Panama: A village in a volcano

El Valle is small community nestled in the lush crater of an extinct volcano. We enjoyed the shopping and some local treats. Joe and Sharon suprised of group of Kunas with the fluency with the Kuna language. They drew quite a crowd of curious Kunas who were selling some of

their wares at the local market.

Panama Fishing

My Brother Joe has bragged for the 25 years about the incredible fishing of Lago Gatun (the lake formed by the Panama Canal.) He has claimed that the reason you come back to shore is that you are quite simply tired of catching fish.

Obviously, I written this off to brotherly hyperbole. But I now confess to all who read this blog.....My brother Joe was right! So Joe, his son Ben, and I went fishing.

We hired a local guide with a flat bottom boat and something that looked and sounded like an outboard motor. He took us way out into the lake. He knew just the right spots to drop anchor.

We were fishing for peacock bass which run the size of our large mouth bass. At times all four of us would have fish on the line. At one time I had caught keepers on 4 consecutive casts. I simply made my cast with no bait on my bare hook. I caught my next keeper.

I am proud to say that I caugth the first and largest fish of the day. Obviously I have it pictured here.

This lake not only serves as the canal for huge ships, but also commerce for may of the locals. This is just one of many dugout canoes we saw on the lake.

Here is Arsinio, ourguide. He preferred the name Cholo. This name actually means half-breed, but to him it meant a man with a boat, which was a good thing.


This is a typical boat we saw on the lake.

Here is one of the boats cruising along full of passengers.

Our Panama trip: the wordy version

We have long dreamed of visiting Panama where Joe and Sharon, my brother and his wife, lived for the better part of 25 years. That is now a wish we can cross off our list. Some have asked us what our best memories are now that we’ve returned. Here is our answer.

Early in 2007 we decided this was the year to go. Joe and Sharon would be there in December and we planned to be at their side. We also discovered that we would have the opportunity to spend the better part of 4 days with the four boys of the Challinor family. The Challinors are planting a church with Naso tribe in the highland area of Panama. We hope to see a lot more of the Challinors in the years to come.

We fell in love with their boys: Michael, Daniel, Robby, and Andrew. Those boys love the Lord, are quick-witted, fun-loving, and tough as nails. We played games, played soccer on the beach, made a movie, and enjoyed studying the word. We learned about their frontier-style life.

I took this picture of their feet one evening when their folks had made them clean up to go to a restaurant. They were all scrubbed up so nice. Just when I was framing the picture I noticed that I'd never seen their feet so clean. So I opted for this shot.

We met some of Joe & Sharon's Kuna friends. The Kuna tribal group is one of Panama indigenous peoples. Found in the most inaccessible rainforests on earth in a section called the Darien Gap. No road has ever passed through this region connecting Central America to South America. Its terrain, its remoteness, and the desire to deny any Southern power a road to attack its northern neighbors have conspired to keep this land unpenetrable.

It was in this context that Joe and Sharon moved in the Kuna village of Morti in 1981 alone, but for their young family. Not found on most maps even in 2007, Morti was accessible only by boat. Alone in the village with no knowledge of the language, they desperately needed a Kuna friend. The first to befriend them at was a young man named Arnulfo. He taught Joe to hunt, helped build their first house, and over the first two years helped Joe and Sharon learn the strange Kuna language. Eventually, Arnulfo became a believer, was/ leader in the new Kuna church, and eventually all of Arnulfo's family became believers. Arunulfo's oldest son, Teobaldo, is now about 26 years old and has developed into the one Wycliffes best bible translators in the Americas.

It was our rare privilege to meet Arnulfo and his whole family including Teobaldo and his pregnant wife and two kids. Between our limited Spanish skills and Joe & Sharon's fluency with the Kuna language, we were able to chat about all manner of things including a few good natured jabs at my brother Joe. At the end of our visit in their tiny home we prayed together as brothers in Christ. What a precious moment to meet a man into whose life my brother poured his life and subsequently the saving love of Jesus.

