allanmusterer@sbcglobal.net

Math Teacher Philosophy

In my four years at Garfield High School, I took specific mathematics classes to prepare myself for studying engineering in college. My first year I had Algebra I. The second year I had two math classes, Algebra II and Geometry. The third year Solid Geometry-Trigonometry combined into one class. My final year I studied Calculus.

My Solid Geometry-Trigonometry class was taught by Mr. Peter Hubiak, a seasoned mathematics teacher who came with a well known reputation for strictness.

Mr. Peter Hubiak

Mr. Hubiak was a real character. Most of the students teased him behind his back because of his idiosyncrasies. He always seemed to have chalk stains on his suit jacket and a perpetual bulge of pens and pencils in his breast pocket that threatened to burst the pocket’s seams. The careful observer of details discovered soup stains on his tie and even on the front of some of his shirts peeking out from the edges of the lapels of his suit jacket. He was one of the oldest teachers on the staff. In fact, he was really old in my view because he had taught my parents!

Mr. Hubiak turned out to be a harbinger of wisdom that went beyond his expert teaching of solid geometry and trigonometry. He frequently philosophized during class. He would preach wisdom that stuck with me, probably because under the teenage critique of him there lay a certain measure of profound respect. His germs of wisdom took root in me and over time saved me from many potential losses both financially and career wise.

One of his philosophical offerings was his statement, “You can’t get something for nothing.”

That may sound simple and maybe even trivial, by many a time in life a prospect that seemed too good to be true tempted me to invest my resources. Then his words echoed in my mind and I resisted the temptation. Future events revealed how that little impulse saved me from serious financial losses. To this day I am grateful for Mr. Hubiak’s persistent preaching to us as teenagers.

Another offering was this suggestion that applied, as I later in life discovered, not only to solving mathematical problems but life problems as well.

He said, “When you are facing problems and situations that seem to overwhelm you, stop and go back to basic principles. Apply them and the solution will reveal itself.”

One of the most important turning points for me came with this “Hubiak-ism” as a key element. At a critical moment in my engineering career, when I was severely challenged, my God reminded me of this precious gem of wisdom from my teacher. It lay dormant in the crevices of my mind and was resurrected with meticulous timing to make a huge difference in facing a seemingly overwhelming challenge. [Refer to the story titled “It Doesn’t Work – Fix It” to see how this simple but profound solution evolved into a big professional success.]

Turning Point

The realization that wisdom can come from the least expected people who come into our life unexpectedly is a true turning point. It reveals the understanding that God can and will use anyone to fulfill His purpose for us. We just need to position ourselves to be extricated from our prejudices, judgments and fears so we are open to the blessings that can flow from these unexpected sources. Turning point phrases also find application beyond the obvious, as I have discovered in the spiritual part of life when resorting to “basic principles” as simply asking God through heartfelt prayer.

The Answer to a Question

I was serving as minister for one of our congregations when a young married couple asked me to pay them a pastoral visit. They were experiencing some difficulties and wanted me to counsel them. We made plans for a visit the following week.

As the days passed by, I became more and more concerned as to what I would be able to contribute to the situations with which they were wrestling. Furthermore, they did not give me any clues as to the nature of their concerns. Speculation circled in my thoughts. I resorted to prayerful deliberations with God, asking Him for guidance so He could use me to help them get over whatever it was that troubled them.

When the day arrived I drove to the couple’s home. I sat in my parked car in front of their house, offering up one last prayer hoping to get the butterflies out of my stomach. I felt so inadequate and wondered why they thought I could help them. I hoped that they were seeking help from God and not from me.

I finished my praying and approached the front door and knocked. I was welcomed in and we greeted one another with some introductory conversation. When we entered their living room a sense of confidence came over me. The husband sat down in one chair, the wife on a sofa and I took my place in a chair. I sensed some distance had grown between them.

I told them how I would like to engage our discussion.

I said, “The way I like to proceed is to first pray together because we want God to be not only a part of our discussion, but an active participant. We need His guidance because His solution will be the most successful. After we pray, I would like each of you in turn to share your perspective of the issues and concerns and then I will work to bring God’s perspective to the discussion. We will end with a prayer of thanksgiving.”

We all agreed, but then I said something that really caused me deep concern.
I said, “Whatever the outcome of our discussion, the success or failure will depend on the answer to one question.”

My thoughts were racing in my head. I wondered – What was that all about? What was the question? And more critically, what was the answer? Now I was really ill at ease and any sense of confidence fled my being.

I began by asking the wife to first share her views of the issues from her perspective. Very articulately she expressed her feelings.

When she finished I asked her husband to share his.

As he finished, he leaned forward to the edge of his chair and almost screamed, “What is the question?”

Now I really began to sweat. I didn’t know the question nor did I know the answer! All through the discussion I was thoughtfully praying and asking God the same thing, “What is the question? And what is the answer?”

There was pause of silence that seemed to me to last forever.

Then I suddenly uttered, “The question is: Do you believe it was God who brought you two together? and if you can honestly answer YES, then there is no situation or difficulty that can tear you apart. But if the answer is NO, then some very small and insignificant issue can bring the end to this marriage.”

No sooner were these words out of my mouth when the couple in spontaneous unison proclaimed, “We believe God brought us together!”

The issue that brought us together that night melted away. Peace returned to this couple that evening. I told them of my personal concerns and confessed that I had no idea what the question was until it flowed across my lips.

We celebrated God’s gracious gift for them and offered a prayer of thanksgiving and praise to our God. I left them with a profound sense of gratitude for the answer to my prayers.

Turning Point

It must be God’s plan to maximize the efficacy of the experiences we have with Him. When we are willing servants in His hand, we can see wonders in how He works blessings for those who believe and trust in Him. His guidance sometimes requires us to be ill at ease, uncomfortable in a place of unknowns. But these only magnify the awesome effect of His love for us. It makes the experience memorable and valued. I am sure His hope is that we will share it with others and further multiply the joy of His handiwork. I believe that when we are in our greatest discomfort, God is at His best! The life of Jesus is a testimony of the Father’s mastery at times of human distress.

