About Me
- P M Prescott
- Family and Friends is my everyday journal. Captain's Log is where I pontificate on religion and politics.
Sunday, August 07, 2011
Exhausted
The couple that presented had good skits and a well needed message. Friday night we saw the movie Courageous from Sherwood Baptist Church that did Fireproof. It will have a theatrical release in September. It's an excellent movie with lots of humor to break up the more serious parts.
Dropped the wife off Sat morning and did 5 hours as a marshall on the golf course. Strip club had a tournament, but it was more about a bunch of guys with a girl or two seeing how much beer they could guzzle. Course made a mint on the booze.
Came home took a quick shower and we went to the Isotopes game which had a fireworks night. 'Topes were up 20-7 at the end of the 4th inning. The only thing that kept the crowd there was the fireworks. We only go to the Isotopes once or twice a summer. Before they built the new stadium and when the kids were little going to the Dukes was a cheap form of entertainment. You could park in the outfield for little money and tailgate. They had family night coupons and you could take in your own cooler and parking was free.
Now it's 5 bucks to park, you have to buy drinks and food there, tickets are still fairly reasonable, but the whole experience is not the bargain it was with the Dukes.
Needless to say I spent most of today napping trying to recover. I have to marshall for 5 hours again tomorrow. What I have to do for free golf, only after putting in the hours as a marshall I haven't had the time to get out there and golf for free.
Tuesday, August 02, 2011
A good trip

Thursday, July 28, 2011
To the lake
Monday, July 25, 2011
Getting Back To Normal
She's going to work tomorrow half time and we'll see if she's up to going back on Wednesday.
I want to thank all who have offered their prayers and special thoughts through this time in our lives.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Slow going
Convention got together some meals for us and our freezer is full. Many thanks to those who shared their generosity with us.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Slow Recovery
Thursday, July 07, 2011
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
Delayed
Monday, July 04, 2011
It May Be Dry Here, But For Me It's Raining.
Wife had heartburn all last night and nothing helped. It got worse and I took her to the emergency room. EKG was fine so they did an ultrasound and found gall stones. They admitted her and she's talking to a surgeon in the morning. Insurance is good, but the 20% it doesn't pay has me scared. Daughter's hospital stay last year forced me into bankruptcy and retirement. Not much of a safety net left.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Beaulah Colorado
It's amazing what memories that brought back.
My maternal grandparents owned a small cabin in Beaulah. The road curved around a hill and there was a bridge over a small creek. The pink stucco cabin was on the inside of the curve. It had a large main room with couch, chairs and book shelves on the wall on one side and on the other was a sink, wood burning stove, table and chairs. There was a bedroom past that and the back door. Behind and a ways off was an outhouse. It did have electricity. The book shelves were full of reader's digest, coronet and national geographic magazines, misc. books and lots of reader's digest condensed books. When you went there it was for peace, quiet and reading. Lake Isabel is not far away and lots of times we'd spend the night at the cabin and go fishing at the lake.
Between the cabin and the creek were willow trees. Grandpa had some long butcher knives and gave one to Bruce and one to me. We attacked those poor willows and made bows & arrows. The willow branches were too flexible to make much of a bow and the arrows never sailed very far. On the other side of the road was a hill with a flag on top. We would always have to climb the mountain (when your 7 years old just about anything is a mountain) and reach the flag.
We lived in Pueblo then and it was only a forty five minute drive to get away from the heat of town and relax for a weekend. Grandpa's brother, Frank, lived in a beat up trailer there for a few years and we (Bruce and I) would hike up to his trailer to say hi whenever we were there. Frank was moved out of his trailer and put in a retired journalists home in Colorado Springs. Mom took us to visit him once before he died.
A rancher there would rent out horses for riding and I remember Dad would have Bruce in front of him and I'd be in front of Mom as we went horse back riding. It was a big deal when they let Bruce ride alone. We moved down to Albuquerque before they thought I was big enough for that priveledge.
Perhaps the singular memory of Beaulah was a labor day weekend. We drove up on Friday night in the rain. The plan was to go fishing on Saturday and Sunday at Lake Isabel. Mom woke up and started trying to make a fire in the wood burning stove, but filled the cabin up with smoke. Dad got up and looked out the window to see four inches of snow on the ground and it was still coming down.
