Author: Jon Gauger

Have you ever felt the blast of a bear exhaling on your hand?   Happened to me a few days ago. We were visiting a small town Wisconsin zoo and I found myself frustrated trying to take pictures of Bugaboo and Berryboo—a pair of Black Bears.  In addition to the very sturdy chain link fence that kept the bears where they belonged, there was a secondary fence that kept us back even further.  So taking pictures of the bears was more like taking pictures of the fence. In talking with one of the animal trainers I explained my dilemma, suggesting…

"This whole flap about fake news makes me laugh,” said my friend and armchair philosopher Jack. “What’s funny about fake news?” I queried. “The very name.  No such thing as fake news,” he insisted, removing his Chicago Cubs hat for a moment and scratching the side of his head.  “There’s truth and lies.  But in a culture that has cut ties with truth, the whole fake news brouhaha is hardly surprising.” “What do you mean we’ve ‘cut ties with the truth?” I fired back. “That’s a pretty harsh statement.” “Agreed. But when you dismiss the very idea of absolute truth,…

The train conductor has just punched my ticket.  Mike is his name.  He looks all snappy in his creased white shirt with the brass buttons, sporting a hat that bears the “Metra” rail logo.  A jangle of keys and the squawk of his radio define the man I’ve tried to get know a bit more than just “that conductor on the train.” I greet Mike by name—and he knows mine as well.  Lost in thought, I stumble a moment when he asks how I’ve been doing.  The delay is just long enough that the conductor does the talking for me. …

Choking smoke, a shattered canopy and the eerie sound of wind against wings: pilot David Thomas Dinan was in trouble.  A Soviet MiG fighter had shredded his F-105 fighter over the jungles of Laos. When not riddled with bullets, an F-105—heavily used during the Vietnam War—could fly at Mach 2 and carry sixteen 750 pound bombs. As the swept wing jet pancaked out of control there was no question it was time to bail. By all accounts, David T. Dinan successfully ejected from his aircraft.  Yet he died upon landing and his body was not recovered. Leyland Sorensen, who served…

As she peered out the hospital window, angry skies warned Dory it was time to leave her husband with the doctors and head home.  Not easily done. He’d had a heart attack five days earlier. Climbing into her four-door Chevy, she cruised down to the ferry that would float her across the lake from Mountain Home to Gamaliel—hopefully before the worst of the Arkansas storm hit. At about 6:30, she turned into her driveway, hurried inside and changed into her nightgown, and then put a piece of meat in the frying pan and set it on the stove.  At 6:55pm,…

Had some thoughts last night that startled me out of that half-asleep stage.   Get this—I was shopping at a store—in heaven. The clerk was friendly enough.  But nevertheless, I was puzzled by the experience. “What can we get you, sir?”  asked the guy behind the counter. “A box of Kleenex” I replied.   “A what?” “Box of Kleenex.  You know, tissues.” “Whatever for?” “What for?” I stammered incredulously.  “For blowing my nose when I get a cold.” “Not gonna happen. Didn’t you read the Book?  There’s no sickness up here.  No suffering.”  “Well what if I…you know….cry at something sad. Not…

There are two kinds of grandparents.  There are those who live by the “show up, sugar them up and send them home” philosophy.   Then there are others—like me—who find every parting sad.  I'm never glad to see the grandkids go.  Never.  Does that make me sappy?  Probably.  So there we were, putting on our shoes and getting ready to leave after a nice visit with four of our little buddies.  That familiar wave of melancholy was washing over.  Yet the silver lining was the fact that later in the week, we’d be watching the grandkids while their parents traveled out…

To visit Bureau County, Illinois is to unplug. You unplug from the roar of incessant traffic.  Instead you find yourself on roads where you are as likely to encounter a deer as another vehicle. You unplug from a terrain of cement and asphalt, trading that in for farmland and grass and stands of ancient trees. You unplug from the density of urban living.  There are more people living in my Chicago suburb than in all the towns that make up Bureau County combined.  You unplug from the cocooned way of life that cautions us against waving to strangers or being…

One of the cool things with which God has blessed me is the opportunity to narrate audio books.  The most recent project is a book by Ed Silvoso titled, Prayer Evangelism.  While in “normal life,” I really love to read (a passion my wife, Diana and I share) forgive me for admitting that after six or seven hours in a studio, reading in front of a microphone is more like a job than a pleasure.  But narrating page 39 of Prayer Evangelism, I was slammed, smacked, and convicted.  So much so, that I took out my phone and took a…

Walked into the Apple store the other day.  Wanted to take advantage of their special $29 battery replacement offer, as my iPhone is several years old.  So we dropped it off and perused mall stores selling products considerably beyond our income or station in life (among them a Tesla in which I dreamily sat). When we came back to claim the phone, I was informed Apple refused to replace the battery because the phone had been exposed to water—which is true. About a year ago, I wrote of this disaster in The Thursday Thought.  But in the kindness of Jesus,…