We Are Going To Be Undefeated!

At six years old, our son Randy attained the age of eligibility to play T-ball. T-ball at the time was a program to teach six year olds the fundamentals of baseball. Instead of having a pitcher throw the ball to the batters, there was an adjustable post that was placed at home plate. The height that it held a baseball for the batter to hit was adjusted for each batter. There were nine players with one player positioned where the pitcher normally would play.

When the day came for registration, Carol, my wife, took Randy to sign up for our local Mira Mesa T-Ball league. He was assigned to the Pirates team and was presented with his equipment consisting of a black and yellow Pirates baseball cap and jersey. He was very excited and proud to be part of a team.

That evening when I arrived home from work, Randy ran to meet me proudly decked out in his new uniform.

Randy’s official Pirates Picture

Excitedly he announced to me matter-of-factly, “Dad, out team will be undefeated and win the championship.”

That’s when I stepped in with my fatherly “reality check” comment, “Randy, you need to know that your team will lose a couple of games.”

Randy insisted, “No Dad, we are going undefeated!”

As the season wore on, I became more and more impressed with the coaches of the team. Unlike many other team coaches, the two men who coached the Pirates kept a level head staying cool while others, mostly parents were going wild. They kept the game simple for the little kids, giving them clear and simple instructions. If the ball was hit in the infield, they were told to always throw to first base. If the ball was hit to the outfield, they were told to always throw to second base. This strategy employed the law of averages and it worked perfectly.

Game after game the Pirates came out on top of the final score. By the end of the season, the Pirates were indeed undefeated and won the championship!

Although he didn’t say it, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Randy was quietly thinking, “See Dad, I told you!” Maybe it was the excitement of the accomplishment or maybe he was just being gracious, but he never uttered those words to me.

The Pirates Team

Carol and I joyfully congratulated Randy and his team mates as they excitedly walked off the field as champions and the first undefeated team in the program.

I had to pause and understand the lesson my son just taught me.

Turning Points

I learned that being realistic and practical when dealing with children is not always the best course to follow. Better to be prepared for when and if the unexpected happens than to force the issue and run the risk of being the “wet blanket”. You never know when “undefeated” and “championship” are dreams destined to come true. Randy proved to me that season in his little boy naiveté that dreaming big is the best way to face a challenge. Then over and over again as he grew up, he found ways to succeed at whatever he set his mind to do.

The Candy Sales – Wholesale Learning

When our son Randy attended middle school, my wife Carol picked him up after school because the walk was a bit too long and there were too many busy streets to cross. Sometimes on the way home a stop at the store was necessary to pick up needed items.

One such day entailed a stop at a wholesale bulk item store. The store sold many bulk items that provided local stores, restaurants and small mom-and-pop shops easy access to wholesale supplies. Randy convinced his mother to let him buy a box of “now-and-later” candy, a taffy-like candy individually encased in wax-paper wrappers and assembled in packs of five. The box was wholesale priced at half what it cost at a typical store.

A few weeks later Randy brought some of his own money and bought five boxes. Each week the number grew until he was buying a whole duffle bag full. At this point I became aware of his purchases and inquired as to what was going on at school with all this candy.

Randy said, “I am selling these ‘now-and-later’ candies for quarter a pack.”

Considering he paid only twelve cents per pack, he made a very attractive profit, in excess of 100%. I asked if the school allowed this kind of business.

Randy said, “I don’t know, but up till now there‘s been no problems.”

I told Randy that if he were caught and reprimanded, he’d not only face the music at school but he‘d have to promise to cease and desist with his little business. He agreed.

For a few months, sales continued to be brisk and profitable, bringing in as much as $50 per week in profits. Then one day at the dinner table Randy admitted that he finally was caught. One of his “clients” dropped a wrapper on the floor. The teacher’s eye caught the event and reprimanded the student who promptly gave Randy up as the distributor. The teacher told Randy he must stop immediately.

With this news, I reminded him of our agreement and he assured me the program was finished.

The next morning, to my surprise, I saw him with two smaller duffle bags, both crammed with “now-and-laters”.

I asked, “What happened to our deal?”

Randy replied, “Dad, when you warned me what would happen if I got caught, I made a contingency plan. I am now only a wholesale distributor. I recruited two school friends as salesmen and they pick these up from me a block from school. They pay me 17 cents per pack and they sell them for a quarter. That way we all get a cut of the profits!”

I could only marvel at his ingenuity and forethought. Eventually, the program died when the school year ended, but what lessons he learned. These lessons served him very well in his future.

Turning Points

The turning point for me was to never underestimate the creativity of youth, especially your own children. Important was to guide them and their creativity toward positive life goals. Teaching consequences for actions was another life lesson of this experience.

A turning point for Randy was he learned that when one plan wasn’t working, another plan was required. The second plan needed to circumvent the issues that caused the first plan to no longer be viable. Creative thinking through the problem resulted in another success.

The Garden of Innocence – God’s Plan for Me

I was a few weeks away from retiring from my evangelist ministry in the New Apostolic Church. In our faith, we have scheduled three special services each year that were dedicated to the departed. These services for the departed had very deep meaning for me and I made sincere deliberate preparations for them. My experience as a four year old boy had significant influence on my personal involvement in these services and this early turning point I documented in my story entitled “Aunt Frieda – My Grandma” (June 2015).

Divine services for the departed were scheduled each year for the first Sunday in March, July and November. It was the Saturday morning of March 1, 2008 that I woke up very early and in my morning prayer dedicated my day to preparation for this special divine service for the departed. Not only would the service be my last to officiate a departed service but it was also included the baptism of a very special baby girl named Samantha Angele. (See the story “Samantha Angele – Miracle Baby” to be published soon)

I began my morning by making a pot of coffee and a light breakfast. I retrieved the morning paper from our front porch and sat down at our kitchen counter. As I waited for the coffee to brew, I opened the paper and briefly scanned the front page of each section. Then my eyes fell upon the local Family Section that had emblazed on it a picture of a statue of a kneeling woman on a gravestone with children’s names engraved upon it. The article was entitled “A dignified farewell”.

