Monthly Archives: September 2015

Why ’50’s Baby Boomers Acknowledge a REAL God

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A Unique Generation

1950’s Baby Boomers grew up in a unique age. We have seen it all: the Family Friendly Moral decade; the Radical Anti-Establishment, Free Love decade; the Do It If It Feels Good, You Only Live Once decade; the Me First, Only I Count decade; and throughout all of it we saw a real, and active, creator of the universe, miracle wielding, because-I-said-it would-happen God.

The Next Greatest Generation

The stage was set for us in the decade prior to our birth. Our parents were part of the greatest generation, our fathers were the war heroes of World War II and the Korean War. The end of the war brought a new prosperity to the country, and with a nation of booming babies a decade of family friendly, father knows best media programming emerged. Moral-centered half-hour entertainment featured families, doctors, western heroes, boys and their dogs, red-headed comedians and more. Even our comic books were scrubbed clean by the Comics Code of Authority and Congress swept the threat of a Communism takeover out of the country.

A Healthy Dose of Bible: At Home or Church or School

But 1948 was a particularly significant year prior to our birth. Several events in that year would have eventual profound impact on our beliefs. Our parents were largely practicing Christians. During the war wives prayed for absent husbands involved in a conflict thousands of miles away, while men in foxholes prayed for miracles for themselves and their brothers. So by the 1950’s, reunited once again in the land of the brave and the free, grateful parents introduced their children to a good and great God. We attended Sunday School whether we wanted to or not. We were the last generation where Sunday School lessons still crossed over into public schools in our reading and history lessons, our music, our opening morning prayers. We were familiar with God, Christ his son, and all of the Biblical heroes and their stories. But a couple of religiously significant events happened in 1948 that would expand that culture.

God is Still in the Miracle Business

In May of 1948, the U.S. and England led the United Nations into a vote that would recognize the former state of Palestine as the new state of Israel. A nation that had not existed for nearly 1900 years suddenly and abruptly popped into existence. A new nation of Jews who spoke the old language and practiced the old Judean faith from the law and the prophets just as they did 1900 years ago. The significance of this took many of us years to realize. It did not take our God by surprise. I have a 1919 Schofield Bible. There is an interesting note at the bottom of the first chapter of Isaiah that reads: “While many in this age believe the prophet is speaking to them when he talks about a future Jerusalem in a modern Israel. And while many will find this hard to believe, he is actually speaking to future Jews who will occupy a real future Israel. God says this will happen, and this will come to pass in His time. When, no man can know.” I keep this gristled old bible as proof that the things God says will come to pass, do indeed, come to pass.

God’s Word is Still True and All Men Still Liars

Also in 1948 the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls ended speculation that the Bible was a recent manipulated construct of men. From the early 1900’s, learned men were instructed by “higher critics” that like men, who evolved from monkeys, the Bible was not the inspired word of God, but a collection of myths and convoluted histories that evolved too. They were told that devious men changed and edited text over the years to manipulate a religion by recreating its meaning. Various humanists over the years alleged that everyone from Constantine to Pope John conspired to add and delete text at will or cover up gnostic texts they said were part of the original. In 1948, the son of Edgar Caycee, a medium from Virginia Beach called ‘the sleeping prophet’, published a book about his late father and his belief in Reincarnation. The son, also named Edgar, alleged that his father believed men lived multiple lives and that the original Bible proved it. He said the Nicine and Trent Councils among others ‘edited out’ all references to reincarnation from the Bible in the late third century, A.D. I mean, without this confirmation, Caycee’s thousands of ‘previous life’ readings for a lifetime of customers could be called into question as fiction. How embarrassing it was to make that statement in 1948, months before the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls. It would take years to carefully discover that the entire old testiment was here and in multiple copies. And it did not include gnostic or heretic texts. But most amazing of all, the texts were sealed more than 100 years before Christ was born. Critics like Caycee were proven wrong. Higher Critics who ‘assumed’ scriptures like Mica, or Isaiah that gave specific prophecies about Christ were written well after he was born, were left proven wrong again. The comparison between text from 100 B.C. and present day Hebrew text from which the English Bibles of our day are derived, are, if not exact, are only minorly not so, with no discrepancies in doctrine or meaning. Archeology as well as biological sciences brought more and more proof of the Bible as God’s truth from the late 1950’s to the present. For most baby boomers this brought more conviction that God is real.

The Last Generation Without Free Love

Our heroes were noble, moral, God-fearing. We were ten years old or maybe teens when the world began to look crazy. Young adults wore long hair and beads, kissed everyone except the police. They filled the streets with noise and nudity. They popped pills, smoked dope, drank or shot themselves into oblivion. And except for communes never had children. Abortion became a word in school. Bibles and prayer were banned from school. Vietnam was a place perpetually in the news. We were too young to understand much of what all the ruckus was about, and thus, never bought into any of it. We raised our families, trying largely to pass on ideas and values that seemed largely out of step with the rest of America. Some of us have successfully generated yet a third generation of conservative Christians.

The Quiet Generation

A number of analysts have called the Baby Boomers of the 1950’s, a leaderless generation of followers. I would not go that far. If we have a third generation of Christian conservatives in a hostile progressive world it is not without leadership. What it was, however, was quiet leadership, not by the vocal antics we witnessed of the generation ahead of us in the 60’s, but practical leadership by example.

Bullied Right Out of the Debate

If we have failed to grasp the leadership reins of the country then it is because we have allowed the most raucous among us, the most vocal, to have their say, loud and long. It’s not that we agreed with abortion — but other than defending our pro-life beliefs we were told it was “illegal” to impose our beliefs on others. While we believe in heterosexual marriage only between one man and one woman we were called intolerant and bigoted if we did not allow others the American freedom to make other choices. We held our own beliefs, struggled at times to relay them to our own loved ones, and struggle now to fit into an America we barely recognize.

Like the Turtle: We May Be Slow, But We Are Sure

If, in this present world, we are having any success in keeping our Christian values and expanding them into our extended family, it is only because we know our faith is real. Our God is real. And. As we exercise our obedience, so He extends His faithfulness. And therein lies the key to America’s future. As we reach and teach our families and friends, hearts are converted one person, then one family at a time.

