Why Blog?

It’s relatively inexpensive to create a blog on WordPress, if you willing to tolerate a few adds.  It allows the writer immediate publication.  It provides access to every populated corner of the earth.  If you love to write, it’s a wonderful outlet.

Many people say they never have a voice.  If these people blog, they have a voice.  It is a world-wide voice without interruptions.  If they are accumulating Facebook friends, they can reference their individual blogs on Facebook to draw readers.

Isn’t that enough?

H. Robert Rubin, best-selling, Amazon memoirist and author of Look Backward Angel, How Did I Get Through This? and Please Save the Third Dance for Me , all available on Amazon.

Worth Some Thought

Yesterday I continued my garage reorganization project, as I went through the papers from my father’s estate, that, are now over ¼ century old.  Yes I am a stuffer.  I’d compulsively saved the papers for far longer than was necessary.

His was a life.  It was a life filled with obstacles, and joy, and a difficult old age.  There’s really nothing left but his papers gradually entering big incinerators.

When we die, what is left on earth is some evidence we existed, but very little else.  Ancestry.com when taking it head on is an indication we all die someday.  It might be a lot of fun to explore, but that’s what it says.

When I turned 40, I began to study the life of the most remarkable human being who ever walked the face of the earth.  He covered the key subjects.  He told us in a parable of the Good Samaritan how to treat others.  He defined love.  He even beat death.

Is that true about the Resurrection, beating death?  After his Resurrection he was present before hundreds of people.  The most widely available records of antiquity are the very old manuscripts that include reference to those witnesses.  He begat the largest and most successful religious/social movement in the history of humankind. 

If you haven’t given Him serious consideration, in the midst of our plague, it might just be a good idea. To those of us who believe, Jesus offers eternal life, the ultimate gift. To those who don’t believe, you might reconsider your skepticism.


Six years ago I took a course on great locales of the Middle Ages. Malta sounded like it retained the look of that era beautifully. It was ideal for the 21st Century visitor. It also had a fascinating history I hope to see that unique place one day.

Fast forward to a few months ago. I was in a fellowship group at church studying the book of Acts. Paul had just befriended several of the Maltese. They were impressed with his survival of a serious snake bite.

During those six years or so my blog had drawn over 5000 views. The views had included every inhabited continent.

Within a few hours of studying Paul’s mission to Malta in the group, I had my one and only Maltese reader’s view, before or since. It was a blog completely unrelated to the Book of Acts.

Coincidence isn’t in my playbook. To me this was a clear act of God. It buttresed my faith then as it does now. Thank God for his precious gifts in the stories of our lives.


It was likely 2015. I went to a local gym I had frequented for about one and a half years. On the way back from the gym, I stopped at Trader Joe’s. I shopped and then found myself at the register. I reached for my wallet to get my credit card. It wasn’t there.

Turning different shades of red from my forehead to the base of my neck, I told the cashier I had misplaced my wallet.

I went to my car to call the gym. The man who answered said it had not been turned in. Minutes later he said he was just handed the wallet. I was delighted. Once the wallet was picked up, I was again a non-vagrant. I found it fascinating that the wallet was brought to the gym’s desk within minutes of my call, but gave it no further thought.


Three years later, in August of 2018, I got home from the gym and noticed I didn’t have my wallet, again. I back tracked to the few places at home where I had just been. No wallet. Then, I scoured my car to no avail.

I called the gym. A man named Robert answered. No wallet had been turned in. I described where I had been in the gym to him. He said he would search those areas. I prayed that it would be found. He called back to tell me that despite his thorough effort no wallet came up.

As my hopes had been considerably dimmed, I went to my computer screen and Googled as necessary. I discovered my longest recovery effort would be the three weeks I would be waiting in line at the DMV. I could not replace my driver’s license without being there.

If I drove to the DMV, I was subject to a large fine for driving without a license. Once there, I would be sleeping in a tent and living on beef jerky. I also wasn’t sure if my blood pressure med would survive the nighttime temperature drop, outdoors.

Additionally there was the matter of all the other vital cards now lost. I needed to make a detailed effort to replace them.

I called my bank to cancel credit cards and was left on hold for what seemed like about three and a half hours. Eventually, I threw up my hands and went online. I cancelled a check I knew was in the wallet.

Then I did something I was certain would take some time. That was cancelling my credit cards and obtaining new cards online. I tried to cancel one credit card. Then I was asked to enter a security code that the bank would text to my cellphone. Just as the icon for the bank’s text appeared, an icon from Robert at the gym surfaced as well. They were side by side.

I called him just seconds before I would have entered the security code and cancelled the card. The wallet had just been turned in.

I have looked back and reflected on both incidents. That call from the gym on the first incident in 2015 was just in the nick of time. In 2018, those two icons at once were like something dreamlike. The timing was so exquisite, particularly in 2018, I can only conclude the two events were in the hands of God, several years apart. To those who give short shrift to the Judeo-Christian phrase hearing God’s voice, I believe the burden of proof is on those who explain this timing from a secular point of view.

The search for truth? It was well put by a theologian and an intellectual giant of the 13th Century, Thomas Aquinas. “We must love them both, those whose opinions we share and those whose opinions we reject, for both have labored in the search for truth, and both have helped us in finding it.” 