I was immediately captivated by this article and read it completely from beginning to end. It told of this Garden of Innocence, a final resting place for abandoned children. I had never heard of it before. The article further stated that this Saturday they would be burying their 100th baby named Annemarie. Engulfed in the deep feelings the article evoked in me, I decided I had to attend this funeral service. I showed the article to my wife and we both agreed we had to make this funeral our priority for the day. We both felt it was a divine calling with feelings in both of us being so strong.

We dressed, prepared ourselves and drove the few miles to El Camino Memorial Park. When we arrived we were directed to a hilltop. W made our way through the cemetery’s green lawn strewn with gravestones leading to the hilltop. We reached the Garden and found over 100 visitors preparing for the 10 am service. We of course had no idea what to expect. The guests sat on white folding chairs under a large green temporary canopy next to a circular sidewalk. The statue of the kneeling woman whose image was in the newspaper was off to one side of the sidewalk. Seeing it in person was very touching, as her face depicted a mother’s heartache at the loss of her child. The names on the stone and the dates, we later learned, memorialized babies whose remains had been cremated prior to entry into the Garden.

In the middle of the circular sidewalk were grave stones with the unique Garden of Innocence angel and heart logo and the names of babies interned previously. At the head was Adam’s headstone, the first baby to enter the Garden on June 19, 1999.

As the service began, a contingent of forty or more Knights of Columbus, dressed in their full regalia, marched up the hill toward the Garden escorting Annemarie in her little hand made wooden casket. The elegance of the Knights with their colorful formal dress replete with capes, swords and plumed hats added to the heart touching atmosphere. Elissa Davey the founder of the Garden sang a moving song “In this Special Place”. This song created a wonderful spirit of peace that came over the whole garden. As the Knights approached the Garden entrance, all in attendance were invited to form a circle of love on the circular sidewalk to welcome baby Annemarie into the Garden.

What happened next was quite unexpected but very moving. After we silently and reverently formed our circle on the sidewalk; the casket was passed from one to another. As I held the casket in my arms, deep feelings stirred in my soul. I quietly expressed my love to baby Annemarie and invited her to be my special guest at the service for the departed the next day. As I did this the song “O Come with Me” filled my thoughts. The first words of the song “O Come with me and I will lead you gently into a garden of enchanting charm” seemed so perfect. It depicted the special feelings that consumed me in that moment. Immediately I decided that this song would serve as the opening hymn for Sunday’s service. I passed the casket into the arms of my wife Carol. She also invited Annemarie to our service and passed her on to the next guest beside her in the circle. When the casket reached the end, the last person placed that casket on a table draped in a white tablecloth. Flowers and a small stuffed animal were placed to adorn the casket.

Next was a reading of a poem for Baby Annemarie and then the visiting minister offered up a prayer and sermon. Each was very touching and caused movement in our hearts and souls. People were invited to share what the Garden meant to them and then came the very impressive dove ceremony.

A white dove was given to a volunteer and the dove was released to represent the spirit of Annemarie being set free. The dove flew around a few times but instead of leaving to fly home as it normally would, it landed on the overhead canopy.

Carol and I were standing next to the canopy and Joe, the owner of the doves, was also standing there next to us. He remarked that this was strange in that it had never happened at the Garden before. Carol asked me if I thought there was some significance to this bird landing and staying on the canopy.

I said, “I think it is Annemarie telling us she accepts our invitation for service tomorrow.”

Then three more doves released were for the Trinity followed by a group of volunteers who read off one by one the 99 names of the other babies in the Garden. When the last name was read, two large white wicker baskets that were placed in the center of the circle were opened. There must have been 100 beautiful white doves that flew up in a din of fluttering wings, up through the trees circling the Garden in the sky above until they turned and left for their home. It was simply breathtaking.

Carol and I left the Garden that day with emotions and feelings that were overwhelming. But the story didn’t end there. We made our way home and had lunch. We took a break to relax a bit in our back yard recounting our experience in the Garden when the telephone rang.

It was a member from our church who had volunteered to provide the flowers for the special Sunday morning service. She asked if she could stop by to share a special experience she had that morning. I encouraged her to stop by on her way home from church.

Birgit and her family were from Germany and living in San Diego. Her husband was stationed with the military in San Diego for three years. She was very talented with flowers as well as with music. When she arrived she asked how our visit to the funeral service had gone. I briefly shared our experience but for some reason did not mention the song that had captured my soul as I held Annemarie in my arms.

Then Birgit told us what she had experienced that morning. When she finished preparation of the flowers for the service, she began to leave to bring them to church. But as she walked past the organ in her living room, she felt a strong impulse to go to it and play. She sat down at the organ and noted that her hymnal was already open to No. 296 “O Come with Me” and she began to play it.

I asked Birgit at what time it was when this happened. She said it was shortly after 10 am and asked me why. I told her that at about that very time, I held the baby Annemarie in her casket in my arms, and that song entered my heart. That’s when I decided it would be the opening hymn on Sunday.

We were all profoundly moved and attributed the whole series of events to the wonderful hand of our faithful loving God and Father. We marveled at the many fine details that comprised the events of the day.

The next morning was one of the most moving experiences in the sanctuary of God that I ever lived. A detailed pronouncement of that day will be forthcoming.

Turning Points

This experience was a major turning point for me. I was wondering as I approached my retirement; what does God have for me as a new ministry? Well this was an answer I could not ignore; rather it was one that I heartily embrace to this day. It is not possible for me to put into words that are worthy of the feeling and experiences I have been blessed with as I actively participate in this precious ministry. Every volunteer, every participant is masters at blessing each other by their joyfully generous contributions to our Garden Babies and the family the Garden has become. I am so blessed to be a part of it.

