I found this story and it brings back memories
The Good Old Days
It doesn't take much. It could be the scent of pine in the air that triggers Christmas memories for me. It could be a muffled metal to metal sound that reminds me that my Dad insisted on mashing the Sunday dinner potatoes by hand. He used this old fashioned masher that had a red and white wooden handle. I bought one at a yard sale a few years ago. I think I used it twice since then.
It was a sound once again that grabbed my attention. I knew it was familiar, but couldn't place it at first.
I was walking through my old neighborhood reminiscing about the "good old days." Yes, I find myself using that term more often now.
"I can remember when gas was 27 cents a gallon," I told my nephew just yesterday. He looked at me like I was from another planet.
But walking along the streets I grew up on was a powerful experience for me. Fences that were so difficult to climb back then seemed so small now. The school yard I played in is now a parking lot for the school district building that replaced the hallowed halls of the first six years of my education.
I was walking down one of the smaller side streets near my former home. Off in the distance I could hear the faint familiar sound.
"What is that?" I said to myself.
It almost sounded like a chirp of a tiny spring bird. But so many have gone now that Autumn has returned. They, being much smarter than I, have headed for warmer climates.
There it was again. I decided to search it out. As I turned the corner the sound got louder, more pronounced. I knew it well but hadn't heard it in decades.
There standing on her back porch was an old woman hanging her clothes. The sound that echoed through my mind was that of a clothes line on two pulleys. You might be thinking, "So what? I still use one." But throughout my neighborhood and other places where I have lived these last few decades, I cannot remember seeing anyone hanging their clothes.
Why do you think God created dryers?
The house was on the corner and I casually walked along the fence that bordered her property. I had to say something. I had to share my thoughts with someone still connected to a piece of my past.
"Hello! How are you?" I asked.
"Just fine, thank you," she replied.
"I once lived in this area. I was taking a walk down memory lane."
"I've been here most of my life," she replied.
"As I approached your house I heard this all too familiar sound, but couldn't quite place it. Then I saw you hanging your clothes on the line. It brought back some great memories for me."
"I've used one all of my life. My children bought me a dryer years ago. I only use it when the temperatures get too low for me to stand out here. They can't understand why I still use this," she said.
"I can still picture the clothes pin holder my Mom had. It looked like a small dress or apron, but had a round hole up front. It hung on a clothes hanger." I told her.
"Like this?" she asked as she held up hers.
"Yes, exactly like that," I said in amazement. I never see those any where.
"So tell me. In this day of wash and wear, never needs ironing clothes, why do you still use the clothes line?"
She walked down off the steps and approached me. Every step was an effort for her aged body. So I appreciated the time she was taking to chat with me.
"Son, it's this way. My Mother taught me that every day is new. So new in fact it is nothing like yesterday and certainly no way near what tomorrow will be. So she wanted her children to head into each new day clean and fresh like the day itself. There is nothing in the world like clothes that have hung in the sunshine."
"Not even clothes that smell "fresh as all outdoors", with a little Bounce in the dryer?" I asked.
"No that makes them fake. Not real, like the world is." Then she paused for a moment and slowly turned toward the sun.
"People can be fake. They put on clothing with some one else's name on it. They splash on perfume that makes them smell like someone else. They wear shoes that make them look taller. It's all fake. That sun up there is pure light. You can't hide in the sunshine. People who hide things tuck 'em in the darkness where they think others can't see. When I hang my clothes in the sunshine I'm welcoming the light. I'm saying "Look world here I am!"
Then turning toward her clothesline she started to laugh. "Heck, they can even see my underwear! Now that's being open."
I couldn't help but laugh right along with her. She had one of those sweet,lady-like laughs that revealed her gentle manor and well rooted up-bringing.
"I believe you are right," I said.
"I know I am, son. If we would all stop trying to be someone else the world would be better off."
"Thanks for the life lesson." I said.
"You are welcome. I must get back to my laundry before my Tommy Hilfiger jeans start to wrinkle," she said. Then she really started to laugh as she walked back up the steps to continue her work.
As I walked around the corner another sound triggered memories in my mind.
The sound of laughter. Memories of the good old days.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Ladies
Oh My Gosh if we havent all been here and done this too funny!!
This should give you a good laugh!
When you have to visit a bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.
You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter - the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern 'seat covers' (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR! ), yank down your pants, and assume ' The Stance.'
In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold 'The Stance.'
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!' Your thighs shake more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail
Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. 'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.'
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.
At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.
You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, 'Here, you just might need this.'
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?'
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!
This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so accurately!
Send this to all women that need a good laugh AND, don't forget to have a mammogram!!!!!! It could save your life!
A Friend Is Like A Good Bra...
Hard to Find
Supportive
Comfortable
Always Lifts You Up
Never Lets You Down or Leaves You Hanging
And Is Always Close To Your Heart!!!
This should give you a good laugh!
When you have to visit a bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.
You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter - the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern 'seat covers' (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR! ), yank down your pants, and assume ' The Stance.'
In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold 'The Stance.'
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!' Your thighs shake more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail
Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. 'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.'
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.
At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.
You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, 'Here, you just might need this.'
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?'
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!
This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so accurately!
Send this to all women that need a good laugh AND, don't forget to have a mammogram!!!!!! It could save your life!
A Friend Is Like A Good Bra...
Hard to Find
Supportive
Comfortable
Always Lifts You Up
Never Lets You Down or Leaves You Hanging
And Is Always Close To Your Heart!!!
Monday, September 1, 2008
Never Forget
September 11th is coming up soon and its important for us to remember what happened that day even if it hurts .
(September 11th 2001)
It's written in our hearts, Lord,
That day Americans dread;
That day when demons came from Hell
And filled this Land with dead.
It's coming now, I feel it,
I hear it in the wind;
That day when all America
Felt their childhood end.
We felt our spirit darken,
Felt horrified, alone;
Some hearts were turned to You, Lord,
Some hearts were turned to stone.
With angels watching vigil,
Their swords drawn as for war;
And Satan's hordes unleashed that day
With wrath unseen before.
Destruction so unthinkable,
Stark terror did abound;
With souls Hell-bent or Heaven-sent,
Their blood spilt on the ground.
It haunts the strongest hearts, Lord,
We dread it every year:
America's worst nightmare,
America's worst fear.
And God, though some Americans
Still treat You with disdain,
Have mercy, Lord, we plead this prayer:
It won't repeat again.
God, please bless America,
Return Your strong right Hand;
And let the Eagle safely fly
(September 11th 2001)
It's written in our hearts, Lord,
That day Americans dread;
That day when demons came from Hell
And filled this Land with dead.
It's coming now, I feel it,
I hear it in the wind;
That day when all America
Felt their childhood end.
We felt our spirit darken,
Felt horrified, alone;
Some hearts were turned to You, Lord,
Some hearts were turned to stone.
With angels watching vigil,
Their swords drawn as for war;
And Satan's hordes unleashed that day
With wrath unseen before.
Destruction so unthinkable,
Stark terror did abound;
With souls Hell-bent or Heaven-sent,
Their blood spilt on the ground.
It haunts the strongest hearts, Lord,
We dread it every year:
America's worst nightmare,
America's worst fear.
And God, though some Americans
Still treat You with disdain,
Have mercy, Lord, we plead this prayer:
It won't repeat again.
God, please bless America,
Return Your strong right Hand;
And let the Eagle safely fly
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The Manhattans
The Words
The Manhattan-Lets just kiss and say goodbye.
The Manhattans
This has got to be the saddest day of my life.
I called you here today for a bit of bad news.
I wouldn't be able to see you anymore
Because of my obligation,
and the ties that you have.
We've been meeting here everyday,
And since this is our last day together.
I wanna hold you just one more time.
When you turn and walk away, don't look back.
I wanna remember you just like this
Let's just kiss and say goodbye.
I had to meet you here today,
There's just so many things to say.
Please don't stop me till I'm though,
This is something I hate to do.
We've been meeting here so long.
I guess what we've done was wrong.
Please, darling don't you cry,
Let's just kiss and say goodbye..
Many months have passed us by.
I'm gonna miss you, I can't lie.
I've got ties and so do you.
I just think this is the things to do.
It's gonna hurt me, I can't lie.
Maybe you'll meet, you'll meet another guy.
Understand me, won't you try, try, try.....
Let's just kiss and say goodbye.
Maybe you'll find, you'll find another guy.
Let's just kiss and say goodbye, pretty baby.
Please don't cry.
Understand me, won't you try?
Let's just kiss and say goodbye...
Monday, August 25, 2008
That Toothless Grin
I'm gettin there but not too fast,
wondering how long this pain will last,
There's pain in my back and pain in my knees.
when I get my breath, you can hear me wheeze.
I take a little walk out in my yard,
but the way I hurt it's a little hard.
I have to move my feet a little at a time,
for what I'm worth I wouldn't give a dime,
There's an old gal that lives down the street,
she's one ol' soul that I'd like to meet.
She may be toothless, but I like her grin,
If I play it right her hand I could win.
We're both gittin old and not any younger,
If I had a cook I might get stronger,
I want to ask her over to sit in my swing,
and say if you love chicken grab a wing.
I'm hoping she will get the hint,
that for her and me love was meant.
I can just see her with that apron on,
cooking in my kitchen way before dawn.
Just thinkin 'bout her makes me feel young,
I'll tell her she's 'purdy I can't hold my tongue.
When you see us with her arm in mine,
you can take that as a good sign.
I can't put it off, this gal I'm going to meet,
It'll take me awhile to shuffle down the street,
I hope she'll ask me to come right in,
I can't hardly wait to see her little grin.
Well whadda 'ya know she did just that,
she ask me in and on the sofa we sat.
I took her by the hand and to her I proposed.
She gave me that grin and kissed me on the nose.
She shocked me so bad, I was surprised,
I gave a little blink, I had tears in my eyes,
I tried hard to get hold of myself,
I stood up, caught hold of the shelf.
She didn't know what was wrong with me,
for all she knew I had a pain in my knee.
She must've been lonely without a man.
I'll love this gal all I can.
Well me and that gal got married one day,
everythings better in every way.
She still grins and kisses my nose.
It makes me happy that I proposed.
She wears that apron, get's up before dawn,
I hurry up and put my shoes on.
I want to be near her the rest of my life.
I wouldn't take 'nuttin for her being my wife.
wondering how long this pain will last,
There's pain in my back and pain in my knees.
when I get my breath, you can hear me wheeze.
I take a little walk out in my yard,
but the way I hurt it's a little hard.
I have to move my feet a little at a time,
for what I'm worth I wouldn't give a dime,
There's an old gal that lives down the street,
she's one ol' soul that I'd like to meet.
She may be toothless, but I like her grin,
If I play it right her hand I could win.
We're both gittin old and not any younger,
If I had a cook I might get stronger,
I want to ask her over to sit in my swing,
and say if you love chicken grab a wing.
I'm hoping she will get the hint,
that for her and me love was meant.
I can just see her with that apron on,
cooking in my kitchen way before dawn.
Just thinkin 'bout her makes me feel young,
I'll tell her she's 'purdy I can't hold my tongue.
When you see us with her arm in mine,
you can take that as a good sign.
I can't put it off, this gal I'm going to meet,
It'll take me awhile to shuffle down the street,
I hope she'll ask me to come right in,
I can't hardly wait to see her little grin.
Well whadda 'ya know she did just that,
she ask me in and on the sofa we sat.
I took her by the hand and to her I proposed.
She gave me that grin and kissed me on the nose.
She shocked me so bad, I was surprised,
I gave a little blink, I had tears in my eyes,
I tried hard to get hold of myself,
I stood up, caught hold of the shelf.
She didn't know what was wrong with me,
for all she knew I had a pain in my knee.
She must've been lonely without a man.
I'll love this gal all I can.
Well me and that gal got married one day,
everythings better in every way.
She still grins and kisses my nose.
It makes me happy that I proposed.
She wears that apron, get's up before dawn,
I hurry up and put my shoes on.
I want to be near her the rest of my life.
I wouldn't take 'nuttin for her being my wife.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Jasper And The Yeast Roll's
This is a story i came across and did not write .
We have a cocker spaniel by the name of Jasper. He came to us in the summer of 2001 from the cocker spaniel rescue program. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this type of adoption, imagine taking in a 10-year-old child about whom you know nothing and committing to doing your best to be a good parent.
Like a child, the dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He will only sleep on the bed, on top of the covers, nuzzled as close to my face as he can get without actually performing a French kiss on me.
Lest you think this is a bad case of no discipline, I should tell you that Perry and I tried every means to break him of this habit, including locking him in a separate bedroom for several nights. The new door cost over $200. But I digress.
Five weeks ago we began remodeling our house. Although the cost of the project is downright obnoxious, it was 20 years overdue AND it got me out of cooking Thanksgiving dinner for family, extended family, and a lot of friends that I like more than family most of the time.
I was assigned the task of preparing 120 of my famous yeast dinner rolls for the two Thanksgiving feasts we did attend.
I am still cursing the electrician for getting the new oven hooked up so quickly. It was the only appliance in the whole darn house that worked ... thus the assignment.
I made the20decision to bake the rolls on Wednesday evening to reheat Thursday morning. Since the kitchen was freshly painted, you can imagine the odor. Not wanting the rolls to smell like Sherwin Williams #586, I put them on baking sheets and set them in the living room to rise for a few hours. Perry and I decided to go out to eat, returning in about an hour. The rolls were ready to go in the oven.
It was 8:30 PM. When I went to the living room to retrieve the pans, much to my shock, one whole pan of 12 rolls was empty. I called out to Jasper and my worst nightmare became a reality. He literally wobbled over to me. He looked like a combination of the Pillsbury dough boy and the Michelin Tire man wrapped up in fur. He groaned when he walked. I swear even his cheeks were bloated.
I ran to the phone and called our vet. After a few seconds of uproarious laughter, he told me the dog would probably be OK, however, I needed to give him Pepto Bismol every two hours for the rest of the night.
God only knows why I thought a dog would like Pepto Bismol any more than my kids did when they were sick. Suffice it to say that by the time we went to bed the dog was black, white and pink. He was so bloated we had to lift him onto the bed for the night.
We arose at 7:30 AM and as we always do first thing, put the dog out to relieve himself. Well, the dog was as drunk as a sailor on his first leave. He was running into walls, falling flat on his butt and m
ost of the time when he was walking, his front half was going one direction and the other half was either dragging in the grass or headed 90 degrees in another direction.
He couldn't lift his leg to pee, so he would just walk and pee at the same time. When he ran down the small incline in our back yard, he couldn't stop himself and nearly ended up running into the fence.
His pupils were dilated and he was as dizzy as a loon. I endured another few seconds of laughter from the vet (second call within 12 hours) before he explained that the yeast had fermented in his belly and that he was indeed drunk.
He assured me that, not unlike most binges we humans go through, it would wear off after about four or five hours and to keep giving him Pepto Bismol.
Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, Perry and I loaded him up and took him with us to my sister's house for the first Thanksgiving meal of the day.
