Why Scouting matters . . .

I arrived at work one day and found a plain envelope on my desk - with only my name on it. Wondering what might be inside I gingerly opened the letter.

To my surprise it contained copies of a letter that obviously belonged to some one else from a time ago.  The "letter" all nicely handwritten and so forth contained some stats on Scouting and why it matters.  As most people at my work know that I am still involved in scouting they obviously thought I would need - or appreciate said letter.

See below (the text and an image of the original)


Take 100 boys

In your minds eye, take a look at any 100 boys who have recently joined Scouting.
Line them up in your imagination, of that 100 boys.
Only rarely, will one ever appear before a juvenile court.
Twelve of the 100 will receive their first church contact through Scouting.
Five of the 100 will receive church onwards and one will enter the clergy.
Eighteen will develop hobbies that will give them lifelong interest.
Eight will find their future vocation through badge working and Scouting contacts.
One will use Scouting skills to save another persons life, and one will credit it with saving his own life.
Four of the 100 will reach senior rank.
Seventeen will become future Scout Leaders and will give leadership to additional thousands of boys.
You may wish to consider the above mentioned points when you next meet your eager young people. It seems to make the scouting job very much worthwhile.

-------------------------------------

The interesting part is the first and second reference (court and church)
Further - it is boys only - no girls, so obviously written a long time ago.

I am wondering if there exists a "modern" set of Scouting statistics and if we can post them here.  Should you know or have some - please do let me know!   Also wonder if anyone famous in NZ past or present was involved?   I am pretty sure Sir Edmund Hillary was a former Scout.

Cheers

have fun










PS - found this from the USA

1. 181 NASA astronauts were involved in Scouting (57.4% of astronauts). 39 are Eagle Scouts.

2. 36.4 % of the United States Military Academy (West Point) cadets were involved in Scouting as youth. 16.3 % of cadets are Eagle Scouts.

3. 22.5 %  of United States Air Force Academy cadets were involved in Scouting as youth. 11.9 % of cadets are Eagle Scouts.

4. 25 % of United States Naval Academy (Annapolis) midshipmen were involved in Scouting as youth. 11 % of midshipmen are Eagle Scouts.

5. 189 members of the 113th Congress participated in Scouting as a youth and/or adult leader. 27 are Eagle Scouts.

6. 18 current U.S. governors participated in Scouting as a youth and/or adult volunteer. Four are Eagle Scouts.

a n d

Boy Scouts in High School Statistics
Total percentage of senior class presidents that were boy scouts	89%
Total percentage of junior class presidents that were scouts	80%
Total percentage of Student Council Presidents that were scouts	85%
Total percentage of football captains that were scouts	71%
Total percentage of basketball captains that were scouts	64%
Total percentage of school newspaper editors that were scouts	88%
Accomplishment	Percentage
Total percentage of Rhodes Scholars	72%
Total percentage of FBI agents	85%

Annual Christmas Epistle - Decemer 2014

 

When is a highlight not a highlight?

So it is my turn yet again to be creative with words and stuff. It certainly has been an interesting year! First up – Reinhold had fun packing a friends van – to the rafters. We had a practice run a few days before Christmas, then celebrated the holy day here. Roger and Julie came for dinner and while the ladies cooked and chatted the boys packed. It was literally packed to the rafters. That included 6 laptops and several desktop computers and LCD screens. Yes, yours truly was responsible for setting up and running an Internet cafe during the Jamboree. So with the van packed we left the next morning bright and early and drove to Picton to catch a boat to get to the North Island. We bunked down at a friends place in
Wellington and then had a ball at the Scout Jamboree held in Feilding. 10 days later we were exhausted and had to drive back to Christchurch – we got back just after midnight having been another 12 plus hours on the road. While driving up to Feilding we tallyed up the miles we would have done together and got way past 10 000 km of sharing the road in Roger's van. My boy just dryly asked if after all this time together in a van – did we still have stuff left to discuss / say to each other?!?! You bet we did!! You may be pleased to hear that this years jamboree was mostly a dry affair – not like the last one we had there in 2005 where we had major floods to contend with.

