Autumn greetings, dear readers! Well, it’s apple-pickin’ time here in Nodaway County, and Tyndale member Vernon Whittlebaum has been busy in the family apple orchard turning out his annual supply of refreshing cider for all the locals around Pickering. This year the cider crop was particularly abundant, praise the Lord. Not only did all of the Fellows get a complimentary jug, but Vern was able to set aside a "special" bottle for medicinal purposes to get him through the upcoming cold and flu season. My, how absolutely Puritanical of him!*

In other League news, the Fellows officially decided to adopt a new League of Tyndale motto during our September gathering. It appears that our old motto, “Real, Relevant, and Relational” just wasn’t cutting edge anymore. Besides, when Big Roy Lunceford comes to League meetings in his dirty overalls after working all day on his hog farm we have to wonder just how much “realness” we really want our group to convey.

After opening up the floor for new motto ideas, our resident linguist Professor Archibald Dressler recommended a Latin phrase that best summed up our organization’s scholarly and noble purpose: “QUIDQUID EXCUSATIO POTLUCKIUM PRO,” which roughly translated means, “Any excuse for a potluck.” Although we couldn’t deny the League’s Baptistic fondness for carry-in dinners, we had to vote it down because the phrase was in Latin. After all, an organization that was founded on the Tyndalian principle of bringing the Scriptures to the common man shouldn’t be using a dead language to communicate their message. We’ll leave that to the eminent Dr. Sproul.

Anyway, the brainstorming session went far into the night and nothing was decided. Some of the rejected slogans included: "Less Risky Than Bagged Spinach," "When The World Zigs, We Zag," and "League of Tyndale: Like Shriners, But Without The Little Cars." Of course, we're nothing like Shriners really, but Ira Tompkins did wonder if maybe we SHOULD get some of those cool little cars. It all went downhill from there. At about 11 pm, the Professor checked his watch and suddenly exclaimed, “Eccehora! Uxor mea me necabit!” (which apparently means, “Look at the time! My wife will kill me!”), and then ran out the door. This, too, would have been an excellent Latin motto for our frequently-late meetings, but more prudent heads prevailed and we adjourned for the night in hopes that our spouses had suppressed any homicidal tendencies for the sake of our valuable Christian fellowship.