We met another hero of the faith when we met Marcelino and his twelve year old son, Mordecai (yes, a bible name.) Marcelino, a Kuna believer from the San Blas Islands off Panama’s Carribean coast, is a man who literally stepped into the gap. That gap was where the husbands of three families serving a Kuna village of Pucoro in the same region as Joe and Sharon. Through the passing of seven years: of unattainable demands of the kidnappers, strong but futile FBI efforts, and many many false leads, the men were pronounced dead in 2000 without ever recovering the bodies. Since that time the Panamanian government has called the Darien Gap off limits to all, other than the native groups. IN 2000 Marcelino Stood and proclaimed that the blood of those men would not be spilled in vain. He moved his young family into the very village were the men were taken. With no financial support, living on only what he could grow and hunt, he moved into that danger zone. In spite of much persecution, many dangers and hardships, there is now a Kuna church in that village. We met Marcelino and his son who had just completed grade six. Just as we chatted as with Arnulfo, we got to know Marcelino. We prayed. We recognized each other as brothers. What an honor.

Secondly, we experienced some great things. We stayed, not in the bush, but in the small town of Chame west of Panama City on the Pan-American highway. Our first morning we awoke to the crow of roosters. We thought that was quite cute until we discovered that the sound of crowing roosters never ends: morning, noon, and night. Roosters were in everyone's yards. Roosters roamed the streets. Roosters seemed like they were everywhere.

Another curiosity was that no house or business seemed to have hot water. Only one handle on any faucet. Even in the big city, nice restaurants didn't even have hot water in their restrooms.

We went to a small village called El Valle which was located in the crater of an extinct volcano.

We visited the Panama Canal and watched the huge ships pass through. We even got to check out ourr family history against those who worked on the canal. We found 22 Goodmans.

But, as far as pure excitement, I would have to claim my fishing trip on Lago Gatun as tops. This is the lake that was formed in 1912 to form the canal. My brother Joe, for the past 25 years, has bragged about the fishing there. Well, he was right. In four hours we caught over 130 keepers ranging from 1 to 4 lbs. From 8am to 1pm the catching seemingly never stopped. Of course, I caught the first and the biggest. Our Cholo (the local guy with a boat and motor) knew just where to take us from spot to spot. Lago Gatun has over 600 miles of shoreline.

I'll be posting photos to our blog and will also be putting our stuff on Snapfish.

These guys are ready for the chicken dance!

Speaking on behalf of the Goodman clan (a short squat tribe), we are thrilled with the McFall "chicken legs."

Way to go Lucas!!!! This was Sunday, November 25, 2007. Lucas was dedicated that morning at the church where Matt & Jenny were married.

Legs on the left belong to great uncle Glen. Legs on the right are Abuelo Alto's.

Poetry Contest

GRILL POETRY CONTEST WINNER ANNOUNCED

The results of our world-wide poetry contest extolling the virtues of the grill are in.

The international winner from the reunified nation of Germany is John C.. Unfortunately his entry is unavailable on this blog. Sehr Gut, Herr John.

The U.S. winner, from Winterset Iowa, the home of the covered bridges of Madison county, I announce Jay S. Here is his entry.

"the grill i love with heart and soul,

it cooks the meat i shoot or pole,

friends come running from the street,

to eat with pleasure the well cooked meat,

fish or deer or some other beast,

all are welcome at our feast,

the grill has always kept the pace,

when i'm ready to feed my face,

so come one come all and gather around,

as we stuff our pie holes from the propane god!"

Great job Jay. I was especially fond of your delicated usage of "pie-hole" . Not every one is so adept.

For the winners, fabulous prizes may be available. The adjacent photo shows me pointing to some prizes I am considering. Betsy and I are personally delivering John's prize over Thanksgiving.

On a sad note... I was forced to censure the state of Oregon. Someone in Corvallis was not interested the spirit of the contest. Why can't we just all get along. This person even tasted the meaty fruits of my Holland Grill. Let's all think positive thoughts maybe it will help him heal.