My sister lives outside of Muskogee on a ranch (10 to 15 minute drive). Rolls firmly secured in the trunk (124 less 12) and drunk dog leaning from the back seat onto the console of the car between Perry and I, we took off.
Now I know you probably don't believe that dogs burp, but believe me when I say that after eating a tray of risen unbaked yeast rolls, DOGS WILL BURP. These burps were pure Old Charter. They would have matched or beat any smell in a drunk tank at the police station. But that's not the worst of it.
Now he was beginning t
o fart and they smelled like baked rolls. God strike me dead if I am not telling the truth! We endured this for the entire trip to Karen's, thankful she didn't live any further away than she did.
Once Jasper was firmly placed in my sister's garage with the door locked, we finally sat down to enjoy our first Thanksgiving meal of the day. The dog was the topic of conversation all morning long and everyone made trips to the garage to witness my drunken dog, each returning with a tale of Jasper's latest endeavor to walk without running into something. Of course, as the old adage goes, 'what goes in must come out' and Jasper was no exception.
Granted, if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen unbaked yeast rolls, you might as well have put a concrete block up my behind but alas, a dog's digestive system is quite different from yours or mine. I discovered this was a mixed blessing when we prepared to leave Karen's house. Having discovered his 'packages' on the garage floor, we loaded him up in the car so we could hose down the floor.
This was another naive decision on our part. The blast of water from the hose hit the poop on the floor and the poop on the floor withstood the blast from the hose. It was like Portland cement beginning to set up and cure.
We finally tried to remove it with a shovel. I (obviously no one else was going to offer their services) had to get on my hands and knees with a coarse brush to get the remnants off of the floor. And as if
this wasn't degrading enough, the darn dog in his drunken state had walked through the poop and left paw prints all over the garage floor that had to be brushed, too.
Well, by this time the dog was sobering up nicely, so we took him home and dropped him off before we left for our second Thanksgiving dinner at Perry's sister's house.
I am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is back to normal both in size and temperament. He has had a bath and is no longer tricolor. None the worse for wear, I presume. I am also happy to report that just this evening I found two risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside my closet door.
It appears he must have come to his senses after eating 10 of them but decided hiding two of them for later would not be a bad idea. Now, I'm doing research on the computer as to how to clean unbaked dough from the carpet.
And how was your day?
We have a cocker spaniel by the name of Jasper. He came to us in the summer of 2001 from the cocker spaniel rescue program. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this type of adoption, imagine taking in a 10-year-old child about whom you know nothing and committing to doing your best to be a good parent.
Like a child, the dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He will only sleep on the bed, on top of the covers, nuzzled as close to my face as he can get without actually performing a French kiss on me.
Lest you think this is a bad case of no discipline, I should tell you that Perry and I tried every means to break him of this habit, including locking him in a separate bedroom for several nights. The new door cost over $200. But I digress.
Five weeks ago we began remodeling our house. Although the cost of the project is downright obnoxious, it was 20 years overdue AND it got me out of cooking Thanksgiving dinner for family, extended family, and a lot of friends that I like more than family most of the time.
I was assigned the task of preparing 120 of my famous yeast dinner rolls for the two Thanksgiving feasts we did attend.
I am still cursing the electrician for getting the new oven hooked up so quickly. It was the only appliance in the whole darn house that worked ... thus the assignment.
I made the20decision to bake the rolls on Wednesday evening to reheat Thursday morning. Since the kitchen was freshly painted, you can imagine the odor. Not wanting the rolls to smell like Sherwin Williams #586, I put them on baking sheets and set them in the living room to rise for a few hours. Perry and I decided to go out to eat, returning in about an hour. The rolls were ready to go in the oven.
It was 8:30 PM. When I went to the living room to retrieve the pans, much to my shock, one whole pan of 12 rolls was empty. I called out to Jasper and my worst nightmare became a reality. He literally wobbled over to me. He looked like a combination of the Pillsbury dough boy and the Michelin Tire man wrapped up in fur. He groaned when he walked. I swear even his cheeks were bloated.
I ran to the phone and called our vet. After a few seconds of uproarious laughter, he told me the dog would probably be OK, however, I needed to give him Pepto Bismol every two hours for the rest of the night.
God only knows why I thought a dog would like Pepto Bismol any more than my kids did when they were sick. Suffice it to say that by the time we went to bed the dog was black, white and pink. He was so bloated we had to lift him onto the bed for the night.
We arose at 7:30 AM and as we always do first thing, put the dog out to relieve himself. Well, the dog was as drunk as a sailor on his first leave. He was running into walls, falling flat on his butt and m
ost of the time when he was walking, his front half was going one direction and the other half was either dragging in the grass or headed 90 degrees in another direction.
He couldn't lift his leg to pee, so he would just walk and pee at the same time. When he ran down the small incline in our back yard, he couldn't stop himself and nearly ended up running into the fence.
His pupils were dilated and he was as dizzy as a loon. I endured another few seconds of laughter from the vet (second call within 12 hours) before he explained that the yeast had fermented in his belly and that he was indeed drunk.
He assured me that, not unlike most binges we humans go through, it would wear off after about four or five hours and to keep giving him Pepto Bismol.
Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, Perry and I loaded him up and took him with us to my sister's house for the first Thanksgiving meal of the day.
My sister lives outside of Muskogee on a ranch (10 to 15 minute drive). Rolls firmly secured in the trunk (124 less 12) and drunk dog leaning from the back seat onto the console of the car between Perry and I, we took off.
Now I know you probably don't believe that dogs burp, but believe me when I say that after eating a tray of risen unbaked yeast rolls, DOGS WILL BURP. These burps were pure Old Charter. They would have matched or beat any smell in a drunk tank at the police station. But that's not the worst of it.
Now he was beginning t
o fart and they smelled like baked rolls. God strike me dead if I am not telling the truth! We endured this for the entire trip to Karen's, thankful she didn't live any further away than she did.
Once Jasper was firmly placed in my sister's garage with the door locked, we finally sat down to enjoy our first Thanksgiving meal of the day. The dog was the topic of conversation all morning long and everyone made trips to the garage to witness my drunken dog, each returning with a tale of Jasper's latest endeavor to walk without running into something. Of course, as the old adage goes, 'what goes in must come out' and Jasper was no exception.
Granted, if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen unbaked yeast rolls, you might as well have put a concrete block up my behind but alas, a dog's digestive system is quite different from yours or mine. I discovered this was a mixed blessing when we prepared to leave Karen's house. Having discovered his 'packages' on the garage floor, we loaded him up in the car so we could hose down the floor.
This was another naive decision on our part. The blast of water from the hose hit the poop on the floor and the poop on the floor withstood the blast from the hose. It was like Portland cement beginning to set up and cure.
We finally tried to remove it with a shovel. I (obviously no one else was going to offer their services) had to get on my hands and knees with a coarse brush to get the remnants off of the floor. And as if
this wasn't degrading enough, the darn dog in his drunken state had walked through the poop and left paw prints all over the garage floor that had to be brushed, too.
Well, by this time the dog was sobering up nicely, so we took him home and dropped him off before we left for our second Thanksgiving dinner at Perry's sister's house.
I am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is back to normal both in size and temperament. He has had a bath and is no longer tricolor. None the worse for wear, I presume. I am also happy to report that just this evening I found two risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside my closet door.
It appears he must have come to his senses after eating 10 of them but decided hiding two of them for later would not be a bad idea. Now, I'm doing research on the computer as to how to clean unbaked dough from the carpet.
And how was your day?
Friday, August 15, 2008
The Letter
I received this in email an it can relate to anyone we love and lose to sickness , cancer or any reason some one dies that we love oh so dearly .
This is beautiful!
She jumped up as soon as she saw the surgeon come out of the operating room. She said: 'How is my little boy? Is he going to be all right? When can I see him?'
The surgeon said, 'I'm sorry. We did all we could, but your boy didn't make it.'
Sally said, 'Why do little children get cancer? Doesn't God care any more? Where were you, God, when my son needed you?'
The surgeon asked, 'Would you like some time alone with your son? One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes, before he's transported to the university.'
Sally asked the nurse to stay with her while she said good bye to son. She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair. 'Would you like a lock of his hair?' the nurse asked. Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of the boy's hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally.
The mother said, 'It was Jimmy's idea to donate his body to the University for Study. He said it might help somebody else. 'I said no at first, but Jimmy said, 'Mom, I won't be using it after I die. Maybe it will help some other little boy spend one more day with his Mom.' She went on, 'My Jimmy had a heart of gold. Always thinking of someone else. Always wanting to help others if he could.'
Sally walked out of Children's Mercy Hospital for the last time, after spending most of the last six months there. She put the bag with Jimmy's belongings on the seat beside her in the car.
The drive home was difficult. It was even harder to enter the empty house. She carried Jimmy's belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his hair to her son's room.
She started placing the model cars and other personal things back in his room exactly where he had always kept them. She lay down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to sleep.
It was around midnight when Sally awoke. Lying beside her on the bed was a folded letter. The letter said:
'Dear Mom,
I know you're going to miss me; but don't think that I will ever forget you, or stop loving you, just 'cause I'm not around to say 'I Love You'. I will always love you, Mom, even more with each day. Someday we will see each other again. Until then, if you want to adopt a little boy so you won't be so lonely, that's okay with me. He can have my room and old stuff to play with. But, if you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn't like the same things us boys do. You'll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, you know.
Don't be sad thinking about me. This really is a neat place. Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything. The angels are so cool. I love to watch them fly. And, you know what? Jesus doesn't look like any of his pictures. Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him. Jesus himself took me to see GOD! And guess what, Mom? I got to sit on God's knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important. That's when I told Him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you good bye and everything. But I already knew that wasn't allowed. Well, you know what Mom? God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter I think Gabriel is the name of the angel who is going to drop this letter off to you. God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him 'where was He when I needed him?' 'God said He was in the same place with me, as when His son Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children.
Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I've written except you. To everyone else this is just a blank piece of paper.. Isn't that cool? I have to give God His pen back now He needs it to write some more names in the Book of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I'm sure the food will be great.
Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I don't hurt anymore the cancer is all gone.. I'm glad because I couldn't stand that pain anymore and God couldn't stand to see me hurt so much, either. That's when He sent The Angel of Mercy to come get me. The Angel said I was a Special Delivery! How about that?
Signed with Love from God, Jesus & Me.
This is beautiful!
She jumped up as soon as she saw the surgeon come out of the operating room. She said: 'How is my little boy? Is he going to be all right? When can I see him?'
The surgeon said, 'I'm sorry. We did all we could, but your boy didn't make it.'
Sally said, 'Why do little children get cancer? Doesn't God care any more? Where were you, God, when my son needed you?'
The surgeon asked, 'Would you like some time alone with your son? One of the nurses will be out in a few minutes, before he's transported to the university.'
Sally asked the nurse to stay with her while she said good bye to son. She ran her fingers lovingly through his thick red curly hair. 'Would you like a lock of his hair?' the nurse asked. Sally nodded yes. The nurse cut a lock of the boy's hair, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Sally.
The mother said, 'It was Jimmy's idea to donate his body to the University for Study. He said it might help somebody else. 'I said no at first, but Jimmy said, 'Mom, I won't be using it after I die. Maybe it will help some other little boy spend one more day with his Mom.' She went on, 'My Jimmy had a heart of gold. Always thinking of someone else. Always wanting to help others if he could.'
Sally walked out of Children's Mercy Hospital for the last time, after spending most of the last six months there. She put the bag with Jimmy's belongings on the seat beside her in the car.
The drive home was difficult. It was even harder to enter the empty house. She carried Jimmy's belongings, and the plastic bag with the lock of his hair to her son's room.
She started placing the model cars and other personal things back in his room exactly where he had always kept them. She lay down across his bed and, hugging his pillow, cried herself to sleep.
It was around midnight when Sally awoke. Lying beside her on the bed was a folded letter. The letter said:
'Dear Mom,
I know you're going to miss me; but don't think that I will ever forget you, or stop loving you, just 'cause I'm not around to say 'I Love You'. I will always love you, Mom, even more with each day. Someday we will see each other again. Until then, if you want to adopt a little boy so you won't be so lonely, that's okay with me. He can have my room and old stuff to play with. But, if you decide to get a girl instead, she probably wouldn't like the same things us boys do. You'll have to buy her dolls and stuff girls like, you know.
Don't be sad thinking about me. This really is a neat place. Grandma and Grandpa met me as soon as I got here and showed me around some, but it will take a long time to see everything. The angels are so cool. I love to watch them fly. And, you know what? Jesus doesn't look like any of his pictures. Yet, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him. Jesus himself took me to see GOD! And guess what, Mom? I got to sit on God's knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important. That's when I told Him that I wanted to write you a letter, to tell you good bye and everything. But I already knew that wasn't allowed. Well, you know what Mom? God handed me some paper and His own personal pen to write you this letter I think Gabriel is the name of the angel who is going to drop this letter off to you. God said for me to give you the answer to one of the questions you asked Him 'where was He when I needed him?' 'God said He was in the same place with me, as when His son Jesus was on the cross. He was right there, as He always is with all His children.
Oh, by the way, Mom, no one else can see what I've written except you. To everyone else this is just a blank piece of paper.. Isn't that cool? I have to give God His pen back now He needs it to write some more names in the Book of Life. Tonight I get to sit at the table with Jesus for supper. I'm sure the food will be great.
Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I don't hurt anymore the cancer is all gone.. I'm glad because I couldn't stand that pain anymore and God couldn't stand to see me hurt so much, either. That's when He sent The Angel of Mercy to come get me. The Angel said I was a Special Delivery! How about that?
Signed with Love from God, Jesus & Me.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
A True Love Story
One fine day, an old couple around the age of 70, walks into a lawyer's office.
Apparently, they are there to file a divorce.
Lawyer was very puzzled, after having a chat with them, he got their story....
This couple had been quarreling all their 40 over yrs of marriage nothing ever seems to go right.
They hang on because of their children, afraid that it might affect their up-bringing. Now, all their children have already grown up, have their own family, there's nothing else the old couple have to worry about, all they wanted is to lead their own life free from all these years of unhappiness from their marriage, so both agree on a divorce....
Lawyer was having a hard time trying to get the papers done, because he felt that after 40 yrs of marriage at the age of 70, he couldn't understand why the old couple would still want a divorce..
While they were signing the papers, the wife told the husband..
"I really love u, but i really cant carry on anymore, I'm sorry.."
"Its o.k, i understand.." said the husband. Looking at this, the lawyer suggested a dinner together, just 3 of them,wife thought, why not, since they are still gonna be friends..
At the dining table, there was a silence of awkwardness.
The first dish was roasted chicken, immediately, the old man took the drumstick for the old lady.."take this, its your favorite.."
Looking at this, the lawyer thought maybe theres still a chance, but the wife was frowning when she answer.."
This is always the problem, you always think so highly of yourself, never thought about how I feel, don't you know that i hate drumsticks?"