Each visit to the Garden brings new connections, new friends and new turning points that create the greatest joy and grateful expressions to our God for all He has made possible through this ministry. Watch for the chronicles to follow to describe these precious moments.
[The song “O Come with Me” Lyrics by

[ To learn more about the Garden of Innocence and how to donate to its cause, please visit them at www.gardenofinnocence.org ]

When Will You Visit Me?

Zoey, my sweetest teacher

Life lessons and turning points have come to me at the least expected times and from unexpected people. Turning points happened without warning and surprised me in spite of my efforts to be prepared for them. Such was the case with a very young girl who proved to be one of my greatest teachers and the initiator of numerous turning points for my life.

All my experiences with Zoey as a little girl and all the way through her teenage years were life lessons that proved to be profoundly beneficial even to this day. One of those experiences came when I attended a birthday party for Zoey’s grandfather, Dave.

My wife and I were at Dave’s son’s home early one evening to celebrate Dave’s birthday. As I stood amongst the crowd of Dave’s friends and family, I looked across the room and noticed five year old Zoey nestled in her grandpa’s arms. I approached to greet her. As I neared she noticed me and put her hands on her hips in gentle indignation and said, “When will you come to visit ME?”

Not expecting this, I said in defense, “But I do come to visit you Zoey!”

She said, “No! You come and visit my mommy and daddy and then I have to go to bed!”

I said, “Zoey, I will visit you and we can send your parents to bed.”

I immediately set out in search of her mother, Dawn. Once found I proceeded to tell Dawn of my little conversation with Zoey. We arranged a visit for the following week.

In the days leading up to this first-of-a-kind visit for me, I wondered what it would be like. As a minister I made many pastoral family visits, but I had never made a visit exclusively to such a young child. My preparation for any pastoral visit included praying that I would be a blessing and bring something of value to the church members I visited. This was no different, except I must have prayed more fervently because out of this visit God provided a most effective turning point for me.

When the day dawned for my visit, everything seemed normal. Nothing in the day seemed out of the ordinary. After dinner, I dressed for my visit donning a sport coat and tie. I prayed prior to leaving home and drove the twenty miles to Zoey’s home. Still, everything seemed normal, belying what was about to happen.

When I arrived, I searched the area around the apartment building for a parking spot. I pulled into a spot on the street, gathered myself for this experience and prayed one last prayer for divine guidance and support. All the time I wondered how this visit would unfold. I climbed a flight of stairs and knocked on the door.

Quickly the door opened and Zoey greeted me in the doorway with her mother at her side. I was warmly welcomed and Zoey announced excitedly, “I made you some cookies!”

As I entered the apartment, Zoey asked me if I wanted milk or coffee to go with the cookies she made. I opted for the coffee and Zoey and Dawn made quick work of getting my coffee and Zoey’s milk on the coffee table in the living room. Zoey’s dad Greg came in to say hello and then he and Dawn went off to their bedroom, just as I had arranged.

Zoey and I sat down in the living room eating cookies and sharing our thoughts. I was thrilled at the depth of the conversation we shared. It was a really a sweet evening. I learned a lot about Zoey and what was important to her young mind. After about an hour, we prayed together and her parents emerged from their self imposed isolation to say good night.

As I drove home that evening I reflected on the deeper bond between us that had just been built. Time and experience later proved how deep and mutually beneficial this turning point really was for Zoey and me. In the evening together Zoey and I built mutual trust and respect for each other, and this opened doors for us to serve each other as she grew. Just one precious hour, face to face, heart to heart, soul to soul, and everything became different. God worked in the most wonderful way to create this blessing for us just as He would later open many more blessings. I marveled at His meticulous ingenuity as I witnessed His plans unfold before my eyes and He visited me with yet another turning point.

Turning Points

In addition to enhancing the relationship Zoey and I shared, this experience ushered in the understanding that such visits with all children created a connection with them that paid many dividends in their future and our relationship.

This experience gave me an interesting insight into the heart of children. It was a turning point in how I perceived my ministerial service to children. Following this experience, whenever I was appraised by parents that their child was having difficulties, I would make a visit with their child one-on-one as I had with Zoey. This opened many opportunities to develop a relationship that brought many positive results for both child and me.

These precious moments with Zoey revealed wonderful insight into her heart and soul. I developed a great appreciation for her special gifts and talents. She always found a way to touch my heart with how she uniquely saw the people and things around her. As you will see in future postings, Zoey became my teacher and this episode was just one of many lessons in our life together.

The Widow in the Woods

An aged widow of many years had run out of sufficient resources and was forced to sell her home. After paying off her substantial debts, all she could afford and maintain on her meager income was a small shack at the edge of a large forest. There she lived in poverty for years.

One day she decided to take a walk in the forest, something she enjoyed as her only pastime considering her financial limitations. She carefully cobbled together a small sandwich from yesterday’s leftovers and placed it in her little handbag along with a couple plastic bottles of chilled water. She set out for her walk taking a pathway through her back yard that was lined with large maple trees. Leaves had begun to fall having already reached their vibrant red autumn color weeks before. They crunched under her feet as she made her way to the log bridge that would take her over the brook that wended its way through the forest.

As she approached the bridge, the sun shone brightly, it rays piecing the thinning canopy of branches above. The rays reaching the forest floor played its shadows into mystical shapes. When she reached the midpoint of the bridge, she stopped to glance down at the babbling waters below. Suddenly, a ray of sunshine struck an object on the floor of the brook reflecting magically through the water. So dramatic was this scene that she ran to the end of the bridge and scurried down to the brook’s edge. Kneeling and pulling up her sleeve, she reached down and grasped what she thought had captured the sunlight.