The Journey

Looking backward, it was 1945. A costly World War would end. In Southern California, the jacarandas were blooming. Their purple blossoms contrasted beautifully with their green leaves. The blueberries I came to love were fresh and sprouting as was the sweet corn. It was the time of year in which yours truly, this club-footed infant in Detroit, first entered the beautiful, delicate, and dangerous place that is our planet.

Looking forward, it was that same time of year, but, 1985. I was forty. I was born again of the Spirit. This was the phraseology used by Christ. He had filled a deep hole in my heart. I began a journey to overcome smugness and arrogance, while, deepening my capacity for love. No easy task, but now guided.

My 76th year began recently. My capacity for love is deeper than it was 35 years ago.

There is still a long road ahead. I have a few late evenings of exhaustion in which I can half relate to my precious, more alert wife in our 43nd year of marriage. Sometimes, I am dulled even more by the sedative drone of the television. The idea that my heart is sensitive and open is a figment of my imagination in that half-awake state. Balancing my life with her more readily is a key part of the journey before me. May God grant me the patience and sensitivity to love more deeply.

To my past and present readers: I just went live on my third, and perhaps final, book of memoirs in mid-June. Hope you read it and find it a respite from our new restrictive lives. Here is the link:                                                                              https://www.amazon.com/Please-Save-Third-Dance-Me-ebook/dp/B088VTF7Y5/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3VFYQ5Y0GDRWN&dchild=1&keywords=please+save+the+third+dance+for+me&qid=1592226171&sprefix=please+save+the+third+dance+for+me%2Caps%2C198&sr=8-1


In about 2013 I was quite taken by the style and technology of the Tesla. I was at a shopping mall with a Tesla showroom. I went in. I didn’t want to ask for a test run because I knew I could not afford the six figure price tag.

The car was and is for me the most beautifully designed automobile ever manufactured. I looked at its beautiful lines, its flush door handles, and its stunning use of metal and glass aesthetically. I admired its fine-looking, glistening white exterior. I was smitten.

Then I took a good look at its exquisite brown leather interior. I opened the door and slipped into the driver’s seat. The interior design beyond the beautiful leather, at least to me, wasn’t in the same universe as the exterior design. Perhaps I should have never opened the door.

On another occasion, I was at a meeting with an old friend whose net worth dwarfs my own. He told me he had test driven a high performance Tesla.  In the past I had seen his top end Acura sports car that fit him like a glove personally. With that car he appeared to have been having the time of his life.

He told me about the Tesla test drive. He said when the car initially accelerated he was impressed. As it gained momentum something unusual happened. He began to develop tunnel vision and was quite shaken.

The late George Carlin had a wonderful routine about stuff. He had a lot of perspective. The stuff of life just cannot compare with the depth and beauty of our Maker, our family and our dearest friends.

H. Robert Rubin, best-selling, Amazon memoirist and author of Look Backward Angel, How Did I Get Through This? and Please Save the Third Dance for Me , all available on Amazon.


It was about 2010. My son Chad was approximately twenty years old. He was planning a trip and suggested one of the most exciting parts of the trip would be as a passenger on a glider flying over the windy terrain around Park City, Utah.

I suggested those vehicles are flown at the whim of the wind. I opined that one could be surprised, particularly by wind gusts that could slam a glider into the rocky side of a mountain. I said these accidents could be rather unsettling for the passenger. I thought I had placed the fear of death squarely in his heart.

Upon his return from Park City I heard him pull up to the front curb. He opened the front door and exclaimed immediately, “Dad, I did fly in a glider.” I said nothing but did have the following thought, Thank God my son has more daring than I do!

H. Robert Rubin, best-selling, Amazon memoirist and author of Look Backward Angel, How Did I Get Through This? and Please Save the Third Dance for Me , all available on Amazon.

A Second Look at Heights

It was about the summer of 2015. Kris and I were staying in an inn outside of Yellowstone National Park. Trying to mimic a cowboy, I went down to the stables of the resort to sign up for a guided tour on horseback. We were to visit the nearby Wyoming hills.

Kristine and I mounted two beautiful horses and headed into the wilderness. I looked ridiculous on a horse, as, I would have had I donned a cowboy hat.

At some point the guide about to change elevation rapidly asked if any of us were afraid of heights. I was, but, I appreciated my dilemma. I wanted to forego either: 1) embarrassing my adventurous spouse or 2) walking the snake infested hills back to the stable. I shouted to our guide at the head of the pack “I do, but, I’ll deal with it.” As Garth Brooks sang in Tony Arata’s The Dance,” …I could have missed the pain But I’d have to miss the dance.”

Heights, You Say?

It was the summer of about 2005. Our family was traveling between Denver and Santa Fe with several overnights. We were touring Mesa Verde National Park in southwest Colorado. It was a beautiful summer day.

My daughter Courtney and son-in-law Alex had not yet become parents. Chad was about fifteen years old. The park was serenely beautiful.

We reached a location in the guided tour that was a point of no return for my family. Ladders were needed to reach the next level of adobes.

It was a little disconcerting to me as I have had a fear of heights as far back as I can remember. I began climbing one ladder as Chad began climbing the ladder to my right. The next level was about a fifty to seventy five foot climb.

When I reached the second level I was exhilarated that I had momentarily overcome my fear. Chad turned to me with a pained look and said, “Dad, your ladder was shaking all the way to the top!”

H. Robert Rubin, best-selling, Amazon memoirist and author of Look Backward Angel, How Did I Get Through This? and Please Save the Third Dance for Me , all available on Amazon.