Little did she know that, over the years, the husband have been trying all ways to please her, little did she know that drumsticks was the husband's favorite. Little did he know that she never thought he understand her at all, little did he know that she hates drumsticks even though all he wants is the best for her.
That night, both of them couldn't sleep, toss and turn, toss and turn...after hours, the old man couldn't take it anymore, he knows that he still loves her, and he cant carry on life without her, he wants her back, he wants to tell her, he is sorry, he wanted to tell her "i love you"...
He picks up the phone, starting dialing her number....ringing never stops..he never stop dialing....
On the other side, she was sad, she couldn’t understand how come after all these years, he still doesn't understand her at all, she loves him a lot, but she just cant take it anymore....phone's ringing, she refuses to answer knowing that its him..."whats the point of talking now that its over...i have ask for it and now i wanna keep it this way, if not i will lose face.."she thought...still ringing...she have decided to pull out the cord...
Little did she remember, he have heart problems...
The next day, she received news that he had passed away...she rushed down to his apartment, saw his body, lying on the couch still holding on to the phone...he had a heart attack when he was still trying to get through her phone line....
As sad as she could be...she will have to clear his belongings...when she was looking thru the drawers, she saw this insurance policy, dated from the day they got married, with the beneficiary being her... And together in those file, there was this note...
"To my dearest wife, by the time you're reading this, I'm sure I'm no longer around, I bought this policy for you, though the amount is only $100k, I hope it will be able to help me continue my promise that i have made when we got married, I might not be around anymore, I want this amount of money to continue taking care of you, just like the way I will if I could have live longer. I want you to know I will always be around, by your side... I love you"
Tears flowed like river......
"When you love someone, let them know... You never know what will happen the next minute.... Learn to build a life together.. Learn to love each other. For who they are.. not what they are..."
Apparently, they are there to file a divorce.
Lawyer was very puzzled, after having a chat with them, he got their story....
This couple had been quarreling all their 40 over yrs of marriage nothing ever seems to go right.
They hang on because of their children, afraid that it might affect their up-bringing. Now, all their children have already grown up, have their own family, there's nothing else the old couple have to worry about, all they wanted is to lead their own life free from all these years of unhappiness from their marriage, so both agree on a divorce....
Lawyer was having a hard time trying to get the papers done, because he felt that after 40 yrs of marriage at the age of 70, he couldn't understand why the old couple would still want a divorce..
While they were signing the papers, the wife told the husband..
"I really love u, but i really cant carry on anymore, I'm sorry.."
"Its o.k, i understand.." said the husband. Looking at this, the lawyer suggested a dinner together, just 3 of them,wife thought, why not, since they are still gonna be friends..
At the dining table, there was a silence of awkwardness.
The first dish was roasted chicken, immediately, the old man took the drumstick for the old lady.."take this, its your favorite.."
Looking at this, the lawyer thought maybe theres still a chance, but the wife was frowning when she answer.."
This is always the problem, you always think so highly of yourself, never thought about how I feel, don't you know that i hate drumsticks?"
Little did she know that, over the years, the husband have been trying all ways to please her, little did she know that drumsticks was the husband's favorite. Little did he know that she never thought he understand her at all, little did he know that she hates drumsticks even though all he wants is the best for her.
That night, both of them couldn't sleep, toss and turn, toss and turn...after hours, the old man couldn't take it anymore, he knows that he still loves her, and he cant carry on life without her, he wants her back, he wants to tell her, he is sorry, he wanted to tell her "i love you"...
He picks up the phone, starting dialing her number....ringing never stops..he never stop dialing....
On the other side, she was sad, she couldn’t understand how come after all these years, he still doesn't understand her at all, she loves him a lot, but she just cant take it anymore....phone's ringing, she refuses to answer knowing that its him..."whats the point of talking now that its over...i have ask for it and now i wanna keep it this way, if not i will lose face.."she thought...still ringing...she have decided to pull out the cord...
Little did she remember, he have heart problems...
The next day, she received news that he had passed away...she rushed down to his apartment, saw his body, lying on the couch still holding on to the phone...he had a heart attack when he was still trying to get through her phone line....
As sad as she could be...she will have to clear his belongings...when she was looking thru the drawers, she saw this insurance policy, dated from the day they got married, with the beneficiary being her... And together in those file, there was this note...
"To my dearest wife, by the time you're reading this, I'm sure I'm no longer around, I bought this policy for you, though the amount is only $100k, I hope it will be able to help me continue my promise that i have made when we got married, I might not be around anymore, I want this amount of money to continue taking care of you, just like the way I will if I could have live longer. I want you to know I will always be around, by your side... I love you"
Tears flowed like river......
"When you love someone, let them know... You never know what will happen the next minute.... Learn to build a life together.. Learn to love each other. For who they are.. not what they are..."
Saturday, August 9, 2008
For God’s Sake, Test the Waters
It is so good to be here today. As most of you know, I am a certified lay speaker for the Sherman McKinney District of the United Methodist Church. My passion has always been to preach. BUT my husband’s passion was to not be a preacher’s wife so I love it when Bill is gone. Oh, that didn’t come out right (: I mean I love it when I get to preach!
Sammy says it is alright, I can still preach at him 24/7.
So I got to thinking. What if all Christians prayed for a passion we could USE to make this world a better place? What would happen? And just like in our case, our passions can be different yet we find a way to work them together for good.
One day some people who were on a raft off the coast of Brazil. They perished from thirst because the ocean water is undrinkable. Or so they thought. What they did not know was that the water they were floating on was fresh water. A nearby river was coming out into the sea with such force that it went out for a couple of miles, so they had fresh water right there - right where they were all the time but they had no idea. BECAUSE they DID NOT test the waters! I am sure they prayed till the day they died, but they never tested the water.
Ironically, we are all also sitting on a wealth of living water and it is time we wake up out of our thirst and started drinking and sharing it with the world around us. What a difference it would make! If only one person had tested the water in that boat they would all be alive!
In John, Chapter 4 verse 10 and 14: Jesus said, “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who I am, you would ask me, and I would give you living water.. Whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
Now I don’t know about you but that really excited me. And then I got excited FOR YOU!
I always wanted to go see Elvis sing and I kept putting it off and then he died and then I could only listen to him on DVD’s or the radio. Oh, they have an all Elvis, All the time channel, but it’s just not the same thing. I can never fulfill my dream of seeing Elvis live because I WAITED.
I have been wanting to visit Yellowstone National Park for several years so I was sad when I saw on the news that is was burning. Folks in the area say it will be 100 years before it would look like it did before. Since I probably won’t live that long (unless it is just to spite everyone), I will never fulfill my dream of seeing the beauty of Yellowstone.
But they say Old Faithful was not touched.
So I immediately went in and told Sammy I was ready to go on vacation and visit the Old Geezer. He got a good laugh out of that one. I don’t know if it was the vacation suggestion or he was correcting my usage of Old Geezer to “old geyser”. But he was not to deter me. The more I read about it, the more I wanted to go.
Did you know it erupts on an average of every 74 minutes but it doesn't like to act average? - Sometimes it spews every 45 to 110 minutes. It can spray up to 8400 gallons in 4.5 minutes and the steam temperature can get up to 350 degrees!
An eruption in the 1980’s at the Old Faithful lake actually spread residue 300 times that of Mt St Helens eruption and remnants of it was found virtually all over the United States.
So it got me to thinking, (sometimes that can be dangerous), but not this time. .
What if God’s people - I will affectionately call us “Old Geezers” :> were to get that excited about our Christianity and let’s say we would let go every 74 minutes spewing the joy of Jesus to everyone who would listen!
And you don’t even have to preach it. People would just see the joy inside you and know there was something different about you and want what you had.
Or you could make a difference in the life of someone and only you and that someone would know but then they would pay it forward and make a difference in the life of someone who would pay it forward and make a difference in the life of some, and on and on. Pretty soon the whole world is paying it forward and we could be like the church of Acts 4. 24
First:
24:They raised their voices together in prayer to God.
First and foremost they found the difference to their life was the distance from the floor to their knees. And they didn’t just pray like we do for a test. You know I laugh when I hear someone saying we no longer have prayer in school because as long as we have pop quizzes, we will have prayer in school!!
But then they did something a lot of us don’t do. They got up off their knees and wore out the soles of their shoes! Or in their case, the soles of their souls! They put their prayers into action.
Acts 4 says:
30 Stretch out your hand to heal and perform miraculous signs and wonders through the name of your holy servant Jesus. And when they had prayed, the place where they were assembled together was shaken; and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and they spoke the word of God with boldness!
Now my son was in a earthquake last week in California and I saw it on TV and I worried and prayed and couldn’t get him to answer his dadgum cell phone! I prayed and prayed and when I finally got a hold of him, he laughed. (Now he wouldn’t have been laughing if I had really gotten hold of him!) But he laughed because he had been driving down the road when it happened and didn’t even feel it! (I told him THAT was my prayers protecting him) Hey, a mother’s got to get all the points she can! But I had prayed but was I believing? If so, why had I been so worried.
When he got home, he was surprised to find several things were shaken off the shelves and walls and he hadn’t even felt it!
We have a power so strong inside us and a lot of people go through life never even feeling it. We just ride through life right over it!
In Acts 4, it says:
33 With great power the apostles continued to testify to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and much grace was upon them all.
You see they felt (literally felt the Holy Spirit like an earthquake!) the calling of Christ was so strong inside them, they literally pooled all their resources (now that would take something nowadays wouldn’t It) and in verse 34 it says, There were no needy persons among them.
They didn’t ask the government to take care of them. They didn’t expect FEMA to come running.
They pooled their resources and took care of each other.
They didn’t worry about the stock market or high gas prices or unemployment because they knew if they were the ones down on their luck, their brothers and sisters in Christ would be there to make sure there was NO NEEDY person among them.
NOW after looking at my last IRA statement, I am so glad to know you all are my brothers and sisters in Christ and are going to pick me up when I am broke (ha)
Praise GOD! he gave me this sermon just when He did!
Oh, what a difference there would be in this world if God’s people just prayed and did it boldly! If we used all the living water Christ can give us, we could cause an explosion like the world has never seen.
But I can’t do it by myself I hear you say.
That reminds me of a little boy who was out helping his dad with the yard work. Dad asked him to pick up the rocks in a certain area of the yard. Dad looked over and saw him struggling to pull up a huge rock buried in the dirt. The little boy struggled and struggled while Dad stood back and watched. Finally, the boy gave up and cried, "Daddy, I can't do it."
Dad asked, "Did you use all of your strength?"
The little boy looked hurt and said, "Yes, sir. I used every ounce of strength I have."
The father smiled and said, "No you didn't. You didn't ask me to help."
The father walked over and then the two of them pulled that big rock out of the dirt TOGETHER!!!!!.
Start asking your Father in Heaven to supply your needs and just give you a little extra so you can supply the needs of others. You will be shocked and amazed. He has just been waiting for you to ask! With God, all things are possible. We CAN use all the power He gives us! If ALL of us would do it, what a difference we can make.
He has already given us the how!
2 Chronicles 7:14 says
"If My people, who are called by My Name, will humble themselves and PRAY and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land."
That is a promise!! He just can’t seem to find anyone taking Him up on the offer.
Now I know all of you have turned from your wicked ways so I’m not even going to preach that sermon (ha)
God WILL supply you with more than enough to make a difference in someone’s life which in turn will make a difference in your life. And then when He does THANK HIM!!!!
Every day a woman stood on her porch and shouted, “Praise the Lord!”
And every day the atheist next door yelled back, “There is no Lord!”
One day she prayed, “Lord, I’m hungry. Please send me groceries.”
The next morning she found a big bag of food on the stairs.
“Praise the Lord,” she yelled and started dancing and shouting Hallelejah’s up to Jesus and the atheist jumped out from behind a bush and yelled:
“I told you there was no Lord, I bought those groceries.”
“Praise the Lord,” the woman said. “He not only sent me groceries, but he made the devil pay for them.”
Glory!!!! Glory!!!
Guy H. King says:
No one is a firmer believer in the power of prayer than the devil; not that he practices it, but he suffers from it.
No doubt in her mind. She had prayed, God had answered and Satan had no power when it comes to a Christian praying with the belief their prayers will be answered!
Praise God !
(Ephesians 3:20) tells us "He's able to do abundantly above all that we ask or think."
Christians, and I am talking to all of you - I most certainly hope! We have to start somewhere and where better than right here in this little church! If you just do what God asks, it will be so contagious, others can’t wait to do it too. AND HE will heal our land!!!
Let’s make prayer a priority in our church life!
Do a Bible Study on Prayer! God will teach you. how.
Start a prayer journal. Keep track of what you ask and what is answered. You are gonna be mighty surprised at all the answered prayers! Look around you, take an inventory of all your blessings that God has already given you that you forgot you asked for and I bet you forgot to thank him for them when you were mumbling about something you didn’t get that you didn’t need anyway!
At the end of each journal entry write five things to be grateful for that God did for you each day. You will find yourself thanking God all day and really noticing the things He is doing for you each day that you have taken for granted for so long.
Make TIME to pray. We have time to read the newspaper or a book or watch TV or play video games. Do it! all day long everyday. Turn every decision over to God! Don’t worry about it. It will not be long before you do it without ceasing.
THEN SMILE! When others see you, let them know by your body language that you are blessed and God is good and it all started with one little prayer which led to another which led to another. It is contagious. Have you ever seen someone smiling at you. You can’t help but smile back unless you are Billy Joe Barnard. Just kidding!
But what if they ask me why I am so happy what do I say?, you ask. I am not good at talking about God with other people, you think. Remember back in Acts when the church was filled with the Holy Spirit. THAT is HIS job. Let Him do it!!!
The Bible tells us in Romans 8:26
“The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And He who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will.”
A Sunday School teacher decided to have her young class memorize one of the most quoted passages in the Bible; Psalm 23. She gave the youngsters a week to learn the verse.
Little Rick was excited about the task -- but, he just couldn't remember what to say. . After much practice, he could barely get past the first line. On the day that the kids were scheduled to recite Psalm 23 in front of the congregation, Rickey was so nervous. When it was his turn, he stepped up to the microphone and said proudly, "The Lord is my shepherd, and . . . And . . . and, that's all I need to know." That is all we need to know.
The next time you start to say something negative about this great land of ours, STOP, PRAY, DRINK the living water.
I love Gail Bates. Don’t say anything negative to her about our country because she will be quick tell you it is the greatest country in the world! It is a nation who has helped the most people of all nations. And not just in this great land of ours but all over the world. Heck, we are even on Mars now trying to find someone to help! I love that!
Pray for our leaders, no matter what side of the aisle we are on! The life they save just might be our own.
Will you worry about Tomorrow and what is going to happen next month or next year or will you pray to God to bring you blessings so you can spring up like Old Faithful and shower over 3.1 million people a year with the awesome sight of a believer who keeps on coming even when others have dried up. You know in French Old Faithful means “Super-fast Water Explosion” so don’t be surprised at how fast the Living Water Works!
