The first I ever heard of La Jolla was when my mother went there for a psychology conference focusing on the studies of Carl Jung. It was during the Hippie generation and mother embraced a lot of that culture. So, I expected to see a community built on those values. I was only here for a weekend and these are just my first impressions.

La Jolla (La-HOY-a) stretches out along Southern California’s western coastline, just a brief drive north of downtown San Diego, and about 30 miles north of the Mexican border. It’s famous for its small cove and its beach, surrounded by residential homes perched on its cliffs. Its fame also includes surfing, snorkeling and scuba activities. Free public parking is very limited — mostly found on the street. There is a strong ecological movement, so it’s a haven for sea lions, sea gulls, and various fish. There are many important restrictions imposed by the (California Coastal Commission) as to what and when to bring floating devices (surfboards, boogie boards, kayakers, inflatable mattresses, etc.) to the beach, so it’s best to check the regulations first before you head out to paradise. Sorry, no dogs allowed in the beaches. I did see several surf boarders and a swarm of kayakers huddled in the waters. As is typical in California, there is a war between the free-spirited locals who access the beach and water for fun, and the conservationists who wish to preserve it.

Did you know it isn’t called a city or even a town? The locals call it a Village. From the hotel staff to the man-on-the-street, there didn’t seem to be a consensus of what was unique about this place (other than the imposing cove) they call home. There weren’t any famous landmarks except maybe the local library or the museum. No one seemed to be aware of the artifacts discovered throughout La Jolla over the decades, indicating that the Native American La Jolla Band of the Luiseño Tribe settled along the shoreline nearly 10,000 years ago. The actual name of La Jolla is also a mystery among town historians; whether it comes from the Spanish word La Joya (which means the jewel) or from the La Jolla Band term Woholle (meaning hole in the mountains. The mystery continues with others claiming that the Kumeyaay Native Americans coined the name Kulaaxuuy (land of holes). With no historical records or documents, the history of La Jolla remains mudded, so mudded that it would require more than my weekend stay in the village to reach an understanding.

I later discovered that there were actually quite a few celebrities who had lived or once-lived in the Village. Why didn’t any of the long-time residents of La Jolla not even know about their famous neighbors? Maybe it’s because the Village is mostly residential and wealthy residents commonly covet their privacy. Actor Gregory Peck was born in La Jolla, and political commentator Tucker Carlson was raised there. Spiritual writer Deepak Chopra ran his “Center for Well Being” in the Village, and Theodor “Dr. Seuss” Geisel was a life-time resident. Novelist Anne Rice (“Interview with a Vampire”) moved there from New Orleans, while one of my favorite mellow songwriters, Michael Franks, also made it his home-base. Utah senator Mitt Romney bought a $12 million La Jolla vacation home in 2008, and the first female astronaut Sally Ride lived above the cove before her spectacular explosive death on a rocket ship. And, one of Musicdom’s hotest artists, Alicia Keys, lives there as well.

Larry, who drives a shuttle bus and has lived in La Jolla forever, in an impromptu interview about his hometown.

They have one major commercial downtown area they call the Village where businesses and (mostly) restaurants and other tourist destinations are located. The University of California, San Diego, also the site of the La Jolla Playhouse and James’ Place restaurant is about half an hour away. When I browsed through the local newspaper, I noticed that real estate agents boasting of their multi-million-dollar sales comprised much of the advertisers. Houses averaged in the five-million-dollar range. If you own a house in La Jolla, you’re instantly part of the exclusive Rich and Famous.

Each house had its own personality. They weren’t track housing common to middle class society. I loved the magnificent variety of trees. Apartments looked small and expensive. Parking at night might be a problem here. The homes along the cove are architectural delights. Almost all of which have glass walls to enjoy the beauty of the crashing waves. A few were undergoing major renovations. One seemed to be fortifying the stilt foundation it has been perched on.