One With God IS the Majority

We didn’t destroy communism in Vietnam; we couldn’t have nuked it out of Russia. However it collapsed on its own like a house of cards. No
matter how loud or chaotic the current stock of rebels are, their socialist causes without divinity behind it will fail as it always has. Love and charity coupled with family and responsibility has always overcome all chaos. It transformed a nation 200 years ago with God’s help. And if we continue to partner with Him, will do it again.

The Way Back

God told us how to get back; He told us how to get our nation back. It doesn’t involve politics or voting. And we don’t have to shout down others or force them (as they do) to conform. His instructions to His own are simple:

“If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.” 2 Chronicles 7:14

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1992 Charleston Distance Run Incident Leads to Incredible Miracle

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That is me at the end of the pink pointing arrow
That is me at the end of the pink pointing arrow

More Miracle Than I Can Count

I told you previously that preparing for the 1992 Charleston Distance Run brought about a miracle where God turned back the clock an hour and proved to me faithfulness is always rewarded. I also told you that I have personally witnessed more miracles than a man is entitled to in his lifetime. Well, that’s only half the story. In the tale I about to relate to you, you will see that I was immeasurably blessed. Perhaps no man, since Job, can say what I can in the past paragraph of this incredible story.

imageA Race to End Races

I wasn’t expecting a miracle that crisp September morning. Standing in my position in the marked section of Kanawwha Boulevard waiting for the start gun, I was mumbling a prayer under my breath. Miles away, on the East end of Charleston, four of my five children waited with my estranged spouse at the finish line. I had talked her into coming with us, my children too young to drive. I needed somebody to get my car and children to the finish line. It was a trade really. I had been going through a spiritual revival and my children who had all been living with me, had been attending church with me. My oldest daughter had gone to a Wednesday teen service with her mother at a much bigger church a couple of times. Her mother convinced me to take myself and the children there and I had. She was negotiating a deal for us to repeat the second Sunday there as a family. I consented, but she didn’t have to twist my arm. The kids had real appropriate age teachers that the small church we had attended did not have. We had been getting along better than ever in our short separation. It was a win-win and I couldn’t wait to see their smiling faces at the finish line. I did not know at the time that I would not.

An Uphill Battle

For those of you who have never run this race it goes down the Boulevard before turning up a side street then across the  bridge and up the mountain to Oakwood Road through Kanawha State Forest down across the bridge to downtown and eventually to the East end. Fortunately, the worst and hardest part of the race is that grueling uphill jog to Oakwood Road near its beginning. Once there, Oakwood levels off and meanders through Kanawha State Forest where the road is lined on both sides by trees and lovely stone walls and fences. I agree the mountain was indeed brutal but the breeze and shade of Oakwood Road was beginning to restore my strength. I passed one of the many ambulances parked along the way. I saw ahead of me the most comfortable spot on the side of the road and I ran up to it, leaned against the rock wall for a breath or two while I leaned over and supported my weight on my knees. It would be the last of the race I would remember.

This Might Have Been a Mistake

I left out an important part of the story. Since the practice run a week or two earlier that would provide such a big miracle in my life, I had gotten very ill. Flu really. It hit me on Monday just as I was going to work. I made it all day, despite the vomiting and diarrhea. It takes a lot to make me quit. It seriously curtailed my three-mile practice run that evening. It took me two days to come to the realization that vomiting would stop when I stopped eating and limited my water intake. I still made it to work, I still made my runs (no pun intended). But I needed more fluids that would not come back up. So, to my ice water only diet, I added lightly sweetened tea. By Thursday I was feeling better, but paranoid about taking in anything but tea and water. So I went to work Friday and before coming home, I stopped at the Civic Center and ate a free Spaghetti dinner provided for all registered distance runners. It was a ‘carb fill-up’ a tradition associated with the race. I kept it down. I needed it. It was the only thing I had consumed since the previous Sunday. My bad decision to go without fluids or sodium drinks, I would find out later, contributed to what happened to me at the race. I would later discover not only was I severely dehydrated but I was dangerously deficient of both salt and potassium, two essential elements in the human body.

The Helpless State of Oblivion

In the darkness I could hear them above me. People talking. I could make out some of it, “he’s coming around, wake up buddy.” And “he’s dehydrated.” I really did try to open my eyes, when I did a couple of times all I could see were flashes of light. “He’ll be alright in a moment. Maybe we should insert an IV and transport.” Another would argue, “Just give him a moment.” I could hear. But that was all. It was like I didn’t have control over my eyelids. I tried to talk and couldn’t. I couldn’t feel my arms or legs, was unsure I had fingers or toes but couldn’t move any of it. I was breathing but only for a moment as a horrible thing happened. They laid me on my back. I have always had a little sleep apnea, but now I was in real trouble. My tongue dropped back into the back of my throat with the weight of it, blocking my airway and I didn’t have the muscle control to push it up. The people above me talked and laughed and paid no attention to my silent screams: which in reality were just thoughts motivated by my panic. As it began to dawn on me that I might die, like everybody I began to plead with God. What would happen to my four minor children. I wasn’t even sure they were saved. Who would teach them. How about my wife. What about all those things I had always intended to finish, or start or get around too? Darkness engulfed me and I couldn’t hear any longer.

A Better Place Just Around the Corner

I had heard about NDE’s (Near Death Experiences) and had largely mocked them. And what I experienced may not track with what the media tracks as one of those. But I was suddenly overcome with an unearthly calmness. I was aware that I was surrounded by many, many others. They all seemed familiar, intimate. I felt like I knew them all, like family. I still couldn’t “see” anything but an occasional out-of-focus movement of light and shadow. Without a word spoken I was assured my children would be fine, they, and my wife would eventually join me, and life on earth would be fine without me. And that’s when the most unusual thing happened. An intense joy came over me. It is Impossible to describe in mere human words and in the intervening years since even impossible to fully remember. When I described it a day later to my wife I said, “Imagine you’re six and you wake up and in your foggy state you remember it is Christmas morning. Suddenly your heart bursts with intense joy and anticipation and you rush with joy down the stairs toward the room with the bright twinkling lights and you’re about to turn the corner into the best moment of your life. Recall that feeling. Now multiply it by ten.” I was on my way to the twinkling bight light when suddenly I could hear again. It was chaos. Noises, beeps, an ever present siren. “He’s back. He’s back. I got a heartbeat. We are a minute out.”