We ate breakfast and as there wasn't much else to do while hoping the snow would let up and perhaps we could get some fishing in on Sunday we sat around the wood burning stove. Either Mom or Dad chose a book named Pioneer Go Home by Richard P. Powell. They took turnes reading it aloud. Around noon the wood was giving out and Dad went out to get more coming back with a bucket of coal. By late afternoon they decided the fishing trip was a bust and we went back home.
This event was burned onto all our memories particularly that book. By chance we found it was made into a movie but renamed Follow That Dream starring Elvis Presley.
We moved down here. The Record Music Company in Pueblo fell victim to discount stores and Grandpa sold the building and the cabin. When Mom and Dad went back for class reunions they found that the cabin had been leveled, cleaned up and restricted for habitation not to contaminate the stream. My fondest memories before the age of ten are about Beaulah.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
poetry
I came across a book of poems from this lady and found I like them. Thought I'd share some.
Mary Newmarch Prescott, American author and sister of Harriet Prescott Spofford, was born in Calais, Maine, August 2, 1849, the daughter of Joseph Prescott and his wife Sarah Bridges. Her parents removed to Derry and afterwards to Newburyport, Massachusetts. Mary was educated chiefly at home by her mother and sister. Her first story was written as a school composition, but was sent to Harper's Magazine and accepted. After that she wrote many poems and short stories which were published in various magazines. She died at the home of her sister, Mrs. Spofford, at Deer Island, Amesbury, Maine, June 14, 1888.
POEMS
OVER A GRAVE
Though underneath the silent clod
Thy body rests—thy soul with God
Doth mount on wings of prayer and praise
To swell the measure of thy days.
Even though the grass is tall and green,
That grows thy heart and mine between.
Even though thy face be hid from me.
My Father's will I clearly see.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Dad through time
There are various fazes as we grow up. I remember Dad when I was little and him running after Bruce and I after he told to run and how surprised we were how quick he caught us. When he stopped being taller than us and we fought over whose socks were whose. Teaching for a few weeks across the hall from each other, that was special time. Staning out in the yard talking while he watered his flowers and shrubs. Seeing the look on his face when he held his grandchildren. Some things can never be forgotten.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Good news
Monday, June 13, 2011
Real reality
Vivian Norris has an interesting article at Huffpo today. Being a teacher and writer I watch documentaries and channels like Nat Geo, History, Bio, stuff that my wife huffs and puffs about. She's much happier with her daytime drama. Norris is afraid filmmakers will stop doing docs because large corporations hit them with law suits. In my mind the more the corps fight them the more interest they generate and more people watch them. My fear is that documentaries will die because no one wants to watch them anymore. Escaping into the oblivion of explosions, car chases, body dismemberments, who cares about "real" reality?
Documentaries can be wonderful ways to lose ourselves in reality, not virtual reality, not reality tv, but "real" reality; they are not only enjoyable to watch, but because they are based on these facts, force us to question when we are fed lies. Good documentary filmmaking preserves our common human accomplishments and documents the natural world and ways of life (which in some cases sadly is disappearing. See a great doc about disappearing cowboys and shepherds in Montana called Sweetwater).
The phrase that Norris uses caught my eye: "real" reality. My things have gotten complicated when we have to distinguish which type of reality we're talking about.
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
Latest Novel

An asteroid hits Wyoming in 1965 and an oil company's computers predict that Yellowstone a super volcano already thousands of years overdue will erupt in 50 to 70 years wiping out all life on the planet.
James Eastman, president of the company decides to come up with a plan for "When it hits the fan."
This is a multigenerational story covering the last fifty years and how technology if used properly could save billions of lives should a catastrophy like this happen.
Part 1 covers 1948 to 1976. Part 2 is in the works.
Now available at Amazon.com, Barnes & Nobles and smaswords.com. For $2.99
At Smashwords if you put in the coupon PA52R it's free for thirty days.
All coupons for the other stories at smashwords have expired.
I've looked at all the different formats at smashwords and have found pdf to be the best.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
greetings from Nebraska
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Another prophet with egg on face
It's so easy for someone trying to make a name for themselves and attract non-thinking groupies to dream up a doomsday scenario and rake in the money.
Living a Christian life is a committment. Cheap Grace and sitting around waiting for the sky to fall in is only delusion.