To be sure family members (and others interested) know of Kelly's blog of 52 pictures of Martha on her birthday, I post this notice:
Kelly's Blog:
http://kellyjeanfarmer.blogspot.com
Mike
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
Oh, My Achin' Back
Do you know any Senior Citizens like me who DON’T have an “achin’ back”? At least SOME of the time?
Probably not.
Not all the time, mind you. But, for me, if I walk too long, or even stand too long in one place, my back aches.
Not an actual “pain”, I guess. But, a disturbing “ache”. Still hurts, though, unless I sit down (or even better, lie down) for awhile.
“You know”, Dr. Buchanan said, “At your age, it’s ‘bone on bone’ and when they rub each other, it hurts.”
Right!
I had that demonstrated for me this week, when I visited the Columbus Zoo with Jodi and Rylan.
Rylan’s “school” is the YMCA pre-school program provided at the former Town and Country Gym on Van Buren Avenue in Springfield. He turned 4 years old in February, and now, he has been “promoted”. Same gym, actually, but with an “older” group, and a different teacher.
About 10 days ago, Jodi called me and said that Rylan’s “school” was taking a trip to the Columbus Zoo, and that she had bought 3 tickets - one each for Rylan, her, and Grandpa (me).
“Do you think you’ll feel like goin’ with us?”, she said.
Quickly thinking of the walking involved, I said, “Sure! I may have to sit down occasionally if I walk too far, but let’s do it!”
“Oh”, Jodi said. “I’ll get a wheel chair and push you around.”
Right!
“Fat chance”, I said to myself. “I’ll be in a wheel chair soon enough, and I’m not going to push it!”
So, I got up an hour earlier than I usually do, skipped breakfast, picked up a cooler and ice at Kroger’s, and picked up Jodi and Rylan at 7:15AM. (Jodi had said she’s packing a lunch for us.)
We arrived at the YMCA Facility at 7:30, and waited for instructions.
Shortly, one of the workers came to my car window and said that they were going in a “convoy”, but if we knew the way, we could go ahead, then meet them at the gate where she would produce our tickets.
“Will do”, I said.
We took off, heading for Columbus. I started to open up my GPS in my BlackBerry, but since I was driving, that seemed not the best thing to do. I knew how to get there, anyway.
I headed north on Belmont Avenue, and Jodi wanted to know where I was going, since Columbus should be reached by I 70.
“I know a better way - going on Routes 4 and 161, through Mechanicsburg and Plain City. I 70 bores me.”
No problem.
We made good time, arriving at the Zoo at about 8:30. We didn’t realize it, but we pulled in right behind a high school friend of Jodi, who had two boys in the “school”. The group had arrived at about the same time we did.
We went to the gate, then waited for the “ticket lady”.
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Before long, she arrived, and stood at the “turnstiles” to verify our ticket purchases.
Jodi said again, “Grandpa, let’s get a wheel chair”.
“No way, Jose!”, I replied. “I’ll be in a wheel chair soon enough, and I’m NOT goin’ to push it.”
“Ok, Grandpa, but if you need it later, let’s do it.”
The interesting thing is, I walk like I’m going to a fire all the time. I still do that, but, after a “long” walk, my back aches.
“Let’s try it this way”, I said.
To eliminate the suspense about the wheel chair, we were there - walking - for about 5 ½ hours, and several times I refused the wheel chair. Jodi was trying to be helpful, of course.
But, I sat down on provided benches several times - when my back began to ache pretty badly. After a few minutes, though, I sufficiently recovered to “walk on”.
We toured most of that Zoo, looking at many, many animals. Rylan was ecstatic, because even though he used to visit the Brevard County Zoo in Florida, he hadn’t seen any of these big animals - such as:
.jpg)
Or,
.jpg)
He even took a ride on a Carousel - steadied by Jodi.
Jodi took a picture of Rylan and me.
.jpg)
We ate lunch at about 11AM, after I took a couple Tylenol tablets.
At noon, there was a stage presentation called, “Animal Safari”. There were 100 live domestic and wild animals running across the stage, climbing ropes, doing tricks, etc. VERY remarkable and enjoyable.
By the time that we felt we had seen all we wanted or needed to see, I was stopping more frequently to sit and rest.
We got home at about 3PM, and to rest my back, I lay down on my bed for a couple hours - took a couple Aleve, and a nap. Back was now OK.
Next day, after a good night’s sleep, I got up without any back problems. However, when I began to walk, my calves “screamed” at me, since I had not walked that much in one afternoon for months. I could still walk OK, though the calves hurt.
At 10AM, it was time for Exercises.
After the regular stretches Timi Neff puts us through, she asks each one of us what exercise we want to do - different from what she has just taken us through, of course.
Each one suggested an exercise.
My turn: I said, “Timi let me look at some pictures of you guys in 2007 and 2008 after Jean and I left here, and I saw some of you doing “push-ups” - from the floor.
“Oh no”, many said.
“Sure”, I replied. “How many will join me?”
One. And she is 92 years old. The rest watched - and kibitzed.
We went to the floor, she about 15 feet from me, and Timi began counting, while Bessie and I “pushed-up”.
Each time Timi gave a new number, down we went. She kept counting past 20, and I wondered how in the world Bessie could go that long. I couldn’t see her, so didn’t know how she was doing. Turns out that Timi had Bessie stop at 15, but she kept counting, until she laughed at 25, and I caught on and stopped.
Next day - still no problems with my “achin’ back”, but my calves STILL hurt from walking two days before.
I used to think that increased walking would cure my back aches, but I guess it’s not to be. I’ll still walk, though, as long as I’m able!
Thank God for His Mercy - and Grace!
(My shoulders ARE a little sore after the 25 push-ups.)
Probably not.
Not all the time, mind you. But, for me, if I walk too long, or even stand too long in one place, my back aches.
Not an actual “pain”, I guess. But, a disturbing “ache”. Still hurts, though, unless I sit down (or even better, lie down) for awhile.
“You know”, Dr. Buchanan said, “At your age, it’s ‘bone on bone’ and when they rub each other, it hurts.”
Right!
I had that demonstrated for me this week, when I visited the Columbus Zoo with Jodi and Rylan.
Rylan’s “school” is the YMCA pre-school program provided at the former Town and Country Gym on Van Buren Avenue in Springfield. He turned 4 years old in February, and now, he has been “promoted”. Same gym, actually, but with an “older” group, and a different teacher.
About 10 days ago, Jodi called me and said that Rylan’s “school” was taking a trip to the Columbus Zoo, and that she had bought 3 tickets - one each for Rylan, her, and Grandpa (me).
“Do you think you’ll feel like goin’ with us?”, she said.
Quickly thinking of the walking involved, I said, “Sure! I may have to sit down occasionally if I walk too far, but let’s do it!”
“Oh”, Jodi said. “I’ll get a wheel chair and push you around.”
Right!
“Fat chance”, I said to myself. “I’ll be in a wheel chair soon enough, and I’m not going to push it!”
So, I got up an hour earlier than I usually do, skipped breakfast, picked up a cooler and ice at Kroger’s, and picked up Jodi and Rylan at 7:15AM. (Jodi had said she’s packing a lunch for us.)
We arrived at the YMCA Facility at 7:30, and waited for instructions.
Shortly, one of the workers came to my car window and said that they were going in a “convoy”, but if we knew the way, we could go ahead, then meet them at the gate where she would produce our tickets.
“Will do”, I said.
We took off, heading for Columbus. I started to open up my GPS in my BlackBerry, but since I was driving, that seemed not the best thing to do. I knew how to get there, anyway.
I headed north on Belmont Avenue, and Jodi wanted to know where I was going, since Columbus should be reached by I 70.
“I know a better way - going on Routes 4 and 161, through Mechanicsburg and Plain City. I 70 bores me.”
No problem.
We made good time, arriving at the Zoo at about 8:30. We didn’t realize it, but we pulled in right behind a high school friend of Jodi, who had two boys in the “school”. The group had arrived at about the same time we did.
We went to the gate, then waited for the “ticket lady”.
.jpg)
Before long, she arrived, and stood at the “turnstiles” to verify our ticket purchases.
Jodi said again, “Grandpa, let’s get a wheel chair”.
“No way, Jose!”, I replied. “I’ll be in a wheel chair soon enough, and I’m NOT goin’ to push it.”
“Ok, Grandpa, but if you need it later, let’s do it.”
The interesting thing is, I walk like I’m going to a fire all the time. I still do that, but, after a “long” walk, my back aches.