On Arriving Alive

I lost consciousness they say a second time after this. A nurse at the hospital said I was spitting at them as I couldn’t move anything but my neck, that I said, “it’s O.K. I can go. I can go.” One of the ambulance tech’s told them I was “having a religious experience. I’ve seen this a couple of times.” They didn’t leave me unattended in the ER, afraid I’d stop breathing again while they waited on a dozen test results. I don’t remember anything during that period.

Sorry to See You Leave

What I do remember is that while I still could not see, I was alive and barely conscious. And while I was no longer filled with that joyful anticipation, I was still not alone. Others, a hundred or a thousand pressed around me, their presence wonderfully assuring. Later, I would be terribly disappointed when I opened my eyes to only a few people in the room. For the first time in my life I was speechless. I was quiet, a little confused and introspective about what happened.

Lost My Shirt Not My Life

My wife came into the room, apparently they located her without my help. She was quiet too. Everything was so serious. Hours later they would release me after filling me with a cocktail of sodium and essential minerals missing from my body. I would be fully alert and conscious when I left the hospital. The logo shirt donated by my employer was returned to me in pieces. They had to cut it off of me to use a defibrillator. I felt grateful that they saved me from my stupidity. It would be the end of my running hobby. I moved on.

Fearless

In the years since, my memory of that NDE experience fades. I still remember the joyful anticipation but not with the intensity I once did. I still remember the feeling of the great crowd of company. I don’t know for sure if this applies, but I remember the Apostle Paul in the 13th chapter of Corrinthians saying, “For now we look through a glass darkly; but then, face to face. For now we know in part; but then we will know, even as we are known.” It doesn’t seem unreasonable to me that in Heaven everyone will know each other, like family, intimate and loving. Seems to me, that is exactly what Heaven should be. If that’s what Paul meant it is just speculation on my part. But what I did get that day, and has remained with me even into this very moment is this: I totally lost the fear of death. I can say, with Paul, “to be absent from the world is to be present with the Lord.” I KNOW what that FEELS like. Someday it will happen, can’t hardly wait, but till then like Paul I am sure I have unfinished business here.

NDE the Second Time Around

Everything I told you, while interesting, is NOT the miracle. The miracle began the next day. But before you see how it relates to all this, indulge me one minute more for something interesting. That event was my second brush with death. When I was a toddler, being the first in what would be six children I was the “practice child” for my mom and dad. Like all of us, they made mistakes. They let me get away with everything. I was so spoiled that I threw temper tantrums over everything. Somebody told my mother “let him cry, ignore him and it will stop.” Well, as a parent myself I know that toddlers adapt. As a toddler myself I did. I began holding my breath in mid tantrum when I saw it not working. I held my breath till I passed out. Again someone told my mom, “It’s not hurting him, let him pass out.” She did. Until one day after a lengthy tantrum I was silent longer than she was used too. When she found me I was blue and unconscious, she scooped me up and yelled at my dad. There is 9.7 miles between that Dunkirk, Ohio house and the Hardin Memorial Hospital in Kenton, Ohio. My dad did that distance in five minutes. The ER team went to work on me and fifteen minutes later declared me dead. Gary Lee Stuber died 1954. Doctor DeWar broke the terrible news to my parents.

Once More into the Battle

My tiny now blackened body was taken to the morgue. The nurse filled out a tag and tied it to my little foot. She covered my small frame with a blanket and was on her way out. Then she heard a sound. I cried. She had laid me on a metal slab in a cold room. My body reacted. She brought me up immediately to my mother in the doctor’s office where my mother had just been given a certificate of death. A collectors item indeed, except she tore it up joyfully in pieces.

The toddler who did everything he wanted
The toddler who did everything he wanted

Doctor DeWar told my mother, “When he throws a tantrum or holds his breath, jerk him up and turn his butt red. You break him of this.” My younger siblings never got the free ride I did for my first two years I did. The free ride ended for all of us.

Oh Yeah, About That Miracle

I came home that afternoon and sat in quiet contemplation of what had transpired. I knew the story of my NDE as a toddler but had no memories of being younger than five. This event was different. I was alive and filled with strange memories and emotions. I was quiet, but did relay some of what happened to my wife when I dropped her off at her trailer on my way home with the kids. As promised the next morning we all went to church as a family. The service was good, but had a more profound affect on my wife than on me. After the service, she pulled me aside, “I am having trouble forgiving myself.” It wasn’t long before we got the pastor involved in the conversation. “Are you saved?” He asked. She wasn’t sure. “Well, let’s go get sure.” Our two daughters listening to this, caught the Pastor’s attention. “Anyone else want to come to the alter and get saved?” My oldest daughter said, “Yes.” And was chimed immediately by my youngest daughter. I sat behind a few pews back as I watched the event. I wept. The assurance I had been given only a day earlier came true. I thanked God. But this miracle was not over. My wife and I ended our separation and attended this church becoming a real family again and members. A few months later, our two boys would join their sisters in salvation. We were all baptized a few months later. Our oldest son would join us a few years later.

Few Men Are Ever This Blessed

And the miracle continues. Our five children continued to attend church and each in turn would marry Christian spouses. They would give us over the next 22-years, twenty-two grandchildren and two great grandchildren. I watched my grandchildren grow up in church and each (except the very young, too young to know) have accepted Christ and been baptized. I am the only man I know who can say he has watched all his children and grandchildren (of a family this size) all be saved. All of them will join me in Heaven just as I was assured back on that September day in 1992. Hey! Who says I didn’t win my race? At least the one that counts. Like Job, I am a blessed man.

(Note to my Daughter-In-Law Brandy: Took me a while but I got around to writing this down as per your request)

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Clay County West Virginia Has at Least Two Famous Lost Gold Legends

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imageThere’s Gold in Them Thar’ Hills!

When I was twelve I wanted to be an archeologist so badly I read every lost treasure, lost civilization, and dinosaur book in the Hardin Northern School Library. And this was a time in the 60’s before Indiana Jones made archeology cool. Still I think treasure hunting is a big part of everyone’s dream things to do. So I was amazed to discover that the small and perhaps poorest of West Virginia’s counties has not one, but two lost gold stories.

Treasure of Summer’s Mountain

I have to thank my buddy Leo Gray for telling me this story. The old man is gone now, but in the late 1970’s he and I both worked for the WV-DOH. More often than not on opposite ends of the same road being worked on as flag men. He swore every word of this was true. And admitted he spent more time than most in the hunt for this treasure. He had easy access to it, as he was living at the time up White Pilgrim at Wallback. The story starts on Summer’s Mountain, largely visible from the Wallback exit of I-79. Next time, or every time, you head up to Morgantown for a blue and gold game and you get on the interstate at, or pass the Wallback exit, remember you are passing REAL gold. At least, according to Leo, you are.

