As our kids were growing up, Saturday was always chore day at the Hutchcraft house. It was the day we got our leaves raked and bagged, rooms got cleaned - or hosed out like a monkey cage - it was the day the garage got dug out, the dirty clothes got clean, broken things got fixed, you know. Now it wasn't that kids jumped out of bed on Saturday morning saying, "What do you have for me to do today, Dad?" No, Saturday mornings often involved some delicate labor negotiations - especially when it came to someone getting a job that meant more time and more dirty work than some of the others. That child might say, "I don't want to do Job A. I want Job B." To which I would reply, "I pay the allowances and the bonuses around here. (See, usually there was extra pay for extra work). Don't forget lesson #1 of working - you don't pick your jobs. The person who pays you decides the jobs you'll do."

Ahhh, Laurie. She may have been my first romantic crush. It was 7th grade - I was insecure (that's a synonym for 7th grade) and I didn't know how she felt about me. So one day I went to the store, I spent all the money I had - which wasn't much - on a little rhinestone necklace. And then I wrote this mushy little note to Laurie and put it in an envelope with that necklace. The next day, as I was sitting in study hall, (the only class we had together), I smelled that perfume. I knew Laurie was approaching. I handed her that love-filled envelope, which she took with her to her desk. The next day - study hall, approach of the killer perfume - my heart was beating out of my chest. Then, as Laurie went by, something very familiar appeared on my desk. It was that envelope - with the necklace and the note inside. Ouch. Of course, it didn't really bother me that much. Then why am I talking about it so many years later?

"They had to use the paddles on him." Now that sounds like something we might say about an exasperated parent's response to an out-of-control child. But the paddles we're talking about here were the ones they used on our neighbor recently when he was rushed to the hospital with a heart attack. His wife said they saved his life by using the "paddles" on him. Actually, what they used was a device called a defibrillator. Now you see why most people call them the paddles. The defibrillator has two paddles that, after they are placed on the patient's chest, generate a strong electric jolt to restart the heart. More and more ambulances are carrying them and more and more emergency medical technicians are being trained to use them. Even commercial airliners are beginning to have them on board. When the heart stops, something has to be done to get it going again - even if it takes a big jolt.

It's a battle every mother has fought in every generation. It's that three-word charge that can mean the difference between getting sick or being well - "wash your hands." Of course, it would be okay with most kids if washing their hands was a monthly thing, or at most, you know, like once a week. Our kids did it , I suppose you know at least one other who has done it. See, they come in from doing who knows what with those hands and say, "They're not dirty." Now there may not be any brown slime dripping from those little hands, but you can be sure they're carrying plenty of nasty little critters. And it's amazing what happens when you get some soap and water on those hands - the sink is suddenly covered with some pretty yucky-looking stuff coming off those hands. Surprise, kid - you couldn't see it, but your hands were dirty, man. You just didn't realize how dirty!

My wife accuses me of being a creature of habit. I prefer to think of myself as "structured," you know. But I do exhibit some behaviors that are a bit compulsive. I don't think I'm dangerous, though. For example, it does not matter what time I get in from the airport or the interstate after a trip, there is one thing I will do before I got to bed. I will unpack. Sure, it's 2:00 A.M., but I will get everything back to its proper place. An unpacked suitcase will pursue me all night long if I don't. Now sometimes my sweet wife will try to inject a little common sense by simply asking, "Why not unpack tomorrow?" Of course, she doesn't know that's totally illogical. I'm not home until I'm unpacked. Neither are your children.

Where we live in New Jersey, 12 straight days of rain is pretty unusual. But not long ago we got to take our turn at almost two weeks without sunshine. For most of us, it was just a soggy nuisance. But for some people across town, it meant trading in their car for a rowboat. And I turned on the news one night as they were talking about a roof that had caved in on a store in our town - it was the pharmacy I go to all the time. Apparently, water had collected until it just broke through the ceiling, and it literally washed one customer out the door like a raging river! She was okay, but the pharmacy was wrecked! Now, I couldn't help but remember something I saw on a couple of recent visits there - there were a couple of buckets on the floor, catching these drips from some leaks in that ceiling. First, some little leaks - and then suddenly the roof caved in!

It's definitely the age of doctors who are specialists. Including one of the latest, new specialties - the spin doctor. The spin doctor is actually to be found in the world of politics. As soon as some news breaks that might be damaging or embarrassing to a political leader or candidate, someone on their staff talks to the press about it - and they find a way to put a positive or undamaging "spin" on those revelations - to put their man or woman in the best possible light. The more powerful you become, the more "spin doctors" you need. And depending on how good the "doctor" is, a lot of people may end up believing the "spin" rather than the truth!

Millions of Americans visit the emergency room once a week - on television, that is. The blockbuster TV hit, "E.R.," very convincingly takes its viewers into the tension and crisis environment of a hospital emergency room. They make you feel like you're there. Of course, they're not the only medical personnel involved in crisis care situation. I was reminded of that the other day on the interstate as this ambulance passed us. Of course, the back has those big red letters - "ambulance." But this particular ambulance had sort of a subtitle - one that raised my eyebrows and made me smile. The whole sign on the back said, "Ambulance - the real emergency room."

It's a huge job to try to keep the roadside by interstates and major highways from looking like garbage dumps. But somebody had this great idea: have clubs, and churches, and schools, and civic organizations volunteer to maintain just one mile of the road near them. You've probably seen the signs - "This mile maintained by the Forest Grove Garden Club," or a Boy Scout troop, or by the Busy Hands Presbybaptist Church, or even a family. Now no one of those groups could ever maintain say the entire roadside in their county - but they can do a mile. And if each group makes sure their mile is covered, the whole area will end up looking a whole lot better.

Years ago, I was at a youth conference where we needed to raise some money for a camp scholarship fund. So we challenged the kids to buy their counselor into this Friday night food fight. Oh, well, the kids found the money all right! So Friday night all of us leaders showed up on the field of battle with the campers watching like these sadistic spectators at the Roman Coliseum. Now, for starters, we got hosed down so everything would cling to us. I'm embarrassed about the food we wasted, frankly, but I'm at least glad we paid for a few kids to get to camp.