“Let’s try it this way”, I said.
To eliminate the suspense about the wheel chair, we were there - walking - for about 5 ½ hours, and several times I refused the wheel chair. Jodi was trying to be helpful, of course.
But, I sat down on provided benches several times - when my back began to ache pretty badly. After a few minutes, though, I sufficiently recovered to “walk on”.
We toured most of that Zoo, looking at many, many animals. Rylan was ecstatic, because even though he used to visit the Brevard County Zoo in Florida, he hadn’t seen any of these big animals - such as:
.jpg)
Or,
.jpg)
He even took a ride on a Carousel - steadied by Jodi.
Jodi took a picture of Rylan and me.
.jpg)
We ate lunch at about 11AM, after I took a couple Tylenol tablets.
At noon, there was a stage presentation called, “Animal Safari”. There were 100 live domestic and wild animals running across the stage, climbing ropes, doing tricks, etc. VERY remarkable and enjoyable.
By the time that we felt we had seen all we wanted or needed to see, I was stopping more frequently to sit and rest.
We got home at about 3PM, and to rest my back, I lay down on my bed for a couple hours - took a couple Aleve, and a nap. Back was now OK.
Next day, after a good night’s sleep, I got up without any back problems. However, when I began to walk, my calves “screamed” at me, since I had not walked that much in one afternoon for months. I could still walk OK, though the calves hurt.
At 10AM, it was time for Exercises.
After the regular stretches Timi Neff puts us through, she asks each one of us what exercise we want to do - different from what she has just taken us through, of course.
Each one suggested an exercise.
My turn: I said, “Timi let me look at some pictures of you guys in 2007 and 2008 after Jean and I left here, and I saw some of you doing “push-ups” - from the floor.
“Oh no”, many said.
“Sure”, I replied. “How many will join me?”
One. And she is 92 years old. The rest watched - and kibitzed.
We went to the floor, she about 15 feet from me, and Timi began counting, while Bessie and I “pushed-up”.
Each time Timi gave a new number, down we went. She kept counting past 20, and I wondered how in the world Bessie could go that long. I couldn’t see her, so didn’t know how she was doing. Turns out that Timi had Bessie stop at 15, but she kept counting, until she laughed at 25, and I caught on and stopped.
Next day - still no problems with my “achin’ back”, but my calves STILL hurt from walking two days before.
I used to think that increased walking would cure my back aches, but I guess it’s not to be. I’ll still walk, though, as long as I’m able!
Thank God for His Mercy - and Grace!
(My shoulders ARE a little sore after the 25 push-ups.)
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Small World
How can an 85 year old person have childhood memories?
You’d be surprised!
I guess I wondered about that too, until I began writing down these thoughts for the last 7 months, posting them here, (85 of them now) and then, “running into” someone from my past.
Well, not really MY past, but someone who KNEW someone I knew in the past, and………well, let me elucidate.
I mentioned previously that Jean and I first moved into The Grand Court here in 2005. We lived here until the end of September 2007, when Jean’s health suggested to John and Tonya that we should move in with them in Northwest Indiana.
We did.
Shortly before we moved, there was a lady who moved in here, who had actually returned after a previous stay. I never learned her name, and I doubt if she knew ours. I just saw her in the hallways and the dining room. I guess we spoke as we passed, but no further contact. After all, there are more than 70 residents here.
Fast forward to this past February.
When Jean passed away last October, events at that time encouraged me to consider going out on my own, and returning to Springfield, and The Grand Court. On last February 21, I moved in.
I shortly saw this same lady in the hallway, who was moving from one room/apartment to another - down the hall from me. I said “hello”, I guess.
Since I’m such a loud mouth, I’ve mentioned at different times (to no one in particular), that I was not originally from Springfield, but rather, from the rather nondescript little village of Mechanicsburg. At times also, my name became known among the residents. (Who wouldn’t know the name of the local “blabbermouth”?)
After being here about 3 months this time, and then after one of the daily Exercise programs one morning, this lady came up to me and said,
“You’re from Mechanicsburg?”
“Sure enough”, I said.
“Well, I knew your dad who owned the Hardware Store there.”
What?!! She knew my dad? (And about a dozen or more OTHER people that I had also known, I found out.)
“Amazing!”, I said. “Actually, my dad WORKED in the Hardware Store for Will Hunter, at $25 a week. Whom else do you know? And, do we actually know each other?”
I found out that her name is Lora Damewood, and her maiden name was McQuirt. Still couldn’t remember her. And, she couldn’t actually remember me, but she knew people I knew.
“Did you attend Mechanicsburg High School?”, I said.
“No, I went to the Catawba schools.”
“Did you know Harvey Haddix?”, I replied.
“Yes I did.”
“I remember when he was in High School at Catawba that I saw him pitch baseball, and his brother Ben was his catcher”, I bragged.
“I knew his other brother. I think he’s still living, in southern Ohio.”
Why didn’t I remember her? I could almost remember her maiden name, but couldn’t put a handle on who she was.
“Where did you live?”, I said.
“On Davidson road, just southwest of Mechanicsburg.”
(I later found out from my sister-in-law Doris that Lora's house on Davidson Road was just BARELY out of the Mechanicsburg School District.)
I think the “kicker” on why we didn’t actually know each other is that she is about 7 years older than I. We traveled in different “circles”. And, she didn’t know my sister-in-law (twice removed), since Doris was 12 years younger than Lora.
“Did you know Kenny Davisson”, I said.
“Sure. He lived nearly across the road from us.”
I ventured further - “His wife was a Griffin, I believe.”
“Yes. Her name was VonCella.”
“Right. Her brother Bob Griffin was a class mate of mine, and friend.” (I knew he had since passed away.)
“Bob was married to my sister.”
She added, “Their dad, Foster Griffin, had a Barber Shop down under the Anderson Hotel in Mechanicsburg.”
Right!
Small world?
“How about the Lucketts?”, I said.
“Yes, I knew Earl and Mrs. Luckett, as well as their oldest daughter, Ola.”
“You knew that Earl was killed on a curve on SR 187, not far from John T. Brown’s house?”
“Yes.”
“My wife’s brother - George Anderson - married Doris Luckett, and they went to housekeeping on Davidson Road, just south of the Luckett house”, I added.
Lora - “I saw Ola, the oldest Luckett girl in the Champaign County Hospital in Urbana one time, when she brought in her mother, Mrs. Luckett. I was a Nurse there. But I don‘t remember Doris.”
(Doris later told me that she remembered Lora Damewood and her husband when they used to come in the office of Dr. R.K. Smith, where she was the receptionist.)
Me - “I conducted Mrs. Luckett’s funeral a few years ago.”
Small world?
She couldn’t place THIS Anderson clan, but knew Dick Anderson, at the Farmers Bank in the “Burg”. (No relation to Jean’s family.) And, Wallace McCoy, his father-in-law, who was the head of the Bank for many years. She also remembered Wallace drove a Chevrolet Convertible, when I asked her.
“Dick Anderson was in my 1942 graduating class at Mechanicsburg”, I added.
I ventured further: “Did you know the Goodfellows?”
“Yes.”
“How about Philip Bumgardner?”
She replied, “Yes. They lived on the Catawba Road, as did Gene Goodfellow.”
“Gene Goodfellow was in my graduating class.”
I had another thought:
“Philip Bumgardner married Nellie Marie Bean, whose dad had the meat shop across the alley from the Farmers Bank.”
“I remember”, she said. “I was thinking it was a grocery.”
“How about Smith’s Drugstore, run by Roscoe Smith.”
“Yes.”
I bragged, “Roscoe had a twin brother named Ross, and they played High School basketball at Tipp City.”
Glory be! She didn’t know that.
This went on and on, and is STILL going on. I don’t think we have exhausted the names we both knew. She and I - as well as Doris - think it’s a good thing for us old timers to reminisce this way. It’s good for our brains.
But………we’d NEVER even heard of each other - until just now.
Amazing!
It’s a small world after all.
Hey. That would make for a good song title, I think.
Oh………..there IS a song with that title?
Pshaw!
You’d be surprised!
I guess I wondered about that too, until I began writing down these thoughts for the last 7 months, posting them here, (85 of them now) and then, “running into” someone from my past.
Well, not really MY past, but someone who KNEW someone I knew in the past, and………well, let me elucidate.
I mentioned previously that Jean and I first moved into The Grand Court here in 2005. We lived here until the end of September 2007, when Jean’s health suggested to John and Tonya that we should move in with them in Northwest Indiana.
We did.