A Mistrusting Midas

The mountain was named after the man who settled on it. According to Leo he came from England. An easy-to-anger and first to answer-with-a-fist kind of guy. He spent much of his time in England hiding out in the highlands as a wanted criminal. He immigrated to America the only way he could: “He had himself nailed into a hog crate with three or four other hogs. He came over with the livestock by schooner. His only food and water was what they slopped the hogs with.” Leo said, “He didn’t have a choice. He had to stay hid; he was a wanted criminal.” Once in America he wandered far into the interior to the remote wilds, far away from the prying eyes of men, claiming the mountain for his own. In fact in his dealings with men, he dealt only with REAL money, the silver and gold of early American currency. He accepted no paper money, nor copper or nickel coins. If it wasn’t silver or gold you went home without the purchase. Like Midas the only money he touched was gold. And he trusted banks like he trusted men. Fearing men’s hearts to be like his own, he did not dare keep it at the house where thieves could break in and steal it. Nope. He had a special hiding place on the mountain. Once or twice a month he would take his booty collected for the month and leave the house an hour before dark and head up the mountain. He came back after dark. When he died, the secret of its location went to the grave with him. He had a number of children. Why did they not know where his spot was? “He trusted his wife and kids like he trusted banks. None of them were ever allowed to go with him or know it’s location.” Leo insisted. That is not to say they didn’t search.

A Hundred Years or a Millennium

His children, grandchildren and even great grandchildren spent years digging up the mountain. Since then many others tried. The typical spots were checked: hollow trees, large rocks, creek banks, rock overhangs and more. Needless to say, the mountain today bears little resemblance to the mountain then. Trees from that time might actually be open areas, or creeks, dry or grass covered. The mountain has been searched by modern metal detectors. Perhaps the technology to recover this treasure has yet to be discovered many years from now.

Golden Fleece Or Fleeced?

Or maybe, you might say, the treasure is just a modern myth. The old man spent the money or gambled it away or somebody found it years ago and just never admitted it. That is possible. But in 1977, Leo Gray was thoroughly convinced the treasure was never found. On the conservative side, he believed there was four times the weight of a grown man in gold and silver coins buried over the course of sixty years. A find of that kind is impossible to hide from the world. People talk, especially when it might involve hundreds, maybe thousands of gold coins. Moreover, who could hide that kind of money in today’s market. Millions in bullion, perhaps billions in collectable value. I tend to agree. Someday, perhaps we will know. Probably not anytime soon.

imageThe South May Rise Again

The second gold story comes courtesy of Jerry Stover and his compiled oral history books, Hickory and Lady Slippers. This series, subtitled the Life and Legend of Clay County People is an oral history of Clay County documenting its history and genealogy of its residents. Complied by Jerry Stover and the Clay County Art Department. A special book in the series about ghosts, wives’ tales, superstitions and remedies, called Scared Stiff, I had the pleasure of illustrating back in 1977. I also did the pen and ink wash cover for the black and white publication. One of the stories I illustrated was a tale recounted by Henry Bird who says the tale was told to him by Jessie Sizemore about a lost Confederate payroll in gold coins.

The Treasure of Scott Legg Hollow

(The following is the story as it was printed in Scared Stiff and used by permission. This book and all of the others in the Hickory and Lady Slipper series can be ordered online. Go to: http://www.hiswv.com)

“A group of Confederate soldiers had encamped near the present site of Carnifax Ferry. After buying beefs from farmers of the community, they built fires and prepared the meat much in the manner of an open barbecue. Since it was late in the evening and no sign of the Yankees was apparent, security measures became lax. The jug was passed around and many of the men became more than partially intoxicated.

“Suddenly, firing broke out on the surprised camp. Due to the arms being stacked in rows during the rests, resistance was slow in forming. Darkness closed in, however, and stopped what was a riot. By morning the Rebels had regrouped and were planning a retreat. In the meantime the Yankees ate their meal. “Four-hundred men were scheduled to be sent to Clarksburg to reinforce the cause there, and Jessie Sizemore was chosen as a guide because he knew the territory of the march.

image“The men crossed the mountain into Twenty-Mile, crossed again into Big Sycamore, and then started down to the mouth of Big Sycamore. Pursuit was close upon them so they decided to stash the payroll they carried. Someone in Scott Legg Ridge said that the gold for two month’s pay for four hundred men was concealed by moving a large flat rock, digging a hole under the rock, and placing the rock in its original position. To anyone’s knowledge, this hoard of some $32,000 has never been found.

“This is the story exactly as it was related to me by Henry Bird. He said that Jesse Sizemore told him the story himself.” By Henry Bird

And the treasure stories continue

Jerry Stover told me only yesterday of an unpublished Clay County treasure story. “You have no idea what is buried out there,” he said. “There is gold and silver in the Clay County mountains. The Indians used to taunt the white settlers that, ‘if you knew what we know, you could shoe your horses with gold.’ He told me something I did not know. Between 1850 and 1920 the Savage Brothers mined silver at Strange Creek. He said they would send it by barge on the Elk River to Charleston. They would hide it as inserts in pig iron shells and stacked on the barge, hiding it to discourage piracy on their journey. One year, waiting on the Elk to rise, they sent the load down river at the same time as loggers sent trees down to the mill. The combination caused an accident and the barge sank into the Elk River “at Elkhurst near the rapids” (there are at least two there now, but who knows if there were others a hundred years ago). It was never recovered, still concealed in the rusted and perhaps crusted pig iron somewhere on the bottom of the Elk. Jerry did not know this till I told him, but my house and property at Elkhurst are on the site of the old sawmill. Great concrete blocks that once anchored great saws rise all over my property.

A Disclaimer, If Not an Outright Warning

Before you go out and buy a metal detector or take time off from work to go treasure hunting, remember this: more serious people than you have already attempted this treasure hunt. Leo spent a half a lifetime in his search. Your odds of finding any treasure are greater than winning the lottery. And your investment would be more than a $1 ticket. Let’s just leave these as the great entertaining stories they are, and leave the real work for the future adventure/investor who has more money and tech than they have sense. Perhaps a future version of Indiana Jones. Then, maybe, Clay County will have some real FOUND treasure stories to tell the world.