Walking along the side roads towards the Village from my hotel, I observed the houses below me and I’m guessing from the dusty cement structures along the main road, these owners have lived here forever — part of the old rich. The white flat-roofed houses were staggered along the cliff and weren’t particularly flashy but “location, location, location” made them expensive. At the Village, I noticed quite a few flashy low-riding sportscars parked by the mall. Due to the pandemic, many of the restaurants had outside extensions where young professionals chatted in their fashionable summer attire.

I enjoyed the flat and 3-dimensional artwork in the high-end galleries. You know there has to be a market for these shops to survive. The antique wooden intricately-decorated Athenaeum Music & Arts Library, located in the heart of La Jolla, proved to be a highpoint. I had a fascinating conversation with the knowledgeable librarian who seems to enjoy her work. The shelves were lined with faded books that begged me to ruffle through their pages. I was the only outsider in that huge building. There was a music room where the UC San Diego Music ensemble gave a concert just a few days ago. Also, it’s well worth the short one-mile drive to La Jolla’s Mt. Soledad National Veterans Memorial for a view of the only memorial that honors veterans, living or deceased, from the U.S. Revolutionary War to the war on terrorism today.

La Jolla. It’s the expensive beach cove of America. If you want to observe the vacation home of the quietly rich and famous, this is it.

Accommodations:

We stayed at the La Jolla Shores Hotel. It’s a long-established beachfront hotel. You literally see the pounding surf waves a hundred feet away from the building. Judging by its architecture, it was made in the 1980s. It isn’t a sparkling high-end hotel but the rooms are decent. The bathroom fixtures are of an earlier era. The location of the electrical outlets didn’t account for the Internet technology so they weren’t conveniently located. The food was as good as expected. The staff was very friendly and full of smiles. I was especially glad to have (free) complimentary shuttle service because I walked about two-miles from the hotel to the Village and I was too tired to walk back. Aside from beach sports, tennis, ping pong and golf are a favorite pastime. It’s a great place to hold an overnight wedding party or a weekend retreat.

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Editor’s Note: This article appeared in T-Boy two years ago, and also in three part series in the Tico Times, Costa Rica’s leading publication. It serves as a reminder that once the airways are clear again, it will be one of the first destinations I’ll revisit. It’s a nation of stunning land and seascapes, coffee plantations and jungles, national parks and biodiversity – but most of all my return will be to reconnect with the gentile and gracious people of Costa Rica.

Pura Vida in Costa Rica

I’ve been reveling in the warmth of my recent trip to Costa Rica, and not just because of the heat and humidity. This alluring Central American nation of five million Ticos (citizens), roughly the size of West Virginia, consists of just 0.03% of the earth’s landmass, but is home to 5% of its biodiversity. My checklist included hiking misty rain and cloud forests, strolling pristine beaches, witnessing an active volcano, touring a coffee plantation and experiencing unique plant and wildlife – which included my first encounters with a viper and boa constrictor. Yes, there were some bad dreams that night.

Because Costa Rica is located between 8 and 12 degrees north of the Equator, the climate is tropical year round. However, the country has many microclimates depending on elevation, rainfall, topography and by the geography of each particular region. Statistics tell us that Costa Rica has a bounty of 230 mammal species, 890 bird species, 220 reptile species, 35,000 insect species and 9,000 plant species. Virtually half the nation consists of national parks and nature and wildlife reserves. The best time to go to national parks is in the early morning. A guide is necessary to point out important sightings. Upon preparation for your Costa Rican journey, you will undoubtedly see numerous guide books with colorful photos of wildlife. You will be lucky if you manage to see a few. The rainforests and cloud forests are not a zoo, and the animals are on their own time table.

For example, the only time I actually spotted a toucan was outside my cabin in the midst of my own private tropical rain forest, right under the Arenal Volcano. The primary colors of the toucan’s feathers, along with its yellowish orange beak, were so mesmerizing that it almost looked like a painting by Paul Gauguin. As was the active 5,357-foot volcano, which was in view every time I looked out my window.  In 1968 the Arenal Volcano violently erupted, burying almost six sq. miles under rocks, lava and ash; eventually killing 87 people and destroying  three small villages. Smaller eruptions continued through 1998.  A specialist from the Costa Rica Volcanic and Seismic Observatory explained that the eruptions are nothing unusual for the volcano. As a normal precaution, authorities declare a red alert, close nearby roads and evacuate people (mostly tourists) from the immediate area. I made a point of giving the specialist my cell phone number. For the complete celestial experience you can relax in one of Arenal’s many natural hot springs, surrounding the volcano’s base. At night, it’s just you and the stars above.