We just caught our breath from that and then the highlight of the year hit us – yes my cousin
Doris and her lovely hubby AND a good friend of ours came for a short holiday. We took  them on a long tiki tour through the bottom half of the South Island. Naturally it has been a busy time with seeing lots of places, exhausting, exhilarating as well. We ended up, between the four of us, taking over 6000 pictures. Which to print – which to leave out???? Hokitika / Lake Tekapo / Queenstown / Te Anau / Invercargill / Catlins / Dunedin and back to Christchurch – a total of 3000km plus. We had a great time and missed them after they left for Austria again, yet we have lots of happy memories.

We sent Grandad out to a senior cooking class where they were supposed to learn about cooking for yourself a single meal. On his second time out he had a fall and we took him to the gentle people in white – or do they now wear blue uniforms?? Anyhow – they poked him – prodded him and hooked up various cables at various body parts – and long story short – at his right young age of 80 years they fitted him with a pacemaker. Supposedly he now can step out in rhythm!!

After that little episode both Reinhold and Pam had a thrill of a semi life-time – we flew up to Auckland and saw Michael (not our boy) Buble in concert!! He's such a major Babe (and as a man I am confident enough in my own being that I can say that like that)!! We had fun bobbing and rocking to his tunes! The concert by the end almost ended up like a massive Kareoke session!! Songs well known and loved – 20000 people singing in tune – awesome!! Sadly it soon came to an end and we had to go and find our place of bedding – and catch up with a dear friend!! I took us longer to get out of the car park building than to drive across Auckland City!! Actually we hit the famous Auckland traffic congestion from the Airport to the Concert venue – a trip that should have taken no more then 30 minutes at best took actually almost 80 minutes. At times walking would have been quicker.

June rolled round and the mad boy that I am – I took a group of scouts again across to the
Westcoast for the annual camp over there. We visited Steve again and carved our own Pounamu (NZ Jade). Roger and myself again acted as mules - carting all the gear in his van. It was a relaxing camp as one of the leaders took on the role of running said camp and I was just there in case things went pear-shape!! Chris did a fantastic job and he will take his group across again next year – without me – so that will be a weird feeling. I have however been conned in taking another group across – so will still be involved with Scouts then.

Arguably another highlight – every parent dreams of THAT moment – when the kids leave the nest happend. After looking for ages – Michael and 2 lady friends he gets along very well with managed to find a 4 bedroom place in town for rent and so he moved out from our home around beginning of August. Yesss!! His 'new' place is older then ours and had some earthquake damage (which has been fixed) and he is a happy chappy. One of the girls he flats with had since then had a boy of her own – so he is getting a front row lesson in early baby birthing/caring/etc!! Michael is coming every Saturday Night (bang on 5.30pm) for tea and a catch up with his family – so we tend to hear his news then!

The next (and some say – THE most important highlight) was celebrating Pam's birthday in
August, so we decided to treat ourselves and booked a few nights at our favourite South Island spot – Lake Tekapo. Part of the treat was actually being in a hotel – so no cooking was involved – even breakfast was served and of course no doing dishes – after all what would be a 51 st celebration if you have to do your own dishes!!!. Wohoo!! My waist line certainly took happily on the extra nice food on offer!! It was great to be there in the middle of winter and yours truly this time REMEMBERED to bring with him a tripod – so had two nights down by the lake frontage where the Church of the Good Shepherd is and took some night shots –
until the battery got to cold and gave up!! Regular readers of www.oldbearnews.blogspot.co.nz/ will have seen some of the night photos I took. We also had day trips – to Lake Pukaki and saw the famous Mt. Cook – where – yes – we did the traditional thing with wine and salut!! We also bought some salmon from the local Aoraki Salmon farm!! yummmm!! Lunch up at the Mt. John Observatory with sparkling clear views of Lake Tekapo!! Too soon it was time to come home again and do the mundane everyday
thing – called work!! Just as well – we need the extra cash in order to repeat these special holidays!!