As she rose to her feet she slowly opened her hand, and stared hypnotically at a huge gemstone, its brilliant color and size overwhelming her. As she stood silently taking in what she had just discovered, she began to assess what it would mean and how it would change her life. Obviously it was of great value. She would never have to worry again if she would have enough to eat. With a sense of renewed hope and a joyful smile on her face, she carefully placed the gem in her bag. She returned to the trail and continued on her planned journey into the forest.The autumn colors and seasonal aromas danced before her senses. The forest denizens scurried about making the most of their time collecting provisions for the coming winter. Squirrels and birds collected acorns and sundry nuts and berries, eating some on the run, burying others for future meals. The forest was alive with activity and the widow was thrilled to be an appreciative observer of God’s creation in action. A soft breeze rustled through the trees, causing a constant drift of colored leaves falling down from the heights to the floor below. Each leaf added to the multicolored mosaic carpeting the ground beneath her feet.

As the trail made a sharp turn around a large oak tree, she noticed a man lying against the trunk. He was aged and poorly dressed. His shoes were worn through in places. His long beard indicated he hadn’t shaved for months. He looked up at the widow with hopeless eyes and begged her for something to eat, saying he had not eaten for two days. If she could spare just a small morsel he would be eternally grateful.

The widow knelt beside him. She opened her bag and gave him the small sandwich she had made and the water bottles she had packed. He gratefully thanked her. After eating the sandwich and drinking some water, he regained some strength and offered again his appreciation for her kindness. But then he said that he had noticed a gem in her bag when she retrieved the sandwich and water. He asked if she would give that gem to him as well. Without hesitation, the widow dug into her bag and handed him the gem. He was astounded. And as she had done when she first found it, he stood silently taking in what she had just given him. He began to assess what it would mean and how it would change his life as it surely was of great value.

As he stood there in amazement, the widow rose to her feet, silently turned and continued down the trail. Then, the man came to his senses and called out to the woman, “Stop, please come back!”

The widow stopped, turned and went back to see what the man wanted. As she approached, he reached out with the gem in his hand.

“I am giving the gem back to you. But I ask that you give me in return something even more valuable than this precious priceless gem. That is, what it is that is in your heart that caused you to give it to me when I asked for it.”

The Turning Point

This story reminds us that graciousness is a powerful gift that when exercised has the ability to change lives. What we do speaks louder than what we say or what we give. When the Spirit of God is able to guide us, He leads us to be the blessing for pothers that God hopes we would become. Interesting to note is that when this widow awoke that day, she had not an inkling of what the day had in store for her. But her willing heart, sensitive to the urging of the Spirit made her a blessing for someone in need.

The turning point of this story for me was the revelation that the earth bound material we give is nothing when compared to the gift of leading someone to God, His righteousness, His grace and His love. The truth of the divine pronouncement, “Seek first the Kingdom of Heaven and all these things will be given to you” rings true. I wonder, who will God’s Spirit lead me to tomorrow? Will I be ready to be a blessing He hopes I will be?

The Mexico Connection – The First Fish Turning Point

Turning points in my life have appeared unannounced and camouflaged in unexpected events. They were often preceded by a chain of unrelated events that ultimately culminated in a classic turning point that changed everything. Such was the case in late 1970 after Carol and I had relocated to the west coast.

Where do you vacation when you live in Paradise? This was the question my wife and I wondered since we arrived in San Diego from northern New Jersey. The answer came from Carol’s friends at work. “You must discover Mexico!” was their response to our question.

So our first vacation while living in California found us going by train from Mexicali to Mazatlan in 1971. It was a great adventure that opened our hearts and minds to the beauty of the land and people who were our southern neighbors. This series of events set the stage for a turning point moment in time a few years later, 1974 when our son was a year old. Friends invited us to join them for a Saturday at a small vacation community just north of the town of Rosarita Beach. Americans owned a few dozen homes on a bluff above a beautiful beach, about 30 miles south of the border on the Baja peninsula. The setting was so perfect that Carol and I decided to rent that same beach house the following summer. With the pertinent information for renting the place from our friends we began to formulate our vacation plans.

We arranged to rent the beach house for the first week of August 1975. As the date approached, Carol and I began to accumulate the stuff we needed to take with us. As an avid fisherman, I was anxious to get my feet wet in the surf and fish for the feisty surf perch that swam just off shore. While we were visiting our friends the year before, I had noticed a local Mexican man fishing on the beach with just some monofilament line wrapped around a coke bottle. As we spoke, he displayed a nice string of surf perch he had caught. In anticipation of the fishing, I packed my seven foot surf rod, spinning reel and a supply of hooks and sinkers. The night before we were to leave, we loaded our little red Mazda pickup truck for our first family vacation in Mexico.

At the time our son Randy was two weeks away from turning three. It was a quick trip from our home in San Diego to the quaint little house perched above the blue Pacific Ocean. When we arrived, we quickly unpacked the truck and surveyed the house and its surrounds. There was a large flagstone patio in the back of the house that overlooked the ocean. A winding stone staircase led down the bluff to the beach below. We were all excited to get our feet wet and I found myself deep in thought as to what the week’s vacation would hold. Prime for me of course was the chance to fish the pounding surf.

Once we had all our clothes and food stowed in their proper places in the house, we boarded the truck for a trip into town and few miles to the south. The town essentially existed on a single broad and dusty main street lined with stores, restaurants and night clubs. The biggest and most famous landmark was the old Rosarita Beach Hotel. We were interested in finding a bakery and a supermarket where we planned to retrieve daily necessities to augment the food we had from home.

Each morning, I drove the truck into town to get fresh rolls from the bakery, a San Diego newspaper and anything else we needed from the grocery store. When Randy came along we looked for some treats for him.

I have found that turning points cannot be legislated or created by our own hand or mind. Such is the turning point of this story.