The ladies Book Club are reading Tuesdays with Morrie. If you want to join us, read it (it is a quick read) and meet with us at the parsonage on August 18 to discuss it. In it, he tells the story about a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time. He’s enjoying the wind and the fresh air - until he notices the other waves in front of him, crashing against the shore.
“My God, this is terrible,” the wave says. “Look what’s going to happen to me!“
“Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave panicking and stops to help. “Why do you look so sad?”
The first wave says, “You don’t understand! We’re all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn’t it terrible?“
“The second wave just laughs and says, “NO, you don’t understand. You are not a wave, you are part of the ocean!“
We are not alone. We are part of God’s plan. WHEN we let him lead!
Morrie goes on to say, “In business people negotiate to win. They negotiate to get what they want. Love is different. Love is when you are as concerned about someone else’s situation as you are about your own.“
Can you count on your fingers the ones you LOVE? The lives you have made a difference in? Oh, we have made a difference in our kids. Some good and some bad (HA). But there should be too many to count? Too many people that you have been concerned about and did something about.
If not, will you start now to be a church that’s prayer life is so powerful, God blesses you so that you can bless others and then reach out and encourage the next Christian to do the same who helps another who
helps another and on and on and on.
It is scary to get out there and really devote your life to Jesus. To put him first and foremost in your life!
One night a house caught fire and a young boy was forced to flee to the roof. The father stood on the ground below with outstretched arms, calling to his son, "Jump! I'll catch you." He knew the boy had to jump to save his life. The little boy looked down and all he could see was flame, smoke, and blackness.
He was too afraid to leave the roof. His father kept yelling: "Jump! I will catch you." But the boy cried, "Daddy, I can't see you."
The father replied, "But I can see you and that's all that matters."
Are you willing to jump knowing Jesus will do the rest? Right now, Today?
It has to start somewhere. Let it begin with US! The First United Methodist Church of It Doesn’t Matter Where. Let us just call it the First United Methodist Church of Love! Jump into the living Water, into the loving arms of God and let us make a difference. Test the Waters.
Let us turn to Page 431 and sing:
Let There Be Peace on Earth
Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me;
let there be peace on earth, the peace that was meant to be.
With God, our creator, children all are we.
Let us walk with each other in perfect harmony.
Let peace begin with me; let this be the moment now.
With every step I take, let this be my solemn vow;
to take each moment and live each moment in peace eternally.
Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.
posted by Vicki222
A Thing of Beauty
This is a story i found about a man mowing his grass and remembering the past as his kids were growing up .
“I need to mow the yard. Look at all of those yellow flowers growing in it,” I told Vicki. Hearing my words, my four-year old granddaughter, Kylie pleaded,” No, no, no, Pop-Pop, please don’t mow down the flowers. They are so beautiful!” I told her she could pick some for herself, but the rest had to go.
I fired up my riding mower, got on and began mowing. I looked at the flowers and they were kind of pretty, all yellow with a pink buttercup growing here and there. “It’s funny,” I thought, “these flowers are a nuisance to me, but to Kylie they are beautiful. I guess it is just how you look at things.”
Kylie’s view of things got me looking around our place. Our house is still nice enough, I guess, but like me, is beginning to show signs of age. It certainly doesn’t compare to some of the houses I saw over in Rockwall the other day. You talk about some nice places, they had them over there. There was every design imaginable; big rambling two-story houses with multi-stone exteriors, upstairs balconies and right on the lake. Sweet.
As I continued mowing, I recalled when we got this house. Wasn’t it right over there by that tree Vicki and I stood admiring the brand new house we had just purchased? We were so proud, but I think each of us was secretly concerned about paying for it. Oh, there’s the rose bush I planted. It was right about that spot my daughter, Stefani, practiced her cheerleader routines when she made the Jr. High squad. I can still hear her saying, “Watch this, daddy! DADDY! Watch me!”
Right there beside the house is where Stefani and Sandra Sumrow played in the mud before the yard had a blade of grass in it. They were supposed to just wade around in it, but before long, they were covered from head to toe in blackland mud. They were down and dirty, but happy. That is until I almost froze them when I rinsed them off with cold water from the hose before I would let them even go in the garage.
I mow along until I am under the hackberry trees in front of the house and as I look up I see one board nailed to a limb. It is the last remnant of a tree house my son, Jeff, and our neighbor girl, Amber Saye, constructed when they were around nine or ten years old. They were so proud, you would have thought they had built the Taj Mahal. They never knew it, but later I climbed up and put a few more nails in it to make it safer and stronger. I should remove that board, but for some reason never have.
As I move around back, I see the basketball goal that Jeff and his friends, Jess Lanier, Brandon Gilliam, Grant Day, Joey Rhoden and Todd Eudy spent countless hours shooting baskets and good-naturedly trash-talking each other. The backboard is getting rough and the goal doesn’t even have a net. I’ve wanted to take it down, but I’m glad I didn’t. My son came in from California for Mother’s Day and he and my grandson, Austin, played a little one-on-one on that same old goal.
I look down in the pasture and see the little pond where Austin caught his first fish. I have a picture of him proudly holding up the four- inch perch for all the world to see. Right next door is the Whitworth’s pasture where every day I used to take my granddaughter, Katelyn, to see their white baby donkey. I could never convince her it wasn’t a goat. Each day as soon as she got here, she would ask me to take her to “see the goat.” I finally gave up trying to change her mind and nicknamed the donkey, “Billy.”
I finish mowing and begin weed-eating around the old swing set that has survived all three of my grandchildren. I need to haul it off, but haven’t got around to it. I’ll probably get rid of it next year or maybe the year after that. No more than three years for sure. Hey, there’s the sandbox I built for Kylie. Not the best sandbox in the world, but it serves the purpose. It was just the other day Kylie caught a butterfly that lit on it. She held it a minute and then let it go free to “find its Mommy.”
Finally, I finish with the yard work and stand back to check out my handiwork. As I stand there looking around, I realize this house may not have all the amenities of the houses in Rockwall, but it does have something they don’t. It has memories. My memories. Our memories. And that makes it beautiful, especially with that patch of yellow flowers I left standing just for Kylie.
“I need to mow the yard. Look at all of those yellow flowers growing in it,” I told Vicki. Hearing my words, my four-year old granddaughter, Kylie pleaded,” No, no, no, Pop-Pop, please don’t mow down the flowers. They are so beautiful!” I told her she could pick some for herself, but the rest had to go.
I fired up my riding mower, got on and began mowing. I looked at the flowers and they were kind of pretty, all yellow with a pink buttercup growing here and there. “It’s funny,” I thought, “these flowers are a nuisance to me, but to Kylie they are beautiful. I guess it is just how you look at things.”
Kylie’s view of things got me looking around our place. Our house is still nice enough, I guess, but like me, is beginning to show signs of age. It certainly doesn’t compare to some of the houses I saw over in Rockwall the other day. You talk about some nice places, they had them over there. There was every design imaginable; big rambling two-story houses with multi-stone exteriors, upstairs balconies and right on the lake. Sweet.
As I continued mowing, I recalled when we got this house. Wasn’t it right over there by that tree Vicki and I stood admiring the brand new house we had just purchased? We were so proud, but I think each of us was secretly concerned about paying for it. Oh, there’s the rose bush I planted. It was right about that spot my daughter, Stefani, practiced her cheerleader routines when she made the Jr. High squad. I can still hear her saying, “Watch this, daddy! DADDY! Watch me!”
Right there beside the house is where Stefani and Sandra Sumrow played in the mud before the yard had a blade of grass in it. They were supposed to just wade around in it, but before long, they were covered from head to toe in blackland mud. They were down and dirty, but happy. That is until I almost froze them when I rinsed them off with cold water from the hose before I would let them even go in the garage.
I mow along until I am under the hackberry trees in front of the house and as I look up I see one board nailed to a limb. It is the last remnant of a tree house my son, Jeff, and our neighbor girl, Amber Saye, constructed when they were around nine or ten years old. They were so proud, you would have thought they had built the Taj Mahal. They never knew it, but later I climbed up and put a few more nails in it to make it safer and stronger. I should remove that board, but for some reason never have.
As I move around back, I see the basketball goal that Jeff and his friends, Jess Lanier, Brandon Gilliam, Grant Day, Joey Rhoden and Todd Eudy spent countless hours shooting baskets and good-naturedly trash-talking each other. The backboard is getting rough and the goal doesn’t even have a net. I’ve wanted to take it down, but I’m glad I didn’t. My son came in from California for Mother’s Day and he and my grandson, Austin, played a little one-on-one on that same old goal.
I look down in the pasture and see the little pond where Austin caught his first fish. I have a picture of him proudly holding up the four- inch perch for all the world to see. Right next door is the Whitworth’s pasture where every day I used to take my granddaughter, Katelyn, to see their white baby donkey. I could never convince her it wasn’t a goat. Each day as soon as she got here, she would ask me to take her to “see the goat.” I finally gave up trying to change her mind and nicknamed the donkey, “Billy.”
I finish mowing and begin weed-eating around the old swing set that has survived all three of my grandchildren. I need to haul it off, but haven’t got around to it. I’ll probably get rid of it next year or maybe the year after that. No more than three years for sure. Hey, there’s the sandbox I built for Kylie. Not the best sandbox in the world, but it serves the purpose. It was just the other day Kylie caught a butterfly that lit on it. She held it a minute and then let it go free to “find its Mommy.”
Finally, I finish with the yard work and stand back to check out my handiwork. As I stand there looking around, I realize this house may not have all the amenities of the houses in Rockwall, but it does have something they don’t. It has memories. My memories. Our memories. And that makes it beautiful, especially with that patch of yellow flowers I left standing just for Kylie.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
USS NORTH CAROLINA GHOST STORY
WILMINGTON - Danny Bradshaw can't really complain about his job. He gets full benefits, a nighttime shift he enjoys and a room of his own. He is paid to babysit the USS North Carolina battleship memorial late at night after all the tourists have headed home.
The problem is, he believes he's never really alone.
Many of his co-workers say he's nuts, silly, just making up stories. And Bradshaw knows many people will dismiss everything he says. But he believes - no, he says he knows - that ghosts haunt the battleship.
Bradshaw took the job of night watchman in 1976 after a buddy had held it for five years, leaving to become a pilot. It was an easy job, his friend insisted. But to Bradshaw, it sounded almost too good to be true. I know you're holding something back, he said.
``Don't laugh in my face,'' the friend told Bradshaw. ''There are going to be things that happen here there's no explanation for.''
But, really, how bad could it be, Bradshaw recalls thinking as he retells the story of his move to the battleship. He leans back in his chair and rests his hands on his belly, fit snug in a dusty, black polo shirt sporting the ship's insignia.
``I knew I could sleep through anything,'' he says matter-of-factly.
But here, he can't sleep. Here, aboard this instrument of war, Bradshaw says the ship's past surrounds him, chases him, may even be out to hurt him.
He sometimes escapes by sleeping in a pickup truck onshore. He folds his 5-foot, 11-inch frame into the makeshift bed on wheels and parks near the battleship memorial's slip on the Cape Fear River. It's calm there.
After 26 years on the job, save for a few months' absence ``due to a woman,'' his days revolve around making it through his nights.
``Sometimes at night I take friends in, and they want to hear ghost stories - they think it's a big joke,'' he says, looking away. He stops at the top of a metal stairwell leading below deck.
``I want you to understand this place is haunted,'' he says, flicking on his flashlight. ``I get scared. I get horrified.''
Not that a 61-year-old, World War II-era battleship, full of creaking stairwells and narrow, metallic passageways, is exactly warm and inviting. In the summer, the air below deck is stagnant, hot, muggy. In the winter, it's warm and comfortable in the heated tourist areas, freezing elsewhere.
But it's also dark inside. Bradshaw makes his rounds each night, moving carefully to each power box to switch on the juice that will let light slice through the night.
It was on such a pitch-black night, Bradshaw recalls, that he first saw him.
Bradshaw was headed to the galley, below deck, to a power box. The beam from his flashlight bounced off the life-size, faceless cutouts of sailors working in the kitchen and standing in line for chow. The cardboard crew gives visitors a glimpse of a sailor's life.
As Bradshaw reached into the power box, he recalls, he felt a gust of cold air and a hand on his shoulder. He spun around and shone his flashlight into the empty space. He heard footsteps walking away.
He jerked the beam of light around the room. There were empty tables and benches. In the open hatch nearby stood a sailor with blond hair so fair it looked white. The light from the flashlight passed right through him. Bradshaw screamed. The sailor turned his head and disappeared.
``It was the horrible-est thing I've ever experienced,'' Bradshaw says.
There was no way Bradshaw was heading through that same passageway to leave. He ran back to another ladder.
``I needed to get out,'' he recalls thinking. ``If he was going to get me, I needed to be outside where I could holler.''
As he headed up the ladder, something was banging on the top. He could hear heavy footsteps descending from above.
``I lost it,'' he says. ``I thought, 'He's trapped me. He's not going to let me out.' ''
Bradshaw ran back through the ship to the other side of the tour route, to another set of ladders where he paused to pray:
``Please, God, let me out. I don't want to die here.''
Ten men did die aboard this ship, which participated in every major naval battle in the Pacific during World War II, earning 15 battle stars.
Five men died when the ship was torpedoed Sept. 15, 1942. Another three were killed by friendly fire in April 1945. The remaining two died in separate incidents.
At least two of the dead, Bradshaw believes, still walk the ship today.
One is good. One is evil. One likes to rattle things, cut off the lights, slam the doors, move things around in the room.
The other is cold and much more wicked. When he is near, Bradshaw says, the temperature in the room drops and Bradshaw can see his own breath, even in the humid summers. He has chased Bradshaw and yelled at him. He, too, can move objects.
``All of a sudden, you start getting an eerie feeling, like something bad is fixing to happen,'' Bradshaw says. Both ghosts, he adds, typically harass him for several minutes before disappearing.
He has learned not to run, not to scream, he says. Now he sits and waits. ``I don't want to leave. I want him to leave.''
The ghosts have appeared during the day, when Bradshaw was leading tourists through the ship. The ghosts have appeared to his friends. They have appeared to other employees and visitors even when Bradshaw is not around.
As much as he fears his shipmates, Bradshaw revels in their mystery, speaking low and slow as he recalls his encounters with the pair.
At the climax of the telling of one such tale, a generator screeches to a halt - boom! Bradshaw looks up and smiles. ``I'm good, right?''
Bradshaw has lived aboard the battleship since taking the job, in about as much comfort as the more than 2,000 sailors who called the floating city home during World War II. He has an officer's stateroom with two mattress stacked on the floor, a tiny television and a shower that leaks onto the room's cold, metal floor.
The ghosts have visited there, too.
One night while he was watching television, there came a tapping on the wall. The temperature in the room dropped.
Bradshaw - tired, sleepy and mad - finally had had enough.
``I didn't feel like going through the (mischief) of another night. I was scared. Then I got mad. When he stopped tapping, I yelled, 'Stop it!' and then I thought, 'I can't believe I did that. He's going to come out of there and slap you upside the head.' But I never heard it again that night.''