Reinhold (being a good scout that he is) had the opportunity and work during the general
election for New Zealand's parliament. He ended up stationed at his place of work – issuing votes to the public – then after close of time count all the votes. The team of 6 there had one healthy person on the night and the rest at various stages of illness – so extra counters were brought in and – so the story goes –we posted the second fastest result for the night. wohooo

The next highlight – yes another child left the nest. As I type Jonathan is on his way to Canada on a years adventure. The first 5 or 6 months he is stationed in the middle of absolutely nowhere and is “employed” as a ski lift operator! After that he hopes to be able to travel around or maybe find some more work in Vancouver. He may also choose to go over to Europe for some time – so keep your eyes peeled!! Walking home from work today – I realised that I have moved from being a 'home-dad' for 25.7 years to being – just – a DAD. We wish him well and know he will have a blast!! We did put on him one condition – given the family history – that he had to give us 4 weeks notice if he intends to marry a Canadian girl (so that we can book ourselves in for his wedding – in Canada). Turns out the girls over
there adore the kiwi boys – so he is having a good chance . . . . . Michael dryly commented that he now has to ring us before he is coming round, given that the two of us are now home alone he never knows WHAT we might get up to. Ahhh his mental images – need straightning out! :D

Highlighting Christmas this year and yours truly will be away again with scouts for 7 days ( I will be running a Photography base) and then we have booked a camper van in Australia early March. This IS a treat, as we celebrate 30 years of marriage in February – so we will fly into Brisbane and have 10 days to find Sydney. Mamabear plans to spend a whole day on a Gold-Coast beach doing nothing but having her feet in the sand/surf - while reading her e-book!! ^^ We might make a detour to the Hunter Valley famous for its wino-fino and plan to catch up with a couple of people we got to know via Scouting. This is not only a treat but also a test, to see if we can survive 10 days in such an enclosed space. Ultimatley we plan to buy a large caravan and do one years worth of travel around NZ = but that highlight will have to wait until we can afford to retire.

Well – I am working on another highlight – of finishing this letter and get it printed. Should really add photos . . . . hmmmmm WHICH ones to pick????? When is a highlight not a highlight?? When you have too many and we sure had a few this year!

Merry Christmas and a decent 'rutsch' into 2015

Mamabear & Papabear

Shocking news: Santa Claus’s true location revealed

This intrepid reporter from time to time does strike gold.  Last year I was particularly lucky to see Santa on his trial run (Santa Claus been spotted chilling out.html)

I truly believed this to be the “once in a life time” lucky story to report.

Alas – lighting does strike twice.  I was after a story of the hard working Elfs. No, not the famous ones who featuring heavily in a recent released series of Lord of the Ring films – rather their smaller and lesser known and very rarely seen cousins.  Generally they are very small, have a pointy ear (which reminds me that I must ask them if they have relatives on a certain Vulcan planet next time I meet one) and oddly enough seem to be happy in green outfits. Green – go figure!!

In any case – after months and months of undercover work and following a careful laid out and often disguised trail – I managed to get in contact with one Elf. Eric House (name changed to protect his identity) had a story to tell, but he was a shrewd customer.  He told me that he worked for the ‘Elf and Safety’ department which had, so he said, a very deep dark black ops department – totally of the books. A department that reports to no one in particular and is totally free of restraints although I am sure Santa Claus at least has some oversight. This Elf and Safety department warrants further investigation, as it requires no paper trail or indeed any forms to be filled out for any of its activities. Approval is tacitly always given. Its primary mission is to lay false trails, mainly for us “humans”.

It seemed to work too for the last few hundred years with the location of Santa’s workshop generally presumed to be on the North Pole. The Norwegians first fell for the myth and from there it took off for the rest of the world. The myth spread by the Elfs went as follows:  The Vikings had this God Odin who was the precursor to the modern Santa Claus. According to myth, Odin rode his flying horse, Sleipnir (a precursor to Santa’s reindeer), who had eight legs. In the winter, Odin gave out both gifts and punishments, and children would fill their boots or stockings with treats for Sleipnir.  Naturally he had to live further North then the good folk of Scandinavia – in a forsaken and generally very cold place – in order so that he could not be found and make totally un-disturbed his toys etc.  Thus the legend of Santa Claus working and living on the North Pole was born. Any self-respective logical modern person of course would know that this could not be true.  For a start the “North pole” is on a floating ice shelf so any attempt to go underground in order to hide the business of toy making would be – well, met with a watery grave. It has also been known that from time to time the Ice shelf melts away!