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The Need for a Good Christian RPG Adventure

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imageIn 2001 my youngest son, Christian, was away from home for almost a year. In his youth I had introduced him to the world of Dungeons and Dragons. A fan of every form of adventure gaming and a recent convert to Christianity he needed encouragement and I wanted a way to share time and something entertaining with him that would be more meaningful over the course of months he was away. I had been a dungeon master, a player, even a big play-by-mail gamer in the past, before the Internet and social media came along and that seemed the best way to go: a game, like days past, through the U.S. Mail at the leisure and pleasure of both me and my son. So I created a game, wrote a twenty-four page into, establishing the character, his powers and possessions. I sent it to him. Circumstances at the time, he had every intention of engaging,  but had to set it aside. Life changed, the game delayed, it now (prophetically, you’ll eventually see) collects dust in the dark. But here is the catch. It is not D&D. It is probably the first Christian game of its kind, set in the Dark Ages. I sent an introductory letter with the package and (for today anyway) this is the subject of today’s topic. It is a convincing argument for the need for a good Christian role-playing game. It was my way of introducing the adventure to my son, and what follows is that letter, verbatim:

The argument:

To My Son Christian:

You are about to embark on a great adventure. It’s not quite Dungeons and Dragons, nor is it Silverdawn. You may not need a map. Why not? Because you already know this world. You already live in it. Well, a millennium later, anyway.

You see this is the first millennium, sometime after 900 a.d. In England or Europe right in the middle of the Dark Ages. (We might pin down exactly where later).

But you see, I’ve wanted to do this too — for some time — embark on a great role-playing adventure. But as a Christian, having gone through a great revival in my life, I am bothered by the mixed messages sent by traditional D&D play. In them we pretend there are whole pantheons of gods who look down on mere mortals, or immortals, or monsters and rule their fate — sometimes with fickleness, sometimes with lust, sometimes with hate or sometimes with indifference. The D&D world is motivated by, and revolves around greed — that good old fashioned lust for power, or money, or sex. Sometimes for all of those things. And it is all accomplished with violence and theft, or the use of magic or arcane occult powers or pleadings.

You see, back in 1981 when I first started playing Silverdawn, I paid absolutely no heed to where it might lead. You see, if I hadn’t been using characters or a world of somebody else’s creating I could have compiled years of collected works as a novel and sold it. But it is best that I cannot. Since, I also gave no thought to the idea that someday my sons or daughters or grandchildren would eventually want to read it.

You see, some of it embarrasses me. Not the craft, or originality or the drama or story itself, but some of the content might make even a sailor blush. Filled with the lusty violence of all such material, it is also filled with a lot of sexual content — as a re-newed Christian I look back on that in shame. In fact, it serves as an object lesson that psalms and proverbs elucidates: the sins of the fathers can be passed down to the children — because the selfish and lustful acts of the father have lasting repercussions. Ask King David.

Whatever ingenuity, creativity, even perhaps Nebula or Saturn award-winning drama the story itself might have had at its base — the parts that shame me now — will always be a blemish on the completed work. What is truly missing in this genre is a role-playing game that can be aspired too. That’s when I created the first Christian role-playing game you hold in your hands.

Whatever misperceptions that might lead you to believe otherwise, it is not dull. As you will quickly see, it is filled with its share of drama, excitement and intensity. It is sometimes violent but never gratuitously. For you see, good drama, great stories are not dependent on foul language, or gore, or explicit sex, to be both inspiring and appealing to the masses.

In fact, if you look at the top ten movies of all time (four of which are done by Steven Spielberg) among them are E.T. The Extraterrestrial, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Indiana Jones, Back to the Future, Star Wars, The Wizard of Oz, Gone with the Wind (to name only a few): all of these movies still outrank (and are most beloved) among all movies and share much in common. No four-letter word is uttered in them; no gore or gratuitous violence permeates them; no nudity is part of their images. Yet, they stand as the most popular movies in the world. Why? Because the story — the drama touches us in its excellence. As plot and drama thin — other directors add cheap thrills just to maintain interest. Cheap thrills will never make a story beloved.

Besides that, who said Christian stories, whether fiction or non-fiction have to be dull? Can you find a dull moment in these stories: Joan of Arc, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, The Search for the Holy Grail, Saint George Slays a Dragon, Saint Patrick drives the snakes out of Ireland, and even Saint Nicholas delivers food and more to the poor on Christmas. How awesome would it be for a great Christian epic to have elements from all of these and more?

There are more reasons I prefer to do this and I will list them by priority below:

(1) There is never enough great Christian fiction. Larry Burkett created a novel called “Illuminatae” Christian fiction that is a best seller. Five fiction novels so far in the Left Behind series (the story of the rapture and tribulation) are all on the NY best seller list. There is a hunger for Christian fiction.

(2) If I am going to write fiction again I want it to count for something. I don’t want to waste my time and not just playing silly games. I am genuinely honoring my son and my God with my time.

(3) The story becomes an outlet for real Christian dialogue and the practice of scripture upon real world situations. It also becomes another reason to read and study God’s Word, since it is the only “scrolls” in our world.

(4) We are leaving a legacy for our children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. This game (or novel) could be something that we create for our own entertainment, and yet be something proud we can leave to our progeny.

(5) with God’s blessing it could someday bless the world as a novel, or movie or a popular Christian TV series.

(6) Because I love you. This becomes something we share. If you find it inspiring too — Your chapter begins where mine ends.

Your character (like Jacob) gets a name change in the middle of this introductory story. God did not abandon the world he created, this is true today, it was true in the Dark Ages. The young thief-turned priest discovers like Moses, like Samson, like Daniel, there is a lot of power through the divine intervention of God. (God teaches him a long lost secret, which endows him with a special power — which I will not say here but you will discover the secret as you read.) I think you’ll agree this secret will bring a D&D element to the story as we rival St. George, St. Patrick and more!

I am leaving this in your charge. If it proceeds it will be from your hands. Note I didn’t want to use Silverdawn so I titled our game Silverlining. I titled the story (or our first novel) after the character’s new name: “Sincere”

So my son, happy reading and happy adventuring.