LOS ABUELOS STAND GUARD

FEARSOME BUT KINDLY GRAND FATHERS

Mark and I have on our SPECIAL tee shirts. If you can't read the shirts one says "ABULEO ALTO" and the other says "ABUELO BAJO." You can figure out who is wearing which one.

MEET LUCAS

SOME ONE IN THIS PICTURE IS CRAZY ABOUT THE OTHER.


This is my beautiful wife holding an equally beautiful Lucas. Finding pictures of Betsy without Lucas is becoming very difficult. Another strange phenomenon is that my normally very honest wife is taken to creating very feeble excuses to leave work and visit Lucas and Jenny who live just two miles from the office. Monday she offered to go spend her lunch break helping Jenny with her laundry. But, I discovered later Betsy suggested that Jenny post pone her laundry until that evening when she could bring it over to our house. Do you see what I mean?

ABUELO BAJO


This is what I look like when my heart is leaping for joy.

MATTHEW JONATHAN & LUCAS MARCO JONATHAN


"This is my son and his son." I've had a stupid phrase I've used on Matt since he was a little boy. It is a nonsensical blend of a bible quote and something my father said in his prayer of dedication at our wedding. You'll have to ask him.

"WHICH NINJA MOVE SHOULD I USE?"



















This one is proving to be real crowd pleaser.

"THE" HAMMER

A couple weeks before Lucas' debut, Matt and Jenny were having dinner with us. The conversation turned towards Matt's last days working on the
roof this summer. He casually mentioned , though not really concerned, that he had left some tools on the roof and wondered what the chances of recovering them were at this time.

When asked, he reported among other items was a hammer. Immediately Jenny reminded him that this was no ordinary hammer. This hammer Jenny's dad had given her. This hammer was a gift to her when she was a little girl. With this hammer her father had built their home. She and this hammer had had many wondrous building adventures through the years. When Jenny learned that "the" hammer had been lost she was most sad. Perhaps you might say beyond consolation.

Later that evening I received a phone call from a Matt. In hushed, but emphatic tones he implored me to try my best to find that hammer.

The very next day, at my Monday morning safety meeting I put out the plea to "find the hammer!" I explained that Matt's wife, hormone-plagued with the pending birth of their son, was soooo sad about her dad's hammer. Those 28 roofers made it their unofficial duty to find that needle of a hammer in a haystack of dirty old roofing tools spread across 20 trucks.

Those roughhewn roofers had hearts of gold. It seemed that every day or so for the next two weeks one of them would would show up at my office with another old hammer. "Old" was the operative word. None, however, were it.

One day our #1 man, Bill, brought in his own late father's hammer and offered it as a substitute. Indeed it was old and ratty, but even this very sweet gesture wouldn't slake her sadness. She knew she would most likely never see that hammer again.

But this posting has, as the photograph reveals, a very happy ending. Two rainy days before the birth, Dave, one of our foreman, was cleaning out the back of his truck and found a hammer with all the earmarks: tar-stained, ragged handle, orange paint on the end, and a crooked neck.

A minor miracle. What was lost was now found.

We held it quietly for two days. Then that evening at the hospital, we called Mark, Jenny's dad, aside and asked him for a positive identification. To say he was puzzled to be shown at hammer while his daughter was on the other side of the door in the pangs of child birth would be the proverbial understatement. But once informed, he quickly assured us it was indeed "The" hammer. We wrapped it up in nice baby-festooned gift wrap and continued hallway vigil outside the birthing room. We gave Jenny this special gift shortly after Lucas arrived. The look on her face needs no commentary.

Greg, one of our salesmen, commented on the photo hanging proudly in my ofice window. He has two girls of his own and spoke with authority when he declared that Matt was a very lucky man. Lucky to have such a low-maintenance wife that she would be thrilled with a used tool at such a time as this.

Betsy and I agree. Certainly our precious Lucas is a big reason. But our appreciation predates his arrival by many years. We've been appreciating Jenny since the day we started praying for that special girl who would one day marry our son. Obviously our prayers were perfectly answered.