Shortly before we moved, there was a lady who moved in here, who had actually returned after a previous stay. I never learned her name, and I doubt if she knew ours. I just saw her in the hallways and the dining room. I guess we spoke as we passed, but no further contact. After all, there are more than 70 residents here.
Fast forward to this past February.
When Jean passed away last October, events at that time encouraged me to consider going out on my own, and returning to Springfield, and The Grand Court. On last February 21, I moved in.
I shortly saw this same lady in the hallway, who was moving from one room/apartment to another - down the hall from me. I said “hello”, I guess.
Since I’m such a loud mouth, I’ve mentioned at different times (to no one in particular), that I was not originally from Springfield, but rather, from the rather nondescript little village of Mechanicsburg. At times also, my name became known among the residents. (Who wouldn’t know the name of the local “blabbermouth”?)
After being here about 3 months this time, and then after one of the daily Exercise programs one morning, this lady came up to me and said,
“You’re from Mechanicsburg?”
“Sure enough”, I said.
“Well, I knew your dad who owned the Hardware Store there.”
What?!! She knew my dad? (And about a dozen or more OTHER people that I had also known, I found out.)
“Amazing!”, I said. “Actually, my dad WORKED in the Hardware Store for Will Hunter, at $25 a week. Whom else do you know? And, do we actually know each other?”
I found out that her name is Lora Damewood, and her maiden name was McQuirt. Still couldn’t remember her. And, she couldn’t actually remember me, but she knew people I knew.
“Did you attend Mechanicsburg High School?”, I said.
“No, I went to the Catawba schools.”
“Did you know Harvey Haddix?”, I replied.
“Yes I did.”
“I remember when he was in High School at Catawba that I saw him pitch baseball, and his brother Ben was his catcher”, I bragged.
“I knew his other brother. I think he’s still living, in southern Ohio.”
Why didn’t I remember her? I could almost remember her maiden name, but couldn’t put a handle on who she was.
“Where did you live?”, I said.
“On Davidson road, just southwest of Mechanicsburg.”
(I later found out from my sister-in-law Doris that Lora's house on Davidson Road was just BARELY out of the Mechanicsburg School District.)
I think the “kicker” on why we didn’t actually know each other is that she is about 7 years older than I. We traveled in different “circles”. And, she didn’t know my sister-in-law (twice removed), since Doris was 12 years younger than Lora.
“Did you know Kenny Davisson”, I said.
“Sure. He lived nearly across the road from us.”
I ventured further - “His wife was a Griffin, I believe.”
“Yes. Her name was VonCella.”
“Right. Her brother Bob Griffin was a class mate of mine, and friend.” (I knew he had since passed away.)
“Bob was married to my sister.”
She added, “Their dad, Foster Griffin, had a Barber Shop down under the Anderson Hotel in Mechanicsburg.”
Right!
Small world?
“How about the Lucketts?”, I said.
“Yes, I knew Earl and Mrs. Luckett, as well as their oldest daughter, Ola.”
“You knew that Earl was killed on a curve on SR 187, not far from John T. Brown’s house?”
“Yes.”
“My wife’s brother - George Anderson - married Doris Luckett, and they went to housekeeping on Davidson Road, just south of the Luckett house”, I added.
Lora - “I saw Ola, the oldest Luckett girl in the Champaign County Hospital in Urbana one time, when she brought in her mother, Mrs. Luckett. I was a Nurse there. But I don‘t remember Doris.”
(Doris later told me that she remembered Lora Damewood and her husband when they used to come in the office of Dr. R.K. Smith, where she was the receptionist.)
Me - “I conducted Mrs. Luckett’s funeral a few years ago.”
Small world?
She couldn’t place THIS Anderson clan, but knew Dick Anderson, at the Farmers Bank in the “Burg”. (No relation to Jean’s family.) And, Wallace McCoy, his father-in-law, who was the head of the Bank for many years. She also remembered Wallace drove a Chevrolet Convertible, when I asked her.
“Dick Anderson was in my 1942 graduating class at Mechanicsburg”, I added.
I ventured further: “Did you know the Goodfellows?”
“Yes.”
“How about Philip Bumgardner?”
She replied, “Yes. They lived on the Catawba Road, as did Gene Goodfellow.”
“Gene Goodfellow was in my graduating class.”
I had another thought:
“Philip Bumgardner married Nellie Marie Bean, whose dad had the meat shop across the alley from the Farmers Bank.”
“I remember”, she said. “I was thinking it was a grocery.”
“How about Smith’s Drugstore, run by Roscoe Smith.”
“Yes.”
I bragged, “Roscoe had a twin brother named Ross, and they played High School basketball at Tipp City.”
Glory be! She didn’t know that.
This went on and on, and is STILL going on. I don’t think we have exhausted the names we both knew. She and I - as well as Doris - think it’s a good thing for us old timers to reminisce this way. It’s good for our brains.
But………we’d NEVER even heard of each other - until just now.
Amazing!
It’s a small world after all.
Hey. That would make for a good song title, I think.
Oh………..there IS a song with that title?
Pshaw!
Saturday, July 11, 2009
The Mitford Stories
Well………this is a FIRST for me.
Promoting a series of books/stories on my blog. Oh, I did mention Thomas Faulkner’s books a couple of times, but not to the extent that I have planned for MITFORD.
As always, if something I write “turns you off”, or seems unsuitable or indecent, feel free to hit the “X” in the upper right corner of your screen.
Before you turn ME off, though, let me mention a couple of things about this series of cozy stories.
Confession: I never thought of myself as a “romantic” or “idealist”, but since another author called me that one time after I commented on a book, I guess I have to admit it. Not “mushy” now. (Funny - “mushy” is not in my dictionary) And nothing sexual, but I guess some love stories do brighten my day.
Not that this series is ALL romance. Not at all. It’s practical, inspirational, funny and enjoyable to read. I’ve laughed out loud any number of times reading these, (One time, I could hardly stop) and I have also shed some tears. The stories just “grab” you.
Charlotte Daggett, the mother of our daughter-in-law Joyce (Jim’s wife) first told me about these books. In fact, she has all nine that have been currently printed - and has lent them to me.
The small fictional town of Mitford, located in North Carolina, is the setting for most of these books - though some depart to other parts of the world.
The main character of the books has turned out to be an Episcopal Priest named Father Tim Kavanagh. Since so much is told about the town - and the “townspeople”, I didn’t right away see him as the main character. If one is a Christian, he could relate to the spiritual references Father Tim makes. Though, not being a Christian is no reason NOT to read the books. There are MANY “human life” stories in each of them.
Father Tim, when we first meet him, is a middle-aged, single, Church man. Neither a wife nor romance ever seems to reach him, UNTIL, suddenly, a middle-aged single woman moves in next door to the Rectory. That’s all I’m telling about that!
Buzzing through my mind now are dozens of “true-to-life” stories from the books.
Some of the characters are comical - including an unashamed old “joke teller”.
(At first, I related one of his funnier stories here, but when I re-read it, I thought, “Why not just let the readers find out for themselves!” So, I deleted it.)
There’s a lady Mayor; a restaurant owner; grocery store family; a gas station; a barber shop and beauty parlor in the town, etc. Some of the characters are profane - not in the dirty language sense - but secular and uninitiated.
On a prominent location at the edge of the city limits, is an elderly lady, in a “mansion”, up on a hill overlooking Mitford, who eventually shares her largesse with the rest of the town.
Even though Father Tim is single, uninterested and unencumbered, he takes an interest in a derelict teen-age boy - at present devoid of parents - and undertakes to “civilize” him and nurture him as a “surrogate” father.
While trying to understand his interest and dis-interest in his new next door neighbor, he takes a month-long trip to Ireland, to search out his roots.
All in all, it’s a wonderful series of wholesome stories that make the books “hard to put down”.
The author’s name in Jan Karon, and she presently lives in North Carolina. She has written other books as well. These, though, appear to be the ones for which she is most noted. They are published by Viking Press.
Though you might not be able to find the books in the order in which they are written, this is the order I would suggest:
At Home in Mitford
A Light in the Window
A Common Life*
These High Green Hills
Out to Canaan
A New Song
In This Mountain
Shepherds Abiding
Light From Heaven
* Though this is the sixth book written about Mitford, it should be read here as the third, chronologically in the story, in my opinion.
I very seldom recommend non-spiritual books to anyone, but these are so exceptional, that I do not hesitate. You will be enriched by reading them. Not to the exclusion of the bible, though.
My thanks to Charlotte Daggett for lending me the books!