Since my childhood I was an avid fisherman. So, it was only natural for me to take along my fishing gear on a vacation that offered unlimited surf fishing in the Pacific. Each morning after breakfast, Randy and I went down to the beach. As the surf beat upon the sand, we scurried with small shovels in hand to scoop up as many sand crabs as we could catch. We filled a small bucket with a few dozen of the little creatures. These would become our precious bait. Of course Randy was simply fascinated by the little critters and would have been content to just spent time playing with them.
Sand crab
My desire was to feed as many of these critters on my fishing hooks to the hungry fish that I knew lurked just beyond the breaking waves. I had previously set up my surf fishing rod rigged with two hooks and a sinker. I baited the two hooks, took my position in the wash of the last wave and just as the next wave began to break I cast the bait, hooks, line and sinker over the wave. It quickly sank to the sandy depths below about thirty yards out. It didn’t take long for the first surf perch to take the bait. I hauled in my catch and Randy was so excited he wanted to try his hand at this new discovery – fishing.
Surf Perch
I showed Randy how to hook the flap of shell on the side of the sand crab and then helped him with the long surf rod and cast the baited rig past another wave. There he stood in his little red bathing suit, holding on for dear life to a seven foot long fishing rod. The motion of the waves and undertow kept a steady pull on the line causing the rod to bend at the tip.

Then it happened! A surf perch took the bait and all of a sudden holding on to the jerking rod became a real challenge for Randy. But, gritting his teeth for mental support, he succeeded in landing the fish all by himself. His excitement was written all over his face. Fortunately, I had my camera ready to record the event! Randy’s First Fish

Randy was hooked on fishing from this very moment. No longer was the catching of sand crabs the thrill of the day for him. Now, that was only the prelude to catching fish!

For a number of years following this initial vacation in Baja, we made the trip to that Rosarita beach house our annual destination. Each year Randy caught more, bigger and a greater variety of fish than he caught the previous year. These photos record the hauls for 1980.

Another Catch

Dog Fish

Dinner was great!

Turning Point(s)

Randy’s first fish was a turning point for me because it began a deeper connection with my son. Fishing became a common ground for our relationship. Over time it grew to include deep sea fishing in both the Pacific and Atlantic oceans, trout fishing in the glacier fed roaring Big Pine Creek in the eastern Sierras, Dorado fishing in Puerto Vallarta and Cabo San Lucas and shark and Dorado fishing in Cancun. But I also learned that as a parent, these life turning points cannot be planned, rather an open and expectant eye is necessary to see them as they present themselves. I am grateful that I saw the open door when Randy asked to fish in the surf that day. I didn’t measure his request by his size and think it impossible. I just worked to make it happen for him.
It turned out to be a profound turning point for Randy as well. It opened the door for him to learn many lessons in life and to find his passion. It became the vehicle for him to earn enough money to buy his first truck, to start a fishing club at school and to learn to love sushi and ultimately master the art of sushi making. His dream of owning and operating his own sushi restaurant became a crowning achievement among many others along the way.

My Dad and Books

My earliest recollection as a child became a significant turning point for me. According to my mother’s notes recording my progress in infancy, in my ninth month I discovered books and she wrote “Allan loves to have stories told to him”. Surprisingly, it was just after I turned one year old according to my mother’s notes, when I began to sleep in my own room.
My Dad

Sometime after that, I remembered my dad asked me to go to my room to get a book. I ran to the bookcase, grabbed my favorite book, “Jiggers” and ran into my parent’s room.

Dad in his rocking chair

There a large comfortable rocking chair resided with my dad comfortably seated. I jumped onto Daddy’s lap, book in hand ready for the story.

Allan & his Teddy in the Rocking Chair

The story was about a little girl and her dog named Jiggers. She loved to play with Jiggers until one day someone left the door open and Jiggers ran out and got lost. Her parents helped search for the dog but for a while Jiggers could not be found. Finally, Jiggers was found and the little girl’s tears turned into happy smiles.

My Dad read this book to me so many times I actually memorized it. He often tested me and skipped a sentence. I immediately stopped and corrected him, and promptly recited the sentence he skipped. Another book that I recalled was “The Poky Little Puppy” although I don’t remember the story for this one.

Turning Points

This experience gave me an appreciation for reading books, although I didn’t really read much other than school books until I reached high school. I also gained an appreciation for the power of storytelling and the importance of developing ability to explain things to others. These moments with my dad also created a deep love for him that helped me cope with his strictness during my teenage years.

Terror on Interstate 5

It was early December 1981 when I got the sad news that my dear friend from San Francisco had suffered a fatal heart attack. As Youth Leader, he went Christmas caroling with the church youth group. Following the caroling he returned home, sat down in his easy chair and suffered a massive heart attack that took his life. The news of his death struck me very hard. I felt deeply grieved for my loss, but even more so for the loss his dear wife suffered.

Following this news, three friends from San Diego joined me in a plan to drive to San Francisco the following Monday. We wanted to support his wife at the funeral scheduled for Tuesday afternoon. One of my friends volunteered to use his diesel Oldsmobile for the trip and with superior fuel mileage it would help minimize our expenses. Since we all had jobs we also wanted to minimize time away from our work. We agreed to leave after work Monday evening. We planned to spend the night in a motel five to six hours into the journey and then continue on to San Francisco for the funeral on Tuesday morning. Our return required us to drive through the night, each sharing the driving to return home by early morning Wednesday, thereby missing only one day of work.

The drive up to Coalinga was uneventful and we found a convenient Motel 6 just off the freeway. In the morning we had breakfast at a nearby restaurant before continuing our journey.

We arrived at the church for the funeral service where we were able to greet and share the special memories we experienced with our dear departed friend. His wife was touched that we took the time and made the effort to come to share this special time with her. After the fellowship that followed we said our goodbyes and set out on our homeward journey at about eight o’clock that evening.

I volunteered to drive the first leg of the return trip home. It was quite cold that evening and we were not well prepared for that, considering we were travelling in a warm car. Fortunately the traffic was light, so we were making good time as soon as we reached Interstate 5. I noted that all my passengers were now sound asleep.

As the interstate highway entered the central valley, a dense tule fog bank moved in and visibility began to become a significant issue. Tule fog is a thick ground fog that settles in the San Joaquin Valley and Sacramento Valley areas of California’s Great Central Valley. Tule fog forms from late fall through early spring after the first significant rainfall. The official time frame for tule fog to form is from November 1 to March 31. This phenomenon is named after the tule grass wetlands of the Central Valley. Tule fog is the leading cause of weather-related accidents in California.

