Messages of other months can be read by clicking HERE.

Life in Mexico (10/12/03)
Memories (10/12/05)
Return Trip Plans (10/12/08)
Starting Back (10/12/12)
Corvallis, Oregon (10/12/17)
In the Hand of God (10/12/20)
Happy New Year (10/12/24)
The Time Has Come (10/12/27)

Life in Mexico (10/12/03)
When I decided to visit Mexico in the summer of 1946, the only person I knew in that country was the college student, son of a wealthy lawyer, who had invited me to visit him. Before starting to hitchhike from Chicago, I found another pre-seminary student from the Chicago area who had studied Spanish and was willing to join me. Before we arrived in Mexico City, I had made a couple of other friends—the Mexican man who was the last driver to give us a ride in the U.S.A., who was willing to take us to Mexico City, although he was not permitted to do so, and his son. During our 7-week stay in the capital city, we often had contact with him and his family. We also made friends with students at the university and with members of the church(es) we attended. The Presbyterian Church had both morning and evening services in Spanish. It also held outdoor services to attract others, which Bob and I sometimes attended. We also sang in the church choir at times. Some Sundays, we also attended the morning service in English at a Baptist Church and were actively involved in the establishment of a Christian group at the university (Inter Varsity Christian Fellowship) and its activities. Of course the regular tourist attractions were also visited. It was during my experience in Mexico that I began to seriously consider the possibility of becoming a missionary to a foreign country rather than being a pastor of an American church. On Saturday, July 20, I went with a busload of university students up to a parking place on the famous 5452-meter high mountain, Popocatepetl. During the rest stop, I slipped out, made my way up to the snow-covered peak and threw a few snowballs before returning to the group. (1353)

Memories (10/12/05)
Depending on the countries represented, a foreigner may be either highly respected or disdained. I arrived in Mexico in the midst of a political battle between conservatives and liberals related to the national election of a president. Because of the political atmosphere, Americans were advised to stay at home on the election day, Sunday, July 7. When I did go out, a policeman checked me as security guards do at the airport to make sure I had no illegal armaments. Although I doubt that there were any political implications in the mind of the bus driver, one of the impressions I recall is related to my waiting at a bus stop for a city bus. Even when waiting at a designated bus stop, hand-waving to the bus driver was expected by those waiting there, and there were times when I obviously waved my hand, but the bus did not stop. I was also impressed with how many riders were allowed on a bus. Some busses were obviously overcrowded and I saw some men who were able to place only one foot on the exit step of the bus and rode that way to the next bus stop. Of the various museums, historic sites and natural attractions that I visited, the Palacio de Bellas Artes stands out—not because of the artwork inside, but because of the building itself. It is a very large, artistic structure, but what I clearly remember are the concrete steps around it. Originally, those concrete steps extended upward from the ground to the first floor of the palacio. However, when I visited that “palace,” the steps no longer extended upward, but were simply a flat connection. I was told that the land on which Mexico City is now located was originally a lake and the soil that replaced the water has since become softer. (1354)

Return Trip Plans (10/12/08)
When I was a high school student, my common mode of transportation from my home to the factory where I worked in a neighboring city (about 8 kilometers away) was hitchhiking. When I was a college student, my common mode of transportation from my hometown to the university I attended (about 300 kilometers away) was hitchhiking. It was not surprising, therefore, that I chose that kind of transportation for the 2000 kilometer trip from Chicago to Mexico City. What was surprising was my desire to hitchhike back to Chicago through the western states of California and Oregon. My sister had attended the state college in DeKalb, Illinois, and after her graduation, she married the son of a teacher there, who became a teacher at a state college in Corvallis, Oregon and I desired to visit them there. The problem was not simply the long distance, but a time consideration as well. I was scheduled to preach a sermon at the “Youth for Christ” meeting on Saturday, August 24 in my hometown. The graduating class of 1945 was responsible for that meeting and I was asked to preach. I was happy for the opportunity, but concerned about the timing. I informed the committee members about the content of my sermon (in which I planned to share my recent experiences and their implications). My final class at the University of Mexico in Mexico City was scheduled for Tuesday, August 13. Bob and I were hoping to find a ride to the U.S, so I attached the following announcement for both university students and church attendees to read. “Two male summer school students are interested in obtaining a ride toward the west coast, are licensed drivers and efficient tire changers, can speak Spanish, good English and very fluently keep silent in 8 languages. Please get in touch with one of us.” (1355)

Starting Back (10/12/12)
During the two months that Bob and I lived in Mexico City, we came into personal contact with many people, both in the university and in the church. We hoped that such contacts would result in our obtaining a ride from Mexico City to a city in the U. S. A. Among the responses we received as a result of the announcement of our plan noted in the previous message, the one which seemed most suitable was the car driven by two Christian American girls going to Denver, Colorado, leaving soon after the last class at the university. We planned to ride with them as far as El Paso, Texas, but the day before we were to leave, they decided they did not have enough room for us, so we decided to begin hitchhiking Tuesday afternoon. When the pastor of the church we attended learned about the problem, however, he presented us with an offering from the church with which we were able to buy bus tickets from Mexico City to the U. S. A. border, so we took a bus to the border and spent the night in Laredo, Texas. Consequently, we began hitchhiking on Wednesday morning, intending to pass through the states of New Mexico, Arizona and California on our way to my sister’s home in Oregon, then through the states of Idaho, Wyoming, Nebraska and Iowa on our way to Illinois, where I was scheduled to preach on Saturday night. Although I did not keep a record of our daily progress, I sent a postcard (requiring a 1-cent stamp) to my mother every day, informing her where I was. She kept them and I am now using them as my reference. As I look back and consider my experiences in Mexico, I realize that they were influential, both in the scope of my faith and in my decision to become a missionary. (1356)