Promoting a series of books/stories on my blog. Oh, I did mention Thomas Faulkner’s books a couple of times, but not to the extent that I have planned for MITFORD.
As always, if something I write “turns you off”, or seems unsuitable or indecent, feel free to hit the “X” in the upper right corner of your screen.
Before you turn ME off, though, let me mention a couple of things about this series of cozy stories.
Confession: I never thought of myself as a “romantic” or “idealist”, but since another author called me that one time after I commented on a book, I guess I have to admit it. Not “mushy” now. (Funny - “mushy” is not in my dictionary) And nothing sexual, but I guess some love stories do brighten my day.
Not that this series is ALL romance. Not at all. It’s practical, inspirational, funny and enjoyable to read. I’ve laughed out loud any number of times reading these, (One time, I could hardly stop) and I have also shed some tears. The stories just “grab” you.
Charlotte Daggett, the mother of our daughter-in-law Joyce (Jim’s wife) first told me about these books. In fact, she has all nine that have been currently printed - and has lent them to me.
The small fictional town of Mitford, located in North Carolina, is the setting for most of these books - though some depart to other parts of the world.
The main character of the books has turned out to be an Episcopal Priest named Father Tim Kavanagh. Since so much is told about the town - and the “townspeople”, I didn’t right away see him as the main character. If one is a Christian, he could relate to the spiritual references Father Tim makes. Though, not being a Christian is no reason NOT to read the books. There are MANY “human life” stories in each of them.
Father Tim, when we first meet him, is a middle-aged, single, Church man. Neither a wife nor romance ever seems to reach him, UNTIL, suddenly, a middle-aged single woman moves in next door to the Rectory. That’s all I’m telling about that!
Buzzing through my mind now are dozens of “true-to-life” stories from the books.
Some of the characters are comical - including an unashamed old “joke teller”.
(At first, I related one of his funnier stories here, but when I re-read it, I thought, “Why not just let the readers find out for themselves!” So, I deleted it.)
There’s a lady Mayor; a restaurant owner; grocery store family; a gas station; a barber shop and beauty parlor in the town, etc. Some of the characters are profane - not in the dirty language sense - but secular and uninitiated.
On a prominent location at the edge of the city limits, is an elderly lady, in a “mansion”, up on a hill overlooking Mitford, who eventually shares her largesse with the rest of the town.
Even though Father Tim is single, uninterested and unencumbered, he takes an interest in a derelict teen-age boy - at present devoid of parents - and undertakes to “civilize” him and nurture him as a “surrogate” father.
While trying to understand his interest and dis-interest in his new next door neighbor, he takes a month-long trip to Ireland, to search out his roots.
All in all, it’s a wonderful series of wholesome stories that make the books “hard to put down”.
The author’s name in Jan Karon, and she presently lives in North Carolina. She has written other books as well. These, though, appear to be the ones for which she is most noted. They are published by Viking Press.
Though you might not be able to find the books in the order in which they are written, this is the order I would suggest:
At Home in Mitford
A Light in the Window
A Common Life*
These High Green Hills
Out to Canaan
A New Song
In This Mountain
Shepherds Abiding
Light From Heaven
* Though this is the sixth book written about Mitford, it should be read here as the third, chronologically in the story, in my opinion.
I very seldom recommend non-spiritual books to anyone, but these are so exceptional, that I do not hesitate. You will be enriched by reading them. Not to the exclusion of the bible, though.
My thanks to Charlotte Daggett for lending me the books!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Random Memories III
Here’s part of what I wrote at the beginning of Random Memories:
I think I’ve mentioned before that when different stories, or “memories” come to mind, I jot them down - either here on the computer; or in my BlackBerry if I’m out of the apartment (or in bed!); or even on any piece of paper available, if I have a pencil.
WARNING! I’m going to start relating one “short” incident after another, including what I can remember about it, then move on to the next one. I don’t mind admitting, that if more incidents on that subject come to mind, I very likely will extend that into its own “posting” on this blog.
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Reunions
I don’t know when the Maddex Family Reunion started. Probably before MY time. Most likely near the turn of the twentieth century, in our case.
In memories of “reunions” of my childhood, it’s sometimes hard to distinguish them from the Christmas Family Celebrations we had. I might mix them up in my recollections - not necessarily distinguishing one from the other.
Our Family Reunions, in my memory, were always in the summer.
The most vivid memory? “Home made ice cream”, cranked out by hand, with ice, salt and ice water outside the can, and whatever made up ice cream, IN the can.
The adult males did the cranking - after, of course, the female adults made the mix.
Earliest memories to me of Family Reunions were always out in the country at my Granddad’s place on Bean Road near Mechanicsburg.
Most family members arrived near late morning, though some - including my mother - arrived early to help with the “fixin’s” (This Word Processor of mine seems to insist on putting a “g” at the end of that word, but, I WON’T PERMIT IT. It WASN’T “fixings”, it was “fixin’s.)
With the men “turning the crank”, and their women “fixin" the meal, what were the kids doing? Boys - mostly - playing ball. Some of the girls “played house”, or with dolls. Or, in some cases, the girls also played ball. All outside, of course. No men allowed in the kitchen.
The adult males mostly talked. About ANY subject - including politics.
“Boy, that Prohibition sure didn’t work, did it?”
“Maybe not, but somethin’ has to be done about that 'booze.'”
“What about the Teapot Dome scandal? Wasn’t that a mess?”
“I knew there was something fishy about that.”
“I hear this former New York Governor, Roosevelt, has a good chance of winnin’ the election.”
“The Democrats need somebody. I hear he’s crippled. Don’t show it in pictures, though.”
And so on.
When the boys grew to the teenage years, the adults tried to “foist” on them the cranking of the ice cream maker. We enjoyed it, since it made us seem “grown up”. (I thought cigarettes did that for me in my middle teen years.)
The men in our crowd all smoked either cigarettes, cigars, or even pipes. The smoke just swirled around outside the back door of Grandma’s kitchen.
My Uncle Carl - Dad’s brother - lived in Springfield and worked in various clothing stores down through the years. He was divorced, and lived by himself. He didn’t have a car, so someone - usually one of us boys old enough to drive - drove to Springfield to pick him up. We always met him at the same place - the end of the bus line on Lagonda Hill.
Uncle Carl’s former wife - Aunt Blanche - also lived in Springfield, and for many years, worked near the back wall of the third floor in Wren’s Department Store on Main Street in Springfield. They were estranged, so she very seldom came to the Reunions.
As a young boy, an interesting man came to our Reunions. He was married to Grace Snyder, the daughter of Uncle Butler - Granddad’s brother. His name was George, and he was always an interesting person. As kids, we were most interested in how he could talk. He had had his vocal cords removed earlier, and spoke aloud using a device that inserted into his throat, with a rubber tube extending into his mouth. Though the sound of his “voice” was different, he could be understood. Fascinating to us young kids. Very nice fellow.
An interesting thing about Grace that just now comes to mind, is that she was the first one I ever knew who had personalized license plates on her car. Her plates said “GRACE 35”. Though we never knew - or asked - we assumed the “35” was her age. She and George lived in Columbus, and she ran a Beauty Shop on North High Street - almost to Worthington. Grace was in my dad’s generation.
I’ve just now had a disturbing thought!
I was trying to remember whom else I could ask about our reunions in the 20s, 30s and early 40s, and I can’t think of ANY ONE who attended those reunions who is still living! Even the kids there who were younger than I are no longer alive.
Am I the last? Terrible thought!
And I’m ONLY 85 years old. What happened to everybody?
(I need to go sit in my “tilt back” chair, and relax!)
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JIMMY’S MEMORY
I don’t know how much MY memory will help this, but I’ve not found a better memory than that of our son Jim.
That’s what I want to write about now - not his PRESENT memory, but rather, his EARLY memory - like at say, seven years old. (He’s now 62!)
The first thing that comes to mind is the trip to Chicago from Mechanicsburg in 1954, in Uncle Ross and Aunt Ruth’s car. We had previously driven that route with our whole family when we moved to Chicago in June of 1954. Martha wasn’t born yet; Johnny was four; and Jimmy was seven. That was the only the second time Jimmy had been on that route. (Moving, then going to Mechanicsburg when Martha was born.)
When later that year, after spending time in Ohio while Jean was recovering from Martha’s birth, Jean’s sister Ruth, and her husband Ross brought Jimmy and Johnny home to us in Chicago.