His friends wonder why he stays.
``I need a job. It's an easy job, if I can get through one night,'' he says. Because his duties on the ship, switching off lights and checking exits, only takes a few hours, Bradshaw spends much of his shift sleeping, leaving him awake and free during the day to spend time with his niece, a UNC-Wilmington student.
And the battleship, Bradshaw says, is his home, too - ghost or no ghost.
His threadbare room is good enough for him. There's a washer and dryer on the dock in the visitors' center. He eats out a lot, or his friends bring him home-cooked treats in exchange for a ghost story or two.
Bradshaw also is just 10 years from retirement, a benefit he can't bear to give up.
Yet he can't help thinking that the evil ghost is waiting for just that - taunting him, toying with him and terrifying him until he nears retirement age, when it plans to harm him.
``Two things bother me: He can physically move things, and there's evil in 'im,'' Bradshaw says. ``I don't know if he's saving something up for me. It makes me wonder if there's going to be a night he's going to do something bad.
``I'm over here by myself, and if something happens, no one is going to find me until morning.''
The problem is, he believes he's never really alone.
Many of his co-workers say he's nuts, silly, just making up stories. And Bradshaw knows many people will dismiss everything he says. But he believes - no, he says he knows - that ghosts haunt the battleship.
Bradshaw took the job of night watchman in 1976 after a buddy had held it for five years, leaving to become a pilot. It was an easy job, his friend insisted. But to Bradshaw, it sounded almost too good to be true. I know you're holding something back, he said.
``Don't laugh in my face,'' the friend told Bradshaw. ''There are going to be things that happen here there's no explanation for.''
But, really, how bad could it be, Bradshaw recalls thinking as he retells the story of his move to the battleship. He leans back in his chair and rests his hands on his belly, fit snug in a dusty, black polo shirt sporting the ship's insignia.
``I knew I could sleep through anything,'' he says matter-of-factly.
But here, he can't sleep. Here, aboard this instrument of war, Bradshaw says the ship's past surrounds him, chases him, may even be out to hurt him.
He sometimes escapes by sleeping in a pickup truck onshore. He folds his 5-foot, 11-inch frame into the makeshift bed on wheels and parks near the battleship memorial's slip on the Cape Fear River. It's calm there.
After 26 years on the job, save for a few months' absence ``due to a woman,'' his days revolve around making it through his nights.
``Sometimes at night I take friends in, and they want to hear ghost stories - they think it's a big joke,'' he says, looking away. He stops at the top of a metal stairwell leading below deck.
``I want you to understand this place is haunted,'' he says, flicking on his flashlight. ``I get scared. I get horrified.''
Not that a 61-year-old, World War II-era battleship, full of creaking stairwells and narrow, metallic passageways, is exactly warm and inviting. In the summer, the air below deck is stagnant, hot, muggy. In the winter, it's warm and comfortable in the heated tourist areas, freezing elsewhere.
But it's also dark inside. Bradshaw makes his rounds each night, moving carefully to each power box to switch on the juice that will let light slice through the night.
It was on such a pitch-black night, Bradshaw recalls, that he first saw him.
Bradshaw was headed to the galley, below deck, to a power box. The beam from his flashlight bounced off the life-size, faceless cutouts of sailors working in the kitchen and standing in line for chow. The cardboard crew gives visitors a glimpse of a sailor's life.
As Bradshaw reached into the power box, he recalls, he felt a gust of cold air and a hand on his shoulder. He spun around and shone his flashlight into the empty space. He heard footsteps walking away.
He jerked the beam of light around the room. There were empty tables and benches. In the open hatch nearby stood a sailor with blond hair so fair it looked white. The light from the flashlight passed right through him. Bradshaw screamed. The sailor turned his head and disappeared.
``It was the horrible-est thing I've ever experienced,'' Bradshaw says.
There was no way Bradshaw was heading through that same passageway to leave. He ran back to another ladder.
``I needed to get out,'' he recalls thinking. ``If he was going to get me, I needed to be outside where I could holler.''
As he headed up the ladder, something was banging on the top. He could hear heavy footsteps descending from above.
``I lost it,'' he says. ``I thought, 'He's trapped me. He's not going to let me out.' ''
Bradshaw ran back through the ship to the other side of the tour route, to another set of ladders where he paused to pray:
``Please, God, let me out. I don't want to die here.''
Ten men did die aboard this ship, which participated in every major naval battle in the Pacific during World War II, earning 15 battle stars.
Five men died when the ship was torpedoed Sept. 15, 1942. Another three were killed by friendly fire in April 1945. The remaining two died in separate incidents.
At least two of the dead, Bradshaw believes, still walk the ship today.
One is good. One is evil. One likes to rattle things, cut off the lights, slam the doors, move things around in the room.
The other is cold and much more wicked. When he is near, Bradshaw says, the temperature in the room drops and Bradshaw can see his own breath, even in the humid summers. He has chased Bradshaw and yelled at him. He, too, can move objects.
``All of a sudden, you start getting an eerie feeling, like something bad is fixing to happen,'' Bradshaw says. Both ghosts, he adds, typically harass him for several minutes before disappearing.
He has learned not to run, not to scream, he says. Now he sits and waits. ``I don't want to leave. I want him to leave.''
The ghosts have appeared during the day, when Bradshaw was leading tourists through the ship. The ghosts have appeared to his friends. They have appeared to other employees and visitors even when Bradshaw is not around.
As much as he fears his shipmates, Bradshaw revels in their mystery, speaking low and slow as he recalls his encounters with the pair.
At the climax of the telling of one such tale, a generator screeches to a halt - boom! Bradshaw looks up and smiles. ``I'm good, right?''
Bradshaw has lived aboard the battleship since taking the job, in about as much comfort as the more than 2,000 sailors who called the floating city home during World War II. He has an officer's stateroom with two mattress stacked on the floor, a tiny television and a shower that leaks onto the room's cold, metal floor.
The ghosts have visited there, too.
One night while he was watching television, there came a tapping on the wall. The temperature in the room dropped.
Bradshaw - tired, sleepy and mad - finally had had enough.
``I didn't feel like going through the (mischief) of another night. I was scared. Then I got mad. When he stopped tapping, I yelled, 'Stop it!' and then I thought, 'I can't believe I did that. He's going to come out of there and slap you upside the head.' But I never heard it again that night.''
His friends wonder why he stays.
``I need a job. It's an easy job, if I can get through one night,'' he says. Because his duties on the ship, switching off lights and checking exits, only takes a few hours, Bradshaw spends much of his shift sleeping, leaving him awake and free during the day to spend time with his niece, a UNC-Wilmington student.
And the battleship, Bradshaw says, is his home, too - ghost or no ghost.
His threadbare room is good enough for him. There's a washer and dryer on the dock in the visitors' center. He eats out a lot, or his friends bring him home-cooked treats in exchange for a ghost story or two.
Bradshaw also is just 10 years from retirement, a benefit he can't bear to give up.
Yet he can't help thinking that the evil ghost is waiting for just that - taunting him, toying with him and terrifying him until he nears retirement age, when it plans to harm him.
``Two things bother me: He can physically move things, and there's evil in 'im,'' Bradshaw says. ``I don't know if he's saving something up for me. It makes me wonder if there's going to be a night he's going to do something bad.
``I'm over here by myself, and if something happens, no one is going to find me until morning.''
Friday, August 1, 2008
Im So Upset Right Now
I got in my truck this evening to go get my Burger King fix . On the way i saw a man sitting under a tree selling watermelon's . I turned around and bought two from him for 10 dollars . Thanked him and on to get my burgers . Left there and went to get gas . Paid $3.79 per gallon . A little further down the road was $3.75 . Dang i said !
I stopped to get money out of a teller machine and couldn't understand how to work the dang thing . So i drove to my bank and that one worked .
Most of you know i don't get to see my Grandkids . And it has been 18 months since i laid eyes on them . I have no idea what they look like now and even can't remember how old Gracie , Sam and Austin is now . Well i know where they live and thought i might get a chance to see them . I really wanted to give them one of the watermelons . I drove up in drive way in there yard . I knew they were home because both cars were there . I blew my truck horn four times . Finally my daughters sorry ass husband come storming out . He didn't say anything and i asked him if he would give the watermelon i had in my hands to the kids . All he said was as he took the melon and said have a good one . So i backed out and started up the road to my home . I poured tears all the way home . That really had me upset and i know i will get over it .
I ask why is some people so cruel that won't at least let you see a picture or some way of seeing them .
I have loved the Lord and tried to live a good decent life for over a year now . The Lord has help me make some of the best friend's i know with a heart of gold . Meaning you in this group . I have better health now and i believe God helped in that .
Am i too go through the rest of my life with no contact with my daughter and grandkids ? Help me to understand that please .
I stopped to get money out of a teller machine and couldn't understand how to work the dang thing . So i drove to my bank and that one worked .
Most of you know i don't get to see my Grandkids . And it has been 18 months since i laid eyes on them . I have no idea what they look like now and even can't remember how old Gracie , Sam and Austin is now . Well i know where they live and thought i might get a chance to see them . I really wanted to give them one of the watermelons . I drove up in drive way in there yard . I knew they were home because both cars were there . I blew my truck horn four times . Finally my daughters sorry ass husband come storming out . He didn't say anything and i asked him if he would give the watermelon i had in my hands to the kids . All he said was as he took the melon and said have a good one . So i backed out and started up the road to my home . I poured tears all the way home . That really had me upset and i know i will get over it .
I ask why is some people so cruel that won't at least let you see a picture or some way of seeing them .
I have loved the Lord and tried to live a good decent life for over a year now . The Lord has help me make some of the best friend's i know with a heart of gold . Meaning you in this group . I have better health now and i believe God helped in that .
Am i too go through the rest of my life with no contact with my daughter and grandkids ? Help me to understand that please .
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
A Happy Ending
A really cute nature story. You have read this story.
Something really amazing happened in Downtown Spokane this week and I had to share the story with you.
Some of you may know that my brother, Joel, is a loan officer at Sterling Bank. He works downtown in a
second story office building, overlooking busy Riverside Avenue . Several weeks ago he watched a mother
duck choose the cement awning outside his window as the uncanny place to build a nest above the sidewalk.
The mallard laid nine eggs in a nest in the corner of the planter that is perched over 10 feet in the air. She
dutifully kept the eggs warm for weeks and Monday afternoon all of her nine ducklings hatched.
Joel worried all night how the mamma duck was going to get those babies safely off their perch in a busy,
downtown, urban environment to take to water, which typically happens in the first 48 hours of a duck
hatching. Tuesday morning, Joel came to work and watched the mother duck encourage her babies to the
edge of the perch with the intent to show them how to jump off!
The mother flew down below and started quacking to her babies above. In his disbelief Joel watched as the
first fuzzy newborn toddled to the edge and astonishingly leapt into thin air, crashing onto the cement below.
My brother couldn't watch how this might play out. He dashed out of his office and ran down the stairs the
sidewalk where the first obedient duckling was stuporing near its mother from the near fatal fall.
Joel looked up. The second duckling was getting ready to jump! He quickly dodged under the awning while the
mother duck quacked at him and the babies above. As the second one took the plunge, Joel jumped forward
and caught it with his bare hands before it hit the cement. Safe and sound, he set it by the mamma and the other < BR>stunned sibling, still recovering from its painful leap.
One by one the babies continued to jump to join their anxious family below. Each time Joel hid under the
awning just to reach out in the nick of time as the duckling made its free fall. The downtown sidewalk came
to a standstill. Time after time, Joel was able to catch the remaining 7 and set them by their approving mother.
At this point Joel realized the duck family had only made part of its dangerous journey. They had 2 full blocks
to walk across traffic, crosswalks, curbs, and pedestrians to get to the closest open water, the Spokane River
The onlooking office secretaries then joined in, and hurriedly brought an empty copy paper box to collect the
babies. They carefully corralled them, with the mother's approval, and loaded them up into the white cardboard
container. Joel held the box low enough for the mom to see her brood. He then slowly navigated through the
downtown streets toward the Spokane River , as the mother waddled behind and kept her babies in sight.
As they reached the river, the mother took over and passed him, jumping into the river and quacking loudly.
At the water's edge, the Sterling Bank office staff then tipped the box and helped shepherd the babies toward
the water and to their mother after their adventurous ride.
All nine darling ducklings safely made it into the water and paddled up snugly to mamma duck. Joel said the
mom swam in circles, looking back toward the beaming bank workers, and proudly quacking as if to say,
'See, we did it! Thanks for all the help!
Thankfully, one of the secretaries had a digital camera and was able to capture most of it (except the
actual mid-air catching) in a series of attached photographs. Please join me in celebrating ---
The Downtown Duck Hero!
Something really amazing happened in Downtown Spokane this week and I had to share the story with you.
Some of you may know that my brother, Joel, is a loan officer at Sterling Bank. He works downtown in a
second story office building, overlooking busy Riverside Avenue . Several weeks ago he watched a mother
duck choose the cement awning outside his window as the uncanny place to build a nest above the sidewalk.
The mallard laid nine eggs in a nest in the corner of the planter that is perched over 10 feet in the air. She
dutifully kept the eggs warm for weeks and Monday afternoon all of her nine ducklings hatched.
Joel worried all night how the mamma duck was going to get those babies safely off their perch in a busy,
downtown, urban environment to take to water, which typically happens in the first 48 hours of a duck
hatching. Tuesday morning, Joel came to work and watched the mother duck encourage her babies to the
edge of the perch with the intent to show them how to jump off!
The mother flew down below and started quacking to her babies above. In his disbelief Joel watched as the
first fuzzy newborn toddled to the edge and astonishingly leapt into thin air, crashing onto the cement below.
My brother couldn't watch how this might play out. He dashed out of his office and ran down the stairs the
sidewalk where the first obedient duckling was stuporing near its mother from the near fatal fall.
Joel looked up. The second duckling was getting ready to jump! He quickly dodged under the awning while the
mother duck quacked at him and the babies above. As the second one took the plunge, Joel jumped forward
and caught it with his bare hands before it hit the cement. Safe and sound, he set it by the mamma and the other < BR>stunned sibling, still recovering from its painful leap.
One by one the babies continued to jump to join their anxious family below. Each time Joel hid under the
awning just to reach out in the nick of time as the duckling made its free fall. The downtown sidewalk came
to a standstill. Time after time, Joel was able to catch the remaining 7 and set them by their approving mother.
At this point Joel realized the duck family had only made part of its dangerous journey. They had 2 full blocks
to walk across traffic, crosswalks, curbs, and pedestrians to get to the closest open water, the Spokane River
The onlooking office secretaries then joined in, and hurriedly brought an empty copy paper box to collect the
babies. They carefully corralled them, with the mother's approval, and loaded them up into the white cardboard
container. Joel held the box low enough for the mom to see her brood. He then slowly navigated through the
downtown streets toward the Spokane River , as the mother waddled behind and kept her babies in sight.