Sincerely,
Your Loving Father
Gary Lee Stuber

(If there are those curious to read the short story intro that begins this game. I could be coaxed to text it all in from the original typewritten manuscript. But considering the labor, I’d really have to be sweet talked)

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Why Marriage Is ONLY for the Faithful Godly

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imageMarriage Made in Heaven

Civil unions. Utopia. Ideas that don’t really work. Well, maybe for a short while under the best of conditions, and the most extreme luck. Generally, they are doomed to failure. Marriage won’t last without faith. Like salvation, that faith is not of yourself: it is a gift of God. The book of Ephesians is where Paul says: all things “consist” because they are held together by Christ. Things without Christ, natural law of entropy tells us, will eventually break down and fall apart. Before I get a bunch of hate-mail or angry debate, let me validate my point.

The Path Least Taken

The easy path doesn’t exist. Marriage is messy business. I mean we make wedding vows that seem easy to keep. Everyone loves to “have and to hold” and we like to be “obeyed”. Harder still are vows to “love and honor and cherish, forsaking all others”. Sheer will power might keep that alive for years, even if in appearance only. But the love of Christ makes even those so much easier to accomplish, when real love and charity is involved. But the two things hardest on that list of vows are (1) “in sickness and in health”, and (2) “till death do us part”. These two things I contend cannot be accomplished without the power of commitment through Christ. And, sadly, some totally committed Christians don’t keep these, even though Christ repeatedly assures us, we can through him.

I Can Do Forever

We all like to think we can do forever in our own power. Meatloaf’s song, Paradise By The Dashboard Light, a song about eternal promises made in the heat of lust ends with this line: “Now I’m waiting for the end of time: so I can end my time with you.” I submit if you had to live in a loveless marriage for a lifetime, that lifetime would be short: without Christ in suicide or in homicide for one of you. That is why divorce exists: so you can part without dying or killing. Marriage by definition is till death. Divorce, which was never part of God’s definition of Marriage, validates my point that marriage cannot be accomplished as a civil union without faith. Christ gives you the power through His love, to bear all things, including the apparent lack of passion on anyone’s part. When you keep your eye on Him, it’s easier to focus on the needs of others and not the lack of your own. Colossians 3:19 says: “Husbands love your wives, and be not bitter against them.” It’s an interesting command (not a suggestion) from God. No matter where your marriage is at, good or bad, if you love and stay your own tongue and thoughts from bitterness, your marriage will improve. Your relationship also improves with Him. God says obedience is always better than sacrifice.

What About My Rights?

It’s always right to do right. If you insist you are right, or that your spouse is infringing on your “rights”, here is another commandment from Ephesians 5:25: “Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ loved the church, and gave himself for it.” Think about how that went. Did your wife spit on you? Beat you? Betray you? Lie to you or about you? Put nails through your hands? Well, even if she did, you are commanded to love her through it as Christ did, sacrificially, giving up everything, even his very life. How do your “rights” or being right stack up now?

Healthy, Wealthy and Wise

We generally marry in our youth. We are young, healthy, if not wealthy, we are full of potential. We have a full wonderful life ahead: homes, cars, careers, children, grandchildren. After all isn’t that a promise of God? Well, wisdom isn’t our strong suit in our youth. No such promise exists. That is why that one dreaded line in the marriage vow is easy to overlook. “In sickness.” (Man, I saw it there but I was thinking ‘flu’ or something). Time does not heal all wounds; neither does chicken soup, anti-oxidants, plastic surgery or Prozac. We don’t enter into marriage thinking about long-term illness or injuries; certainly not those that are till death. Many of us are ill-prepared for this, and again, never without faith. And sickness covers a lot of ground.

A Lot of Job

Remember Job? God let him lose everything: his property, his substance, his kids, his health, his future (some say his mind). He didn’t lose his life. Sometimes we can lose a spouse to grief, mental illness, cancer, loss of limbs, motor skills, hepatitis, aids and more. We watch helplessly as they suffer, even pushing us away. Like Job’s wife we want to say, “Curse God and die.” But death is not part of the plan. Sometimes, since life has changed for us, we selfishly ask, “why me.” But we know full well it is not us who is suffering the greater loss. We’re human, even if we never say it to her, if a wife loses her breasts to cancer we take it personally – those were mine. If she was raped and the trauma leaves her fearful, untrusting and unable to be intimate, we ignorantly say to ourselves, “get over it. Buck up. I have sexual needs.” If she has a mental illness like schizophrenia or manic depression and we watch behavior erratic and unpredictable take her places nobody should go, we get angry. Against whom? The person who can’t control it? Or perhaps the God we think who should? Or maybe the medicine that sometimes works, sometimes might not, and sometimes leaves her a zombie, or worse, intimately and sexually numb. We might be angry at the drunk driver who took her legs, but we might be angry at her too because she is no longer “complete.” God forbid a spouse should actually be the intentional cause of their own ailment: an accident caused while they were texting; an addiction caused by their drug or alcohol use. We will never let them forget our loss is THEIR fault.

Not all ailments are forever. A lengthy hospital stay and a long convalescence at home and things go back to normal. But schizophrenia is forever. PTSD is manageable most of the time but when it rears an ugly head is near unbearable and dangerous to both parties. A life-long illness does indeed change life. And it can change a relationship. But when God is the glue, there is still grace, gratitude and goodness in your marriage.

Life as a Zombie

Sadly, I think the greatest cause of divorce in this nation starts with the inability to cope with sickness in a marriage. Rights, needs, abilities, all become insurmountable issues. Whether because of inability or feelings of guilt, one spouse or the other ‘releases’ the other from the promised commitment to God. (As if either had that right or power). Like the undead, the injured often then, live in a perpetual state of limbo: too sick for life and love; too healthy for eternal rest and peace. The healthy party often remarries as if they were widowed. Christians too, are counted among these heart-breakers. This too, was never God’s plan. What if you had been the one injured? Would you still be happy with the outcome? Could you live life like a leper while your spouse goes out to find someone new to meet her needs?