In those days, US 30 in Indiana was the only proper way to travel from east to west in the northern part of Indiana. The way Ruth told it, they had stopped to eat at a little “Mom and Pop” restaurant in Larwill, Indiana. In those days, the route went right through the towns - no bypass.
Setting out again, Ross turned onto US 30 in Larwill - ostensibly heading toward Chicago. The only problem was that Jimmy saw that they were going back the same way they had come, and he let Uncle Ross know it. Would an adult normally take the word of a seven year old, when the driver obviously knew what he was doing? Of course not - and neither did Uncle Ross.
After traveling out of town a little ways, either Uncle Ross or Aunt Ruth said something like, “This looks awfully familiar. Maybe Jimmy is right.” He was! They made a legal “U Turn”, again heading west on US 30.
I haven’t been told of any other incidents along the way - until after their arrival in Chicago.
Remember now - no Interstates. No super highways. Only US 30 west to US 41 north (as I had advised Uncle Ross).
Taking US 41 into Chicago was no problem, but in the city, the best route then to the north side was Lake Shore Drive. As the name implies, it went right along Lake Michigan.
The instructions were: “Take Lake Shore Drive north of down town to Belmont Avenue, then west to Racine Avenue, and south to 2728, just across Lincoln Avenue and Diversey.” Very simple - or so thought Uncle Ross.
What I DIDN’T tell him was that, even though Lake Shore Drive ran right along the Lake, the Belmont exit required a right turn TOWARD the lake. Nonetheless, Jimmy knew. After all, he had traveled that route ONCE before!
As they were passing the North Street exit, Jimmy said to Uncle Ross: “Up here at Belmont, you have to turn right, toward the lake.”
Ross was incredulous! How could you turn right toward the lake when you were driving right alongside of it? “That can’t be”, he said. “Oh yes,” replied Jimmy. “You’ll see.” (Smart aleck kid!)
“Right here, Uncle Ross”, Jimmy said. “Turn right, then left after a little ways, then you’ll be on Belmont.”
Right!
Since there was no other way to go, they did exit there, and followed Belmont to Racine Avenue, then south to 2728, just across Lincoln Avenue.
What a memory! Even today, if we want to recollect something, we just ask Jim. I’ve done that so many times, in these “blog postings”.
I think I’ve mentioned before that when different stories, or “memories” come to mind, I jot them down - either here on the computer; or in my BlackBerry if I’m out of the apartment (or in bed!); or even on any piece of paper available, if I have a pencil.
WARNING! I’m going to start relating one “short” incident after another, including what I can remember about it, then move on to the next one. I don’t mind admitting, that if more incidents on that subject come to mind, I very likely will extend that into its own “posting” on this blog.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Reunions
I don’t know when the Maddex Family Reunion started. Probably before MY time. Most likely near the turn of the twentieth century, in our case.
In memories of “reunions” of my childhood, it’s sometimes hard to distinguish them from the Christmas Family Celebrations we had. I might mix them up in my recollections - not necessarily distinguishing one from the other.
Our Family Reunions, in my memory, were always in the summer.
The most vivid memory? “Home made ice cream”, cranked out by hand, with ice, salt and ice water outside the can, and whatever made up ice cream, IN the can.
The adult males did the cranking - after, of course, the female adults made the mix.
Earliest memories to me of Family Reunions were always out in the country at my Granddad’s place on Bean Road near Mechanicsburg.
Most family members arrived near late morning, though some - including my mother - arrived early to help with the “fixin’s” (This Word Processor of mine seems to insist on putting a “g” at the end of that word, but, I WON’T PERMIT IT. It WASN’T “fixings”, it was “fixin’s.)
With the men “turning the crank”, and their women “fixin" the meal, what were the kids doing? Boys - mostly - playing ball. Some of the girls “played house”, or with dolls. Or, in some cases, the girls also played ball. All outside, of course. No men allowed in the kitchen.
The adult males mostly talked. About ANY subject - including politics.
“Boy, that Prohibition sure didn’t work, did it?”
“Maybe not, but somethin’ has to be done about that 'booze.'”
“What about the Teapot Dome scandal? Wasn’t that a mess?”
“I knew there was something fishy about that.”
“I hear this former New York Governor, Roosevelt, has a good chance of winnin’ the election.”
“The Democrats need somebody. I hear he’s crippled. Don’t show it in pictures, though.”
And so on.
When the boys grew to the teenage years, the adults tried to “foist” on them the cranking of the ice cream maker. We enjoyed it, since it made us seem “grown up”. (I thought cigarettes did that for me in my middle teen years.)
The men in our crowd all smoked either cigarettes, cigars, or even pipes. The smoke just swirled around outside the back door of Grandma’s kitchen.
My Uncle Carl - Dad’s brother - lived in Springfield and worked in various clothing stores down through the years. He was divorced, and lived by himself. He didn’t have a car, so someone - usually one of us boys old enough to drive - drove to Springfield to pick him up. We always met him at the same place - the end of the bus line on Lagonda Hill.
Uncle Carl’s former wife - Aunt Blanche - also lived in Springfield, and for many years, worked near the back wall of the third floor in Wren’s Department Store on Main Street in Springfield. They were estranged, so she very seldom came to the Reunions.
As a young boy, an interesting man came to our Reunions. He was married to Grace Snyder, the daughter of Uncle Butler - Granddad’s brother. His name was George, and he was always an interesting person. As kids, we were most interested in how he could talk. He had had his vocal cords removed earlier, and spoke aloud using a device that inserted into his throat, with a rubber tube extending into his mouth. Though the sound of his “voice” was different, he could be understood. Fascinating to us young kids. Very nice fellow.
An interesting thing about Grace that just now comes to mind, is that she was the first one I ever knew who had personalized license plates on her car. Her plates said “GRACE 35”. Though we never knew - or asked - we assumed the “35” was her age. She and George lived in Columbus, and she ran a Beauty Shop on North High Street - almost to Worthington. Grace was in my dad’s generation.
I’ve just now had a disturbing thought!
I was trying to remember whom else I could ask about our reunions in the 20s, 30s and early 40s, and I can’t think of ANY ONE who attended those reunions who is still living! Even the kids there who were younger than I are no longer alive.
Am I the last? Terrible thought!
And I’m ONLY 85 years old. What happened to everybody?
(I need to go sit in my “tilt back” chair, and relax!)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
JIMMY’S MEMORY
I don’t know how much MY memory will help this, but I’ve not found a better memory than that of our son Jim.
That’s what I want to write about now - not his PRESENT memory, but rather, his EARLY memory - like at say, seven years old. (He’s now 62!)
The first thing that comes to mind is the trip to Chicago from Mechanicsburg in 1954, in Uncle Ross and Aunt Ruth’s car. We had previously driven that route with our whole family when we moved to Chicago in June of 1954. Martha wasn’t born yet; Johnny was four; and Jimmy was seven. That was the only the second time Jimmy had been on that route. (Moving, then going to Mechanicsburg when Martha was born.)
When later that year, after spending time in Ohio while Jean was recovering from Martha’s birth, Jean’s sister Ruth, and her husband Ross brought Jimmy and Johnny home to us in Chicago.
In those days, US 30 in Indiana was the only proper way to travel from east to west in the northern part of Indiana. The way Ruth told it, they had stopped to eat at a little “Mom and Pop” restaurant in Larwill, Indiana. In those days, the route went right through the towns - no bypass.
Setting out again, Ross turned onto US 30 in Larwill - ostensibly heading toward Chicago. The only problem was that Jimmy saw that they were going back the same way they had come, and he let Uncle Ross know it. Would an adult normally take the word of a seven year old, when the driver obviously knew what he was doing? Of course not - and neither did Uncle Ross.
After traveling out of town a little ways, either Uncle Ross or Aunt Ruth said something like, “This looks awfully familiar. Maybe Jimmy is right.” He was! They made a legal “U Turn”, again heading west on US 30.
I haven’t been told of any other incidents along the way - until after their arrival in Chicago.
Remember now - no Interstates. No super highways. Only US 30 west to US 41 north (as I had advised Uncle Ross).
Taking US 41 into Chicago was no problem, but in the city, the best route then to the north side was Lake Shore Drive. As the name implies, it went right along Lake Michigan.
The instructions were: “Take Lake Shore Drive north of down town to Belmont Avenue, then west to Racine Avenue, and south to 2728, just across Lincoln Avenue and Diversey.” Very simple - or so thought Uncle Ross.
What I DIDN’T tell him was that, even though Lake Shore Drive ran right along the Lake, the Belmont exit required a right turn TOWARD the lake. Nonetheless, Jimmy knew. After all, he had traveled that route ONCE before!