As they reached the river, the mother took over and passed him, jumping into the river and quacking loudly.
At the water's edge, the Sterling Bank office staff then tipped the box and helped shepherd the babies toward
the water and to their mother after their adventurous ride.
All nine darling ducklings safely made it into the water and paddled up snugly to mamma duck. Joel said the
mom swam in circles, looking back toward the beaming bank workers, and proudly quacking as if to say,
'See, we did it! Thanks for all the help!
Thankfully, one of the secretaries had a digital camera and was able to capture most of it (except the
actual mid-air catching) in a series of attached photographs. Please join me in celebrating ---
The Downtown Duck Hero!
He Will Be Missed
Tony Snow's Testimony
This is an outstanding testimony from Tony Snow, President Bush's Press Secretary, and his fight with cancer. Commentator and broadcaster Tony Snow Announced that he had colon cancer in 2005. Following surgery and chem o-therapy, Snow joined the Bush Administration in April, 2006, as press secretary. Unfortunately, on March 23, 2007, Snow, 51, a husband and father of three, Announced that the cancer had recurred, with tumors found in his abdomen, Leading to surgery in April, followed by more chemotherapy. Snow went back to work in the White House Briefing Room on May 3, But has resigned since, 'for economic reasons,' And to pursue 'other interests.' It needs little intro . . . It speaks for itself.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
'Blessings arrive in unexpected packages, - in my case, cancer. Those of us with potentially fatal diseases - and there are millions in America today - Find ourselves in the odd position of coping with our mortality While trying to fathom God's will. Although it would be the height of presumption To declare with confidence 'What It All Means,' Scripture provides powerful hints and consolations.
The first is that we shouldn't spend too much time Trying to answer the 'why' questions: Why me? Why must people suffer? Why can't someone else get sick? We can't answer such things, And the questions themselves Often are designed more to express our anguish Than to solicit an answer.
I don't know why I have cancer, and I don't much care. It is what it is, a plain and indisputable fact. Yet even while staring into a mirror darkly, Great and stunning truths began to take shape. Our maladies define a central feature of our existence: We are fallen. We are imperfect. Our bodies give out.
But, despite this, - or because of it, - God offers the possibility of salvation and grace. We don't know how the narrative of our lives will end, But we get to choose how to use the interval Between now And the moment we meet our Creator face-to-face.
Second, we need to get past the anxiety. The mere thought of dying Can send adrenaline flooding through your system. A dizzy, unfocused panic seizes you. Your heart thumps; your head swims. You think of nothingness and swoon. You fear partings; You worry about the impact on family and friends. You fidget and get nowhere.
To regain footing, remember that we were born not into death, But into life - and that the journey continues After we have finished our days on this earth. We accept this on faith, But that faith is nourished by a conviction That stirs even within many non-believing hearts - an institution that the gift of life, once given, Cannot be taken away. Those who have been stricken Enjoy the special privilege of being able to fight With their might, main, and faith To live fully, richly, exuberantly - no matter how their days may be numbered.
Third, we can open our eyes and hearts. God relishes surprise. We want lives of simple, predictable ease, - smooth, even trails as far as the eye can see, - But God likes to go off-road. He provokes us with twists and turns. He places us in predicaments That seem to defy our endurance and comprehension - and yet don't. By His love and grace, we persevere. The challenges that make our hearts leap And stomachs churn Invariably strengthen our faith And grant measures of wisdom and joy We would not experience otherwise.
'You Have Been Called'. Picture yourself in a hospital bed. The fog of anesthesia has begun to wear away. A doctor stands at your feet, A loved one holds your hand at the side. 'It's cancer,' the healer announces.
The natural reaction is to turn to God And ask him to serve as a cosmic Santa. 'Dear God, make it all go away. Make everything simpler.' But another voice whispers: 'You have been called.' Your quandary has drawn you closer to God, Closer to those you love, Closer to the issues that matter, - and has dragged into insignificance The banal concerns That occupy our 'normal time.'
There's another kind of response, Although usually short-lived, an inexplicable shudder of excitement as if a clarifying moment of calamity has swept away everything trivial and tiny, and placed before us the challenge of important questions.
The moment you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things change. You discover that Christianity is not something doughy, passive, pious, and soft. Faith may be the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. But it also draws you into a world scorn of fearful caution. The life of belief teems with thrills, boldness, danger, shocks, reversals, triumphs, and epiphanies. Think of Paul, traipsing through the known world and contemplating trips to what must have seemed the antipodes (Spain), shaking the dust from his sandals, worrying not about the morrow, but only about the moment.
There's nothing wilder than a life of humble virtue, - for it is through selflessness and service that God wrings from our bodies and spirits the most we ever could give, the most we ever could offer, and the most we ever could do.
Finally, we can let love change everything. When Jesus was faced with the prospect of crucifixion, he grieved not for himself, but for us. He cried for Jerusalem before entering the Holy City. From the Cross, he took on the cumulative burden of human sin and weakness, and begged for forgiveness on our behalf.
We get repeated chances to learn that life is not about us, that we acquired purpose and satisfaction by sharing in God's love for others. Sickness gets us part way there. It reminds us of our limitations and dependence. But it also gives us a chance to serve the healthy. A minister friend of mine observes that people suffering grave afflictions often acquire the faith of two people, while loved ones accept the burden of two peoples' worries and fears.
'Learning How to Live'. Most of us have watched friends as they drifted toward God's arms, not with resignation, but with peace and hope. In so doing, they have taught us not how to die, but how to live. They have emulated Christ by transmitting the power and authority of live.
I sat by my best friend's bedside a few years ago as a wasting cancer took him away. He kept at his table a worn Bible and a 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer. A shattering grief disabled his family, many of his old friends, and at least one priest. Here was an humble and very good guy, someone who apologized when he winced with pain because he thought it made his guest uncomfortable. He restrained his equanimity and good humor literally until his last conscious moment. 'I'm going to try to beat [this cancer],' he told me several months before he died. 'But if I don't, I'll see you on the other side.'
His gift was to remind everyone around him that even though God doesn't promise us tomorrow, he does promise us eternity - filled with life and love we cannot comprehend, - and that one can, in the throes of sickness, point the rest of us toward timeless truths that will help us weather future storms.
Through such trials, God bids us to choose: Do we believe, or do we not? Will we be bold enough to love, daring enough to serve, humble enough to submit, and strong enough to acknowledge our limitations? Can we surrender our concern in things that don't matter so that we might devote our remaining days to things that do?
When our faith flags, He throws reminders in our way. Think of the prayer warriors in our midst. They change things, and those of us who have been on the receiving end of their petitions and intercessions know it. It is hard to describe, but there are times when suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you feel a surge of the Spirit. Somehow you just know: Others have chosen, when talking to the Author of all creation, to lift us up, - to speak of us!
This is love of a very special order. But so is the ability to sit back and appreciate the wonder of every created thing. The mere thought of death somehow makes every blessing vivid, every happiness more luminous and intense. We may not know how our contest with sickness will end, but we have felt the ineluctable touch of God.
What is man that Thou are mindful of him? We don't know much, but we know this: No matter where we are, no matter what we do, no matter how bleak or frightening our prospects, each and every one of us who believe each and every day, lies in the same safe and impregnable place, in the hollow of God's hand.'
~ T. Snow ~
This is an outstanding testimony from Tony Snow, President Bush's Press Secretary, and his fight with cancer. Commentator and broadcaster Tony Snow Announced that he had colon cancer in 2005. Following surgery and chem o-therapy, Snow joined the Bush Administration in April, 2006, as press secretary. Unfortunately, on March 23, 2007, Snow, 51, a husband and father of three, Announced that the cancer had recurred, with tumors found in his abdomen, Leading to surgery in April, followed by more chemotherapy. Snow went back to work in the White House Briefing Room on May 3, But has resigned since, 'for economic reasons,' And to pursue 'other interests.' It needs little intro . . . It speaks for itself.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
'Blessings arrive in unexpected packages, - in my case, cancer. Those of us with potentially fatal diseases - and there are millions in America today - Find ourselves in the odd position of coping with our mortality While trying to fathom God's will. Although it would be the height of presumption To declare with confidence 'What It All Means,' Scripture provides powerful hints and consolations.
The first is that we shouldn't spend too much time Trying to answer the 'why' questions: Why me? Why must people suffer? Why can't someone else get sick? We can't answer such things, And the questions themselves Often are designed more to express our anguish Than to solicit an answer.
I don't know why I have cancer, and I don't much care. It is what it is, a plain and indisputable fact. Yet even while staring into a mirror darkly, Great and stunning truths began to take shape. Our maladies define a central feature of our existence: We are fallen. We are imperfect. Our bodies give out.
But, despite this, - or because of it, - God offers the possibility of salvation and grace. We don't know how the narrative of our lives will end, But we get to choose how to use the interval Between now And the moment we meet our Creator face-to-face.
Second, we need to get past the anxiety. The mere thought of dying Can send adrenaline flooding through your system. A dizzy, unfocused panic seizes you. Your heart thumps; your head swims. You think of nothingness and swoon. You fear partings; You worry about the impact on family and friends. You fidget and get nowhere.
To regain footing, remember that we were born not into death, But into life - and that the journey continues After we have finished our days on this earth. We accept this on faith, But that faith is nourished by a conviction That stirs even within many non-believing hearts - an institution that the gift of life, once given, Cannot be taken away. Those who have been stricken Enjoy the special privilege of being able to fight With their might, main, and faith To live fully, richly, exuberantly - no matter how their days may be numbered.
Third, we can open our eyes and hearts. God relishes surprise. We want lives of simple, predictable ease, - smooth, even trails as far as the eye can see, - But God likes to go off-road. He provokes us with twists and turns. He places us in predicaments That seem to defy our endurance and comprehension - and yet don't. By His love and grace, we persevere. The challenges that make our hearts leap And stomachs churn Invariably strengthen our faith And grant measures of wisdom and joy We would not experience otherwise.
'You Have Been Called'. Picture yourself in a hospital bed. The fog of anesthesia has begun to wear away. A doctor stands at your feet, A loved one holds your hand at the side. 'It's cancer,' the healer announces.
The natural reaction is to turn to God And ask him to serve as a cosmic Santa. 'Dear God, make it all go away. Make everything simpler.' But another voice whispers: 'You have been called.' Your quandary has drawn you closer to God, Closer to those you love, Closer to the issues that matter, - and has dragged into insignificance The banal concerns That occupy our 'normal time.'
There's another kind of response, Although usually short-lived, an inexplicable shudder of excitement as if a clarifying moment of calamity has swept away everything trivial and tiny, and placed before us the challenge of important questions.
The moment you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things change. You discover that Christianity is not something doughy, passive, pious, and soft. Faith may be the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. But it also draws you into a world scorn of fearful caution. The life of belief teems with thrills, boldness, danger, shocks, reversals, triumphs, and epiphanies. Think of Paul, traipsing through the known world and contemplating trips to what must have seemed the antipodes (Spain), shaking the dust from his sandals, worrying not about the morrow, but only about the moment.
There's nothing wilder than a life of humble virtue, - for it is through selflessness and service that God wrings from our bodies and spirits the most we ever could give, the most we ever could offer, and the most we ever could do.
Finally, we can let love change everything. When Jesus was faced with the prospect of crucifixion, he grieved not for himself, but for us. He cried for Jerusalem before entering the Holy City. From the Cross, he took on the cumulative burden of human sin and weakness, and begged for forgiveness on our behalf.
We get repeated chances to learn that life is not about us, that we acquired purpose and satisfaction by sharing in God's love for others. Sickness gets us part way there. It reminds us of our limitations and dependence. But it also gives us a chance to serve the healthy. A minister friend of mine observes that people suffering grave afflictions often acquire the faith of two people, while loved ones accept the burden of two peoples' worries and fears.
'Learning How to Live'. Most of us have watched friends as they drifted toward God's arms, not with resignation, but with peace and hope. In so doing, they have taught us not how to die, but how to live. They have emulated Christ by transmitting the power and authority of live.
I sat by my best friend's bedside a few years ago as a wasting cancer took him away. He kept at his table a worn Bible and a 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer. A shattering grief disabled his family, many of his old friends, and at least one priest. Here was an humble and very good guy, someone who apologized when he winced with pain because he thought it made his guest uncomfortable. He restrained his equanimity and good humor literally until his last conscious moment. 'I'm going to try to beat [this cancer],' he told me several months before he died. 'But if I don't, I'll see you on the other side.'
His gift was to remind everyone around him that even though God doesn't promise us tomorrow, he does promise us eternity - filled with life and love we cannot comprehend, - and that one can, in the throes of sickness, point the rest of us toward timeless truths that will help us weather future storms.
Through such trials, God bids us to choose: Do we believe, or do we not? Will we be bold enough to love, daring enough to serve, humble enough to submit, and strong enough to acknowledge our limitations? Can we surrender our concern in things that don't matter so that we might devote our remaining days to things that do?
When our faith flags, He throws reminders in our way. Think of the prayer warriors in our midst. They change things, and those of us who have been on the receiving end of their petitions and intercessions know it. It is hard to describe, but there are times when suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you feel a surge of the Spirit. Somehow you just know: Others have chosen, when talking to the Author of all creation, to lift us up, - to speak of us!
This is love of a very special order. But so is the ability to sit back and appreciate the wonder of every created thing. The mere thought of death somehow makes every blessing vivid, every happiness more luminous and intense. We may not know how our contest with sickness will end, but we have felt the ineluctable touch of God.
What is man that Thou are mindful of him? We don't know much, but we know this: No matter where we are, no matter what we do, no matter how bleak or frightening our prospects, each and every one of us who believe each and every day, lies in the same safe and impregnable place, in the hollow of God's hand.'
~ T. Snow ~
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Early Days As I Can Remember
As i was growing up i picked up on things that happened when i was born . I was born June 1950 . My Mother went into labor at a hospital in Newton NC. Dad used to tell me when they brought me home ( dad carried me out ) . Dad said there was this yellow stuff running down his arm . You can imagine what that was . I had yellow jonyers and i got sick with Pneumonia for 14days . I weighted 8 pounds . Dad said when he was bring us home that he went around a sharp curve near what is known today as Murray's Mill that mom fell out of our car and rolled down a hill . If he hadn't been holding me i probably would have went with her. Dad managed to mom back in car and was crying so bad that he took her down to my grandma's to cry it out .
A couple years later when i could remember things on my own . Mom and dad had another child named Richard Born July 1953 . When they brought him home mom really watched the door and held on .
I can remember living in my grand parents basement . One day mom was going down steps and saw a long black snake laying in the floor . She fainted and dad run and got the hoe . That ended us living in a basement .
We moved into the town of Catawba in a flat house in 1953 . We lived on the left side and an elderly woman lived in other side . I can remember eating out of mom's slop bucket . She would smack me good when she could catch me doing that . One day my uncle James give me a hammer and i was outside one day hammering any thing i could to beat on . That elderly lady came out and took my hammer away and i never did get it back .