But, above all, it was the gentle charm and hospitality of the Ticos themselves which affected me the most. They seem to have graciousness in their DNA. Costa Rica has literacy and life expectancy rates higher than the US, and with no standing army. The former military budget is dedicated to providing health care services and education. This has resulted in a nationwide cultural phenomenon where Ticos are uncomfortable with any form of personal aggression or confrontation. The motto, Pura Vida! (‘Pure Life’), is an expression used in various contexts, reflecting the Tico’s philosophy of a simple life, free of stress and a positive, relaxed feeling. It can be used as everything from “hello” or “awesome” to “all is well?” I vividly recall a woman running over to assist my photographer who was struggling with changing her shoes on the beach. Asking for directions always ended in a handshake, and wait staff employees at sodas (little cafés) were happy to share their personal narrative when ordering a meal.

Backstory

Pre-Columbian Costa Rica was populated by 400,000 Amerindians. The various tribal nations seemed to be a cultural mix, influenced by the Mesoamerican civilizations of north Central America and the Macro-Chibcha civilizations of northern South America. Columbus arrived on his fourth and final voyage in 1502; the result of repairs to his vessel, off the coast of Limón. Greeted by welcoming tribal chieftains, he noticed gold and silver worn by some. He made a wrong assumption that this was a place of plenty. He proclaimed this new land as “Costa Rica” (“Rich Coast”), which led to the arrival of full force Spanish conquistadores in search of bountiful treasures – but there was virtually nothing to be found. Plus, the remaining Tribal People – most had died due to warfare and the spread of European diseases – would not adhere to the usual barbarous Spanish practice of encomienda  (forced labor). Costa Rica was described as the poorest and most miserable Spanish colony in all of the Americas by the Spanish governor. Most of the Spanish left in search of wealthier lands, while the remaining settlers headed for Central Valleys, where they found rich volcanic soil, ideal for farming, with no choice but to work the land themselves.  This period of history created the foundation for Costa Rica’s development as a more egalitarian society than the rest of Central America, resulting in a rural democracy with no oppressed mestizo or Amerindian class. After the final Spanish defeat in the Mexican War of Independence (1810–21), Spain declared the independence of all of Central America. Called the Federal Republic of Central America, Costa Rica eventually broke away and established its own democratic nation in 1838.

Since the late 19th century Costa Rica has experienced two significant periods of violence. In 1948, a six week civil war broke out between liberal and conservative forces that left 2,000 Costa Ricans dead.  The liberals won the bitter war. A new constitution was enacted which abolished the army, desecrated the country, granted women and Afro-Costa Ricans the right to vote, thus creating a stable democracy, progressive social policies, free compulsory public education, high social well-being, and emphasis on treating all citizens equally. In 1987 President Oscar Arias Sanchez won the Nobel Peace Prize for brokering a peaceful agreement between the peasant-class Sandinistas and US supported Contras, a remnant of the brutal Nicaraguan regime of President Anastasio Somoza. A covert CIA airfield just across Costa Rica’s northern border was quickly abandoned, which led to a nation-wide celebration where children planted trees on the empty airfield.