To Everything There Is a Season

“Wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness through manifold temptations: That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honor and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ.” 1 Peter 1:6-7. I used to ask, what does he mean, “if need be”? Why do I need to go through heaviness and temptations? Why do I need trial by fire? Sometimes we don’t know those reasons. Remember Job? God never told Job that he was teaching a great lesson to all his angels (especially Lucifer) by the testing of Job. And Job proved himself faithful and thus he ended up at the end of his life with more than he ever lost: property, stock, children, wealth, health, respect, reputation and a reserved spot in Heaven. Perhaps his greatest honor was that his story would fill a whole book in God’s greatest work: the bible, where it is promised to stand forever, long after Earth is gone. I no longer ask why. I just weather the seasons. Though “now for a season.” How long is a season? Well for some, seasons are short, and perhaps mild. For others, seasons are many months, even many years. For a few they seem a lifetime. But like the Apostle Paul, all true followers of Christ can echo that “I am content in what ever state I find myself.”

Making the Bed and Laying in It

Life, they say, is no bed of roses. But then it is not a bed of thorns either. Those who have Christ and the experience of weathering many seasons of trials and tests can smile with genuine joy and gratitude that marriage even in long-time sickness is well-worth the effort for all parties and reaps benefits few others could know. Ask Job.

So now I am back to my original statement. Marriage is for the godly faithful. Marriage is not for the faint-of-heart, the fair-weathered soul and certainly not for “same sex” couples (God certainly cannot bless that which He calls an “abomination” by the disobedient). The godly faithful are the only ones capable of fulfilling the life-long commitment no matter what the state of circumstances. And why not? Marriage is God’s picture of His relationship to us: a relationship he is capable of keeping regardless of our failures to him. Remember Colossians 3:19? He is the perfect husband who is never bitter to his bride.

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The New Wolverine Role Could be the Ultimate Marvel Cinematic Movie Prize

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The Beginning of the End?

imageHugh Jackman has played Marvel’s Wolverine for eighteen years  since Logan came out in 2017. He appeared briefly in X-Men: Apocalypse in a story set in the early 70’s before he got his admantium skeleton or was officially part of the team. “Logan” was his last contracted movie with Fox Studios.

Old Men and Retirement

imageLogan was to be based on “Old Man Logan” which is in the future in a post-apocalyptic world (not created by Apocalypse, by the way) where superheroes are outlawed and super villains have divided up the country. At the end of the 6-part story Old Man Logan is coaxed out of retirement as a hero and picks up the Wolverine mantle again. To many other Marvel characters not licensed by Fox made this story impossible. That was Jackman’s last appearance as Wolverine. He says he is ready to move on.

Is he? Wolverine was his first Hollywood role and has been good for him. If he’s ready for “something else” what do you call the nearly two other movies per year since that he has been doing? He’s done everything from sci-fi, to drama, to romance, to Broadway musical turned movie. What “something else” is there to do in Hollywood? Direct? Produce? Retire? Maybe, like Logan, he will have a change of heart  Or . . .

A Bigger Plan

I think Hugh Jackman, and it is my hope that this is part of a plan to get something bigger, is a smarter man who has no intention of giving up his first truly great role. He expressed interest a few years ago about Wolverine taking on Iron Man. And for years in Hollywood this was impossible. Marvel Studios owned rights to Iron Man and the Avengers. 20th Century Fox Studios owned the right to Wolverine and the X-Men and NEVER the twain shall meet. Fox would never consent to giving up an ounce of its blockbuster making superhero, not even for a cameo in the Marvel films.

A Bigger Prize

imageSo, hell froze over. A shrewd Disney negotiator made an agreement with Fox and the world changed. Something once thought impossible, is now only years from materializing: X-Men and Avengers sharing the screen. A win-win for the studios, a win-win for fans, a win-win for Jackman who could indeed reprise that role. For OMG the unthinkable: the Canadian wilderness battle of the century against Wendego and the Incredible Hulk! A very shrewd negotiator could get this dream done.

All Is Not Lost

But let’s say, just for argument sake, it’s not the beginning of the world’s greatest bluff but that Jackman really does want to retire. Is Wolverine done too? Why? I know the PERFECT actor to take on the role of the berzerker Canadian.

Jackman
Jackman

Continue reading The New Wolverine Role Could be the Ultimate Marvel Cinematic Movie Prize

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Gary's Incites

Allow Me: Vets React Better to Respect than Assistance

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imageA couple of years ago I stopped at the local high school in Clay County, West Virginia, on the way home from church to indulge in a free dinner offered to veterans by the local Boy Scout troops for Veterans Day. Roast beef. It was great. The scouts did a great job serving, cleaning and each with poise and manners. I had been a scout in my youth and I still remember my oath, “To do my best, to do my duty to God and my country.” They did a great job and were ready and willing to assist. In fact, I could have used their help. I was carrying one of those old type wide cafeteria trays full of food and could have used a hand I was using for my cane. A polite young scout approached me and asked, “Can I help you carry that?” My answer was quick and decisive. “No.” I insisted, “I don’t need any help.” Later, while I was eating it occurred to me that I really could have used a hand. Instead I let my pride keep me and the young man from a mutual blessing muttering a “no,” before I even thought about it.

I began to wonder what it was that made my initial response so reactive. I watched other older veterans wave off help as well. I began to realize that was it. Help. If he hadn’t said “help.” Like I was some “helpless” old man who actually needed help. Well, maybe I actually was. But. That word ‘help’ that was what did it. I began to wonder what it was that the young man could have said to me to make me comply. Yes, maybe I am a hobbled old man. But I don’t want to be seen or treated that way. I want to be seen as, well, as an elder. As a “sir.” That’s it. Respect. That was what I was really looking for. His question of ‘help’ felt more like pity than respect.

I hopped up and found the Scout Master and I immediately related everything that occurred to me. I finished with this: “These men fought and stood when others would not. Most of us still imagine that we can still do everything we need too. We reject helplessness. So, if you really want to assist these men carrying their trays do it this way: say, ‘Sir. I would be honored sir, if you would allow me to carry your tray to your table. Sir?’ I think you’ll get more takers.” He thanked me. He related some of what I said to those scouts that weren’t in earshot. I sat down and finished eating as I watched more and more veterans ‘allowed’ scouts to carry trays. I think everyone got more respect that day.

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Marvel’s Sub-Mariner Under the Sea Movie Adventure? Don’t Hold Your Breath!

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1968

Alpha and Omega: First and Last

Is Marvel crazy? Have they overlooked one of their oldest, most popular characters among all those they have introduced into the MCU movie universe? Where is Namor also known as Sub-Mariner? Technically, Namor might be the FIRST Marvel Comics hero. In his appearance in Marvel Comics #1 in 1939, the comic that ushered in the Marvel Universe, the Bill Everett story and art was actually a reprint from Motion Pictures Funnies Weekly. It was a black and white newsprint throw away comic given free with the admission to the movie theater. This original predates Marvel Comics #1 by six months. Yet, Namor has moved to the back of the line. The LAST story to be told. IF his story EVER gets told.