As they were passing the North Street exit, Jimmy said to Uncle Ross: “Up here at Belmont, you have to turn right, toward the lake.”
Ross was incredulous! How could you turn right toward the lake when you were driving right alongside of it? “That can’t be”, he said. “Oh yes,” replied Jimmy. “You’ll see.” (Smart aleck kid!)
“Right here, Uncle Ross”, Jimmy said. “Turn right, then left after a little ways, then you’ll be on Belmont.”
Right!
Since there was no other way to go, they did exit there, and followed Belmont to Racine Avenue, then south to 2728, just across Lincoln Avenue.
What a memory! Even today, if we want to recollect something, we just ask Jim. I’ve done that so many times, in these “blog postings”.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Funerals
I shouldn’t be doin’ this. It’s 10:30. I should be in bed. But, as I was trying to put on my pajamas, I got to thinking again of the interesting experience I had this evening. From my past history, if I don’t “jot it down”, I’m liable to forget it.
(Let me hasten to add that this is not going to be morbid, sad or otherwise make anyone uncomfortable, just because it‘s entitled “Funerals”. The story just came about because of a funeral. OK?)
As we do every Tuesday evening here at The Grand Court, we had Bible Study at 7:30 PM. Leading this meeting is a young man just short of 55 years of age, who was saved in Chicago several years ago, while running with a crowd of black boys like himself. He’s been doing this every Tuesday for 14 years. I got to thinking a little bit ago, that he is probably the longest serving person here. He has a full time job elsewhere, and a family. But he feels led of God to share his Bible knowledge and his experiences with us every Tuesday.
I PROBABLY should do a story about him, but that’s not what got me started pounding on this computer tonight, instead of going to bed.
Funerals is what started it.
Our bible class includes from 5 to 10 people every week. Not everyone comes each week, as you can imagine. But one lady, named Dorothy, has never missed, if I have my right guess.
That’s STILL not what I want to talk about.
It’s funerals. (Did I mention that?)
A lady came tonight that hasn’t been to one of these since I started coming early in March. I’m sure she has attended in the past.
Let me tell you something about her:
She just turned 96 years of age, and except for walking slowly with a walker, she CERTAINLY doesn’t show her age. She lives across the hall from me, and we often leave at the same time for our 8:00 AM breakfast. I, of course, pass her up, “marching” down the hall as everyone here kids me about.
I was more than a little bit interested in her, because of several things:
1. She told me recently that she remembered my Mother and Dad. (My dad died in 1976, and my mother, in ’70! He was 92, and she, 84.)
2. “And I remember your sister too!” It turns out that she and my sister Miriam were born the same year. Miriam would have been 96 next July 8.
Let me interject here that this lady (I don’t want to invade her privacy by giving her name) has lived in the Catawba area, and her father was a Methodist Minister, who died at age 55. Catawba is a little town kinda between Mechanicsburg and Springfield.
3. On the occasion just mentioned, I said to her, “Do you also remember Miriam in her Beauty Parlor in Mechanicsburg?” “Oh yes,” she said. My sister had opened that shop shortly after High School, and it must have been 1934 or ’35 that she remembered her.
4. After that, she and I discussed various Methodist ministers we both remembered, and we had an enjoyable time of fellowship.
So, when she showed up at the Bible Study tonight, I was especially interested in watching her in the songs we sang. What did they mean to her, in her memory?
In our class, our leader passes out “song books”, and asks us for suggestions of what songs to sing. When others hesitate, I sometimes suggest one. And the fellow next to me always has one to suggest.
We were singing when this lady arrived, so we gave her a book, and when the song was ended, we asked her to pick one. “Well”, she said. “How about ‘He Lives?’” So we sang that. She mostly mouthed the words without looking at the book.
Then, someone suggested “The Old Rugged Cross”.
We began singing that, and after the song got started, I noticed this lady kinda laying the book in her lap, and “gazing off” over our heads. She was sitting across from me.
You know inquisitive me, so I said, “Mrs. (name), I noticed that when we started singing ‘The Old Rugged Cross’, your mind seemed to kinda wander. What were you thinking of, if I may ask?” (Some fond church memory, or her father preaching, or something like that, I was sure.)
She STARTLED me when she said, rather forcefully, “I have NEVER liked The Old Rugged Cross, and I’ll tell you why.”
“Please do”, I said.
“When I was just a small child, the Ku Klux Klan came to our church with their big black robes, and doling out money, and being so pompous, and when they left, someone played ‘The Old Rugged Cross’. I was scared to death. I’ve never liked it since.” (She apparently couldn’t match the Cross of Jesus with the hatred that THEIR cross signified. By the way, she is not African American, as you might expect.)
So I said, “What are some of the songs you DO like? I noticed you chose ‘He Lives’ as one.”?
She said, “I’ve always loved The Lord’s Prayer. I hope someone sings that at my funeral!”
I said, “I imagine that could be arranged.”
“Arranging my funeral, you mean?”, she said, with a grin on her face.
I wondered to myself, if some of her family should know about her antipathy toward The Old Rugged Cross, but her liking “He Lives”, and her fondness for “The Lord’s Prayer”.
So………I left the Class immediately, whispering to my neighbor that I’d be back, and I came here to my room and called her “loving” nephew, who, with his wife, visits her regularly. It was already after 8PM, and I didn’t want to wait until after the class. I told him what had transpired with his aunt.
He said, “Mike, I REALLY appreciate your sharing these songs with me.” From observing him in the past, I am sure that he will “see to” her request - to the letter.
That’s not all.
What actually prompted this posting was my silent thoughts about this beautiful 96 year old Christian lady, saying what she wanted sung at her funeral.
I thought to myself, that I haven’t ONCE thought what songs to be sung at my Memorial Service. Why is that?
My conclusion: “I’m not 96 yet!”
I HAVE written the basics of my Obituary (for accuracy), and asked my sons to sing a duet or two. I MAY have suggested the name of a song to them, but I don’t think so. I’m not going to look up my note to them at this time of night, for heaven’s sake! (I HAVE arranged some things at the Funeral Home. All paid, actually!)
It’s 11:02! Not bad, except that by this time I’ve normally listened to maybe 12 to 15 songs on my iPod before going to sleep.
Bonne nuit! (You guessed it. I’ve started working on my French again.)
(Let me hasten to add that this is not going to be morbid, sad or otherwise make anyone uncomfortable, just because it‘s entitled “Funerals”. The story just came about because of a funeral. OK?)
As we do every Tuesday evening here at The Grand Court, we had Bible Study at 7:30 PM. Leading this meeting is a young man just short of 55 years of age, who was saved in Chicago several years ago, while running with a crowd of black boys like himself. He’s been doing this every Tuesday for 14 years. I got to thinking a little bit ago, that he is probably the longest serving person here. He has a full time job elsewhere, and a family. But he feels led of God to share his Bible knowledge and his experiences with us every Tuesday.
I PROBABLY should do a story about him, but that’s not what got me started pounding on this computer tonight, instead of going to bed.
Funerals is what started it.
Our bible class includes from 5 to 10 people every week. Not everyone comes each week, as you can imagine. But one lady, named Dorothy, has never missed, if I have my right guess.
That’s STILL not what I want to talk about.
It’s funerals. (Did I mention that?)
A lady came tonight that hasn’t been to one of these since I started coming early in March. I’m sure she has attended in the past.
Let me tell you something about her:
She just turned 96 years of age, and except for walking slowly with a walker, she CERTAINLY doesn’t show her age. She lives across the hall from me, and we often leave at the same time for our 8:00 AM breakfast. I, of course, pass her up, “marching” down the hall as everyone here kids me about.
I was more than a little bit interested in her, because of several things:
1. She told me recently that she remembered my Mother and Dad. (My dad died in 1976, and my mother, in ’70! He was 92, and she, 84.)
2. “And I remember your sister too!” It turns out that she and my sister Miriam were born the same year. Miriam would have been 96 next July 8.
Let me interject here that this lady (I don’t want to invade her privacy by giving her name) has lived in the Catawba area, and her father was a Methodist Minister, who died at age 55. Catawba is a little town kinda between Mechanicsburg and Springfield.
3. On the occasion just mentioned, I said to her, “Do you also remember Miriam in her Beauty Parlor in Mechanicsburg?” “Oh yes,” she said. My sister had opened that shop shortly after High School, and it must have been 1934 or ’35 that she remembered her.