Although traffic was very light, I still cut my speed because there are usually large semi tractor trailers on the freeway and they often travel slowly. I didn’t want to risk coming up on one and not having sufficient space to avoid an accident. Then about two hours into the trip, I noticed something that caused me considerable concern.

The car seemed to be acting abnormal. The engine lacked the normal feel it had before. I poked the owner of the car and woke him up. I explained that I was concerned that something was seriously wrong with the car’s performance. He suggested we take the next exit that had a gas station.

A few miles further I exited the freeway and pulled into a gas station. We inquired as to any available diesel engine mechanics and were told that we needed to go further south to find a station with diesel repair capability. At this point I asked my friend who owned the car to take over the driving.

About a half hour later, the engine suddenly froze up forcing us to abruptly exit the freeway. We maneuvered the car a few feet off the shoulder on an open spot of dirt and parked. In this area, farmland blanketed both sides of the freeway and many miles between exits. On each side of the road was a paved shoulder and then about thirty to fifty feet of open field before a barbed wire fence that bordered a farm. Large balls of tumbleweed littered the landscape. It was quite desolate, foggy and bitterly cold.

At first I was not too concerned, thinking that we would easily find someone to stop and give one of us a ride to the next exit where a tow truck could be summoned. By now it was well after ten o’clock, the fog growing denser and the temperature dropping.

All four of us got out of the car and attempted to flag down someone. I am not sure what the reason was, but after a half hour we were unable to get anyone to stop. Maybe they couldn’t see us for the fog, or seeing four men caused them fear. With the very light traffic, there were not many opportunities either. The weather was also getting to us as our light clothing did not give much protection from the damp cold.

We decided three of us would return to the car and try with just one of us doing the flagging. Soon a light blue Monte Carlo came to screeching halt, bypassing our position by a good thirty yards and kicking up a huge cloud of dust. Now on the paved shoulder, the car backed up and came to a halt adjacent to our car. One of my friends exited our car and three young men exited the Monte Carlo. They greeted us and said they would help us fix our car.

We told them that the engine had seized up and we really needed a tow truck. They said they would take one of us down to the next exit where we could summon a tow truck. I volunteered to go since I had an AAA card with towing privileges. One of my friends, Dave, also volunteered to join me so I would not be alone with the three strangers.

The Monte Carlo was a two-door coupe so one of the men entered the back seat first followed by me in the middle and Dave behind the passenger seat. Then the driver and the other man got in. We reentered the freeway and headed south.
I figured by the appearance of these three strangers and their apparent ages, that they were probably basketball players and maybe attended Fresno State University. I gauged their ages as late teens or early twenties. I quickly realized that they were not interested in engaging my attempts at conversation. Then, the man in the front passenger seat bent down and came up with a sawed-off double barrel shotgun. He swung it around and put the barrels into my face and announced, “This is a stick up!”

As I looked down the barrels of that gun, I suddenly realized in those few moments that my life may be about to end. All I thought of was my wife and my son and my family. I silently prayed. I do not know all of what I asked for, but I do remember thinking: is this all You want of me God, or is there more You want me to do?

I tried to talk the gunman down, but the driver immediately slammed on his brakes. The car skidded off the road sliding off the shoulder into the dirt. As soon as the car came to a stop, the driver turned and grabbed my throat, pushing me up against the rear window and screamed. “If you don’t shut up, we will kill you right now!”

Then he demanded that we give them all our money including our wallets, keys and watches. The man in the back seat collected all that we had and proceeded to count the cash. The driver had warned us that if we didn’t have enough cash we would be shot.

The man next to me finally announced that we had a total of sixty five dollars, which was not nearly enough according to the driver. With this, the gunman exited the car and stood at the open door with the shot gun in hand. He pushed his seatback forward and ordered us out of the car. The driver commanded us to walk to the barb wire fence a few yards away. He warned us not to look back as we did not want to know when the shots were fired.

Slowly, Dave stepped out of the car and slowly took a few steps toward the fence. As I was exiting the car I noticed that the gunman was standing behind the door holding the shot gun pointed toward the ground. As soon as my feet hit the ground, Dave bolted north toward the rear of the car and I immediately followed. We ran as fast as we could, hurdling over the myriad of three to four foot diameter balls of tumbleweed strewn all around us.

The air was cold and humid from the dense fog making breathing very painful. Every labored breath felt like breathing in razorblades. My lungs were stinging and my heart pounding. After running and hurdling over numerous tumble weeds for about thirty yards, I tripped over a large one and fell to the ground. I peered back through the tumbleweed that tripped me up and saw the gunman break open his shotgun, pull out the two shells and toss them into the front seat. He jumped back into the car and they sped off continuing south on the freeway.

Dave and I regrouped and immediately attempted to flag down a driver. Within a few minutes, a large older model Cadillac pulled over and offered us a ride. I got into the front passenger seat and Dave took the back seat. On the back seat sat a large cooler. I told the driver we had just been hi-jacked and needed to get to a place to call the police and find a tow truck for our still stranded friends. The driver said that there was a Denny’s restaurant a few miles further south and we could take care of those needs there.

In the meantime, he offered us a beer from the cooler on the back seat. Then to my shock, I realized that the driver was not only drinking a beer, but he was also smoking a marijuana joint! If that wasn’t disconcerting enough, he was driving at 80 miles an hour through the dense tule fog that offered no more than fifty yards visibility. As I had been praying silently throughout this ordeal for God’s gracious support, I asked Him “What are you doing? It seems we have gone from the frying pan into the fire!”

Soon we arrived at the Lost Hills exit on Interstate 5 and proceeded to the Denny’s restaurant. As we pulled into the parking lot, I noticed a light blue Monte Carlo. “Oh no” I thought, “they are here!”