Naturally I wanted to know more – specifically to confirm a theory which I had formed years earlier but could never be proven. The price for this information was several cups of Eggnog (apparently forbidden liquid nectar in the Claus household).   So Mr House, the Elf slowly divulged some secrets – and as more eggnog was offered and consumed more and more secrets came out.  The primary secret is that Santa Claus does not live on the famous North Pole, rather – wait for it, somewhere in Antarctica!!  This makes sense and confirms the aforementioned theory.   Antarctica is a continent almost twice the size of

Australia and we know how large and mostly empty that is.  Add in the lack of people, and it is very easy to get lost there, or in Santa’s case to hide a workshop/living quarters.  Now some of you will say – “but yeah we know he is not on the South Pole – given that we have a permanent team of scientists stationed down there”, and you know – you would be right. But why should he be on the South Pole given he has millions and millions and millions of Acers of space to use where no human is likely to set foot on?

So apart for the added security and anonymity, why is his workshop located in Antarctica?  It has EVERYTHING to do with international date lines. Consider that the first landmass to see the new sunrise is New Zealand and consider that the delivery of all presents are accomplished on 25^th Dec it makes sense to fly his sleigh along the accepted air routes and along with the rising sun. Travelling in the opposite direction eg from Europe via Middle east then to the Pacific States would be counterproductive.  Living here in New Zealand we certainly appreciate being the first in line.  Who could forget the Fireworks displays on the turn of the millennium? I forgot how many tyimes we counted down to midnight. The only down side is that of course the Americas are the last on the delivery list – especially the South American countries.  However after a very long night of visiting every house, the by now I am sure tiered Reindeers, have just a tiny wee jump across the Southern Ocean and then can disappear back into Santa’s workshop somewhere in Antarctica. 

So Mr House – the elf - having spilled the secrets courtesy of some eggnogs, then made me swear an Elf oath on my life, that the only thing I could tell was the general gist of his story.  If Santa Claus ever found out which of his elf’s told this particular story he would be permanently banned into the gift dispatch division, which after a long life in the mysterious Elf & Safety black ops division is more like being in excile . 

Then again – I can’t help wondering if this was just another brilliantly conceived dark ops plan in order to confuse the real location of Santa’s workshop. Who knows??? And more importantly does it really matter?? Probably not.  The fact that there are more and more radar stations placed around the southern Hemisphere are pure coincidence and are there (I am assured by the local air force) to track weather phenomena.   

In any case – fingers crossed I was a good lad and Mr Santa Claus will stop by my place – a flying visit so to speak.  As for Mr House, the little green Elf – I never saw him again. . . . . .

 Have fun

 

Baby Jesus's first miracle performed

When a new king is born it is usually a time to celebrate.
Time to be happy.
Many go out of their way to celebrate and pay homage to the new born King. The story holds that 3 (at least - or more) wise men came to Bethlehem and paid their respects, thus creating what would be arguably the first baby shower party ever being held. Gold is of course a valuable commodity and sure would come in handy at times, but what baby Jesus made of Frankincense and Myrrh is anyone’s guess. It is not like you can bath with it or even eat, although it would disguise the aroma from the Stable. His heavenly powers were yet to be tested and the transformation of substances (the Frankincense and Myrrh) into something more practical and useful would have to come much later.
Such was the fame of the new born baby that the incumbent King became rather worried that he would be called upon to relinquish his grip of power and he decreed in his wisdom to kill all 2 year old boys (or younger) from the town of Bethlehem, thus solving his problem. He of course should have known better.