San José: Your journey will probably begin with a flight to the capital city of San José, due to its direct access from many US cities. Located in the center of the nation, peopled by 1.035 million citizens, San José’s densely packed urban center almost felt like a third-world city. Wealthy expiates generally live in self-contained guarded communities in the hills, complete with barbed wire as protection. Many visitors use it as an one-night stop-over, and then head for their destinations of choice. I had been warned: as a new capital city it is a bit charmless, with only a few examples of colonial architecture, museums, historic government buildings and grand boulevards. I took a midnight stroll on Saturday and another one the next morning. Contrary to popular opinion, it was a great experience. I felt safe and enjoyed the colorful Main Market and sense of life on the streets of Costa Rica’s largest city. My hotel, located a block away from the city center, was buttoned up like a fortress, with steel shutters blocking the parking area. It was almost midnight and I must have driven four times around long blocks to find the unassuming locked entrance with barely a small sign. But, once inside, I was greeted by the manager who was helpful and hospitable, serving almost like an ambassador. This was my first indication of the kindness of the Ticos.

Don Juan Coffee Tour: What nation leads the world in coffee consumption? Did you know the lighter the bean, the more caffeine?  Or, that vanilla needs to be added to the cacao bean in order to transform it into chocolate? All this and more is what I learned at the two-hour Don Juan Coffee Tour. Located in the rich coffee country hills of Monteverde, you’ll receive a real taste of coffee education from touring the plantation’s sprawling coffee fields to the processing of the beans. The tour also includes turning Don Juan’s cacao beans, whose birthplace is pre-Columbian Central America, into chocolate. Aztec Emperor Montezuma II reportedly drank 50 flagons per day of the liquid chocolate (ocōlātl), mixed with water, honey and dried chili pepper.  Visitors are welcome to participate in the process from grinding coffee beans to pounding the cacao into a paste. As an extra treat, you’ll receive coffee, chocolate and limeade tastings, made from the plantation’s sugar canes. BTW, Finland leads the world in coffee consumption per capita. This was my favorite tour in Costa Rica.

Tamarindo Beach: For ocean pleasures, the surfing Mecca of Tamarindo Beach on the northwest Pacific Coast, is a prime spot for surfing schools and sport fishing charters, diving and sunning. This is a location where the locals can be a little relentless selling souvenirs, such as wooden oxcarts (a national symbol), constructed with recycled wood. To the north, Playa Grande beach is a major nesting site for huge leatherback turtles, and forms part of Las Baulas National Marine Park. The mangrove-lined estuary of Tamarindo Wildlife Refuge protects animals such as Howler Monkeys and crocodiles.

Conchita Tours: On the last day, I was able to book a two-hour jungle boat tour with Conchita Tours. Floating through mangrove swamps in the safety of the boat, the highlight was finally spotting a family of Howler Monkeys sleeping in a forest canopy. Their unique howls had served as a soundtrack for my every night. The little critters, though, were hard to capture on film. There were a number of crocodiles lazing on the shore, which explains why the monkeys prefer the safety of the trees.

Did You Know?

The Little Drummer Boy and US Tyrant, William Walker: In 1856, American William Walker and his ragtag army of mercenaries attacked Honduras, Nicaragua and later Costa Rica with the intention of creating a slave-holding empire with himself as its president. With the blessing of US President Franklin Pierce, Walker was successful in Honduras and Nicaragua for a period, then turned his sights on Costa Rica. President Juan Rafael Mora Porras called upon the general population to take up arms and head north to fight against the foreign invader. After routing a contingent of Walker’s soldiers at Santa Rosa, Costa Rican troops continued marching north, following Walker’s army to the city of Rivas. The Battle of Rivas was brutal and fierce. Walker’s men retreated into a hostel near the town center where they commanded an advantageous firing position. Juan Santamaría, a poor laborer and son of a single mother, had joined the army as a drummer boy. A general suggested that a soldier should advance towards the hostel with a torch and set it on fire. Juan Santamaría volunteered for the suicide charge, but with the condition that someone would look after his mother if he died. He then advanced and succeeded in setting fire to the hostel, and was mortally wounded by the enemy. His heroics were the defining factor in the Costa Rican victory at Rivas. Walker escaped, and eventually returned to Honduras in an attempt to reestablish his control of the region, but was captured and executed by a firing squad in 1860. Juan Santamaría, the Little Drummer Boy, is Costa Rica’s national hero. You will see monuments, statues and parks named after him throughout the nation. Juan Santamaría Day, a national holiday, is held every April 11 to commemorate his courageous death.

