanted everything that Robert Heinlein had every written for example.

One day, after I had found a half-dozen random books, Lane reached under the counter and brought out “Earth Abides”. He said it was pretty cool, and it was written with local neighborhoods mentioned. I had never heard of the writer, but if Lane said it was good, then I went along with the .25 price tag.

I could not put the book down. It was absolutely wonderful! Filled with great natural science, and an amazing story set in the hills of Berkeley. I could even figure out where the invented streets were. Such a good book, and it remains so.

Fast forward fifteen years.

I was about thirty years old, and I was planning to hike the California Trail from St. Louis to Sacramento. I had purchased all the topographical maps necessary, I had read many of the journals, and I was thinking about setting out that summer. I had one more thing left to research. In general, the route taken once they crossed the Sierras was not well documented, particularly after gold was discovered.

There were about five passes across the Sierra Nevada mountains that handled about 80% of all the trail traffic. Sonora Pass, Carson Pass, Ebbets Pass, Echo Lake Pass, and lastly the famous, or infamous, Donner Pass.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I should break-in my equipment and maybe even train my body for the trail. My new plan was to delay the main trail, and use the summer to hike from Sonora Pass going north to Donner Pass and maybe a little beyond. I could spend several days at each one of the passes, going down the east approach, and then crossing to descend the western slope. It was a good plan and it would help me get ready for the larger trip on the following summer.

Naturally I did as much reading as possible, before my hike. I was going to use the Pacific Crest trail to get me from pass to pass. I had to mail food and supplies to several post offices near the trail in order to be resupplied. I had a recent copy of the Pacific Crest trail book which pointed out where the trail was still not well marked. Something about ribbons in the trees. My pack was about 65 lbs with my map borders trimmed and my toothbrush shaved. I had to save ounces.

I also had read everything about Donner Pass because my plan was to use this pass as the one used on the California Trail. The Donner Pass story was widely written about, but the best research was detailed in books by a University of California professor of history at Berkeley.

I read everything that he had, but then I thought I would visit him to ask for more specific information. That’s when I found out that he had been retired for several years. But the history department secretary said that he lived in San Francisco, and that he often made time for students and researchers. She gave me his number and I called for an appointment.

I had notebooks of questions, I really wanted to know things about the land, and if the wagon guides were following hunting trails. I suppose I wanted to know stuff that he hadn’t written about. Maybe even some secret places that he knew, where I could still see some evidence of prior trail use.

I made two visits, and he was very gracious in providing everything I wanted. There was a little confusion around the first visit. Upon entering I said that wanted more information about the book that he had written. He said fine, ask away. I then mentioned my plan to investigate the passes. He looked a little perplexed and said, “That book? People don’t ask me about the Sierras anymore, I just get visitors about that other little book I wrote.” “What book was that professor?”, I asked. “Oh, um, ‘Earth Abides’, nice little fiction book I wrote in 1949”

I was speaking to Professor Stewart, but I was also speaking to George R. Stewart, the author of my favorite science fiction book. By the way, he got the title from the Bible, the first chapter of Ecclesiastes.

It was the best day!