In a dream, and this is most naturally of course for how else is a Angel of minor importance to tell the parents of Jesus that they need to go and pack rather in a hurry and  preferably right now and leave their cosy little stable in the town of Bethlehem and also leave all their family members and home comforts they have enjoyed so far. This hurried departure of course raised a logistical question of what to take and what to leave behind as one person could only carry so much. Joseph did look at the ox in the stable and considered the use of the neighbours wagon so that the ox could pull Mary and the child along with the nappies and other assorted eating utensils one would need to feed both themselves and the baby along with the gifts from the wise men. Alas given that the beast was in what many would consider his retirement and urgency was the order of the day, he quickly dropped this idea and settled on the little donkey standing in the corner.
The donkey of course was only by accident in the stable. When the angels came down from heaven and cleaned out the stable and made it ready for the birth of Jesus, various animals such as the goat and a couple of roosters got removed from the stable so as to create a quiet and peaceful haven for the new born king.  There was to be nothing that could disturb the new born baby’s sleep. The donkey was allowed to stay simply because no one in the long history of their memories could ever remember hearing the donkey saying anything. Not a word, ever. It was not that the little donkey had nothing to say for it self. Far from it. It wanted to tell everyone that he was rather unhappy in his life. How else could he tell his keeper that the straw for eating was 10 days old and that a rather pesky flea just seemed to keep coming back and irritatingly made quarters right behind his ears where he could not scratch himself. His biggest gripe however seemed to be that no one would ever pay him any attention - least of all the other donkeys from the neighbour hood.  The donkey had a long time ago decided that to be mute was certainly not much fun, but nothing much he could do about that.  Joseph in his wisdom thought that this of course would be of immense benefit to him and aid in his quest to leave the town of Bethlehem on the quiet, after all with soldiers looking around for a new born baby the quieter they could leave, the better.  What better then a donkey who has never bayed. So he thought.
Thus Joseph had loaded up the donkey with his few earthly possessions he had acquired in his short life. It was a rather large load, what with the gold and Myrrh and other assorted gifts he had received from the wise men and the local well meaning Shepherds, not to mention all the carpenter tools he carried with him for you never knew when he might have need of those. Lastly he placed on the top of the little donkey near its head head the Baby Jesus who lay in a small wicker basket wrapped in a freshly made little woollen blanket, another gift from one of the local shepherd. 
Pretty soon they were off - much to the Donkeys dismay who would have rather have stayed behind and started to silently grumble about late night excursions and lack of consideration for suitable food for an animal such as his and why couldn’t they have taken the experienced Ox who surely could pull a bigger load more steadily.  All along the journey out of town the little donkey wanted to grumble - but what was the point no one would - or could listen to him, when out of the wicker basket came a tiny hand and began to scratch him behind the ear - right on the spot where usually the flea would reside. He stopped dead in his tracks and was amazed - had little Jesus understood him after all? He began to say a silent thank you in donkey language for the scratch, for it removed a long aching itch, and it sounded very much like a Iahhh Iahhhh, when he realised this were his actual words.  Amazed he tried again and realised that he could now talk.  Such was his happiness of having found his voice, that he began to tell everyone and anything he met along the way, how his voice had miraculous been recovered, this of course very much to Joseph's annoyance.  There went his plan to leave town quietly.
The Kings soldiers somehow got wind of the plan that the new born baby king might be spirited out of Bethlehem and anyone travelling away from the town of Bethlehem were asked questions - especially if you had with you a mother with a new born boy and especially if you came from Bethlehem and doubly especially if you travelled on a beast that simply could not speak.  For they have heard about the mute donkey in the stable.

A family of two with a very loud, annoying, and constantly baying donkey did not seem to be on their most wanted list. Thus, so the story goes, Joseph and Mary escaped all the way into Egypt - thanks to the mute little Donkey who miraculously found his voice.

 

The really true story on how Rudolph got his red nose

 

The true story on how Reindeer Rudolph got is red nose

It's Christmas again and the usual carols are being crooned around the malls and many other public places – not to mention around the office. People are changing their ring tones on their various i4 or i7 phones. You just can't escape the carolling of 'Frosty the Snowman' and Snoopy seems to be locked in an eternal reliving of his one glorious (so some say) victory over the Red Barron.

In any case one of the songs is all about the most famous reindeer – Rudolph. As the song goes Rudolph has a cold and thus a nice shiner of a nose – that saves the day and gides the rest of the team and Christmas sleigh. 

It is a common and well believed miss-conception. 

Let me tell you the story how he really got his shiner of a red nose.

Long time ago I sometime hung out with some friends in a run down, dark and sad looking little pub somewhere in Salzburg. On one of these occasions when I had walked in through the door, I found that the bar was empty, bar one sad, oldish, lonely looking and obviously semi drunk man. The bar keep just nodded in acknowledgement and gave me my usual drink, while raising his left bushy eyebrows and slightly inclining his head towards the only other patron in the bar – this being his 'signal' to be careful with the old guy and mindful of the conversation. As everywhere – it was advent and various Christmas tunes played in the back ground and I just settled into my drink and contemplated if my friends had forgotten our usual drinks night – when they played 'Rudolph the red nosed reindeer' through the sound system– to which and to my surprise, the old semi drunk guy I thought and what sounded somewhat derisively, just snorted. I slipped over and asked him if he did not like this particular song. The response from him was just a sad stare. Obviously he was not a really chatty kind of guy. He kept swirling his last little bit of beer round and proceeded to ignore me. I took this as a signal that any conversation had to be 'lubricated' so ordered 2 of whatever he had and asked the question again. Slowly the words came out and it became clear that I would only get the full story if there were more drinks involved – so ordered him another one of his drinks and for myself some strong coffee. So far I had nothing else to do but wait for my friends to arrive.