Coffee is King: By the mid-1850s the main market for high-quality coffee was Britain. The locals drank a watered-down version which continues today, saving the best for export. Most of the coffee was grown in the Central Plateau and then transported by oxcart to a port city. It was a slow and brutal endeavor, compounded by traveling through rugged hills and valleys, thick jungles and torrential rains. It soon became a high priority to develop an effective transportation route from the Central Plateau to the Atlantic Ocean. The Costa Rican government contracted US businessman Minor C. Keith to build a railroad from San José to the Caribbean port of Limón. The railroad  proved extraordinarily challenging due to inadequate financing, tropical diseases, lack of food and poisonous reptiles along the tracks. As many as four thousand people, including Keith’s three brothers, died during the construction of the first 25 miles of the track. Having subsequent trouble recruiting Costa Rican laborers, Keith eventually brought in US convicts and indentured Chinese servants, and finally turned to freed slaves from Jamaica.

Keith had a brainstorm by growing banana fields along the railway’s tracks, which provided a source of food for the workers. The railroad was completed in 1890, but Keith was still badly in debt. With the excess bananas, Keith experimented by running a steamboat to New Orleans. The gamble paid off which resulted in an extremely lucrative banana trade. He soon established the Tropical Trading and Transport Company to increase banana shipments to foreign destinations. Bananas eventually replaced coffee as the king of exports.

Still short of money, Keith eventually partnered with the foreign-owned corporation, the United Fruit Company, which became a symbol of an exploitative export economy. This resulted in a major labor dispute between the peasants and the United Fruit Company, which eventually led to the formation of effective trade unions in Costa Rica

What to Eat

Costa Rican cuisine is primarily a blend of Amerindian, Spanish and African recipes. Dishes such as the tamale and others made of corn are the most representative of its first inhabitants. Spaniards brought many new ingredients to the country, especially spices and domestic animals. In the 19th century, Afro-Caribbeans added a little heat to the flavors, and like the US, each new arriving ethnicity brought their own ancestral recipes along with them.

Salsa: Food is the spice of life, and Ticos prefer their salsas mild and flavorful. The local favorite, Lizano Salsa is readily available at numerous stores.

Gallo Pinto is the national dish of Costa Rica, consisting of black beans cooked with rice, a few spices and petite pieces of carrots and other vegetables thrown in. It can be topped with a scrambled egg, generally served at breakfast. It’s filling, delicious and will vary in every kitchen.

Casada serves as a midday set-meal of rice and black beans, cabbage and tomato salad, fried platanos and your choice of either beef, chicken, pork or fish generally served in a soda, an unpretentious little café and a great place to meet Ticos. Casada means ‘married’ or ‘married man’s lunch’ for it was first prepared by the wives of workers.

Boca is a snack served in a bowl of rice, black beans, small salad, pico de gallo (a tomato based salsa), fried pork bellies, plantains, avocado with tortilla chips to scoop this delicious concoction up. Patacones are twice fried plantains, and a real treat.

Seafood is well represented due to Costa Rica having two coasts, just 75 miles apart. So there is a bounty of fresh sea bass, red snapper, dorado (mahi mahi), octopus, tilapia, bill fish, prepared any way you prefer. My personal favorite was sea bass, cooked in palm leaves.

Beef: Costa Rica is beef country. It’s inexpensive, cut thinly and full of flavor.

Frescos are usually fruit drinks made with milk or water. The fresh fruits are endless: mangoes, papayas, blackberries and pineapples. If you’re lucky, there’s also passion and star fruit. Horchata is made with water, rice flour, cinnamon and chan, a seed that is reputedly to be good for the digestive system.

Beer: Thanks to the early presence of German settlers, Costa Rica has a series of solid lagers, including my favorites, Bavaria and Pilsen. Keep an eye out for the craft beer, Maldita Vida, a deceptively smooth stout with 9.8% alcohol content. Many tourist are surprised to find themselves a bit tipsy after a downing a few.