We lived beside the train tracts and we would run out and the conductors would throw large pieces of peppermint candy . One day one motioned me to come down and he give a big hand full of Penney's . Mom saw that and whooped me till i got to the house .
The town of Catawba is where i got my first haircut .
Sometime in 1955 we move to Irdell county across the river from Catawba to a place called the brickyard where dad got a job making 90cents an hour . That is when i started to school . Dad learned me how to set out rabbit traps and what to put in them . If we didn't have any thing for the traps we would just pee on them . I would go check the traps before school and dad would go get them critters . some times you would look in them and you would have a opossum grinning at you . Never stick your hand in a trap with a opossums in one they will tear your hand up . We eat a lot of rabbits back in those days . Dad loved them opossums . But you sure didn't want to be in house when they were cooking . Mom would boil them opossums for a long time to boil the grease out but when she baked them after boiling them you still had a lot of grease . Sure did stink during the hold process . He also liked coon .
I can remember one time that got me in trouble . Dad told me to cut tv off and let it cool down . I being to smart that i did a dumb thing . I went to the ice box and go two trays of ice you know i melted all that ice on top of that tv . It sure cooled it down . Dad came home from work and was watching tv the something happened , smoke cam up from back of tv and it stopped working . Told dad what i had done . after a much need whooping dad took it to be repaired and repairman said it was a wonder i hadn't got electrocuted . Dad ended up getting another one . I never did that again.
Another time a man sent one of his kids down and wanted to know if dad wanted a squirrel a rooster and a rabbit . Dad said yes . They brought them critters down and dad looked in to that bag and they had frozen them with fur and feathers with out even cleaning . That ended accepting any thing else from them people .
One day i some how chopped my brother in the head with a steel hoe . Mom got bleeding stop but later that night blood started gushing out . Dad had to take him and wake a doc up . It took 17 stitches to sew him up .
A couple months later my brother got real sick . He went in to convulsions and dad had to rush him to hospital . A cop got behind him and tried to stop him but dad kept going own . He drove into hospital emergency room entrance . When that patrolman saw my brother with his eyes rolled back into his head he took him out of mom's arms and carried him in . They said he had quit breathing but was able to revive him . He laid in a coma for over 30 days . Dad had to mortgage everything we had to pay bills and provide a nurse to watch my brother while he worked . He finally woke up and got to come home . They said he had gotten Encephalitis's . They said it would set him back around 3 years that would affect him in later years learning things .
About a month later he was out side peeing and i noticed him peeing red . I told mom and they took him back to doctor and he spent 6 weeks in hospital getting it cleared up . They said at hospital the he had bright disease .
In early 1959 my dad was at work and he had to change cars that had brick stacked on them between kills to the burning kill to put the color in as brick is today . While he was changing one to another a couple brick fell on top of his foot . It didn't break the skin so he kept on working . A couple days later his foot started hurting . He went to doctor and doc said it was rheumatism . It kept getting worst and he went to another doc and that doc put his leg and ankle in a cast . He got home and i can remember crawling on my knees lifting his leg so he could move around . It hurt him so much . He finally had to go to hospital and when they cut that cast off he had developed blood poison in his right leg . His ankle had swollen up and was full of pus . Doctors thought they might have to take his leg off . when the got him on the operating table the doc stuck a scalpel in his ankle and the force that was there shot that puss out on it's own . They didn't have to do anything else but the pus in there had eaten up the bone in his ankle and he ended up wearing a steel brace the rest of his life .
We had to live on 36 dollars a week for 36 weeks and when that run out we had to move .
Back then 36 dollars went a long way . I can remember gas being 12 cents a gallon, Soft drink 12 ounces 5 cent,5 pound hamburger 99cents.
In September 1959 we moved to Catawba county near grandparents house . Grandpa's had given mom and dad a piece of land and bought a small mobile home that was 8 foot wide and around 37 feet long . We lived in that little trailer till April 1970 . My brother and i took out income tax check refunds and paid down on a 12x60 foot trailer . That was the first time we ever had a bathroom inside .
I wanted to make some money on the side and grand paw said he had a job for me. He took me to the barn and said he would pay me to clean the stable . Polly the cow was having trouble getting into her resting place . I got down there at eight o'clock and begin to clean You had to use a pitchfork on that stuff . It took me 3 days to clean that stable . It had over 3 feet of manure in it . When i got done grandpa give me 50 cent . I learned not to ask anymore after that .
We used to go to cotton fields at daybreak . grandma would fix us a dinner and we didn't come home till the cotton was hoed .Did the same when it came time to pick that cotton . It took a long time to harvest all that cotton . Them roe's were as long as you could see . We or at least i would pick all day and go to smoke house and weigh our sacks but i would only have 3 pounds in my sack where others would have 60 or 70 pounds in their's. Grandpa would take the bounty to cotton gin on a wagon fixed so he could pull it with his truck to sell it .
That was the way paw made money to get threw the cold winters we had back then. After the cotton went away around here . Grandpa would work in the saw mill. They had one saw mill that they transported to the site and set up . They would use horses and i mean big horses to pull the trees they cut down to drag to the saw for grandpa to saw into boards .Later on the owner bought a tractor to replace them horses . Grandpa worked in the saw mill till he retired .
I remember this wonderful black man named Babe that was 75 years old . He was friendly as he could be . We would go and sit on his porch and he would tell us some of the most wonderful stories . He sure knew how to grow water melons .
We would come home on our school buses but instead of going to other school to pick up kids . We talked the bus driver to let us off close to our home . This one day i took a very large sack to school . I wanted me one of them water melons . We jumped off that bus (driver wouldn't stop but would slow down) I hit the ground and went end over end before i came to a rest . I didn't try that again . when we got to that patch of very large melons . They were hard to pick one they were so large . I got one and it was all i could do to get it into my sack. I drug it to the edge of our woods and went home to get my little red wagon . I finally got it home and put it on bathroom scales . It weighed over 85 pound . Even thou it was stolen it was the best water melon we had ever tasted . Later own we went back but because of our actions , Babe was so mad at us kids that he went to that field and stomped every one of those melons to keep us from getting them .
Another farmer around there had another way of keeping kid's out of his patch . He would take a needle and squirt croton oil in them water melons and if you picked the wrong one . Well let's say you didn't have time to make it to the bathroom or even the woods .
Later on a few years us kids would start trying to smoke . We would go to the edges of a field and there was this stuff that growed in stalks and the leaves were silver in color when they started to dry . We would strip them leaves off and when we got enough we would roll a joint up in brown paper and try and smoke it . This stuff was called rabbit tobacco . If you puffed to hard really fast it would engulf in to a big ball of fire . You had to watch you hair if you wanted to keep any. Later on we would walk to a local store and buy cig's . I would buy a menthol type . and a brand called half and half . I made a mistake one day and took my mom the mail forgetting i had them in my shirt pocket . I got up to her and she saw them cig's and took them from me . I never heard anything else from her or dad but one Friday evening Dad come out of the Grocery store called Winndixie . ( none around here anymore) Dad handed me a pack of Winston's and yo know i didn't want to smoke anymore after that .
I used to live in a duplex apartment back in early eighty's . I was home one day and sitting in my easy chair . I happen to look up and where the phone was on the wall i noticed a hole developing next to it . All a sudden this head appeared . It was a rat . I went over and stuffed a wash rag in that hole . A little later that dang rat pulled it into that hole . I went into the bedroom and got my rifle . Sat down in easy chair and waited . I shot at that rat several times , never did hit it but there was several more hole's in that wall . I went to store and got several boxes of rat poison . Throwed some down them holes and in utility room . A couple days later the yard was full of dead rats . Still had them holes but got rid of them critters .
Another time i used to shoot flies off screen door of our mobile home but that another story .
Back before my mother died , i heard her scream and i ran to where she was . She was putting some trash in trash can and something moved . I looked in it and there was a baby opossum in the trash . Later that day after i deposed of the critter we saw something run across the floor . It turned out to be another one . In all there were five . That was in the spring . In the fall we found 6 more . Some ran out from under my bed . I did away with four and i took two to work to show i wasn't lieing about them opossum's . I guess that is why our dog was so upset when she got under our mobile home . Found out they were coming in around the pipes that was under the sink .
Back in 1967 not long after I got my Lic to drive , a couple friends of mine were crusin around and stopped at a store and i bought 20 , 5 cent packs of peanuts . About an hour later my belly started hurting and I needed a bathroom . No bathroom around at 3 in the morning . Stopped at a closed gas station and there was a phone booth . I had to go so I used the phone booth . Later that day we drove buy that station and the phone company was there with a steam jenny cleaning that booth Not to long after that happened they took that phone booth out all together . That is about the worst thing I ever did .
Back in the old days i would go down to my Grandma's and sit in the yard with my grandparents , grandpa would light up a King Edward Cigar . and cut a piece of tobacco off his plug . Every once in a while he would fart . We got to having contest to see who could fart the best . Well let me tell you grandma knew how to fart with the best of us . It was so funny sitting in that yard or porch with us farting and listening to the whoop-per-whill's sing back off in the woods . Some times you could hear a screech owl holler out . That sound , sounded like a woman scream .
I miss my grandparents so much . The memories of those days were precious .
My dad died in 1983 my mom in 1990 . Since i have been living alone Makes me miss my parents so bad it tears me up inside . It is hard to cope some times but in time i get alright . I am not ashamed to admit i cry . Crying to me helps relieve the loneliness and stress of being a lone now .
My first car was a 1954 ford that had a broke rear spring . It sure would spin . Traded it for a 1957 Chevy 4door . Was coming home from school one day and was going to show how the four barrel kick in . Well it blew up . That ended that car . Next car 1959 Chevy . Had a rotten floor board because i got in back one day and foot went clean to the ground . Next car 1960 Chevy . Then a 1963 Chevy that when going down road at night lights would go out . Just had to pray you got stopped before you hit a ditch . Next was a 1964 Chevelle , turned out to be best car i owned . Next 1967 Pontiac fire bird . Fastest car i owned . Next 1968 chevelle . Next 1969 chevelle . Rest 1972 Chevy truck, 1969 nova , 1983 Chevy truck , 1996 Chevy truck that i drive today . That is my history of vehicle's i have owned .
What i have written Is true . I love to write and i hope you have enjoyed what i have put forth . Maybe you shed a tear , got a chuckle or rolling in the floor about now . Thank you for the time it took out of your life to read and maybe learn something.
Written by
Wayne
A couple years later when i could remember things on my own . Mom and dad had another child named Richard Born July 1953 . When they brought him home mom really watched the door and held on .
I can remember living in my grand parents basement . One day mom was going down steps and saw a long black snake laying in the floor . She fainted and dad run and got the hoe . That ended us living in a basement .
We moved into the town of Catawba in a flat house in 1953 . We lived on the left side and an elderly woman lived in other side . I can remember eating out of mom's slop bucket . She would smack me good when she could catch me doing that . One day my uncle James give me a hammer and i was outside one day hammering any thing i could to beat on . That elderly lady came out and took my hammer away and i never did get it back .
We lived beside the train tracts and we would run out and the conductors would throw large pieces of peppermint candy . One day one motioned me to come down and he give a big hand full of Penney's . Mom saw that and whooped me till i got to the house .
The town of Catawba is where i got my first haircut .
Sometime in 1955 we move to Irdell county across the river from Catawba to a place called the brickyard where dad got a job making 90cents an hour . That is when i started to school . Dad learned me how to set out rabbit traps and what to put in them . If we didn't have any thing for the traps we would just pee on them . I would go check the traps before school and dad would go get them critters . some times you would look in them and you would have a opossum grinning at you . Never stick your hand in a trap with a opossums in one they will tear your hand up . We eat a lot of rabbits back in those days . Dad loved them opossums . But you sure didn't want to be in house when they were cooking . Mom would boil them opossums for a long time to boil the grease out but when she baked them after boiling them you still had a lot of grease . Sure did stink during the hold process . He also liked coon .
I can remember one time that got me in trouble . Dad told me to cut tv off and let it cool down . I being to smart that i did a dumb thing . I went to the ice box and go two trays of ice you know i melted all that ice on top of that tv . It sure cooled it down . Dad came home from work and was watching tv the something happened , smoke cam up from back of tv and it stopped working . Told dad what i had done . after a much need whooping dad took it to be repaired and repairman said it was a wonder i hadn't got electrocuted . Dad ended up getting another one . I never did that again.
Another time a man sent one of his kids down and wanted to know if dad wanted a squirrel a rooster and a rabbit . Dad said yes . They brought them critters down and dad looked in to that bag and they had frozen them with fur and feathers with out even cleaning . That ended accepting any thing else from them people .
One day i some how chopped my brother in the head with a steel hoe . Mom got bleeding stop but later that night blood started gushing out . Dad had to take him and wake a doc up . It took 17 stitches to sew him up .
A couple months later my brother got real sick . He went in to convulsions and dad had to rush him to hospital . A cop got behind him and tried to stop him but dad kept going own . He drove into hospital emergency room entrance . When that patrolman saw my brother with his eyes rolled back into his head he took him out of mom's arms and carried him in . They said he had quit breathing but was able to revive him . He laid in a coma for over 30 days . Dad had to mortgage everything we had to pay bills and provide a nurse to watch my brother while he worked . He finally woke up and got to come home . They said he had gotten Encephalitis's . They said it would set him back around 3 years that would affect him in later years learning things .
About a month later he was out side peeing and i noticed him peeing red . I told mom and they took him back to doctor and he spent 6 weeks in hospital getting it cleared up . They said at hospital the he had bright disease .
In early 1959 my dad was at work and he had to change cars that had brick stacked on them between kills to the burning kill to put the color in as brick is today . While he was changing one to another a couple brick fell on top of his foot . It didn't break the skin so he kept on working . A couple days later his foot started hurting . He went to doctor and doc said it was rheumatism . It kept getting worst and he went to another doc and that doc put his leg and ankle in a cast . He got home and i can remember crawling on my knees lifting his leg so he could move around . It hurt him so much . He finally had to go to hospital and when they cut that cast off he had developed blood poison in his right leg . His ankle had swollen up and was full of pus . Doctors thought they might have to take his leg off . when the got him on the operating table the doc stuck a scalpel in his ankle and the force that was there shot that puss out on it's own . They didn't have to do anything else but the pus in there had eaten up the bone in his ankle and he ended up wearing a steel brace the rest of his life .
We had to live on 36 dollars a week for 36 weeks and when that run out we had to move .
Back then 36 dollars went a long way . I can remember gas being 12 cents a gallon, Soft drink 12 ounces 5 cent,5 pound hamburger 99cents.
In September 1959 we moved to Catawba county near grandparents house . Grandpa's had given mom and dad a piece of land and bought a small mobile home that was 8 foot wide and around 37 feet long . We lived in that little trailer till April 1970 . My brother and i took out income tax check refunds and paid down on a 12x60 foot trailer . That was the first time we ever had a bathroom inside .