The chap – as it turn's out was a former reporter for one of the up and coming tabeloid news papers in the UK or somewhere over there, owned by some Australian chap named Rupert or Rudolph or something like that (he wasn't to specific on these details) and he insisted on making his mark in the news paper world with more and more unbelievable stories being published. This chap here – by his accounts – was THE top flight investigative news reporter and at the time was doing a story on Union movements across all and he meant all aspects of the workforce – including the elf’s and all other associated beings working in Santa Claus' workshop. He must have found out where Santa has his workshop I guess.

In any case – one of his contacts gave him a tip about a reindeer that can talk (probably more grunt) and thus sort of communicate with other people and said reindeer could be found somewhere in the Caribbean – possibly in Jamaica or St. Lucia. This chap, never to miss a beat, went to interview this “Reindeer'. Turns out, by his alcohol induced and slow rambling story, that the Union movement had gotten a foothold with the Reindeer's at the North Pole. This poor chap Rudolph never got a look into going out on the most important night of the year. He had to do all the training and stuff – but was never called upon to do the actual job. He must have felt like a spare tyre or something. Despite the local Union reindeer leader efforts and several meetings later– it was always the more older and experienced reindeer's that got the important job of pulling the sleigh with Santa and all the presents in it, and so it should be as you can only trust the senior Reindeer's to do a half decent job of delivering the Christmas gifts on time,every time, everywhere. So one year this Rudolph took matters into his own hands and went on strike – or more to the point left the place to go on holiday – somewhere in the warm tropics. After all what what was the point of doing all the training and then never being called upon to do the Christmas night run – something that, he told everyone that would listen to him, he could do in his sleep after all. He seemed to be very fond of telling that story to anyone in the bars and pubs, not that may would actually pay him any attention. A talking reindeer was just a bit to weird for most folks – so he drunk his cocktails mostly alone and enjoyed sunbathing on the warm sandy beaches of the Caribbean. The less popular side of the story was that Rudolph enjoyed his bacardi&coke just a tad too much. Northern reindeer that he is – he also forgot the power of the sun and ended up with a lof of sunburn – especially around his nose. After all how should a reindeer who works mostly at night during the darkest winter hours know about the effects of the sun in the tropics? So folks in the tropics were not to sure how much of a sunburned red nose he had. Suffice to say – it was a real shiner.

By now my talkative chap at the bar had several drinks, and told the story how he tracked down Rudolph and over the course of several days work extracted his side of the story and the Union movement at Santa's workshop, only to get a surprise two days before Christmas when the reindeer didn't show up at the bar. In fact no one had seen him since that time – except for the barkeeper who muttered something about Rudolph talking into some fancy tiny wee gadget that reminded him of earlier communication devices from Star trek. Ever since then the reindeer had simply vanished. The barkeeper thought he overheard a jolly dark voice speaking to Rudolph and along with a lot of 'Hohoho' and 'I need you' and 'Fog' and more 'hohoho's' the beast just took of. He must have looked a real sorry sight for northern eyes – with his sunburned drunken red nose.

By now, my ex-reporter chap at the bar had a few to many drink – courtesy of my wallet and he started to feel sorry for himself. He kept on muttering about workplace conditions and Editors who didn't want to publish his story and being unjustly fired, and something along the lines of having a holiday in the Caribbean on the News-papers expense. One look at my friendly barkeeper told me all I needed to know - he just sighed and looked at the heavens with rolled eyes, indicating that this was just another drunk who schemed drinks from unsuspecting patrons – in this case myself.

From memory my buddies never showed up that night and it was late so I decided to head for home – somewhat poorer for the experience. Some weeks later that winter it made the news that a former reporter from the UK was found dead, having lived rough under a bridge. The cold and the alcohol has got to him. Among his few possessions was found one old and worn photograph of himself (obviously looking younger and healthier) and a Reindeer with a red nose on some tropical beach. It was quickly discarded as a fake. 

We will never know the full truth – makes you think though . . . .

Have fun