We cautiously entered the restaurant. There were three men at a table that looked very much like our hijackers, but they had their backs to us so we couldn’t be sure. So we slinked into a closed section of the restaurant where we summoned a waitress. I apprised her of our situation and she guided us to a location not visible to those in the open restaurant area. She brought us a phone and gave us the number of the California Highway Patrol. I called the number and told the officer our story. He said he would be able to get there in about 45 minutes.

The waitress brought us a cup of coffee and told us that there was a tow truck driver at the bar. I asked her to bring him over so we can get him to pick up our friends stranded with the car. The man was quite impressive. He sported a full beard and wore weathered jeans with a large chain looping from a belt loop to the wallet in his back pocket. I explained the situation and he assured us that he would take care of our friends. Then as if to reassure us, he put his cowboy boot clad foot on a chair and pulled up the pant leg to reveal a pearl handled silver 45 pistol. He remarked, “I am covered for anything!” He promptly left to find our friends in the disabled car.

It was now almost midnight, so while we waited for the police to arrive, I called my wife at home in San Diego. I told her what had happened and asked her to alert the San Diego police and to cancel our credit cards.

Forty-five minutes after our initial call, a California Highway Patrol officer arrived at Denny’s. In the interim the three possible perpetrators had left the restaurant. We gave the officer a report of what happened and a description of the car they were driving. He left in pursuit of the felons.

Shortly thereafter, Dave and I were sitting at the bar having another coffee and an English muffin when the door opened and young man entered the restaurant. When I looked at him, a total stranger, he seemed to me to be in shock. He appeared pale and was walking tentatively. I jumped off my seat and ran to him. I asked him what had happened to him. He looked me in the eyes and told me that three men with a double barrel sawed off shot gun hijacked his car and left him on the side of the road. I quickly hustled him to the phone, dialed the police and told him to tell the officer exactly what happened and to describe his car.

I later discovered that within a few minutes, the officer located the perpetrators in this young man’s car and were in hot pursuit. The police pursuit took hours, chasing the three men hundreds of miles at speeds in excess of 100 miles per hour. They raced all the way to the Magic Mountain amusement park on the northern end of Los Angeles. There, the three men abandoned their stolen car and attempted to scale the fences and escape into the park. It was early morning on Wednesday when the police apprehended two of the men. The third, the driver, made good his escape into the park when he successfully scaled the fence before the police could reach him.

With two men in custody, the police summoned a SWAT team. They entered the park and continued pursuit of the final perpetrator. However, he was able to elude the SWAT team and the police canine unit. When the park’s maintenance crew arrived shortly thereafter, they found the last man trying to phone his girl friend from a pay phone and apprehended him.

While the pursuit of the third accomplice was underway, the other two men were brought back to the Shafter police station and booked into prison. While this was unfolding, my two friends who stayed with the car were picked up by the tow truck driver and the car was towed into Shafter where there was a car dealership. The car was dropped off and left for the needed repairs. We rented a car to get home, but before we could leave the police took Dave and me to the county jail for a line-up. As we walked through the county jail, past a row of jail cells, there was a chill that crawled up my spine as I looked at the men incarcerated there. Hate and anger glared from their faces.

We were led into a room with a glass window that was a one-way mirror, so that those in the adjoining room could not see us. Both of us quickly identified the two men that were in custody.

Finally, reunited with our other two friends, we packed into the rental car and headed homeward. All along the way we listened to the news that was reporting whole incident. As we drove we heard that the police had apprehended the third man who had escaped into Magic Mountain amusement park.

Later that day we arrived home, but the ordeal was not yet over. News stations in San Diego and Los Angeles tried to get an interview, but I refused as I didn’t want to jeopardize any future court case. The headlines in our local paper read:

FOG-VEILED ROBBERY: 3 suspects held in heist on I-5

A few months went by when Dave and I were summoned to appear in court in Shafter. We journeyed to Shafter and were again brought to the jail for another line-up. This time we failed to identify the perpetrators. In the time they were incarcerated, they grew facial hair and altered their appearance by changing their hair style. The prosecutors told us that the case was very tentative because we were unable to identify the men. They showed us all the stolen wares that were recovered and we could easily identify our wallets and wristwatches. I noted that my keys were missing. We were asked to stay in a room that housed local high school yearbooks. Along with the young man whose car was hijacked, we spent a couple hours passing the time paging through the collection of yearbooks.

When the prosecutors returned, they told us that the attorneys for the three men negotiated a plea bargain. Their clients were sentenced to nine years without parole in San Quentin state prison. The prosecutor said that when the attorneys peered through the window into the room and saw us in business suits, they realized we would be credible witnesses. Their hard bargaining softened and they gave in to the conditions dictated by the prosecution.

Our belongings were returned to us and we actually got more cash than we had lost. I got my wallet and wristwatch back but lost the only thing that had significant sentimental value, my key chain. The gold plated key chain itself was engraved with my initials, given to me as best man in my brother’s wedding. The chain also had a small gold plated engraved pen knife, given to me as best man in my college roommate’s wedding. But most painful was that it had my wife’s high school ring attached to it.

Turning Points:

The first turning point was that in that brief moment when my next breathe of life was in doubt, my only thought was my family, those I hold most dear, it was vividly revealed what I valued most in life. I had reached out to my God, put myself in His hands and He preserved me.

The next turning point in this experience was the revelation resulting from the loss of what I had held as great sentimental value. By losing it, I realized that it is foolish to place your value on anything material. Rather place your value on the people who you cherish in life. They are invaluable and irreplaceable. Never underestimate their value to you and never limit your love for them.

The third turning point was the deep friendship that developed between Dave and me. His sentiments, expressed in an interview reported in the school newspaper where he worked as a teacher, perfectly define our common feelings:
“I have a different outlook on life now,” explained Polich. “My priorities are different; spiritual things are more important now. I’m a very religious person, and I think God must have something for me to do in life, because there was no reason for the robbers not to kill us – we got a good look at them.”

Finally, in what may seem to be an odd sort of way, I find myself indebted to those three misguided young men. What they intended for evil, God used to create blessings for Dave and me that became turning points for our lives.