Jon & Betsy

Ode to my Holland Heritage Grill!

Spring winds loft a smell so sweet.
Go forth young men to the store of meat.

Oh lit flame that propane will birth.
Loin of pork a sizzling mirth.

To stainless steel grate I do bring.
A tasty offering from my grill.
The King

I now invite you to write a story about your own grill. Obviously if you don't belong to the Holland Grill brotherhood, you might not have the deep wellspring of emotions from which poetry rises. Its a Holland thing.

A story for your amusement!

Mi esposa de hijo esta embarrasada. Roughly translated, we are becoming grandparents. Matt & Jenny are pregnant. She is due 10/13/07. Here is the story of how Matt broke the news.

To start the story, I must first provide several key pieces of background information.

I have a reputation for allowing my enthusiasm for Spanish to out-strip my ability to speak it. Cultural jeopardy is just one of the results of my botched Spanish. At Christmas I wanted to ask Lola, Jenny's non-English speaking grandmother, if she was keeping warm during the winter months. I even rehearsed my Spanish with Jenny before addressing Lola. The gasp of the 85 year-old woman and her saucer-sized eyes did not escape my keen senses. Instantly I had a clue my Spanish might be suspect. The gasp, the hoots, and the laughter of everyone all preceded my learning that I had actually asked Lola if she was remaining "amorous" this winter. I am suspicious that our Jenny Goodman may have set me up. She claims complete innocence, but I am not convinced. We all have had many good laughs. I don't think that one will ever be forgotten.

The first class of our Spanish II course in February we had to introduce ourselves and reveal our motivation for taking the class. My reason was to avoid the embarrassment of the "amorous" story. Our professor then spoke about a caution new-comers to Spanish needed to observe. She warned us about false-cognates. These are words that sound like their English counterparts, but are not. She turned to me and asked, "Jon, how would you say you were embarrassed in Spanish?" I answered by saying that even though I didn't know the right word, I would spanglish-ize the word and say "Estoy embarrasado." She affirmed my effort, but told me that while a correct sentence, I was actually saying I was pregnant. Everybody again laughed at my expense.

Now to the story. Sunday before Valentine’s Day, I called both Matt and his father-in-law, Mark. I wanted the three of us to surprise our wives with dinner someplace. We all live about 1-2 hours from Madison, so we planned to meet there. Since Mark was most familiar with Madison, he chose a new, very nice, Spanish restaurant called Abuelo's. So for the next few days I was rehearsing my Spanish so that I could converse with our waiter and order fluently. I even made flash cards with appropriate phrases.

We all met at Abuelo’s. I started out right away with my Spanish, but soon discovered our waiter did not speak it. So I took my flashcards and held them up so that he could read the English version of my Spanish efforts. All six of us had a good laugh.

During the waves of laughter, Matt scribbled something on a scrap of paper and handed it to me. He then said in a stage whisper, "Dad I bet you would like to say you're ‘embarrassed’ in Spanish. Go ahead, I wrote the word for you." Of course, I was too smart to be tricked again. I made a big deal about knowing what "embarrasada" meant. But then he said, "Dad, look at the word. Think about what it means!" As soon as Mark and Monse, who are fluent in Spanish, heard me say the word, they knew, but it took me a moment longer. Finally, the meaning dawned on me (I think I was the last one to figure it out.) Our whole table went crazy. Oh by the way.....the name of the restaurant means grandfather’s.

The final installment of this tale took place the a few days later at work. Bursting with the desire to tell everybody, I came into work on Friday. Standing in the shop were 5-6 of our Hispanic employees who always enjoy my efforts at Spanish. I gathered them around me and proceeded to inform them that my mother-in-law was pregnant and I was somehow responsible. Once again laughter exploded at my expense. But, we worked through the language problem and finally figured out what I wanted to say. The phrase at the beginning of this letter was the product of our collaboration.


JG

The birthday prince and his princess!

I believe we make a very regal couple. What do you, our royal subjects think?