In 2017, National Geographic magazine proclaimed Costa Rica as the happiest country in the world. Their article included these words: “Costa Ricans enjoy the pleasure of living daily life to the fullest in a place that mitigates stress and maximizes joy.” It  sounds like Pura Vida to me.

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I imagine most of our lives are a series of awakenings.  One of my big ones came during my later college days.  By the time I entered my senior year at San Diego State I was a decent athlete and grades in school came easily. Actually, too easily. I spent much of my time at the beach when real students studied. My years in college were fun and I squeaked by doing almost no homework. But I did have a good tan, remember I am from California. When it comes to trendsetters we may be the undisputed world champions. We have the honor of being the home of the Christian Surfer Association. Yes, the only group in the world that addresses God as the Great Gnarly Dude. So, go light on me.

One problem with not applying myself was that even in the classes I liked I didn’t learn much since I was goofing off most of the time. My major was Industrial Arts. That is the educational term. It was really “shop class.”  Woodworking became my specialty.  I still remember my big assignment in Wood 101.  We could make any project we wanted with one square foot of lumber. I decided to make a cutting board, one-foot square, and one inch thick.  How is that for imagination?  But it gets better.  The undertaking stretched into nine weeks. As I hinted at I was not really strong in applying myself to anything except surfing.

My only creative moment was to get special permission to add an additional type of wood. The finished cutting board was laminated with alternating stripes of walnut and maple and had four tiny wooden feet on the bottom and two large clunky metal handles on the top. It looked like a zebra that had gone through a trash compactor. You are probably convinced at this time that I was into drugs. No, I just didn’t know what I was doing. But I did like woodwork.

If anyone with a sense of design had seen that monstrosity I made I might have been burned at a stake in public. Today I don’t know what finally happened to that awful thing. I gave it to my mother and I never saw it again after that. I think she made sure it was well buried in the trash can so the garbage truck would take it. Yes, the mother who still had my mosaic duck from ninth grade art class reached her tolerance level and my college masterpiece was no more. I am telling this story to give the background for what happened a few years later that changed my life and my self-confidence.

One of my neighborhood buddies got a job at a small custom furniture shop when I was in my last part of college. I can’t really tell you if I was a junior or senior because I just meandered through school, like life, and I never knew what I was. One day I took my last class and I was done. Now, back to my friend who got that job.  I was jealous and begged him to ask if I could work at that same shop. I have no idea what kind of story he told the boss but he hired me. I was a total dweeb (California word meaning “mindless LOOSER”). I hadn’t learned much in college except what the tide and surf tables meant and my woodworking major had left me mostly uneducated. But as I said, I liked woodworking. Surprisingly, the idea of working in a woodworking shop interested me and I actually started applying myself. I only hoped I would get a few skills before they discovered what they had hired and take me out behind the building and shoot me (sometimes known as acute lead poisoning). I tried my best and started to improve. They gave me simple jobs at first, which was very fortunate. Lee, the owner, was a very encouraging and tolerant person. He saw hope in the dweeb. His trust in me made me want to try harder. He was an exceptional man, but this particular story is really about a guy named Doug.

Turning Point

Doug was different from the crowd I ran with. He didn’t have a tan so I was suspicious from the start. He was focused and always seemed to know what he was doing and what he would be doing next. My life was like driftwood. Doug’s life was driven by vision and artistic balance. I envied him. Doug was a graduate from the same college I attended but he had paid attention. He was a few years older and many years more mature. He was one of the first Christians I ever met and he was a master craftsman. He was a man going somewhere and I hadn’t even looked at the map.

Well, one day towards the close of a work day he asked if I wanted to join him after we shut down. He was going to stay for an extra hour to make a gift for his wife. I hadn’t been married very long at that point and he was thoughtful enough to include me in his project. He told me I could make one for my wife.  I asked him what he was going to make in one hour. He said, “A cutting board.”  I think I stopped breathing. I stared blankly. It was as Yogi Berra said, “Déjà vu all over again.”  “Did you say one hour, Doug?”  “Are they going to have handles on the top, feet on the bottom and look like a squashed zebra?” Could a cutting board be made in less than nine weeks?  So, I agreed mostly out of curiosity. Anyway, if my wife didn’t like it, she could give it to my mom. She needed a new lid for her trash can.

