Monthly Archives: August 2017

Cajun Surprise

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | No Comments

The joy-stream inside me began as a trickle and broadened soon to a rippling brook, before breaking out in overflow. Like Old Faithful awash in laughter. The contrast was stark. My mood of just moments before had been glum. Merely responding to an inner prompting to laugh surely couldn’t lead to such a free-spirited abundance of peace? Irrational, even hypocritical…

Read More

A Morning Laugh

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | No Comments

The key slipped easily into its slot. I was downtown Nairobi, standing before a bank of metal post office boxes. The bold figures on our assigned box – shared by others of our same mission – read 30207.  Drawing out the few pieces of mail bearing the Lout name I paused at one marked with a Louisiana address. I recognized…

Read More

Psalm Power

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | No Comments

Passing on foot through African wildlife terrain is not advised, especially if unarmed. More especially if unarmed and alone – and after dark. Try as I may, I couldn’t shut my mind to a growing parade of frightful images. . . a Cape Buffalo lifting its’ great head, sniffing the night air to catch my scent. . . a deadly…

Read More

Foreboding

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | No Comments

The further up-river we had driven the more we had felt the VW straining against a different-textured sand, more refined. The VW bogged down. Again and again. My friend’s idea made sense, “Whichever of us is driving the Bug while the other pushes it, the driver must not slow the vehicle, no matter what.” Simple enough. . . The guy behind…

Read More

Song Power

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | No Comments

Jim Reeves. I could recognize the singer’s velvet voice anywhere. The last place I would think to hear it was in Africa’s outback. The country gentleman’s crooning, “Am I that easy to forget?”, floated from a battery-powered cassette player beyond a giant anthill some yards back of me. What power music has, to carry you away, I thought. Feels like…

Read More

South C

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | No Comments

Never in my life had I known a neighborhood whose name was plucked from a string of alphabet symbols. The two cars arriving from the airport – one transporting us, the other our luggage – eased up to Maxwell’s South C home. Their house itself sat hidden behind a stonework wall, like a shy maiden part-concealed back of a fortress…

Read More

Embakasi

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | No Comments

“Jerry Lout, right?” The accent, which I would later recognize as New Zealander, came from beyond a short railing. John Maxwell’s hand, its firm grip on a paper, pressed forward past the barrier and into Nairobi airport’s arrivals section. Labeled Immigration, it was the sector where passports, visas and such are green-lighted or rejected. The paper being handed me was…

Read More

London Interlude

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | No Comments

London’s Heathrow was long reputed the world’s busiest airport. Our landing there came after one intermediate stop in Iceland where no one deplaned except those wishing to stay. We had earlier assumed that, once in London, we would freshen up, take a few steps to a departure lounge and wait for our next flight. The one taking us to Kenya….

Read More

Pluck

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | No Comments

My plucky wife slipped the medical release document between unmarked leaves of her passport. Stamped Canandaigua, N.Y.,, her doctor’s letter had okayed this, her first-ever overseas flight. We would board for Africa May 26 – our first child (we didn’t know the gender) to be born in under two months. *** “Where have you been?” The director’s voice carried an…

Read More