Simultaneously, and in hi-fi stereophonic sound, children assaulted me with questions.

"Pastor, what's ya doin'?"

"Pastor, is that your computer?"

"Who's that in picture?"

"Pastor, are you working?"

"Pastor, why? ... why? ... why?"

As soon as I dealt with one question, three more emerged and it seemed as though supply was endless. Should little crowd run out of questions, they could always begin all over again. Moreover, I believe they did — several times.

Admittedly, to hear, let alone answer each question, would have required a Moses-proportion miracle of parting Red Sea. I chuckled to myself when I realized they didn't need me, or even want me to answer all their questions, as strange as it seemed.

The little pack really wanted to know if I had an ear for them. And I did — two, as a matter of fact.

We see tragedy of life in fact that as people grow older they seem to lose their sense of inquiry. Answers replace questions.

I remember what my good friend and spiritual mentor used to say: "Beware of person who has more answers than questions. Life must truly be a bore to them. I know they're a bore to me."

I think good old Frank knew what he was talking about. No person is poorer than man who has ceased approaching life with a question. Or, better yet, man who has an answer for everything.

The man who has all answers hasn't heard all questions, yet.

Throughout years, I have been plagued with many questions. All theologians have an overwhelming desire to explain everything and put everything into a nice, neat little package.

The less they know, it seems, more dogmatic they are on what they know.

Questions are an essential ingredient of life. During my short career as a human being, and it's been a full-time job, I have pondered many questions.

Questions such as:

n Can God make a rock so big He can't lift it?

n How many angels can dance on head of a pin?

n Did God really create politicians?

n Why?

I realize some questions seem to be silly and don't deserve an answer. A question, as I see it, requires an answer, and answers lead inevitably to choosing.

When I was no more than size of a mediocre ostrich egg, I got my first computer. The year was 0001 A.D.

Now, no more than myself, it wasn’t much to look at. We had no electricity; so needless to say, it wasn’t much of a present either.

You don’t get to be my age by giving out though, so I set about improving it. There were some minor obstacles.

First going of, its processor was made of granite. While this was effective, in absence of electricity, its clock speed left something to be desired. For this, I used a simple mixture of sawdust (Trade Mark) and other sawdust (Trade Mark). Just to clarify that; sawdust is not same anymore and when I was size of a hippo’s gonad, sawdust was remains of saw itself.

Next, I needed to make electricity. I got a heap of piezo-electric cells from my ears and that part was easy enough, though it had an adverse effect on my balance.