April 1939
April 1939
Nov. 1939
Nov. 1939

Misunderstood Rebel WITH a Causel

Namor’s story, these days might actually appeal to liberals. He was a half-breed, shunned initially by both races, the son of a deep ocean native warrior princess, who had to fight his way to the throne. There he fought climate, pollution, ocean animal killers, modern weapons of war and his every heroic deed was mischaracterized as evil. So what’s the hold up getting him to the big screen? Corporate greed? Capitolism? Conservative’s agenda. Something more dramatic. He’s owned by two different Hollywood Studios. As one of the characters “shopped out” during Marvel’s bankruptcy 1999 B.D. (Before Disney) Marvel sold the movie rights of X-Men to Fox, the Fantastic Four to Columbia/Sony, and Hulk and Namor to Universal. Now Namor the half-bred human and Atlantean Merman is truly got half his body at Universal Studios and half at Marvel Studios. Just enough rights are owned by both to keep Namor off the screen for many more years.

Namor took on the Axis powers on the sea, sometimes all by himself.
Namor took on the Axis powers on the sea, sometimes all by himself.
Namor returns to the comics after an 18 year hiatus, this time as a villain.
Namor returns to the comics after an 18 year hiatus, this time as a villain.

Hero to Villain: There and Back Again

Sub-Mariner (pronounced “sub-MAH-rain-er”) has had a roller-coaster career of good guy, bad guy, good guy again. After all what do you expect from a social outcast? The love child between a human sea captain and the beautiful (and blue) royal warrior princess mermaid people who are the remnant of the lost city of Atlantis. Namor gets his Caucasian color and handsome rugged features from his human father and his pointy ears, gills and winged ankles (they look like wings but are actually webbed flippers propelling him faster in the water) from his mother, Fen. Raised by her in the depths of the ocean in the kingdom of Atlantis, he was groomed for the throne, but literally lost it. Being raised in the great depths of the ocean under such water pressure gives him great super strength when standing on the surface, where he can breathe air, due to his dual biological nature. During World War Two, Namor watched surface men attack one another sinking great ships, airplanes and submarines (different pronunciation) into his ocean home, including bombs, radioactive material, garbage and various human pollutants. Kind of ticks a guy off. Fortunately, he teamed his wrath against the axis powers aiding Captain America, Whizzer, The Android Human Torch and others to battle the Germans and Japanese with the All-Winners Squad. That alliance ended with the war. By 1954 all of Marvel’s superhero comics had faded into oblivion. Marvel’s first hero was also the first to lose his own title. Then, in 1962 in the beginning of what was later to be known as the Silver Age of Comics, Namor was the first of the WWII heroes to be revived. Marvel and DC comics were in the beginning of a great revival of superheroes. DC had a bit of luck bringing back the Golden Age Flash, so Marvel was eager to see how fans would react to their old heroes. Marvel had introduced their first title in November 1961: The Fantastic Four. It was a hit. So in the fourth issue of that series in early 1962 Namor re-emerged, and this time as an opponent.

Golden Hero; Silver Age Villain

imageTo explain away 18 years of Namor’s dormant activity the Stan Lee and Jack Kirby story made him a transient living in men’s shelters in New York, living on the streets. He had grown a full mane of dark hair covering his pointy ears, and a long beard and mustache. He had no memory of who he was. That is until a meddling Human Tourch thought he recognized him from a stack of old comic books he was reading. Johnny Storm burned off Namor’s beard and hair exposing him for who he was. A defensive battle began and being close to the docks they ended up in the water where Namor’s gill’s drew in sea water and his mind cleared. Namor’s first act was to search for his kingdom. Finding it destroyed and his people missing, he declared war on all surface dwellers. Soon, Namor was in a full on battle with all four of the FF. they drove him back into the ocean. Not before Namor was smitten with the beauty of the invisible girl, Sue Storm.

Reed and Sue would argue a number of times over her crush on the handsome Atlantean.
Reed and Sue would argue a number of times over her crush on the handsome Atlantean.

imageA half dozen times over the course of the next thirty issues and their first double-size annual, Namor would battle the Fantastic Four as a villain. Sometimes teaming up with their arch enemy Doctor Doom. He teamed with Hulk against the Avengers in Avengers #3, and in the very next issue, brooding over the defeat he encounters some native Eskimos worshiping a figure frozen in ice. Cursing the ignorant surface dwellers for worshiping idols, he throws the block into the North Atlantic where it drifts down to New York where the Avengers thaw out the second WWII hero, Captain America. He even was approached by Magneto recruiting mutants for his brotherhood in X-Men #6 where Charles Xavier proved he was a hybrid rather than a mutant and thus had no skin in the game.  Namor would be a villain in the Marvel Universe until 1965 when he would be redeemed.

Prince Once More

imageIn 1965 after a long run of Ant-Man turned Giantman in Marvel’s Tales to Astonish, Marvel retired Hank Pym from his own series, kicking him back to the pages of Avengers where he would remain a regular. In his place, Marvel gave Namor his own series, sharing half the book with the Incredible Hulk beginning with Tales to Astonish #70. There they would remain until 1968 when Marvel broke the book into its own independent comics and the Submariner after 23 years would have his own title again. (That is why two #1 issues exist. One in the Golden Age and one in the Silver.) during this tumultuous time Namor for at least a third time had to defend his throne from the evil (and bigoted Krang and/or Attuma) and rescue his blue beauty Lady Dorma from their clutches. No longer a villain nor disrespected, the Prince of Atlantis took his rightful place on the throne, protecting his own from all villains, circumstances and would be enemies of the ocean (Polluters, whale killers and bad guys beware).

Lost with Atlantis

Now perhaps, you can see why Namor appears to be lost in limbo. Sony currently holds rights to the Fantastic Four so his Silver Age roots are out of the mix. Marvel owns Captain America and have left the All-Winners Squad out of its history so his days as a WWII hero are out, as well as his “thawing” of Cap in the modern age. Continue reading Marvel’s Sub-Mariner Under the Sea Movie Adventure? Don’t Hold Your Breath!

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