4. After that, she and I discussed various Methodist ministers we both remembered, and we had an enjoyable time of fellowship.
So, when she showed up at the Bible Study tonight, I was especially interested in watching her in the songs we sang. What did they mean to her, in her memory?
In our class, our leader passes out “song books”, and asks us for suggestions of what songs to sing. When others hesitate, I sometimes suggest one. And the fellow next to me always has one to suggest.
We were singing when this lady arrived, so we gave her a book, and when the song was ended, we asked her to pick one. “Well”, she said. “How about ‘He Lives?’” So we sang that. She mostly mouthed the words without looking at the book.
Then, someone suggested “The Old Rugged Cross”.
We began singing that, and after the song got started, I noticed this lady kinda laying the book in her lap, and “gazing off” over our heads. She was sitting across from me.
You know inquisitive me, so I said, “Mrs. (name), I noticed that when we started singing ‘The Old Rugged Cross’, your mind seemed to kinda wander. What were you thinking of, if I may ask?” (Some fond church memory, or her father preaching, or something like that, I was sure.)
She STARTLED me when she said, rather forcefully, “I have NEVER liked The Old Rugged Cross, and I’ll tell you why.”
“Please do”, I said.
“When I was just a small child, the Ku Klux Klan came to our church with their big black robes, and doling out money, and being so pompous, and when they left, someone played ‘The Old Rugged Cross’. I was scared to death. I’ve never liked it since.” (She apparently couldn’t match the Cross of Jesus with the hatred that THEIR cross signified. By the way, she is not African American, as you might expect.)
So I said, “What are some of the songs you DO like? I noticed you chose ‘He Lives’ as one.”?
She said, “I’ve always loved The Lord’s Prayer. I hope someone sings that at my funeral!”
I said, “I imagine that could be arranged.”
“Arranging my funeral, you mean?”, she said, with a grin on her face.
I wondered to myself, if some of her family should know about her antipathy toward The Old Rugged Cross, but her liking “He Lives”, and her fondness for “The Lord’s Prayer”.
So………I left the Class immediately, whispering to my neighbor that I’d be back, and I came here to my room and called her “loving” nephew, who, with his wife, visits her regularly. It was already after 8PM, and I didn’t want to wait until after the class. I told him what had transpired with his aunt.
He said, “Mike, I REALLY appreciate your sharing these songs with me.” From observing him in the past, I am sure that he will “see to” her request - to the letter.
That’s not all.
What actually prompted this posting was my silent thoughts about this beautiful 96 year old Christian lady, saying what she wanted sung at her funeral.
I thought to myself, that I haven’t ONCE thought what songs to be sung at my Memorial Service. Why is that?
My conclusion: “I’m not 96 yet!”
I HAVE written the basics of my Obituary (for accuracy), and asked my sons to sing a duet or two. I MAY have suggested the name of a song to them, but I don’t think so. I’m not going to look up my note to them at this time of night, for heaven’s sake! (I HAVE arranged some things at the Funeral Home. All paid, actually!)
It’s 11:02! Not bad, except that by this time I’ve normally listened to maybe 12 to 15 songs on my iPod before going to sleep.
Bonne nuit! (You guessed it. I’ve started working on my French again.)
Thursday, July 2, 2009
God's Appointments
As with many of these “blog” subjects, this one struck me forcefully all at once. It was yesterday afternoon.
I was out of Orange Gatorade (my reqular liquid snack), and decided I’d better go out to get some. I can’t just find them anywhere, since the small “eight at a time” bottles are not available at all stores. I’ve noticed that the local K-Mart occasionally has them; sometimes Wal-Mart, but no longer Kroger. In fact, I don’t think Kroger has ANY Gatorade.
Since it was just after 5:00 on Sunday afternoon, I would stop by the Library JUST before it closed, since I was out of books. I had just finished the “Mitford Series”.
Sure enough, it was closed. The sign said closed at 6:00 on Saturday, and 5:00 Sunday. Previously on a Sunday late afternoon, I had wanted to go to the Library, but feared it might be closed. I called, and sure enough, it was. Yesterday, I hadn’t remembered that the Sunday closing was an hour earlier than Saturday.
Well, my car needed washing, so I headed for the BP across from the Mall. While there, I remembered that I had ordered a Prescription re-fill at CVS, so I went there also - just across the street.
Coming out of CVS, I realized that I had left the Grand Court before supper, and now I was hungry.
Taco Bell is just down Upper Valley Pike from CVS, so I went there for a couple tacos. Hadn’t had any of them for awhile, and they were tasty.
Coming out of there, I remembered that my car probably needed some oil. So, since Speedway was just a couple doors from Taco Bell, I went in there to buy a couple quarts of 10W30. On the door of Speedway was a sign indicating that they now had an ATM from Chase Bank.
Whoa!
That’s MY bank, and I hadn’t found any Chase Banks OR ATM’s in Springfield since I arrived the end of February. If I wanted cash from an ATM, I had to use one of another bank; pay them $4 or $5, plus, when the transaction arrived at Chase, my account was debited another four or five dollars.
Glory be!
I said aloud - in the store - “Oh……..Speedway has an ATM owned by Chase Bank. Praise the Lord. I’ll save nearly ten bucks this week on that.” (I’m going to Florida on Thursday (two days from now) to visit my granddaughter Kelly and her family, and I’ll need cash.)
Now, as far as I know there has NOT been another Chase outlet in all of Clark or Champaign County. In fact, when I moved here the end of February, I had gotten from my Bank in Indiana, a complete list of ALL of the Chase Banks in Ohio. There are some in Dayton and Huber Heights, but I’ve not been to either of those communities since I moved here.
This may seem a very insignificant thing to you, but to me, it was another of what David Mains used to call “A God moment.”
How is that?
Well, I had not been in a Speedway store once since I moved back to Springfield. I had been getting a minimal amount of cash from K Mart or Wal Mart, on a “cash back” basis, from my Debit Card. But, this time, for my trip to Florida, I would need maybe $400. You can’t get that much “cash back” - anywhere.
So, on Wednesday (Pay Day for us Social Security types), I’m going to Speedway, put my Cash Card in the Chase ATM, and draw out $400 (the normal daily limit on ATM’s is $200), before leaving for Port Columbus on Thursday to fly to Melbourne FL. No “cash advance fee”, nor “service charge” incurred.
Now, this may seem to be a “little thing” to you, but to me, it’s another indication of God “going before” us, to provide, in a way not always seen.
“A God Moment”. Or, one of “God’s Appointments”.
Who would have thought when I left home yesterday, that all of these “coincidences” (as some would say) would happen?
John 10:4 Jesus said, “And when He putteth forth His own sheep, He goeth before them.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen events like this one. I’ll try to remember some. I’ve experienced more of these occasions, just like this one.
Oh…..when I got back in my local area, I went into the K Mart and bought my usual SMALL eight bottle package of Orange Gatorade - and some extra clothes for my trip.
Another:
We lived in Chicago for eleven years.
We went there from the town of Mechanicsburg, with 1,800 souls. We knew everybody, where everybody lived and how to get anywhere anyone could have mentioned.
Arriving in Chicago, as strange as it may seem, we didn’t know anybody; didn’t know where anything was; didn’t know the names of the stores. We lived near Diversey - 2800 north, and 4 blocks from the Lincoln Avenue shopping area, at the corner of Ashland -1600 west, and Belmont - 3200 north.
We learned that you could judge distance by checking the street corners near you. In Chicago, eight blocks either way constituted one mile. An interesting thing about this was that each “block” included two streets. They were numbered in the hundreds. Each hundred numbers constituted one block.
So, since our corner was Diversey at 2800 north, and Belmont was at 3200 north, it was just four blocks, or one half mile away - plus, of course, the distance from 2728 on Racine, to Diversey at 2800. Remember, though, the next street was in the same block as the previous one.
The first year, we spent much of our time riding the Elevated Train, or “El” in Chicago. We got on at Diversey, then rode north all the way to Howard Street in Evanston. From there, we’d go down the stairs, then come up on the other side (never leaving the system), and get on the train again to head south - all the way to Jackson Park on the south side - not far from the Museum of Science and Industry.
We’d repeat there what we did at Howard Street, by going down then up the other side, to take the El again going north.
We took it to Diversey, then got off and went home. All for a dime apiece. (This was, after all, 1954.)
In addition, since we had a car, we drove around town, seeing the sights, and noting where things were.
Driving west on Lawrence Avenue, we ran across the Olson Rug Company. Later, we needed to know where that was.