I wanted to make some money on the side and grand paw said he had a job for me. He took me to the barn and said he would pay me to clean the stable . Polly the cow was having trouble getting into her resting place . I got down there at eight o'clock and begin to clean You had to use a pitchfork on that stuff . It took me 3 days to clean that stable . It had over 3 feet of manure in it . When i got done grandpa give me 50 cent . I learned not to ask anymore after that .
We used to go to cotton fields at daybreak . grandma would fix us a dinner and we didn't come home till the cotton was hoed .Did the same when it came time to pick that cotton . It took a long time to harvest all that cotton . Them roe's were as long as you could see . We or at least i would pick all day and go to smoke house and weigh our sacks but i would only have 3 pounds in my sack where others would have 60 or 70 pounds in their's. Grandpa would take the bounty to cotton gin on a wagon fixed so he could pull it with his truck to sell it .
That was the way paw made money to get threw the cold winters we had back then. After the cotton went away around here . Grandpa would work in the saw mill. They had one saw mill that they transported to the site and set up . They would use horses and i mean big horses to pull the trees they cut down to drag to the saw for grandpa to saw into boards .Later on the owner bought a tractor to replace them horses . Grandpa worked in the saw mill till he retired .
I remember this wonderful black man named Babe that was 75 years old . He was friendly as he could be . We would go and sit on his porch and he would tell us some of the most wonderful stories . He sure knew how to grow water melons .
We would come home on our school buses but instead of going to other school to pick up kids . We talked the bus driver to let us off close to our home . This one day i took a very large sack to school . I wanted me one of them water melons . We jumped off that bus (driver wouldn't stop but would slow down) I hit the ground and went end over end before i came to a rest . I didn't try that again . when we got to that patch of very large melons . They were hard to pick one they were so large . I got one and it was all i could do to get it into my sack. I drug it to the edge of our woods and went home to get my little red wagon . I finally got it home and put it on bathroom scales . It weighed over 85 pound . Even thou it was stolen it was the best water melon we had ever tasted . Later own we went back but because of our actions , Babe was so mad at us kids that he went to that field and stomped every one of those melons to keep us from getting them .
Another farmer around there had another way of keeping kid's out of his patch . He would take a needle and squirt croton oil in them water melons and if you picked the wrong one . Well let's say you didn't have time to make it to the bathroom or even the woods .
Later on a few years us kids would start trying to smoke . We would go to the edges of a field and there was this stuff that growed in stalks and the leaves were silver in color when they started to dry . We would strip them leaves off and when we got enough we would roll a joint up in brown paper and try and smoke it . This stuff was called rabbit tobacco . If you puffed to hard really fast it would engulf in to a big ball of fire . You had to watch you hair if you wanted to keep any. Later on we would walk to a local store and buy cig's . I would buy a menthol type . and a brand called half and half . I made a mistake one day and took my mom the mail forgetting i had them in my shirt pocket . I got up to her and she saw them cig's and took them from me . I never heard anything else from her or dad but one Friday evening Dad come out of the Grocery store called Winndixie . ( none around here anymore) Dad handed me a pack of Winston's and yo know i didn't want to smoke anymore after that .
I used to live in a duplex apartment back in early eighty's . I was home one day and sitting in my easy chair . I happen to look up and where the phone was on the wall i noticed a hole developing next to it . All a sudden this head appeared . It was a rat . I went over and stuffed a wash rag in that hole . A little later that dang rat pulled it into that hole . I went into the bedroom and got my rifle . Sat down in easy chair and waited . I shot at that rat several times , never did hit it but there was several more hole's in that wall . I went to store and got several boxes of rat poison . Throwed some down them holes and in utility room . A couple days later the yard was full of dead rats . Still had them holes but got rid of them critters .
Another time i used to shoot flies off screen door of our mobile home but that another story .
Back before my mother died , i heard her scream and i ran to where she was . She was putting some trash in trash can and something moved . I looked in it and there was a baby opossum in the trash . Later that day after i deposed of the critter we saw something run across the floor . It turned out to be another one . In all there were five . That was in the spring . In the fall we found 6 more . Some ran out from under my bed . I did away with four and i took two to work to show i wasn't lieing about them opossum's . I guess that is why our dog was so upset when she got under our mobile home . Found out they were coming in around the pipes that was under the sink .
Back in 1967 not long after I got my Lic to drive , a couple friends of mine were crusin around and stopped at a store and i bought 20 , 5 cent packs of peanuts . About an hour later my belly started hurting and I needed a bathroom . No bathroom around at 3 in the morning . Stopped at a closed gas station and there was a phone booth . I had to go so I used the phone booth . Later that day we drove buy that station and the phone company was there with a steam jenny cleaning that booth Not to long after that happened they took that phone booth out all together . That is about the worst thing I ever did .
Back in the old days i would go down to my Grandma's and sit in the yard with my grandparents , grandpa would light up a King Edward Cigar . and cut a piece of tobacco off his plug . Every once in a while he would fart . We got to having contest to see who could fart the best . Well let me tell you grandma knew how to fart with the best of us . It was so funny sitting in that yard or porch with us farting and listening to the whoop-per-whill's sing back off in the woods . Some times you could hear a screech owl holler out . That sound , sounded like a woman scream .
I miss my grandparents so much . The memories of those days were precious .
My dad died in 1983 my mom in 1990 . Since i have been living alone Makes me miss my parents so bad it tears me up inside . It is hard to cope some times but in time i get alright . I am not ashamed to admit i cry . Crying to me helps relieve the loneliness and stress of being a lone now .
My first car was a 1954 ford that had a broke rear spring . It sure would spin . Traded it for a 1957 Chevy 4door . Was coming home from school one day and was going to show how the four barrel kick in . Well it blew up . That ended that car . Next car 1959 Chevy . Had a rotten floor board because i got in back one day and foot went clean to the ground . Next car 1960 Chevy . Then a 1963 Chevy that when going down road at night lights would go out . Just had to pray you got stopped before you hit a ditch . Next was a 1964 Chevelle , turned out to be best car i owned . Next 1967 Pontiac fire bird . Fastest car i owned . Next 1968 chevelle . Next 1969 chevelle . Rest 1972 Chevy truck, 1969 nova , 1983 Chevy truck , 1996 Chevy truck that i drive today . That is my history of vehicle's i have owned .
What i have written Is true . I love to write and i hope you have enjoyed what i have put forth . Maybe you shed a tear , got a chuckle or rolling in the floor about now . Thank you for the time it took out of your life to read and maybe learn something.
Written by
Wayne
My Parents and Some Memories
My mother was a kind and wonderful person . She had four sisters Louise,Bebe,Julia,and Rachel whom was same age as me . Three brothers Thomas,Kenneth,and Owen . Mom growing up met my dad in July 1949 and got married . They had me in June of 1950 and my brother July 1953 . I faintly remember some of the places we lived . I was told when i was born and was brought home from hospital , that dad was driving us home and was going down a hill and got in a very sharp curve . Moms door flew open and she fell out and rolled down a hill . Only thing that kept me in car was dad holding me beside him . He got mom back in car and she was crying and scared . She didn't get hurt . He took her down to grandma's to cry it out .
Dad wasn't much into traveling much so mom didn't get to go places like most people . One house we lived in was in the town of Catawba (lived in North Carolina all our lives)was a flat roofed house that had an elderly woman living in one side . My uncle give me a hammer one day and i was outside beating on a piece of tin . That old woman came out and took my hammer away from me and i never did get it back . I can remember eating out of a slope bucket one time and mom took a hickory switch and got me good on the back of my legs . When we moved from there was in1955 to the place in my other story . In 1958 My dad got his foot hurt and it turned into blood poison . He was in hospital a long time . They took him into the operation room and said they may have take his leg off below the knee . The doctor cut into his ankle and puss shot out of it and doc got it all out . They put off the operation and his leg cleared up . His ankle the bone in it was eaten up and he had to wear a steel brace the rest of his life . His disabilty money ran out . He got 36 dollars a week to live on . It was enough to live on . We had to move and Grandpa give mom a piece of land and he helped dad get a loan to buy a very small mobile home . It was 8 feet wide and 30 couple feet long . This was September 1959 when we moved in it . My dad worked in pain for a lot of years trying to support us . He found out he could get help from the VA because he served in the Army Air Force in WW2. When his checks started he got to quit work . All my Dad's people lived in South Carolina in and around Columbia . All the kin he had was step mother who was a great mom to him . His real mother died when he was 12 . We would go down and see them . His Half brother named Wiley had 13 kids by his wife . Her name was Minnie ,she sure knew hot to make big biscuits . Most are dead now and i don't know where any of them live today . We lived in that little trailer till 1970 . My brother and me took out tax refund checks and paid down on a 12x60 mobile home . This is when we got out first bathroom and hot water . It made it so much easier on mom and dad . (A lot happened between these dates that i will tell later) In March 1983 my dad died . I came home from work and mom said i should go check on dad . I went into his room and asked him if he would go to the hospital He shook his head no . I went into my room and tears was built up in my eyes so bad . I went back in his room and called out to him . His eyes was open and i knew i had to call 911 . They got there and it was raining cats and dogs .The first responders were working on him . His blood pressure was so low . They carried him up the hall to a stretcher . I still see him today gnawing his jaw . After they got him to hospital the couldn't get his pressure back up and pronounced him dead . Said it was congestive heart failure. My mom died in1990 . She went up the road to see my great aunt and when she was sitting on the porch . She fell over dead . The first responders carried her inside because of the heat . I never got to see mom or get to tell her how much i loved her .
So if you are reading this story and your parents are still alive reach out and tell them how much you love them . Those memories are so precious .
Written by Wayne
Dad wasn't much into traveling much so mom didn't get to go places like most people . One house we lived in was in the town of Catawba (lived in North Carolina all our lives)was a flat roofed house that had an elderly woman living in one side . My uncle give me a hammer one day and i was outside beating on a piece of tin . That old woman came out and took my hammer away from me and i never did get it back . I can remember eating out of a slope bucket one time and mom took a hickory switch and got me good on the back of my legs . When we moved from there was in1955 to the place in my other story . In 1958 My dad got his foot hurt and it turned into blood poison . He was in hospital a long time . They took him into the operation room and said they may have take his leg off below the knee . The doctor cut into his ankle and puss shot out of it and doc got it all out . They put off the operation and his leg cleared up . His ankle the bone in it was eaten up and he had to wear a steel brace the rest of his life . His disabilty money ran out . He got 36 dollars a week to live on . It was enough to live on . We had to move and Grandpa give mom a piece of land and he helped dad get a loan to buy a very small mobile home . It was 8 feet wide and 30 couple feet long . This was September 1959 when we moved in it . My dad worked in pain for a lot of years trying to support us . He found out he could get help from the VA because he served in the Army Air Force in WW2. When his checks started he got to quit work . All my Dad's people lived in South Carolina in and around Columbia . All the kin he had was step mother who was a great mom to him . His real mother died when he was 12 . We would go down and see them . His Half brother named Wiley had 13 kids by his wife . Her name was Minnie ,she sure knew hot to make big biscuits . Most are dead now and i don't know where any of them live today . We lived in that little trailer till 1970 . My brother and me took out tax refund checks and paid down on a 12x60 mobile home . This is when we got out first bathroom and hot water . It made it so much easier on mom and dad . (A lot happened between these dates that i will tell later) In March 1983 my dad died . I came home from work and mom said i should go check on dad . I went into his room and asked him if he would go to the hospital He shook his head no . I went into my room and tears was built up in my eyes so bad . I went back in his room and called out to him . His eyes was open and i knew i had to call 911 . They got there and it was raining cats and dogs .The first responders were working on him . His blood pressure was so low . They carried him up the hall to a stretcher . I still see him today gnawing his jaw . After they got him to hospital the couldn't get his pressure back up and pronounced him dead . Said it was congestive heart failure. My mom died in1990 . She went up the road to see my great aunt and when she was sitting on the porch . She fell over dead . The first responders carried her inside because of the heat . I never got to see mom or get to tell her how much i loved her .
So if you are reading this story and your parents are still alive reach out and tell them how much you love them . Those memories are so precious .
Written by Wayne
Canning Ane Other Things In life
When i was growing up my parents and grandparents would plant large gardens . They had beans ,okra ,corn , sugar cane , water melons yellow moon and stars and red ones and they grew big back then , cucumbers , big heads of cabbage . squash yellow and saucer size ones were the best tasting .
I remember when my grandma would can over 300 jars of green beans for the winter . Other things she and mom canned were cabbage to work off in a crock , tomato juice , okra , Yellow and white sweet corn . Pickles like ,sweet and sour , dill , bread and butter , and sour. In the winter we would kill a hog . Grandma and mom would rub seasoning and salt on the shoulders to hang in the smoke house and cure . Grandma would grind sausage and roll into balls and cook then pack in jars . Turn up side down and let the grease would seal the jar . Grandpa would take the sugar cane to an old farmer . They had a press set up and a mule would pull the press and mash the juice out to make molasses . In the winter time it was nice to dip a biscuit in that sweet treat .
They would plant acre's of cotton , wheat and oats for the plow horse and cow . Grandpa had a horse driven machine that i would ride and it would cut the dried wheat corn and oats off by lowering a handle that let the blade down . Then i would ride a hay rake . We would rake the hay in row's and when done use a pitchfork and load hay on a home made trailer that the mule pulled . Then get to the barn and have to throw it up into the loft of barn .
Grandpa had an old T model ford that he would take off back wheel and put a rim on and belt that would pull a saw to cut slabs for fire wood . I liked to off bear that saw but didn't like handing the long slabs too him to cut . Slabs were the part of logs that were cut off at a sawmill to make boards . Sure wish i could go back in them old days . Too me life back then was real and you would savor the rewards for the work we did .
Written By Wayne
I remember when my grandma would can over 300 jars of green beans for the winter . Other things she and mom canned were cabbage to work off in a crock , tomato juice , okra , Yellow and white sweet corn . Pickles like ,sweet and sour , dill , bread and butter , and sour. In the winter we would kill a hog . Grandma and mom would rub seasoning and salt on the shoulders to hang in the smoke house and cure . Grandma would grind sausage and roll into balls and cook then pack in jars . Turn up side down and let the grease would seal the jar . Grandpa would take the sugar cane to an old farmer . They had a press set up and a mule would pull the press and mash the juice out to make molasses . In the winter time it was nice to dip a biscuit in that sweet treat .
They would plant acre's of cotton , wheat and oats for the plow horse and cow . Grandpa had a horse driven machine that i would ride and it would cut the dried wheat corn and oats off by lowering a handle that let the blade down . Then i would ride a hay rake . We would rake the hay in row's and when done use a pitchfork and load hay on a home made trailer that the mule pulled . Then get to the barn and have to throw it up into the loft of barn .
Grandpa had an old T model ford that he would take off back wheel and put a rim on and belt that would pull a saw to cut slabs for fire wood . I liked to off bear that saw but didn't like handing the long slabs too him to cut . Slabs were the part of logs that were cut off at a sawmill to make boards . Sure wish i could go back in them old days . Too me life back then was real and you would savor the rewards for the work we did .
Written By Wayne
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