That evening between five and six PM my life changed. Doug had designed (a formerly unknown word to me) a simple Danish modern, teardrop-shape cutting board made from teak with a rosewood strip in it and a small rawhide hanging strap on the end.  It was elegant and beautiful. And the food wouldn’t get wrapped around the handles. We made two in one hour. The shop had a special glue and a radio-wave drier which helped the job be completed in a short time. When the boards were finished we oiled them with vegetable oil and took them home to our wives.

I imagine Doug calmly and confidently handed his to his wife without much of a thought. But I had a different experience. I trembled as I drove home and began to feel something strange happening. It was something I had never felt before. It was my brain waking up. It was my life waking up. I didn’t even care if the surf was up.

Have you ever had a secret you carried that made you want to burst? That described me that night. When I walked into the house with a plain plastic bag holding the little masterpiece I must have been beet red and my eyes were bulging out of their sockets. My wife noticed my unusual blowfish countenance and said: “What’s up.” I said, “Oh, nothing much.”  What’s in the bag?” “Oh, it’s just a little something I made at the shop tonight for you.”  “Really, let me see it.”  “Ohhh, OK, here.” Silence. Lots of silence. Birth is a stunning moment.

I made that cutting board in one hour. It was beautiful. I did it.  What did my wife say?  I can’t remember because I was staring at what I had done and was even more amazed than she was.  She probably said something like, “You incredible hunk of a man, this is your lucky night.” But all I could see was what I was able to do in such a short time.  It was a metamorphosis, dweeb to achiever.  A mentor had dragged my sorry carcass into the light and I was never the same after that. Doug, you have no idea what that cutting board did to me that night.

Today I look back at an incredible journey. I became a building contractor, firefighter, cabinetmaker, Bible teacher, and author.  I have traveled to all continents except Antarctica teaching pastors and Christian workers around the world.  When we worked with impoverished churches we designed a church-based enterprise program to help them become self-supporting when formerly they had no hope of surviving. My wife and I developed a papermaking project from banana rope fragments and today we have designed and completed an amazing pulp mill we built from donated steam boiler equipment and discarded diesel engines from old buses. Churches were supported by the beautiful handmade paper products and herbal handmade soap that we marketed all over the USA. There were also community development and medical programs for the most impoverished.  Yep, this old dweeb got his life together and I can trace my current personality and skills to that cutting board and that night of awakening. I was a goof-off surfer and woodworker wannabe.  Today I have numerous skills and have directed several Christian agencies. My wife and I have raised five children that surprisingly have similar traits. Of course, my wife would add, “One hunk of a man” so I have to put that on the list at her insistence.

What happened to me? Doug showed me what I could be. Thanks, Doug.  Doug was a mentor. Mentors change people.  We all need mentors. We need to be mentors. My adventurous life journey is what it is today because of mentors. Mentors introduced me to my Savior. They made me an upper and not a downer. They made a can-do person. They helped me discover my spiritual gift of vision and to develop it. They showed me the joy of creativity, which helped me find solutions in the hard times. Other mentors modeled a life that was victorious in suffering. They were pathfinders. Others helped me lay a strong foundation that would stand against the onslaught of a terminal disease. My awakening happened when a guy took me aside one night for one hour and showed me I was worth something.

I have tried to imagine where I would be today if I had not spent that one hour in the cabinet shop that night with Doug. I would probably be trying to pay for cancer treatments by marketing cutting boards with handles on the top.

One post script is necessary.  A month ago a local church contacted me and asked if I could help them with a program that helps at-risk kids.  It is called Children Are People.  They had heard I had a cabinet shop and they wanted to have me help them do small project with wood. I asked how much time would I have for the lesson.  They apologized that I only had ONE HOUR.  I told them I just might have the perfect project we could do in that hour.

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