Near the same corner was Sears Roebuck, where we later went to buy school clothes for the boys later on.
So many times, we’d be told something we had to go to, and lo and behold, we had OFTEN already been by that before.
God’s Appointments.
Then, there’s the time already mentioned earlier when I left The Grand Court in the morning to try to find a Steno Chair for my computer. The car Jim lent to me had been running fine the day before, but this particular morning, when I came out of Wal Mart to start the car, NOT ONE SOUND. The car would NOT turn over, as we say.
I won’t repeat the whole story here, but suffice it to say, when I left home that morning, I went to the ATM and withdrew $200 from my checking account, using my Debit Cash Card. I hadn’t been doing that. In fact, I seldom needed that much cash. If I wanted to buy something, I just used the Cash Card and purchased it. If I needed a little extra cash, I could get up to $50 at K Mart, and $100 at Wal Mart, as “Cash Back”.
But, that day, I just FELT I needed to get $200 in cash.
You may remember that the Wal Mart mechanic could not get the car started - two different times. And said I had “starter” problems - probably a new one.
The upshot was that I had to call a Tow Truck - $45 cash - no Credit Card facilities in the wrecker. The Auto Mechanic was just starting at this location and hadn’t set up for Credit Cards yet. $135 cash to fix the car - including a new battery.
Consider - Where would I have been if, first of all, this had happened at 9PM the precious evening? How would I have paid the tow truck driver, or, especially, the mechanic, if I hadn’t “just casually” withdrawn $200 from my Checking Account just after leaving home?
A “God Moment”, or a “God Appointment”.
In the last several years, I’ve experienced almost identical “happenings” that occurred because “God was there”!
Praise the Lord!
I was out of Orange Gatorade (my reqular liquid snack), and decided I’d better go out to get some. I can’t just find them anywhere, since the small “eight at a time” bottles are not available at all stores. I’ve noticed that the local K-Mart occasionally has them; sometimes Wal-Mart, but no longer Kroger. In fact, I don’t think Kroger has ANY Gatorade.
Since it was just after 5:00 on Sunday afternoon, I would stop by the Library JUST before it closed, since I was out of books. I had just finished the “Mitford Series”.
Sure enough, it was closed. The sign said closed at 6:00 on Saturday, and 5:00 Sunday. Previously on a Sunday late afternoon, I had wanted to go to the Library, but feared it might be closed. I called, and sure enough, it was. Yesterday, I hadn’t remembered that the Sunday closing was an hour earlier than Saturday.
Well, my car needed washing, so I headed for the BP across from the Mall. While there, I remembered that I had ordered a Prescription re-fill at CVS, so I went there also - just across the street.
Coming out of CVS, I realized that I had left the Grand Court before supper, and now I was hungry.
Taco Bell is just down Upper Valley Pike from CVS, so I went there for a couple tacos. Hadn’t had any of them for awhile, and they were tasty.
Coming out of there, I remembered that my car probably needed some oil. So, since Speedway was just a couple doors from Taco Bell, I went in there to buy a couple quarts of 10W30. On the door of Speedway was a sign indicating that they now had an ATM from Chase Bank.
Whoa!
That’s MY bank, and I hadn’t found any Chase Banks OR ATM’s in Springfield since I arrived the end of February. If I wanted cash from an ATM, I had to use one of another bank; pay them $4 or $5, plus, when the transaction arrived at Chase, my account was debited another four or five dollars.
Glory be!
I said aloud - in the store - “Oh……..Speedway has an ATM owned by Chase Bank. Praise the Lord. I’ll save nearly ten bucks this week on that.” (I’m going to Florida on Thursday (two days from now) to visit my granddaughter Kelly and her family, and I’ll need cash.)
Now, as far as I know there has NOT been another Chase outlet in all of Clark or Champaign County. In fact, when I moved here the end of February, I had gotten from my Bank in Indiana, a complete list of ALL of the Chase Banks in Ohio. There are some in Dayton and Huber Heights, but I’ve not been to either of those communities since I moved here.
This may seem a very insignificant thing to you, but to me, it was another of what David Mains used to call “A God moment.”
How is that?
Well, I had not been in a Speedway store once since I moved back to Springfield. I had been getting a minimal amount of cash from K Mart or Wal Mart, on a “cash back” basis, from my Debit Card. But, this time, for my trip to Florida, I would need maybe $400. You can’t get that much “cash back” - anywhere.
So, on Wednesday (Pay Day for us Social Security types), I’m going to Speedway, put my Cash Card in the Chase ATM, and draw out $400 (the normal daily limit on ATM’s is $200), before leaving for Port Columbus on Thursday to fly to Melbourne FL. No “cash advance fee”, nor “service charge” incurred.
Now, this may seem to be a “little thing” to you, but to me, it’s another indication of God “going before” us, to provide, in a way not always seen.
“A God Moment”. Or, one of “God’s Appointments”.
Who would have thought when I left home yesterday, that all of these “coincidences” (as some would say) would happen?
John 10:4 Jesus said, “And when He putteth forth His own sheep, He goeth before them.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen events like this one. I’ll try to remember some. I’ve experienced more of these occasions, just like this one.
Oh…..when I got back in my local area, I went into the K Mart and bought my usual SMALL eight bottle package of Orange Gatorade - and some extra clothes for my trip.
Another:
We lived in Chicago for eleven years.
We went there from the town of Mechanicsburg, with 1,800 souls. We knew everybody, where everybody lived and how to get anywhere anyone could have mentioned.
Arriving in Chicago, as strange as it may seem, we didn’t know anybody; didn’t know where anything was; didn’t know the names of the stores. We lived near Diversey - 2800 north, and 4 blocks from the Lincoln Avenue shopping area, at the corner of Ashland -1600 west, and Belmont - 3200 north.
We learned that you could judge distance by checking the street corners near you. In Chicago, eight blocks either way constituted one mile. An interesting thing about this was that each “block” included two streets. They were numbered in the hundreds. Each hundred numbers constituted one block.
So, since our corner was Diversey at 2800 north, and Belmont was at 3200 north, it was just four blocks, or one half mile away - plus, of course, the distance from 2728 on Racine, to Diversey at 2800. Remember, though, the next street was in the same block as the previous one.
The first year, we spent much of our time riding the Elevated Train, or “El” in Chicago. We got on at Diversey, then rode north all the way to Howard Street in Evanston. From there, we’d go down the stairs, then come up on the other side (never leaving the system), and get on the train again to head south - all the way to Jackson Park on the south side - not far from the Museum of Science and Industry.
We’d repeat there what we did at Howard Street, by going down then up the other side, to take the El again going north.
We took it to Diversey, then got off and went home. All for a dime apiece. (This was, after all, 1954.)
In addition, since we had a car, we drove around town, seeing the sights, and noting where things were.
Driving west on Lawrence Avenue, we ran across the Olson Rug Company. Later, we needed to know where that was.
Near the same corner was Sears Roebuck, where we later went to buy school clothes for the boys later on.
So many times, we’d be told something we had to go to, and lo and behold, we had OFTEN already been by that before.
God’s Appointments.
Then, there’s the time already mentioned earlier when I left The Grand Court in the morning to try to find a Steno Chair for my computer. The car Jim lent to me had been running fine the day before, but this particular morning, when I came out of Wal Mart to start the car, NOT ONE SOUND. The car would NOT turn over, as we say.
I won’t repeat the whole story here, but suffice it to say, when I left home that morning, I went to the ATM and withdrew $200 from my checking account, using my Debit Cash Card. I hadn’t been doing that. In fact, I seldom needed that much cash. If I wanted to buy something, I just used the Cash Card and purchased it. If I needed a little extra cash, I could get up to $50 at K Mart, and $100 at Wal Mart, as “Cash Back”.
But, that day, I just FELT I needed to get $200 in cash.
You may remember that the Wal Mart mechanic could not get the car started - two different times. And said I had “starter” problems - probably a new one.
The upshot was that I had to call a Tow Truck - $45 cash - no Credit Card facilities in the wrecker. The Auto Mechanic was just starting at this location and hadn’t set up for Credit Cards yet. $135 cash to fix the car - including a new battery.
Consider - Where would I have been if, first of all, this had happened at 9PM the precious evening? How would I have paid the tow truck driver, or, especially, the mechanic, if I hadn’t “just casually” withdrawn $200 from my Checking Account just after leaving home?
A “God Moment”, or a “God Appointment”.
In the last several years, I’ve experienced almost identical “happenings” that occurred because “God was there”!
Praise the Lord!
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