For many years my little Poppa was the minister of a very small German Congregational Church in Seattle, Washington. When I was in high school my game of choice was tennis. I would spend all decent afternoons and weekends on the tennis courts. During the summers I'd spend all day every day. The year that I graduated from high school, I needed a new tennis racket. I don't remember how it came about that my dad propositioned me about becoming a minister. He would buy me my new racket if I would agree to go to Yankton college in South Dakota and study to become a minister. I really needed that racket, so I agreed. Pop bought me my new racket and then happily registered me for fall's term at school. It was his fondest wish that one of his sons would become a minister. Since both of my brothers were considerably older, I was his last hope.

By the end of summer I had decided that the ministry was not for me. My philosophy is that all that is needed is for everyone to follow the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule. These would make a perfect guide for living.

As a minister it would not be profitable to preach to come to church on Christmas and Easter to see if the church was still there. I was surprised at how well dad took my welshing on our agreement. He undoubtedly realized that anyone who would sell his soul for a tennis racket wouldn't be good preacher material anyway.