Corvallis, Oregon (10/12/17)
Bob and I began to hitchhike on Thursday morning in Laredo, Texas. Our aim was to speedily cover the hundreds of kilometers to Corvallis, Oregon, where my sister lived with her husband who was a teacher at the Oregon State College. One of the particularly memorable vehicles that stopped for us was full of male college students who invited us to join them on their trip to California and permitted us to take our turns as drivers while we shared with them our experiences in Mexico. Concerned about my need to get to my hometown in Illinois by Saturday evening when I was scheduled to preach, I telephoned my sister Sunday night and we took a train into Corvallis that arrived early Monday morning. During our short visit at my sister’s home, we enjoyed two tasty meals and were taken through a very scenic area to the coast of the Pacific Ocean, which neither Bob nor I had seen before. Incidentally, the name, “Corvallis,” is composed of Latin terms meaning “heart of valley.” In the afternoon, before we were taken to the neighboring town of Albany, where we began our hitchhiking, we were given another tasty meal as a lunch to eat on the way. We were able to cross Oregon without any problem. It was after we entered the state of Idaho after dark that a serious incident, or accident occurred which we fortunately survived without injury. (1357)

In the Hand of God (10/12/20)
In the summer of 1946, my friend, Bob, and I hitchhiked together for thousands of kilometers from the Chicago suburb of Wilmette to Mexico City, then from Mexico City to Corvallis, Oregon and now we were on our way back to our hometowns north of Chicago. We are thankful for the sense of God’s presence with us during all of the experiences of that trip. The most terrifying experience we had was while we were on a national highway in the state of Idaho. It was late at night and very dark. As usual, we were standing next to our suitcases on the side of the highway looking hopefully at the few cars going in our direction. When I happened to look in the opposite direction, I saw a car heading directly toward us. I yelled at Bob and we jumped out of the way. We were not hit, but our suitcases were dragged a short distance before the car stopped. Then, the driver opened the car door and yelled: “Why are your suitcases in the middle of the road?” When we explained the situation to him, he realized he had fallen asleep while driving, gave us a $10 bill and rode away. Fortunately, there was a gas station not far away that was still open. We carried our things there and explained what had happened. Bob’s suitcase was older than mine and could not be reused. He was given a large cardboard box to use instead and I was given a couple of straps to hold my suitcase together. We had no other problems for the rest of the trip and arrived in my hometown the day before I was scheduled to preach. Needless to say, all those involved in that Youth for Christ meeting were relieved and my sermon included illustrations of God’s faithfulness and love taken from my experience. (1358)

Happy New Year (10/12/24)
In the “West,” it is customary to send out Christmas cards to relatives and friends, maybe with an accompanying Christmas letter which notes memorable family events of the past year. In Japan, it is customary to send out New Year’s cards. My wife and I are influenced by both cultures and this year we are sending out a New Year’s greeting and letter because we are celebrating Christmas with all of our children and grandchildren in a beach house here in Palm Coast, Florida, and wanted to make sure that our report of this extraordinary event, which was completely planned by them, is accurate. Mark (university English teacher), his Japanese wife, Ikuyo, and 7th grade son, Haiga, came from Japan to attend the graduation of their daughter, Shannon, from Arizona State University. Their older daughter, Leila, joined them from her work in San Diego, California. Our daughter, Susan (editor, Silkworm Books) came from Chiang Mai, Thailand and our son, Steve, (database administrator, Carlsbad, New Mexico) and his daughter, Dannie (student at New Mexico University) were also here. We had an exceptionally enjoyable time together, our first time to be all together for 4 years. Talking, viewing old slides taken years ago, playing games, going for walks (but no swimming) was how we spent most of our time together. (1359)

The Time Has Come (10/12/27)

My wife and I agree with the feeling expressed by many residents in this retirement community that as we grow older, time seems to advance more quickly. It is difficult for us to recognize that another year is coming to a close, that it has been over 10 years since we left Japan and entered this community, and almost a year since we moved to the assisted living unit where we now live. Checking my records, I find that it was 30 years ago, on September 1, 1980 that I began the “Daily Word” telephone service in Japan. After the service was taken over by Nippon Telegraph and Telephone, I was given a telephone card, which enabled me to record messages from overseas, and, depending on my schedule, sometimes I used messages that I had used before. However, the number in parentheses at the end of my message is the particular number for that particular message. According to my records, from the beginning of the “Daily Word” telephone service until I left Japan, I had composed and transmitted 6,290 different messages. After my “retirement” in the summer of 1999, I began the “Timely Words” computer item here in Florida. The “Timely Words” messages were not changed daily, and this is the 1360th new message in that series, which makes a total of 7,641 messages over the past 30 years. I also am amazed at that number and am very thankful for the encouragement and assistance in many different ways of many people over the years, but I feel the time has come to bring this service to a close while I am still rationally able to make that decision. I have recently celebrated my 83rd birthday and continue to enjoy the agitation that accompanies the composition of the messages. However, more time and mental stimulation are required now and I feel that the end of the year is an appropriate time to end. I will be happy to read any letters or comments clarboff2@aol.com my postal address is: P.O. Box 1034, Penney Farms, Florida 32079, U. S. A. (1360)